I Wouldn’t Minded Being Sandwiched Between Them

This right here delicious and best believe I’m coming back for more ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

🤍𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬🤍

info: john price x female reader | inspired by 🎧daddy issues / the neighborhood🎧

category: angst, fluff

warnings: negative self talk, dd/lg themes, petnames (sweetheart & doll), lmk if i missed any.

a/n: excited to finally post something of substance on here, i have a million ideas i'm gonna try to write over holiday break.

You let your head fall to the steering wheel, huge, ugly sobs wracking your body. Your chest coiled in pain, constricting around the giant, empty hole of nothing, where something should be. Where you needed something to be. Or someone. 

You felt disgusting as you blew your nose once more, adding the rough napkin to a pile of its snot-covered brethren littering the passenger floorboard. You’d been trying not to cry for an hour, all to no avail. 

Rolling down the window, gasping for fresh air, something, anything…

The sky, dark and cold, offered no comfort, the moon and stars, no light, and the breeze gave only a bitter chill. You needed to not be alone tonight. You couldn’t be alone tonight. Dear god, I’m so tired of being alone…

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Three ti-

“Evenin’.”

“John-” you choked out, tears streaming at the sound of his voice. “John, it hurts.”

“Darlin’, what-”

“Can I come see you?” A pause. “Please.”

“Come on,” he said quietly. “I’ll leave a light on for ya’.”

You threw the car into park, yanked your keys out, and slammed the door. You weren’t gonna make it. He lived on the ground floor, no stairs, that was good. Your head felt like it would float away if it weren’t for the pounding ache. You slumped against his door and knocked as loudly as you could.

A moment passed, and you wondered if the light had already been on for someone else. You ruin everything.

Footsteps. Bolt sliding out of place. Move. You gathered your weight and stood, lip trembling, in front of John Price. 

He wore a simple tee, worn with age, and faded track pants. Nothing fancy. You couldn’t look him in the eyes.

He made a soft vocalization and beckoned you inside. You stepped in quickly, skirting past him, afraid to get him contaminated. He closed the door behind you, locking it with surety, and turned to you with a tilt of his head. “What happened, doll?”

That did it. You crashed into his chest, crying nigh uncontrollably, hands gripping his shirt, hair a mess. 

John let out a small uff and it took him a moment before his arms very gently crossed behind your back. You didn’t care. 

“It fucking hurts, and I hate it, I hate this shit, I just want it to go the fuck AWAY!” you wept into him, tugging at the fabric he wore, hoping the clench of your palm would take away the clench of your heart. 

He sighed. In an instant, his arms had slipped down and around, scooping you off the floor and letting you curl into his torso as he walked to his room. 

“No, John, no, I’ll fuck up the bed, I can’t stop cr-”

“Hush,” he grumbled. His voice sounded thick but you didn’t have the capacity to wonder why. “Y’can’t stand right now. I’ll worry about the bed.”

He nudged the door open with his foot and you did your best to bury your entire head into his shoulder. Something, anything to take it away, to go to sleep, and feel nothing for a while…

John set you down and the mattress cradled your body. His bed smelled like him. Everything smelled like John. He lifted you up by the back and slid a few pillows underneath you, handing you a box of tissues from the nightstand. “Easy, now.” John stepped to the door, but you audibly cried. 

“Please don’t…please don’t leave.”

His eyes rested on you for a long beat, softening by the second. He stepped back to the bed and cupped your tear-damp face in his hand. “Okay,” John said, tucking your head into his stomach. “I won’t leave.” 

Those words set you off again, and your body shook from the weight of the heaviness on your shoulders. “I can’t keep living like this, John, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-”

“I know,” he murmured as he began to stroke the back of your head, “I know.” Still keeping you tucked into him, John moved over your body and sat next to you, his back against the headboard. “Come here, doll.”

Sniffling, you scooted closer to him and pressed your head into his chest. His arms wrapped you once more, and he touched his rough lips gently to your skin. “I’m here. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

Your head pounded again, in cadence with your heart, your breathing, your chest, your pain, your everything, and it was all too much-

“Please make it stop, I can’t do it anymore, John, please, please!” you begged, nails carving moons into your palms. 

“Gotta breathe, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Gotta breathe.” John took your wrists in his hands and lifted them above your head, brows creasing at the way your torso still tried to cave on itself, like the implosion of a star. “In…all the way…atta girl, out…easy, now…in…out…there y’go, in…out….” You gradually came down from the high, hiccuping less and seeing more clearly. John sighed again. “Come on, you.”

“Where?” you said, voice cracking. 

“Shower. Warm water’ll do y’good.”

You nodded numbly and held onto his index finger as he stepped around the bed to the bathroom, afraid that he would vanish into the dark. He clicked the lightswitch, and a soft, warm glow illuminated the cool tile room. “Up y’get,” he grumbled, taking you by the waist and planting you straight onto the counter. John leaned into the shower and turned the water on, letting it run over his hands. You let your foot dangle on his leg. You didn’t want to stop touching him. Ever. 

“John?” 

He stood, flicking the water from his fingertips, and motioned for you to lift your arms up. He began to peel your shirt off your body with heartbreaking gentleness. 

“Yes, doll.”

“I’m sorry,” you said through tee-shirt cotton, pulling your arms out of the entanglement.

“Don’t be.” John lifted you from the counter and crouched, unbuttoning your jeans. 

“I am.” You stepped out of the awful denim as he pulled it down your legs. “I feel disgusting and I made a fucking mess of you.”

He stood once more, stepping around you, pulling the fastens of your bra apart. “‘Boutta clean it off.” He moved to face you once more, pulling the straps down your shoulders and away from your skin. John’s eyes found the angry red line underneath your breasts from the combined too-small band and heaving sobs. He thumbed them softly. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely audible over the shhhhh of the water. 

John knelt again, tapping the inside of your thigh. “Gotta get these off.”

You obliged, stepping out so he could hook his fingers around the elastic of your panties and take those off you as well. 

You stood in the pile of your clothing and reached out, tugging at his own. “Can I?”

John nodded, his eyes never once leaving your face as you worked his body out of his shirt and track pants, hovering over his boxers before he stroked the shell of your ear. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice thick again. “Won’t hurt ya’.” You mimicked him, crouching to the floor and tugging the waistband down to reveal his naked body. He was soft, not an ounce of arousal present. Something in your stomach twisted, and tears prickled at the edge of your eyes again. You moved the boxers over his foot and put it on the growing pile of clothes. 

John’s knuckle traced your cheek. “Come on, doll. Into the water with ya’.”

You stood and shivered when his hand came to rest at the small of your back, guiding you slowly into the warm water haven. Stepping over the rim of the tub and into the shower stream, you let the water engulf you, flowing over hair and neck and face and chest. 

John stepped in after you. He didn’t move for a moment, and you opened your eyes to meet his gaze. “What?”

“‘M sorry you’re in s’much pain.”

“...thanks.”

“Let me make it better.” You stiffened. His eyebrows knitted together in alarm. “No, not like that. Easy. Just….” John picked up a dark bottle of shampoo. “Just let me help.”

“Okay,” you whispered, turning to face the water, trying desperately to keep from crying, if only to stave off another headache. 

John’s fingers laced through your hair then, working down to your scalp, through your roots all the way back to your ends. “I know it’s not what you normally use…”

“It’s okay. Thank you.”

John put his palms on your shoulders and turned you gently, gathering you into his still-dry chest and rinsing the soap from your hair. “Not a problem, doll.” 

As the shampoo ran down your back, you lifted your arms ever so tentatively, and put them around his neck. John went still for a moment, but only just a moment, and soon his fingers were back to scrubbing your head. 

You opened your mouth to the smell of his shampoo on your hair and the bare skin of his chest in front of you. His heart, thumping steadily, beat right below your cheek, and you instinctively pressed into him. 

John’s hands slowed and he began stroking your back, gathering any hair fallout, smoothing over your skin, and breathing in your scent the same as you inhaled his. “I got ya’. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” 

The tears came again, unbidden, but not fighting their way out as they had earlier - now they simply flowed. As you cried, John turned you back around, applying conditioner, body wash, scrubbing your body for you, tapping gently when he needed you to lift an arm or move a leg. He never stopped touching you, never lost contact with your skin. And he didn’t take advantage.

When John tapped your thigh, you wondered vaguely if he would attempt to rile you up, making the excuse of “just cleaning”. But he didn’t. A soft wash cloth lay between his fingers and your folds, and he worked the soap over your mound just the same as he had the rest of you. He lathered your breasts gently, without an ounce of boyishness, simply soaping and rinsing. John’s own body got wet in the process of cleaning you, but you found yourself too exhausted to care. 

As the last of the conditioner was washed out of your hair, John let the water run over your back, holding you between the heat of his body and that of the shower. 

“Thank you, John.”

He nodded, muscles squeezing almost imperceptibly tighter around you. “Let me know when you want to get out,” he murmured.

“Okay.”

Minutes passed and you simply stood in his arms, letting every emotion that once filled your ribcage to the point of breaking flow down the drain with the water. And John stood with you, stroking your hair when the sniffles and hiccups returned, pulling you to him when they subsided. 

You spoke up, quietly telling him you were ready to get out. He shut off the water, reaching out to grab a towel for you and helping you step out of the slick tub.

“Atta girl, doll. Slow. Good.”

John wrapped you in the plush cotton, using another towel to dry off your legs, crouched before you once again. You managed to get to your arms, but it wasn’t long before he made his way up your body and met you there, his eyes soft as he took over. “I got ya’, darlin’. I got ya’.” You looked up at him with still-teary eyes as words failed you. The ghost of a smile passed over John’s features. “I know. You want a shirt?” You looked at your own tee, covered in snot, and nodded profusely. John took your hand and led you back into his darkened room. Switching a lamp on, he opened a dresser drawer and produced an almost-identical faded, age-worn tee, indiscernible from the one on the bathroom floor. “Here you go, doll.” John turned to see you right on his heels, feeling small in the unfamiliar territory. He really did crack a smile then. “Come on. Arms up.” You obeyed, your chin sinking to your chest. His eyes never strayed from their task, even as the towel covering your body fell to the ground and fluffled around your ankles. “I got shorts or pants,” he said, “You got a preference?”

Your skin prickled in the post-shower chill. “Pants, please.”

He nodded and did the same as before, dressing you with quiet comfortability, slipping soft material up over your calves and thighs. Without asking, John also produced a pair of black, thick socks, pulling them onto your feet with ease. 

“Do…do you want me to…?” You gestured to his bare skin. “I…can. If you want.”

He met your gaze, gentle eyes making you feel a bit less hollow. “Just stay next to me.”

“Okay.” I can do that. You settled onto the bed’s edge, feet not quite touching the floor, and watched him pull a shirt over his huge back and another pair of pants over his massive legs. “John?”

“Yes, doll,” he replied as he shook the water from his hair into a towel. 

“Can we…can I, I mean, you don’t have to, can I, um…take a nap?” When he didn’t answer immediately, you tripped over yourself to explain. “Just-just for a bit, I’ll drive home tonight, I won’t stay, I just thought maybe-”

“Sweetheart.”

You sat stock still. John’s hand came up to your shoulder. “Breathe, kid. ‘M not gonna kick y’out. Stay as long as y’need.”

You stuffed your hands in your lap. “Thanks.”

He tilted his chin to the headboard. “Get under the covers, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Your body moved before your brain caught up, and you were snug as a bug in a rug before you processed the full extent of his words. He’ll be here in…does he think we’re…what the fuck- 

As the confusion set in, John returned, leaning on the doorframe, phone in hand. “Y’like pizza?”

You blinked. “Yes.”

He padded toward the bed, clambering onto the mattress - the added weight made your body fall towards him as an uff escaped your lips. You smiled, the first one tonight, and curled under his arm. 

“Y’wanna order it?” John asked, showing you the screen. It’s cracked, but you can still easily make out the Domino’s online ordering menu. 

“Yessss.” You kicked your feet out in his soft sheets. Making your selections, you handed it back to him and watched his face for any sign of displeasure. He showed none. 

“Looks good, doll. You can sleep while we wait for it.”

You sat with that for a moment. “No.” You twisted your head up to look into his eyes. “Thank you, John. I would have driven off the road if not for you.”

He cleared his throat. “‘M glad y’came to me. Thank y’for lettin’ me take care of you.”

“I…like you taking care of me.” Your heart pounded and you became acutely aware of his hand on your shoulder, large palm and splayed fingers. 

“Yeah?” John’s voice rumbled in your ear, low and full and delicious-

“Yes,” you said earnestly, propping yourself up to look at him properly. “John, I…I…” He had the nerve to look amused. “...I…”

John chuckled. “Just stay. Stay and I’ll take care of you.” 

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”  

“I…don’t know what to say.”

His features softened even more, if that was possible. “Don’t have to say anythin’. Just tell me what you wanna watch.” John nodded toward the tv atop his dresser. 

“John…” you sniffled, squeezing his shirt in your hand once more. “Can I just…lay here for a while?”

“Course.” And without a further word, he plucked a pair of reading glasses from the nightstand, opened the faded western they laid on, and began to read. 

A few moments of silence pass, and they are un-fucking-bearable. Your thoughts begin to race again - He doesn’t want you here. You’re a burden. You take up more space than you deserve. What happened to looking out for yourself? You can’t, can you? Fucking pathetic, you are. What happens when he gets tired of you? What happens wh- “John?”

He looked at you over his glasses, brows raised. “Yes, sweetheart?”

You felt small again, but safer. Safer than you had in a while. “Would you mind…reading to me? I don’t think I can sleep otherwise.”

“I’m that tedious, eh?” John grinned when you flicked him on the arm. 

“No! No, I…I want you to.”

“Yes,” he chuckled, “I’ll read to you.” He turned the page back (“Can’t start right in the action, can we?”) and began, his voice flowing in its same gravelly cadence, filling your brain with soft warmth. The story was of a merchant’s daughter and the cowboy she fell in love with, and John had just gotten to the part where her father finds out. “‘-and they came to blows, fists flying through the dusty air, the world fallen silent save for the sound of knuckles on bone, and-’ Are you asleep?”

You blinked, still very much on the verge of unconsciousness. “Nuh-uhhhh…” You stretched out under his comforter, nestling your face back onto his warm thigh. 

“S’okay,” he said. John laced his fingers through your hair once more. “Y’need the rest. Take it. I’ll wake y’up when pizza’s here.”

You needed no further encouragement. As sleep overtook you once more, you managed to mumble out, “Thanks, Daddy.”

John was very still for a very long time.

Then, “...You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

a/n: if you liked this, please let me know with a like, reblog, or comment 🤍

all dividers courtesy of @saradika

I would pounced on him so quick you have thought I was faster than Flash XD cause let me have a piece of that XD

you were staring. very unabashedly so, too. just… oogling your boyfriend, watching as he lounged on your couch, his black shirt fitted around bulging arms, the hem riding up around his tummy to reveal that line of thick black hair that dipped below his plaid pants.

oh my god, those stupid plaid pants. they made you wonder what the hell the hype was about grey sweats, when those existed.

and it’s not like you had anything to be ashamed about, either. he was your boyfriend, all six foot something of him, for fucks sake. all the thick muscles, and short cropped hair, and scars, and fuck, those eyes. you could look if you damn well wanted to.

you’d tried very hard to convince yourself all morning that you were fine, and definitely not ovulating, and fine.

but in that moment, watching your boyfriend literally just sit there, eyes shut and head tipped back, this was not you. it was some evil entity, possessing you and in full swing. you were ready to jump him, and it wasn’t even ten in the morning yet.

your gaze kept dropping lower, toward those pecs, all soft and plush beneath the fabric of his tee, and you could feel yourself start to salivate.

it wasn’t even anything provocative either, but the sight of his tits in a black shirt, tight over the unflexed muscle, was driving you up a god damned wall.

you curled your legs up beneath you, arm perching you against the back of the couch, the other pressed between the low of your thighs to physically retrain yourself from grabbing him like a deranged person.

because, no matter what you did, it was almost impossible to stop imagining just throwing yourself at him, and doing some entirely unspeakable things. things you know you’d never do unless it was this god forsaken time of month.

“you good, ma?” Jason asked, finally breaking the tense silence, and drawing your attention away from his torso. he was staring back now, one brow raised quizzically, and his scared lip curled up in questioning.

“your eyes are dilatin’ and shit.”

yeah. you got up, wordlessly, and walked toward the kitchen.

I read all 3 parts and it’s delicious (^‿^✿)

I love your writing, it's so fucking good. you write abt plusize ppl so well I'm jealous- ANYWAYS

can you please write chubby puppygirl who's desperate for simons approval? she already knows price likes her. she's got the man tamed as if he was the pup. but simon??? he's so nonchalant about her that she can't help but go insane trying to get praise from him. whining and yappin at his feet, giving him big puppy eyes, doing whatever he tells her to???

(if you wanna get real nasty, you could write him taking advantage of her. pushing past her limits/making her do embarrassing things)

also congrats again on 500!!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

WAAAA THANK YOU!!!! my biggest inspo for plus size puppygirl reader fr ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ohhhh this is soooo delicioussss bc its so true 0-0

priceghost/plus size puppygirl reader, emphasis on ghost/reader. mdni, simon is a meanie, a little angsty but i'm a cheesy sucker for happy endings and cuddles. there's sex in there, i swear, you just have to be patient WEHGFVWKFHB wordcount: 2.8k 💀

price dotes on you like you're royalty, pouring all his money, time, and affection into you. he loves to pull you onto his lap and let you shower him with kisses. he'll have you rest your head on his thigh while he works so he can pet your hair. he buys you a pretty collar with your name on the front and his name and number on the back, as if you'd ever wander far away enough to get lost—but one name is noticeably absent.

simon is completely nonplussed by you. your pretty whines are met with scoffs, your head nuzzling against his knee earns you a pinch on your poor, sensitive puppy ears. the only time simon really pays you any attention is when price brings the two of you together, too tired to do anything but stroke his own cock and watch ghost ram into you, calling out harsh commands when his boy gets a little too rough with you. even then, when he's bullying you with his cock, tugging your tail to make you whine in pain or smacking any inch of skin he can see to watch it ripple and bounce, you're on you absolute best behavior for him.

you crave his praise more than all the pets and treats in the world, likely because it's been withheld from you for so long. puppies have a constant desire for things they can't have like, and the same is true for puppy hybrids. while real dogs beg for chocolate when it's being eaten, all you can think about around ghost is earning his approval.

ghost, of course, barely notices at first. once he's brought you to price, he considers his mission complete--all he planned to do was bring his captain a special present, and maybe fuck it from time to time. it wasn't until he observed your behavior with the other members of the 141 that he recognized your behavior. you were friendly and playful with gaz and soap, but you never fought for their attention., and with price you never had to fight for anything. no, it was only with him that you begged and pleaded for attention. only then did he become interested.

he starts small with little grunts of approval when you followed an instruction particularly well. he sees how your eyes shone when he didn't push you away as you nuzzled up to his calf, amused that just the barest touch was enough to make you dizzy. what a fun little game it could be, he thought, to see how far you would go to gain his love.

the game began when price flew out for a week for a training seminar, giving lectures to recruits and overseeing their exercises. obviously he couldn't bring you, he'd cooed as he'd wiped the tears from your round face. he would need to focus all his time on the recruits, and he simply couldn't do that with his soft, precious girl around; but don't worry, simon would take good care of you. this is where simon finds his opportunity, with no captain holding his proverbial leash. he insists you stay in his quarters for the time being--there's no use letting you lay in price's bed for the whole week, snuffling at his pillows and crying until he returns. what kind of owner would simon be if he let you do that?

instead, you stay in ghost's quarters, and this is where his fun begins. needy puppies don't sleep on human beds, he condescends on the first night. your look of confusion is met with amusement as ghost produces a big, fluffy dog bed for you to sleep on. you don't want to be ungrateful, do you? and of course you don't! so you curl up in the dog bed, the roundness of your belly and thighs making it difficult to properly tuck you body in to fit, but the words good girl that follow make you beam with delight. you're a little squirmy the next morning when he makes you eat your breakfast on the floor, but all discomfort disappears when ghost strokes your ears while he eats.

when price puts you on your knees, he puts a fluffy pillow under you to stop the pain. simon purposfully chooses a hard surface and spreads his legs wide, slapping his thighs to invite you to worm between them and mouth at his cock. he gets mean about it, forcing it too far too fast and making you gag and tear up, but you keep going like a champ the whole time, desperate to hear his praises.

its only that evening when ghost begins to feel guilty. the way you stumbled and crawled after he forced you to stay on the ground all day made the pain you were in very obvious. his cold heart cracks just a little when he hears you muffle sobs of pain and loneliness into your pillow on the dog bed. it’s worse the next morning when you're sluggish and achey, eyes puffy from tears and lack of sleep. still, you settled on the ground like a good girl, anticipating his command and biting back the little sounds of distress caused by your throbbing muscles. fuck, he did't want to do this anymore.

"up," he commands shortly. you tilt your head, confused, and ghost grunts. "i said up."

you stand slowly, half from your protesting joints and half out of concern that this is some kind of trap. simon sighs, rubbing his hand over his face and feeling the fabric of his balaclava catch on the callouses.

"go on, back to bed. my bed," he clarifies when your lip begins to quiver. he brings in a bowl of cereal for you, exasperated to find you perched gingerly on the very edge of the bed, ready to slide onto the floor at a moments notice. "stay up there, lovie, get comfortable. there you go."

he hands you the bowl and watches your tentative movements as you wriggle your fat thighs around to sit more securely on the bed. your sleep shirt clings to your round belly, making it even more apparent as you begin to eat your cereal. god damn, you really were the prettiest little thing. with your thick thighs and arms, ghost thought you would be a sturdy girl, able to take his cruelty, but looking into your sweet face he knows he had been wrong. you poor little thing, so obedient and fragile. he resolved to be at least a little gentler with you, his new favorite toy. he really ought to make it up to you, coax you back in to him, but ghost doesn't do apologies.

he's always thought actions speak louder than words.

his hand is slow when it creeps to your hair as you eat, his eyes drawn to the way your ears twitch when he scratches at the base of them with dirty fingernails. you drink the milk from the bowl, sweetened by the tooth-rotteningly sugar cereal price indulges you with, and ghost wipes the milk mustache from your upper lip with the rough pad of his thumb. your pink tongue pokes out to lick it obediently off of his fingers, just like you would do with price. god, he wanted to make you cry, those big eyes would look so pretty glassy with tears, but he'd already hurt you enough in the past day.

simon considers your face for a moment. he doesn't really do kisses either, unless price makes him, and even then his favorite place to kiss is the sole of the captain's boot. instead, simon scratches your ears absentmindedly until you nuzzle into his palm. you seem content to lie in his bed all day with his hand in your hair, but frankly, he finds that a boring solution to his self-made problem. instead, he trails his hand down your face and thick neck to where your collarbones are barely bumps under soft fat and skin. he draws circles there for a moment, watching your reactions to his touch with feigned disinterest. he'd never bothered to learn you before, leaving that up to price, but now... well, getting to know his favorite chew toy a little better couldn't hurt.

his hand moves down, cupping one of your tits in his hand. even his big palm didnt cover the whole thing, so big and soft, and that interested him more than the thought of your pretty tears.

"take this off, yeah?" he phrases it as a question, but the way you jump to do as he says makes it seem like gospel. you're even prettier underneath, rolls on your sides and your tummy hanging over the waistband of your sleep shorts, littered with stretch marks that remind simon of his own. your nipples are already pebbling, fuck you're so pretty. he pinches at them more gently than he usually would, trying to mimic what he's seen price do to you. the satisfying little whine you let out tells him he'd probably doing something right, eyes flitting back up to yours. oh, sensitive thing, you're already eager for more, he can see it in your eyes.

he's seen price lavish your tits with his mouth and he's seen how you squirm and preen from it, so he rolls up his mask over his nose and dips down to seal his lips around your swollen nipple. he rubs his tongue against it and when that doesn't elicit the response he wants, he sucks on it with a little more force than necessary. now you let out that lovely little noise, and he feels his cock twitch to life. his mouth waters at the taste of you, sucking and licking your nipple with an almost clinical focus, trying to figure out what you like. his fingers tweak your other nipple and, there, there it is again, that precious little moan. he salivates over the taste of you, his spit dripping down when he bites at your skin, enjoying how you squirm.

"simon, simon" your breathy voice breaks through his focus and his eyes turn up to meet yours. he huffs when all you do is stare at him and squirm, and he pinches your nipple meanly.

"you want something, lovie?" he snips, "you ask."

"please, touch me?" he rolls his eyes. you're so vocal with price. are you really so scared of him?

"words, pet, or i'll leave you like this," he warns. "be specific."

"please, please touch my pussy," you whimper. what a lovely sound. "or let me touch you?"

ghost considers having you suck him off. he's seen you wrap your lips around price's cock and hump his leg until you cum, rutting against his boots like the desperate little pup you are, and he has to admit it’s tempting. he's already hard in his boxers, fuck is he hard, but he reminds himself this is supposed to be for you. instead of responding, he pushes his hand on your plush belly and forces you down on your back, shuffling his way down the bed. he yanks your panties and shorts down and off your legs with little ceremony, forcing your thick thighs wide enough for him to get a look at your pussy. he spreads the folds apart, watching how you glisten.

"please, simon," you whine, rolling your hips forward to try and get his thick fingers inside of you.

"isn't this what you wanted?" he tuts, but relents. he's forced his fingers into you many times, but after a moment more he realizes that he's never put his mouth on you, never licked into your cunt or sucked on your clit. has he ever eaten cunt? not to his memory. shit, maybe he should stick to what he knows--but you look so sweet weeping for him. there's a first time for everything.

he leans down, unsure of where to begin, and licks a long stripe up your cunt. your hips buck into his face and he does it again. you taste good, he decides. he wants more.

ghost buries his tongue in your pussy and you make a delicious noise. he licks in and out, getting more of that tangy sweetness in his mouth and dripping down his chin and fuck he loves it, no wonder price spends so long with your thighs pressed tight around his head. you clench around his tongue and he groans. soft and wet and sweet, he could stay here forever. only the dissatisfied whines from your lips tear him away for a moment realizing he's been neglecting your poor, throbbing clit. how mean of him. he scrapes his teeth across it just to hear you cry out before pulling it into his mouth, forcing his tongue under the hood to rub the nerves hard enough to make you weak. he grinds his own hips into the bed, his cock so hard in his pants that he considers pulling away entirely to shove it inside you--but all thoughts of forcing his cock in your pussy fly away when he feels you gush out more of that sweetness he wants.

simon sinks back down, slurping pornographically against the folds of your cunt. the fabric of the balaclava, still rucked up over his nose, grinds against your clit.

"simon, simon, si," you babble his name and he finds that he enjoys sound of that too.

"i know, lovie, i know," he grunts, muffled into your cunt. he could go on like this for a while for his own pleasure, and maybe one time he will, but right now this is for you, so he pulls his tongue reluctantly out of your cunt and goes back to licking your throbbing clit, hard and swollen under his touch. his thick fingers find their way to your weeping entrance, working in slow enough to make your head fall back in a noise of anguish. he pumps them in and out faster, luxuriating in the wet sound. in and out, in and out, and soon you're chanting for him. his name, his callsign, babbled sounds that barely sound like words at all, and he devours each noise with the same enthusiasm that he eats you out with. your thighs tighten around his head, squishing tight over his ears and he begrudges the slight loss of those precious noises. oh well, he'll just have to make you scream.

his fingers move faster, so long and thick that he manages to find that spot inside you that makes you sob above him, panting and squirming like you're unsure if you want to get away or drive yourself closer. ghost doesn't care--if you tried to pull back right now he'd just drag you back. you're close, he can tell, so close he imagines he can taste the change on his tongue. he wants to pull back and encourage you to come with his words, but he just can't seem to pull away from your clit, sucking and sucking and sucking and--

you do scream for him, loud and trembling and gushing over his fingers oh-so-sweetly, and simon feels his boxers fill with warmth. christ, he came in his fucking boxers from eating your pretty cunt, he'd have to make this a habit--maybe with price fucking into him from behind, wouldn't that be something? he sits up, panting and licking the wetness off of his mouth, finally seeing the limpness of your body and that deliciously fucked-out look on your face. he pats your thigh.

"need a nap, hm?" he suggests, though you seem like you're not quite back to coherence yet. what would price do right now, he considers. food and water and a warm washcloth come to his mind, though price usually has those prepped and on hand. still, he's pretty sure he could scrounge up a water bottle and some fruit for you. he slides off of the bed, surprised to hear a distressed whimper when he does.

you're holding out your weak arms to him, lip trembling. he stares at you, confused. the fuck are you asking for? cuddles?

oh. right.

ghost considers for a moment. cuddles are on the list of things he doesn't do, right up there with kisses and apologies, but you look vulnerable and warm and so, so soft. naked in his bed, eyes wide, begging to be held, he can't deny you, can he?

he sighs and slides back in with you, grunting when you press your face to his chest in delight.

"gonna be fuckin' gross when you wake up," he grumbles, thinking about the stickiness between your thighs and in his boxers, but wraps his arms around you nonetheless. your ears twitch and under the blankets he can hear your tail thump, eyes closing right away. you're just as soft and warm as you looked.

he's fucked.

Not gonna lie I would have slap the shit out of nanami cause how are you going to embarrass me in front of them people (ง'̀-'́)ง(ง'̀-'́)ง

Who is she? PT 3

You can't take it anymore.

ft. Satoru, Suguru, Choso, Nanami, Sukuna, Toji

CW: Angst, men being men, arguments. 🙄

A/N: Hi besties! Hope you enjoy part 3, more to come! Also I'm sorry if someone had already requested to be tagged when I posted this. Unfortunately I won't be taking any more additions to the taglist as it takes a lot of my time to go searching around for people. I'll be keeping the ones already tagged of course! If you had requested before and I skipped you just shoot me a message and I'll add you.

Edit to add another funny ask about this 😂

PT. 2

Tag list:

@v1x3n @haruchiyoreen @riameriash @kitises @collectionofdolls @redmushr0om @satorushousewife @linaaeatsfamilies @soobsdior @sa4vvyyt @heh123321 @iluv-ace @erishishigami @pimento-mori @aphroditesworld15 @lov3vivian @entr4p3 @exquisitenesss @linaaeatsfamilies @ilovegetosuguru @trsh-kitty @yunho-leeknow @peachesvault @herefor-tojis-tits @piggaloaf @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @hoshies1 @maybe-a-bi-witch @dreamingoftomorroww @sleepyoriana @moncher-ire @kuroosluthoe @serendididy @garejuremuzum @tojisrealwifey @prettysleppy325 @d1gital-data @luvsymai @yourname-exee @satorusprites @agustdeeyaa @pandabiene5115 @justbelljust @miscellaneous-misty @sweetlyvibe @namjooningera @sh0ot1ngst4r @hvnnibvni @dazaisfavgf @your-favorite-god @jkrafe @ietss @justonemoresworld @kisswoshita @rawwrrgal @castiel2dope @chckn-pi @rax-writes @astragat @chckn-pi @haloyesme @aneternallyexhaustedpigeon @sataurnv3 @jasminelee324

٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- She can be topless and I can be bottomless ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

vi totally walks around the house shirtless, only wearing a pair of boxers that hang long on her hips. it's immensely distracting, especially when you're trying to concentrate on something. your eyes are always darting to her breasts, eyeing the piercings on her nipples and the trail of hair that disappears past the waistband of her boxers.

usually, this ends with you getting too frustrated to concentrate so you leave whatever it is you're doing to slam her down onto the couch, kissing that infuriating smirk off her face.

thinking about pro-hero!touya having a crush on you.

tw: fluff, mentions of body-related insecurities, touya is an idiot but also whipped for you💓💓

chubby!reader x dabi

this was a commission for Sheep Anon (Alice!!) if you want a similar piece, check out my ko-fi + commissions page!

—

a company event at the aquarium isn’t touya’s first choice in saturday afternoon activities.

to be fair, he doesn’t think anything would feel great after a friday night full of tequila shots and techno music. he’s still hungover from last night, bass echoing in his ears from the deafening DJ set.

“what is this shit? the only fish i care about are the ones in my sushi,” keigo grumbles, sipping some pedialyte. he looks just as terrible as his best friend, purple half-moons under his eyes from his night of debauchery.

“we could make some here,” touya mutters. “you fly into the tanks and grab the fish. i cook them with my flames. bingo.”

“oh shit, good idea. bet it would taste delicious, there are some super rare creatures here-,”

“i heard that,” mirko snaps, thwacking him across the head. “we’re supposed to be the best pro-hero agency in the country. if you two morons do that, i’ll throw you to the sharks.”

“come on! it would be the most exciting thing that happened in here anyway.”

“this place blows,” touya scoffs. “who picked the aquarium anyway?”

suddenly, mirko’s eyes slide past touya; her eyes widen in alarm. touya uncaringly glances over his shoulder, wondering what mirko looks so worried about-

he double-takes.

you are standing behind him, looking utterly crestfallen. touya can do nothing but gape at you for what feels like an eternity.

because you look like an absolute dream, your face glowing and an emerald-green skater dress flowing over your curves. the sapphire light of the water reflects off your soft skin, turning you utterly ethereal.

“holy shit!” keigo grins, slinging an arm around your shoulders. touya has to fight the urge to shove him off you. “look at her! doesn’t she look gorgeous?”

“god, you’re so pretty,” mirko whistles. “you’re going to have to tell me where that dress is from.”

but you’re not looking at either of them. instead, your gaze is fixed on touya, face downcast.

“i’m sorry,” you murmur. “if i knew you didn’t like aquariums, i wouldn’t have picked this.”

and touya’s heart feels like it’s shattering to pieces. if it were anyone else, he would’ve laughed in their faces, sneered, yeah, you shouldn’t have.

but it’s you. shy, sweet, beautiful you. the girl he watches from the corner of his eye, while he’s surrounded by people as the life of the party.

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he utters.

but you don’t look reassured.

come on, you idiot, think. turn this around.

“since you picked this place, you’ll have to show me a good time,” touya drawls. you let out a yelp of surprise as his fingers dig into your plush skin, drag you away from keigo.

“what the hell?!” mirko calls behind you.

but touya doesn’t care, pulling you behind him until you’re in an exhibit called the tropics.

“let me go, you’re hurting me!” you exclaim.

“sorry,” touya’s hand flies off you like he’s been burned.

you resentfully stare up at him, rubbing your arm. families and couples and tour groups surround both of you, cheerfully bustling around the glass tanks and gasping at the exotic animals.

“can you just leave me alone?” you snap. “i know this isn’t the strip club, but i actually really love this place. i wanted to have a good day today.”

you march away, leaving touya stammering and speechless.

“give her a few minutes, son,” a kindly old man advises.

“i didn’t-,” touya winces, swallows down his annoyance. “yes, sir.”

your face lights up when you stare into the water, touya idly observes. it’s the same look you get on your face when you’re reading a novel in the breakroom, chewing your straw in anticipation as you turn the pages. touya thinks you’re breathtaking when you’re excited.

slowly, he steps over to you. gingerly takes a seat on your bench.

“they’re really pretty,” he quietly admits.

you don’t respond, but your smile fades a little.

“those are... crystal jellyfish, right?”

touya’s heart skips a beat- your’re grinning.

“crystal jellyfish make you itch. now these are box jellyfish. one sting and you’re screwed.”

“scary.” touya shakes his head. “i went to this bar opening once-,”

“oh, boy,” you roll your eyes.

“no, just listen. it was supposed to be jungle-themed- they had all these safari cocktails and tropical decor. but in the middle of the room was this pretty aquarium full of exotic jellyfish.”

you clap your hands to your mouth, dread washing over you. “no. don’t tell me-,”

“yup.” touya grimaces. “some drunk idiot stuck his hand right inside and tried to pet the jellyfish. i think he’s suing the bar right now.”

“that’s insane. people are idiots when they’re drunk.”

“that i agree.” touya props his head on his hand, cheekily smirking at you. “so what else in here can kill me?”

you excitedly grab his hand, eyes alight in mirth.

“let’s find out.”

at first, his hand starts against your palm; then it’s laced between your fingers; then it’s wrapped around your waist, pressing into your luscious curves as he gapes at a brilliant red-grey discus fish.

“now that would make some delicious food,” he teases.

“shut up, idiot.”

“what? you’re saying you wouldn’t eat it?” touya playfully pokes your side, causing you to shriek with laughter. “are you really saying no to high-quality, gourmet sushi?”

“it’s not the fish i’m worried about, it’s my stomach. i don’t trust your cooking at all.”

there’s a devilish grin on his face as he looks down at you. “yeah? i’ll prove you wrong. how do you like your eggs made in the morning?”

you roll your eyes, gagging. “oh, is that how you pick up girls at the club?”

“it doesn’t just work on girls. watch.” touya cockily swaggers up to a tank full of darting grey minnows. “hey, there. what do you want for breakfast after i show you the best night of your life?”

“ew, stop it,” you giggle.

touya’s laughing, pointing at the fish and saying, “hey, i think they’re into it, you have some competition-,”

and then a horrified gasp echoes through the room. everyone’s heads jerk around in alarm, finding the cause of the commotion.

“villain!” a small boy screeches, pointing at touya’s scars. “mom, ‘s a villain!”

“rui,” his mother gasps, yanking him away. “i’m so sorry, sir- oh my goodness! dabi!”

touya’s not laughing anymore.

“rui, apologize. do you know who that is? that’s shouto’s brother!”

the boy’s jaw drops. “no way!”

“mhm. would your favorite hero be happy if he heard you being mean to his big brother?”

“i’m sorry, mr. dabi,” the boy goofily smiles.

“my deepest apologies,” his mother swallows, bowing deeply to touya. “i very much appreciate the work you do.”

“no worries,” touya utters. the good-natured humor is gone from his face, replaced with his usual mask of cool indifference.

your stomach’s twisting to pieces as you both leave the exhibit. it’s absolutely silent between you two; you could cut the tension with a knife.

“hey,” you whisper. “i’m sorry about that.”

“i don’t care. it happens all the time,” he drawls.

your melancholy intensifies.

this whole time, you pegged touya todoroki as nothing but a degenerate. a rich party boy whose powerful quirk carried him to adoration and success. he was the poster boy for hero culture: a handsome, cocky fire user who’d been so dedicated to growing stronger he’d nearly destroyed himself.

you hadn’t thought of all the consequences.

“come here,” you murmur, pulling him through the crowded halls. he’s frowning, calling, “hey, where are we going?” as he maneuver him through a door.

“what the- whoa.” touya stops dead in his tracks.

you’re in a pitch-black room covered with radiant bioluminescent light. electric-blue eels glide across the dark walls; candy-pink starfish glow against the glass of their tanks. it’s all so stunningly beautiful; and judging by the amazed look on touya’s face, you can tell he thinks so, too.

“this is my favorite place in the aquarium,” you whisper, holding his hands in yours. “i come here when i’m feeling down. on those days when i think i’m the most hideous thing in the world, and i want to curl up in a ball and hide.”

“but why?” touya questions. “you’re the most gorgeous girl i know. when have you ever felt that way?”

and it’s his small, quiet voice that gets you. because he isn’t saying this in a flirty way, or as a sleazy pick-up line. he genuinely believes you are the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“i’ll let you feel something,” you murmur.

under the cover of the darkness, you are able to take his scarred fingers, move them up your dress to your hips. he slowly glides over your soft, raised stretch marks, hands trembling anxiously.

it’s so intimate; you’re cupping his rough cheeks in your palms, swallowing as he kneads the fat of your waist, the plush softness of your thighs.

your breath quickens along with his- gently, you rest your head against his arm, eyes fluttering shut as touya needily takes more.

“the first time i came here was after a doctor’s appointment,” you mumble. “it was just... awful. and stressful, and shitty, and i left feeling so bad about myself. i just wanted a place to be alone. surrounded by something i love.”

“i love this place,” touya breathes. he draws your hands out from under your dress, pulls you into a comforting embrace. “i might just have to take it from you.”

you let out a huff of amusement. “it can be our place. didn’t you ever learn to share?”

he smirks, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “not the important things.”

touya’s lips are rough, coarse, but his kiss is so soft. for a pro-hero with a reputation for being a troublemaker, he holds you like you’re made of glass, pretty and delicate and precious. like he’s scared to ruin you. his hands gently caress your hips as he holds you close, tongue sliding through your parted mouth.

“sorry,” he breathes after bumping his teeth against yours. “i’m nervous.”

you blink up at him in confusion. “nervous?”

“yeah. i, uh,” touya coughs. “may have had a crush on you for months.”

“what? but- wha- i’m not even your type!”

“how?”

“i don’t know.” you fidget with your foot, eyes downcast. “because you’re popular and stuff, and i’m... you know.”

“popular? you know everyone at the office loves you, right?” touya chuckles. “just because you’re not as loud as keigo and i doesn’t mean that people don’t like you. the reason sero, tamaki, and nejire started reading again is because they saw you freaking out over a book.”

“wait, what? what book? they saw that? that’s so embarrassing!”

“no, it’s cute.”

“i just-,” you swallow. “are you sure this isn’t some sort of joke?”

“hey, if you don’t like me, it’s fine,” touya laughs, but there’s something forced in his tone, something nervous and scared. “i’m not the greatest-looking guy. i won’t take it personally-,”

“no, you dummy! it’s because i feel like i’m one of those movies where the cool guy asks the nerdy girl out on a bet!”

“what? there are movies like that?”

“i-,” you blink up at him in shock. “have you never seen she’s all that?”

“that can be our first date, then.”

“touya.” your eyes are wide, anxious. like you can’t believe he’s standing in front of you right now, being so blatantly honest about his feelings. “are you sure?”

he gently presses his forehead against yours. “promise.”

for a moment, a tense silence hangs in the air. touya’s heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

and then your face splits into a bright smile.

“we can go watch some 90s romcoms, then.”

“dude, finally!” keigo exclaims, grinning when he sees his hand intertwined with yours. “it’s about time you asked her out.”

your jaw drops. “wait, you both knew?”

“he was so obvious about it,” mirko snorts. “he spent half the time in the office just staring at you.”

“and talking about you when he got drunk,” keigo adds, rolling his eyes.

“shut up,” touya growls, heat rising in his cheeks. “did you both even look at the animals? this place is fucking awesome-,”

“excuse me.”

touya turns. the old man from the tropics exhibit is standing behind him, accompanied by a few stray passerby.

“hey, your advice worked,” touya says, raising your locked hands.

“what?” you frown.

“we saw what happened in that exhibit,” the man smiles gently. “children can be cruel. but we all wanted you to know that you are an incredible man.”

“yeah, i was there when you blasted those villains in shinjuku!” a freckled teenager pipes up. “it made me want to go pro!”

“can i get your autograph?” a little girl pipes up.

an incredulous look flickers across touya’s face.

and then his lips spread into his handsome, rugged smile- the one that graces billboards and instagram fan accounts alike.

“oh, we’re definitely coming back here,” he murmurs to you.

“told you it was the best.”

—

if you want to commission a piece, check out my ko-fi + commissions page!

That’s girlfriend yall (≧◡≦)

instagram thirst trap!vi's way of hard launching your relationship is done through a simple audio. she's never expressed being a relationship before, but her followers have speculated. especially when she starts to look happier than she used a year or so ago. so when she drops this audio with the caption "i love the way my baby sounds" everyone loses their damn minds.

the audio consists of a slight squelching noise, coupled with a few breathy whimpers. then those whimpers get a bit louder, wonderfully sweet. it's a moment before vi's voice appears, low and rough, as she murmurs, "so good for me, baby. yeah, that's it...so good, sweetness..."

"vi," your voice trembles out before you choke on a sob.

"sweet girl, ah fuck, so sweet and wet for me—"

and the audio finishes.

the comments are going wild, and the audio has been saved multiple times.

the next day, vi posts a picture of the two of you curled up in clearly messy sheets. your face is hidden in her neck, while she's got her own buried in your hair, happy and content.

the caption reads:

"mine."

if you were to ask abby how she feels about chubby women, she’d let the biggest-nastiest-shit eating grin break out across her freckled face. chubby girls? the soft girls? the girls who look away in shyness when you compliment them? the girls who squeal in excitement when you can actually lift them up? who feel like heaven itself when you bring them down onto your lap? those girls?

yeah, abby would tell you that she loves bigger girls. loves being able to handle them, become not many have the pleasure of being able to. she could just... eat them whole.

This is fucking delicious!!!!!!

Cowboys

Ellie x reader (for now)

summary: A stranger comes to your door- it turns out it's not one of your usual encounters cw: guns, cowboy lingo, fem! reader, cowboy crossdresser Ellie, eventual smut, blood, injuries, your average confusing lesbianism, eventual smut, no use of y/n wc: 3.6k

for those who prefer ao3 <3 gotchu minors DNI (I will steal all you pillowcases)

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Nothing could beat the beauty of the sunset in the desert. Purples, blues, oranges, and yellows swirled together to paint a new masterpiece every night. And every night you would sit on your small, wooden porch with a cup of tea and watch as the sun slowly sinks into the horizon. Tonight was no exception. 

The sky becomes darker and darker until the moon and the stars come out, bathing the desert in a silver light. You struggle with the stubborn, old front door for a moment before you step into your little ranch house.

A chill runs through you as the temperature outside rapidly declines. You kneel in front of the fireplace and use the little kindling you have for a fire. It was enough to keep you warm for a few hours while you read yourself to sleep. Sometimes you felt lucky that it was a small enough house that the small fire would warm up the whole place. Your bed was just a few paces away from the mantle. 

You stand up and dust off your hands before starting to undress for bed. As you begin to unbutton your bodice a knock sounds from the front door. 

You scramble for your rifle by your bedside and check to make sure it’s loaded. You peek through one of your front windows to catch a glimpse of the mysterious stranger. At this hour and on the edge of town, your visitors weren’t usually friendly. 

It seems a cowboy has paid you a visit this evening. Haven’t seen one of those in a damn long time. A gun is proudly holstered on his hip next to a lasso, and his black large-brimmed hat keeps his face dark enough that you can’t quite make it out. 

He knocks again, louder. You creep up to the front door and slowly open it. Before he can process who opened the door you aim your rifle right at his chest. 

“Hands up.” You demand, your voice is surprisingly steady. 

“Woah there, I just stopped to ask for some directions.” A deep, yet feminine voice replies. It sounds like she was all too sure you weren’t going to be using that weapon on her, she didn’t even bother to move. You cock the gun, trying like hell to keep your expression blank, unphased while your entire body fills with adrenaline. She takes a step back and puts her hands up. Her hat still covers her face in shadow, it’s like confronting a ghost. 

“You should have stopped somewhere else.” You take a step towards her, closing the door behind you while keeping your vision trained on the woman. 

“You’re much different than the other women I’ve run into out here.” She looks up slightly, the moonlight illuminating pink, slightly chapped lips forming a smug smirk. “Where’s your husband, miss?”

“I swear if you don’t get back on your goddamn horse I’ll put a hole right through your chest.” she steps towards you, the muzzle of the gun pokes right under her collarbone. 

She finally looks at you, silver light exposes a sharp, feminine face dotted with freckles darkened by days in the sun. The sight of her face catches you off guard for just enough time, allowing her to grab the barrel of the rifle and pull it right out of your hands. She drops the gun and it clatters loudly to the ground, echoing through the empty desert landscape. She grabs your wrists before you can start fighting back and pins them above your head against the door with one hand. 

“There,” she grunts as you struggle against her grip, she’s surprisingly strong, “now we can have a conversation.” 

“Go to Hell.” You say, seething with rage and frustration because she was able to overpower you so easily. She shakes her head and laughs for a moment, saying something under her breath like all this trouble. 

You were just about to spit in her face when she said, “Where’s the nearest hotel darlin’?” Your eyes widen at the innocent question, slightly embarrassed. This was a first, she really just needed directions. She uses your stunned silence to talk some more, “I’ve been savin’ up so I could have a bed for the night. And I could really really use a bed tonight, miss.” You stop struggling against her grip and she lets go. She still has that stupid smirk on her face. “So if you could point me in the right direction it would be much appreciated.” 

“Head southwest, you’ll hit a trail that will lead you right into town.” You dust off your dress and straighten it out. 

“Much appreciated, darlin’.” She tips her hat and walks off toward her horse. You watch in shock as she mounts her horse and before riding away she says just loud enough, “I’ll be seein’ you.” And with a nod, she was off. 

You slowly bend down to pick up the Winchester, cradling it against your chest as you watch the stranger disappear into the night. As you head inside you wonder if you ever will see that strange woman again, and fall asleep debating whether or not you would want to.

**  **

The next morning you head to the school house. The steady feeling and sound of your horse trotting along the dirt path always forced your mind to wander elsewhere. Right now you couldn’t stop thinking about the woman from last night. The schoolhouse was right in the middle of town, would you see her again? Would she even recognize you? If she did, would she even try to talk to you?

The interaction was a bit embarrassing for you, but to be fair you had your fair share of vile men looking for trouble and hostile groups of Apache knocking on your front door. Your father had taught you how to use his Winchester rifle, the very same rifle you use now, and you mentally thanked him for it every night. You had only used it to kill one man, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and you gave him plenty of warnings. He didn’t believe your threats so now he was buried about 500 feet from the house in an unmarked grave, you were sure no one would miss a man like that. Most of the time the Apache would just come to ask questions about men passing through the area, they never tried to attack you, thankfully, but they would always come at the most ungodly hours and were quite impatient. 

Last night was a first, you had never had a cowboy knock at your door, and then she ended up being a woman. The idea of her was so intriguing and you couldn’t figure out why. For some reason, she shook you more than anyone else had since you lived out here. And you’d seen quite a lot.  

Your thoughts are interrupted as you reach town, the sound of rickety carriages, hooves against the packed dirt road, and the chatter of men in front of the Sheriff’s Office make it hard to focus. 

“Hello there, sunshine!” you hear a male voice call out. You turn towards the voice to see Jesse making his way past you on horseback, lugging today's newspapers to the apothecary. He made the trip from Sante Fe every morning. He was nice enough, you liked talking to him, but not as much as you felt like you should. The ladies at the apothecary, Dina, and Maria, would always encourage you to talk to him. They desperately wanted you to move on from your husband. He was long gone and you knew that, you were even thankful for it, which is why you were nervous to start again. You didn’t want to have to go through anything like that again. 

You wave back and smile, “Hi there, Jesse.” You decide to be polite, “Hear anything good today?” He tightens the reins of his horse and stops right next to you. 

“They struck gold in Elizabethtown, and there’s gonna be a shortage of tobacco ‘round these parts within the week because of a dust storm over in Tennessee.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ll have a panic on their hands pretty soon then. I don’t know a man here who can live without their cigars.” You smile and Jesse laughs politely at your attempt at a joke. 

“Alright, don’t want the kids to show up before I do, I'd best be headin’ to the school.” You yearned to leave this awkward conversation through any means possible. Today was not the day for small talk. 

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then, miss.” Your head snaps towards Jesse. You’re suddenly transported to last night and listening to the way the cowboy’s words would drip from her lips, smooth as honey “Miss”. Calm and sure even with a gun pointed right to her heart. 

You quickly snap out of it and nod politely at Jesse as you begin to part ways. You head to the schoolhouse in a hurry, the kids gave you hell if you were late. 

** **

You’re beginning to lock up the schoolhouse when you hear footsteps approaching. “Well hello there, miss.” You recognize the voice all too quickly, you don’t even need to turn around. “Was really hopin’ I’d find you here.” 

As you fish into your pocket for the key you respond, “And how exactly did you find me here?” you turn around and begin to walk past her toward your horse. She follows you. From a brief glance at her, you can see she wears a bandana to cover her face, you could only see her eyes. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I just asked those nice ladies at the apothecary if they knew the women who lived just outside of town, they were more than happy a “nice gentleman” took interest in you. They told me just about everything they knew, your name, some snippets of gossip. I’m sure if I stayed they would’ve told me your life story” You finally turn to face her, your expression unamused. She took her hat off at some point when she was talking to you, her eyes are green, radiant in the unrelenting desert sunlight. You were almost jealous. She wore a dark blue button-down that sat surprisingly flat against her chest and suspenders. She could pass for a man if she wanted to. “So, I take it you don’t have a husband then?” 

“What’s it to you?” you cross your arms, defensively.

“I was just curious, I asked last night, but you weren’t exactly in a talking mood.” You swear you can make out her smirk under the bandana. 

“No, I haven’t had a husband for quite a while. Is that what you came all the way here to ask me?” She lowers her bandana and steps towards you, backing you into your horse. 

“No, I came to ask a favor.” She hesitates for a moment, “No one here can know that I’m, um, well you know..”

“A woman?” pretty easy to piece together after seeing the bandana. 

“Yea,” She backs away from you a little. Seems like someone is embarrassed to ask a favor. “It’s just easier for me to get things this way and it’s lookin’ like I’ll be staying later than I planned so..” 

“Alright, I won’t say anything.” She opens her mouth to begin to thank you, but you weren’t about to let an opportunity like this pass you by. “But, you owe me a favor then.”

Her excited expression disappeared as quickly as it came, if you weren’t looking you could have missed it, “Um, alright, what do ya need?” 

“You know your little visit last night?” You had been cooking this proposition up all day, hoping she would run into you again. 

“Yes.”

“Well, that happens to me about every other day. I don’t want a husband, but I do need a guard dog of some kind.” You didn’t want a man in your home, but you did want the protection of one, this was the perfect opportunity, almost too perfect. 

“A guard dog?” She seems mildly offended by you comparing her to a dog.

“I’m tired of not being able to sleep because of surprise visitors. And I’ll pay you in two square meals a day, tea, and my homemade moonshine.” She does not look amused. “And I won’t tell anyone you’re a lady.”

“I don’t know-”

“I know you’re almost out of money, I’m sure Tommy is bleeding you dry as an outside visitor. I won’t charge you anything.” Something in her loosens, you can see it.

“So do I sleep on your floor?”

“Or outside if you’d like, makes no difference to me. There’s a fire pit out there for ya” You turn around and mount your horse, eager to get home. “We got a deal?” You reach your hand down towards her. She hesitates before shaking it. 

“I’m Ellie by the way.” You nod

“Alright Ellie, I’ll see you at my house then. I trust you’re familiar with the address” She just nods, slightly shocked. You smile and then head off, the comforting sound of hoofbeats clearing the thoughts in your head. On the way home you tend to just listen to the sounds of the desert. After a day of loud, squealing children it was healing. You’re sure you’d go crazy if you lived in town. 

** **

You had just finished making your evening tea when you heard a knock on your door. For the first time in a long time, you don’t go into fight or flight mode. You open the door with a smile, part of you is surprised she even showed up. Your proposition was a little ridiculous, but that truly shows how desperate you are. 

“Hello there stranger.” You are really pushing it with this attitude, you can tell, but something in you likes it when she gets annoyed. 

“Hi.” She takes off her hat and lowers her bandana, something you’ve observed as a habit of hers, one of respect possibly. “So am I sleepin’ with the rattlesnakes or on your floor?” 

“You get bit by a rattlesnake come to me and I’ll suck the venom out myself. Until then you best set up camp before dark darlin’.” You smile at her sweetly. 

“Figured as much.” She smirks and walks away to set up camp.

“Dinner’ll be ready in 20 minutes. I hope ya like stew.” You call out to her. “Oh, and there’s a spring out back if you need any water!” 

** **

The stew finally thickens up to the way you like it, you pour it into two bowls and quickly slurp up your serving. Didn’t taste amazing, but it was food. 

You open your front door to bring Ellie her food and see that she’s already started a fire, she’s sipping from a silver flask just staring at the flames. 

You approach and wordlessly hand her a bowl of stew and a spoon. She looks up at you “You gonna eat?” 

“No, I- uh already ate.” More like inhaled but she didn’t need to know that. You point at her flask. “What’s in there?” 

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t know what’s in here?” She raises her eyebrows.

“I know it’s liquor, Ellie, I’m just askin’ what kind.” Her confused expression drops.

“Whiskey.” She looks at the flask in her hand, then at you. “Want some?” She clearly did not want to offer it to you. But you sit down next to her and reach your hand out for it. 

“Hand it over.” She hands you the flask. The metal was cool to the touch, almost shocking after the desert heat all day. You take a sip and the liquor burns its way down your throat, and your face scrunches a little. You were used to shooting whiskey, but this was particularly terrible, even worse than your moonshine. “Wow, that’s pretty awful.”

Ellie laughs between bites of stew, “You’re stew isn’t the greatest thing I’ve tasted either.”

“Hey!” You lightly punch her shoulder. She giggles even more. “You’re welcome for the food by the way.” You take another swig of whiskey and then hand the flask back to the cowgirl. 

“Thank you,” she takes the flask, “for the meal.” she hands you her empty bowl. “And a place to stay, even if it’s outside.” 

“We’ll see, maybe you’ll earn your way inside.” You take her bowl and turn to head inside. 

“Is that a challenge?” She calls after you. 

“Maybe.” You call back. 

You step inside and immediately undress for bed, the whiskey making your eyes droop closed. You can barely get your buttons undone before you fall into bed, for the first time in a while, not having to worry about dangerous strangers knocking down your door.  

** **

You wake up to a hasty knock coming from the front door. It’s still dark outside. You weren’t supposed to have to deal with this anymore. You grab your rifle and don’t even bother checking who is at the door simply out of annoyance. Would have bit you in the ass later if it was a surprise visitor. You open the door and cock the rifle. To your astonishment, you open the door to Ellie, holding her side. There’s a dark stain forming under her hands, her face is bloody and bruised. And yet she’s got a smug yet pained smile on her face. “This how you’re always gonna greet me?” 

“Jesus Ellie,” you usher her inside quickly. “What happened?” 

“You got some visitors, a group of Apache men.” She sits down in one of your wooden dining room chairs. You rush over to grab the small medical kit you had managed to fashion over the years. “They wanted to see you in particular, when I told them you weren’t accepting visitors they sort of attacked me. It was one versus six” 

“They don’t trust many people.” You undo Ellie’s suspenders and begin unbuttoning her shirt without even thinking. “Most folks round here shoot first and ask questions later, they don’t have any respect or patience for a stubborn cowboy.” You walk over, grab a candle and some matches, and light it so you can see. “Can’t say I blame them. I am sorry though I’d thought they’d see your gun and back off” 

“That is real optimistic of ya.” You remove her right arm from the sleeve of her shirt. She is wearing some sort of binding around her chest- so that’s how she’s managed to pass for a man. 

“Wow, that’s a big word for you.” You smirk at her as you clean your hands with some moonshine. 

“Really? I’m bleedin’ out and you’re making fun of me?” You press gauze to her wound, she hisses through her teeth. 

“Please, you’re not bleeding out. Shouldn’t even need stitches, just some cleaning and dressing.” You look up at her, you’re not quite sure, but even in the dim candlelight, you could swear she was blushing. You wouldn’t dare mention it when she’s already made herself so vulnerable. 

“Now for the hard part.” You take out a small bottle of vinegar. 

“Alright.” Ellie leans back in the chair, ready for the sting of the vinegar. 

“Here.” You take her left hand and place it on your shoulder. “Squeeze if you need to.” She nods and you take that as your cue to begin. You pour the vinegar on the wound and you watch as her abs contract, her hand squeezes your shoulder, pretty hard, but you know she was trying not to hurt you, even in pain. 

You stand up and gently wrap a few layers of gauze around her mid-section, just in case it starts bleeding again during the night. You were so, so close to her, you could feel the heat radiating from her skin. “You always wear that?” 

“Wear what?”

“The-the bandages, round your chest.” She looks down at them like she almost forgot they were there. Suddenly you realize how personal that question must be. “Sorry, I shouldn’t said anything. You don’t have to answer” 

“No, It’s alright. I don’t mind. Yes, I’ve worn this for a while now, easier to get around when you look like a man.” You nod and finish wrapping the gauze around her and pin it in place. You put a bit of vinegar on a piece of gauze and begin cleaning the cuts on her face. “Oh, you don’t need to do that, miss.”

“Please just let me clean off your face. Were you planning on walkin’ around town tomorrow with dried blood on your cheeks?” She opens her mouth to say something but closes it. She’s quiet as you gently clean her face, you can see every freckle, every scar, her eyes shining in the candlelight. It was odd being this close to her. You had never felt comfortable being this physically close to someone. Her warmth almost invited you in, made you want to press your nose to her neck, run your hands across her skin, feeling along all the freckles and scars, memorizing the spot of each one. you wanted to know her in a way you have never wanted to know anybody else.

“Hey,” a gentle voice grounds you back into reality. “I think my face is clean.” She smiles softly. She was right, at some point, you had gotten her face completely clean, you’re not sure how long she let you drag the cloth across her freckled cheeks before she said something. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You back away and put the blood-soaked gauze in the burn pile. “You should sleep in here. Don’t think anyone else will be coming tonight. I’ll go get your bedroll.” Ellie just nods and you go out to grab her things. 

You hurry back and set up her bedroll on the floor right next to your bed. She makes her way to it and sits down on the floor with a thud, careful to not contort her body in a way that could re-open the wound. She collapses onto the wool blankets. When you’re sure she’s settled you place your rifle back next to your bed and fall into your mattress, knowing you’ll be exhausted tomorrow.

lmk what you think! Likes, comments and reblogs always appreciated!

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

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H A U N T E D ! ♱✮♱

in which your ex seems to be popping up in the most odd places. your dreams, the coffee shop you frequent in the mornings, your bedroom while you sleep.

summary! you broke up with simon due to his possessive and toxic nature. despite him not taking it well, a year later you believe you’re getting over it, beginning to move on to better things. that is, until, he seems to be popping up everywhere you go. he’s at your every turn, every corner, and you’re sure there’s little you can do to escape him while still having the willpower to deny the way your body calls out to him.

pairing! simon ‘ghost’ riley x chubby fem reader

warnings! 18+ smut, minors DNI. p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), creampie, degrading (use of slut, whore, and more), praise (use of angel, my love, baby), heavy dumbification, heavy stalking, toxic relationship, fingering, oral (f receiving), spanking, impact play, marking/hickey giving, absolutely filthy smut, squirting, humiliation, dubcon, heavy dacryphilia, slight bondage, heavy body worship, simon is actually unhealthily obsessed with you, no use of y/n, masturbation, mutual masturbation, manipulation, thigh riding, slight daddy kink, breeding

author’s note! sorry i haven’t posted in so long, i was scrapping for ideas and then i listened to haunted by beyoncé and came up with this. this fic is going to be my most unhinged and filthiest yet so i hope you guys enjoy!! <3 the end is kinda rushed because i want to get this out and give you guys an update but in time, i will edit it and make it better! it’s also not proofread :,)

word count! one day i’ll count, i promise :,)

you awake with a shudder, your body jolting up and immediately reacting to the same dream you’ve been having for the past year. goosebumps covered your body, but not because of the steady flow of cold air coming from your air conditioning, no.

you’d been having the same fucking sex dream of your ex since the day you left him.

you just couldn’t understand it. the dude was a prick, constantly groveling and pining for your attention, whether it be through trying to keep you away from your friends or starting arguments with you whenever you planned to go out just to keep you home. he would’ve done anything for you to be solely focused on him. he didn’t care if you were yelling at him, if you were screaming, if you occasionally slapped him whenever he got out of line, as long as you were talking to him, he was perfectly content, which was the problem. most couples saw arguments as things they didn’t want to have. they didn’t enjoy fighting, they didn’t enjoy the screaming, the crying, the yelling. but he reveled in it.

your every yell seemed to ignite a sick type of flame in him, the volume of your voice only growing louder when he’d smirk and poke and prod at you to coax a more unhinged and volatile reaction out of you. and god, you never missed the way his dick would create a tent in his pants when the frustration became too much and you began to cry. the way he bit his lip as you sobbed, the way he’d palm himself over his pants when he thought your vision was too blurred with tears to see him, how he’d say whatever mean shit was on his mind to keep you crying.

and yet, every night when you settled into bed (sometimes a bed that didn’t even belong to you), you’d have the same dream. it didn’t matter if you were alone, if you were asleep beside someone, if you’d fallen asleep at the library, your desk, or even your car, it was the same reoccurring dream.

when you first began having the dreams, you chalked it up to you just missing him. the breakup was still fresh and the sex was phenomenal, how could you not? you thought that as you moved on in your life and forgot about him, they’d just stop. but no. he plagued your mind like a goddamn disease. every time you shut your eyes, he was there, his face buried into your neck whispering nothing but dirty things into your ears as he drilled into your cunt, the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your whoreish moans echoing off every single wall of your once shared apartment.

you couldn’t forget about him even if you wanted to and it was beginning to drive you insane.

what left you on the brink between sanity and insanity, however, was when you saw him in public again for the first time. you were out getting your daily salted caramel latte, the way you had every morning for the past four years. it was early fall and you were six months post breakup, your body protected from the cool wind by a knitted white cardigan he’d bought you a few weeks before your inevitable end, and black leggings. as usual, you sat at a table, your eyes focused on your phone and occasionally flickering up when the bell at the door would chime. you smiled at the normal customers you’d grown to occasionally create small talk with but when your eyes raised and you saw him, your blood ran cold and you found yourself fumbling to the nearest bathroom to avoid him even catching a glimpse of you.

you thought it was a one off incident, brushing it off after a short-lived freak out and moving on with your life.

then you went to a club for your friend’s birthday. you were all clad in the skimpiest dresses you could find, intending to bring a guy back with you at the end of the night for drunk and meaningless sex. the purple lights of the club mixed with the one too many gin and tonic’s left your vision slightly blurry, but as you let some random man come up behind you and grab your hips, you allowed you head to fall over his shoulder and you went stiff when you noticed him sitting at the bar, beer in hand as he watched you intently. it wasn’t like he pulled his eyes away or left, no, he stared into your damn soul as this guy rutted into you from behind, making his intentions clear. what made it worse was that the fucker had the audacity to raise his hand and teasingly wave at you, mouthing the words “always told you that red was your color” after his eyes scanned your dress from head to toe.

but whatever. just another coincidence, right?

wrong!

the third time you noticed him, you were getting a little hot and heavy with some random date in an alley. his hands were grabbing at your hips, his mouth peppering hot open mouthed kisses to your neck as you moaned into the cool night air. it didn’t take long for him to slide his fingers up the slutty skirt you’d worn just for that reason and enter your cunt. sure, it was good, but there was something.. missing. sex had began feeling that way after your breakup. you could moan as loud as you wanted, you could squirm in someone else’s hold as much as you wanted, but something was always missing.

when you felt what you knew was going to be a short lived and unfulfilling climax coming on, you saw him. the brit had his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall as he watched you with a smug smile. when your breath hitched, your date saw that as you enjoying yourself, so he continued, unaware of the man standing just a few feet away from the both of you. and it was wrong, it was so wrong, but what brought you closer to the edge was the way he watched your every movement. the way your every gasp seemed to make his smile grow caused an unexplainable pool of heat to grow in your lower stomach and you hated yourself for it.

“you close, love?” he mouthed, nodding his head to your date who was biting and sucking at your neck. when you nodded, he silently chuckled to himself, lowering his head for a moment before raising it, shrugging as he spoke. “go on then. cum for him, love.”

and you did, but not because of your date. because your ex was sat watching you cum for another man, his expression nothing short of snobby as your mouth went agape and you let out a squeal, unable to squeeze your eyes shut the way you normally did when you came because you wanted to see him, wanted to watch him as you came.

it was as if he’d ruined you for another man. he knew everything about you. you every nervous habit, your every like and dislike, how you liked to be touched. no other man knew how to touch you the way he did and it drove you insane.

you never saw him again, but he was always there. in your head, in your heart, and in your dreams.

oh, but if only you knew.

you were always just the silliest girl there was to him. to think that he’d just left you alone after he watched you cum on another man’s fingers, to think that he hadn’t been watching you long before the first time, to think he hadn’t continued watching you after the last time. you thought you’d finally gotten a grip, going out and living your life ever so fucking happily without him, and yet he still had all the control. you think he didn’t allow you to see him those three times? you think he would’ve have made himself known if he didn’t want to?

his poor sweet and naïve silly girl.

he was always there, you just couldn’t see him. he wouldn’t allow you to. not after the way you’d broken up with him when all he was trying to do was keep you to himself. was that so wrong? to not want to let something so perfect go into the big, bad world? the day you moved into your new apartment, he was sat in the lobby, newspaper just high enough to cover the lower half of his face as he watched you lug your suitcase inside. every time you walked to the nearest gas station at three a.m because you were hungry, he was sat in the shadows, his eyes following the sway of your hips and his feet following your every step. every time you went to get your morning coffee, he was sat in the furthest booth from your normal table, laptop open while his eyes watched the way you’d sometimes talk to different daily customers.

and oh, that flimsy little lock on your apartment door was too easy to get past. after you’d shut your curtains, signaling that you intended on going to sleep, he’d slip his way into your home, his footsteps light as he crept into your room, standing over you as you slept. if he got lucky, he sometimes managed to slip his hand into your panty drawer, cock in hand as he watched you sleep, sometimes in just one of his old shirts and a pair of shorts. he knew he was sick, knew that he shouldn’t be stalking you, but he couldn’t help it. you were just so pretty, so perfect, and so fucking stupid. if you weren’t going to properly protect yourself, he would just have to watch your every move and ensure that someone was still watching over you.

for the year you’ve been broken up, for 365 days, he has been with you at every point. even if you didn’t know it. he’d watched you slip one too many men in your sheets, watched you drunkenly turn the stuffed animal he’d gotten you around whenever you had company, watched you sink your fingers into your pussy whenever you needed release.

and he was just about ready to make himself known, but not yet. he wanted to watch you just a bit more, hence why he was currently sat in his car while you got into yours, eyes trained on the flimsy and thin tank top you were wearing that allowed the sun kiss your skin. it was late spring and he knew you weren’t one for modesty, hence why he’d driven closely behind you, sometimes taking a few turns to avoid detection before ending up a few cars behind yours.

while you sat in your car and grabbed the exact amount you’d need in cash, per usual, he stepped inside and perched himself in his usual spot, eyes trained on you and your tits as you smiled at the cashier and ordered your usual before sitting at your usual table. maybe if you weren’t such a sucker for routine, this wouldn’t be so easy for him.

when your friend, kelly, entered and sat across from you, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. he didn’t like kelly. kelly talked too much, kelly was annoying, kelly always filled your pretty little head with such stupid ideas, like how he was toxic and how it was good that you left him. kelly encouraged you to go out, kelly thought it was good for you to wear such slutty and skimpy outfits out, kelly wasn’t protecting you.

“hey.” she smiled as you put your phone away and tucked it into your purse. “new club opened up a few blocks from here, wanna check it out with me?”

when you sigh, he’s hopeful that you’ve finally learned. that you’re days of being naïve and prey to the world were over.

“i’m not sure. i’ve been.. weird lately.” your voice is low, as if you’re trying to shrink away from whatever is on your mind. when kelly quirks an eyebrow, it implores you to continue speaking. “don’t say i’m crazy or anything, but i’ve been having these dreams—“

“so?” kelly snorts. “are they nightmares?”

kelly talks too much.

“no, kelly. they’re sex dreams about..” trailing off, you’ve definitely got his attention now. his eyes are trained on you as you sigh once more and lower your head, your expression one of what looks to be embarrassment. “about simon.”

aww. you’re thinkin’ ‘bout him.

how sweet.

he could feel himself smile as he watched you, the words music to his ears.

kelly groans. “not that guy. not again. do you not remember how terrible he treated you?”

kelly fills your pretty little head with stupid ideas.

“i know, i know, but still. i started having them after we broke up, but they just.. didn’t stop.” shrugging gently, you avoid eye contact with kelly, clearly not wanting to hear what she’s been saying for almost a year.

“you are too beautiful to be tied down to such an ugly person.”

he snickered to himself. ugly? sure, kelly. sure.

“you wanna forget about him? then come out with me! we’ll find you a sexy little dress, you can take someone home with you, and you’ll forget all about him!”

kelly encouraged you to go out, kelly thought it was good for you to wear such slutty and skimpy outfits out, kelly wasn’t protecting you.

“okay. i’m in.” smiling, you grab kelly’s hand as she squeals while he sighs. he’d truly thought that you’d learned. thought you’d realized something as beautiful and precious as you needed to be hidden away. thought you’d finally stopped needing him. but as usual, you proved him wrong. you still needed him. you always would, apparently.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

“kelly?” you groan, arms wrapped around your body to protect your skin from the slightly cold air. You’d went out with the girl and everything was fine and all fun until she disappeared and didn’t come back, which you wouldn’t have cared about if she was your fucking ride. of course, you had a few to drink. not enough to completely render you incomprehensible and not in your own control, but enough that you wouldn’t dare to sit behind the wheel. and it didn’t help that she had your phone as well.

so now you’re left outside the club with no concept of time, no phone, no friend, and no ride.

fucking fantastic.

“god, why am i even friends with her?” you shake your head, unable to wrap your mind around the fact that she’d just leave you here.

“pretty sure I asked you that at least 56 times when we were dating.”

when you look up to see simon, your body goes rigid and your mind is racing. how did he know you were here? why was he here? why is being so causal as if you two hadn’t talked in over a year?

“aht. It was actually 653.” he hums with the cockiest, shit-eating grin. “654 if you count you just asking.”

“go away, simon.” is the only words you’ll let fall off of your tongue. of course, your mind is filled with the usual confusion at the feel of seeing him again, but what was currently on your mind were those stupid dreams and your last few encounters. You wanted to scream at him, to ask him what he’d done that would curse you to always remember him, to ask why even after being broken up, he was stuck in your mind, but that wouldn’t do anything besides cause an argument, and you knew exactly how that would go.

“been away for almost a year, my angel. haven’t you missed me?” he takes a step forward and tilts your chin up, the frown on his face is.. genuine. like he’s actually upset that you don’t want him around, but of course you wouldn’t! he was possessive, toxic, jealous, almost borderline narcissistic, hot, caring, annoying loving and—

“no. no i haven’t.” you push his hand away from you, crossing your arms as he shakes his head. “cut me some slack, yeah, baby? i miss you.”

“well i don’t fucking miss you! i don’t miss the way you’d argue with me to keep me in the house, i don’t miss the way you’d try to tell me what to wear! i don’t miss the way you’d get mad at me if any guy even looked at me! i don’t miss the way you’d get hard and touch your fucking dick when i cried because i was so, so done with you!” you tried your best, but you ended up yelling. his audacity made you throw your want to not argue out of the window. now it was all you wanted to do. you wanted to scream at him, to make him feel like nothing but shit for what he’d done to you.

“but you don’t miss the sex? the way id fuck you into nothing but oblivion? until you couldn’t remember your own name? you don’t miss the way i’d hold you after and tell you how beautiful you were? the kisses on your head as i cleaned you up? the way id carefully re-dress you?” he hums, attempting to remind you of the very little good he did.

“none of that was worth it. it wasn’t worth the bullshit i put up with.” you grumble back to him. instead of arguing further, you find your feet stomping away from him. you had no idea where you where going, but as long as it was away from him, you couldn’t have cared any less. your feet carried you through that same alley where your date and once fingered you, sending a shiver down your spine and making you pause to look behind you. when you see he’s not there, you settle on walking home, content with the fact that he didn’t know where your apartment was and couldn’t bother you there.

at least, that’s what you think.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

“i believe we were having a conversation.”

you groan, rolling over in your bed and shoving your face deeper into your pillow, the silk duvet wrapped around you protecting your legs from the cold as you slept. you truly believed you were just having the same dream. “right there, si.” you mumbled, shifting in your sheets.

“right there, baby?” simon snickers, standing over you as you sleep peacefully. he’d overheard you saying that you’d been having dreams about him and so he put the rage he felt towards you for walking away from him aside. for the first time since he’d first found his way into your apartment, he reached his hand out and rests it on your thigh, grinning at the way you hum and relish in it. you may have hated him, but your body didn’t. “that feel good?”

the moment he puts his hand on you, you’re snapped awake. the dreams were vivid, but they’d never felt this real, hence why you shot up only to find an empty bedroom, causing you to groan and stand to your feet. “why are you fucking haunting me?” you whisper to what you think is the empty bedroom, standing in nothing but one of his old hoodies and a pair of panties, having been too tired after walking home to properly dress yourself for bed.

“because i fucking miss you.”

you’re nothing short of surprised when simon emerges from the shadows, hands shoved into his pockets and his expression nothing short of enraged.

“how’d you get—“

“shut up. i heard you talk long enough in front of that club.” he cuts you off as he strides over to you and clamps his hand over your mouth before pushing you onto your bed. “you think i like being all possessive and jealous? i wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t so fucking stupid. you’re so naive it’s a wonder how you’ve made it this far into adulthood. i took care of you, for fucks sake. made sure no one fucked with someone as pure and as innocent as you. every time i yelled at you, i was just trying to protect you. that so wrong?”

“simon-“

“i swear to god, ill gag you.” he snaps, reaching into your bedside table as he continues talking. you unsure why you’re even listening, why you’re not screaming at him to get out. “do you think it’s easy to watch you fuck other men?” he raises an eyebrow as he pulls a silk hair ribbon from your bedside table and grabs your wrists, one of his large hands managing to fit both of yours in his grip. “watch them kiss the pretty tummy i love so much? watch them miserably fail to eat the pussy i adore?” he ties your wrists together as he continues his angry rambles as he lays you down on your bed ever so gently, a contrast from his sharp and harsh words. “you’re stupid, angel. you’re the silliest girl i’ve ever met and you aren’t ready to be alone. been following you since the day you left and you still manage to make all the wrong decisions.”

“you.. you’ve been following me?” your voice is hushed, a simple and soft whisper. since the day you left, for over 365 days, he’d been following you. and for some reason, you’re not mad. you’re sat on your bed, wrists tied and simon still angrily rambling, and you aren’t mad. no.

you’re turned on.

the way he’s degrading you, his words humiliating and insulting, but you can’t deny the way it makes your cunt pulse and throb. you’re wet and you hate it. hate that your body still reacts to him like this, hate that your mind is still fixed on him, and you hate that you can’t hate him. your facade of hate and rage is crumbling quickly and you hate it. you’re unsure if it was his words from earlier, him reminding you that he wasn’t all bad that was making you rethink your decision, if it was the image of him following you around to protect you, but regardless of what it was, it was making your cunt warm and your eyes watery. your feelings were confusing and as much as you tried to act tough, you couldn’t. you crumbled completely, breaking out into soft sobs that finally made simon stop his rambling.

you felt so.. stupid. so, so stupid for ever leaving him. all he wanted to do was protect you and you failed to see it. your sobs grew louder as you succumbed to your own mind, allowing yourself to feel everything you tried to hide, including your attraction to simon who was looking at you sob, his fingers itching to touch his dick that was growing hard.

“you know i always loved it when you cried.” his voice has died down a whisper before he slaps you. “you’re an idiot. can’t believe you said all those things about me when all i wanted to do was keep you safe? how could you?” he mocks a pout, causing you to sob harder, your words incoherent as your wrists rub against the silk ribbon around them. “i’m sorry! ‘m so sorry.” you manage to choke out, which makes him click his tongue and shake his head.

“sorry’s not enough. been watching you whore around for a year. do you know how much of a dirty slut you’ve become? now i hafta ruin you all over again. make sure you remember it’s me and it’s always going to be me.” standing, he sheds his black sweatpants and sits right atop your thighs, palming himself over his boxers as he looks at you, his hand cupping your cheek and rubbing his thumb over your cheeks. “so pretty when you cry.” he hums before he slaps you, the impact causing you to sob harder and your cunt to ache for some kind of attention. “that’s my fucking girl.”

it doesn’t take long for simon to pull off his boxers, using your tears as a lubricant as he brings his hand up and down his cock while watching you closely, his smile nothing short of cocky as he slaps you once more, this time on your thigh. “you’re a fucking whore.” his voice is a whisper as he grins at you, his words so cruel and his tone so soft that all it does is make you sob harder. “had so many men in and out of this fucking apartment, so many inside of your cunt, i’m surprised it still works. you were such a good girl when i met you, but now you’re nothing but a slut.”

“no, ‘m not.. ‘m not a slut.” you hiccup. “i just..” you trail off, the words dying on your tongue and making simon mock a pout once more. “you just what? wanted to open your legs to any man who gave you attention? that’s practically the definition of a slut.” sighing, simon speeds up the movements of his hand, his soft whimpers and moans echoing in your ears as you writhe beneath him. it’s complete torture to have to sit there and watch him jerk off while you don’t get an ounce of pleasure.

“si, please.” you beg through broken sobs.

“i’m not touchin’ you, love. after all the men you’ve had, you don’t deserve me in you.” he shakes his head as you let out cry after cry, making him grow annoyed. he suddenly sits up before shoving his cock between your trembling lips. “tired of hearing you cry because of shit you’ve done. shut up and suck my dick.”

though it’s what got want, you settle for it, wrapping your lips around his length as you run the underside of your tongue up and down his shaft, your teary eyes looking up at him for his approval as he nods. “there you go. atta fuckin’ girl. just how you used to.”

it’s not long until he’s fucking your face, no care for how you’re doing as he pushes his cock in and out of your mouth, reveling in the way your spit pools down your chin and your tears slide down your cheeks. it’s all so erotic to him. after watching you for so long, dreaming about this very moment, he finally gets to live it, gets to feel your lips wrapped around him once more. “missed this pretty mouth.” he hums out before pulling away. “but i’m so disappointed in you.” he sighs, using your spit as lubricant to pump his cock. “such a stupid girl to think you could live without me.”

“simon, please.” you beg. you’re utterly humiliated and all you want is for him to bury his cock in you as you bury yours in his neck and try to forget what you’ve done. when he slaps your thigh, you jolt and let out another sob.

“whores don’t get my cock.” he growls. “but i’ll admit, i do like seeing you like this. all helpless and crying so fucking beautifully for me.” it’s odd how his demeanor changes so quickly as he moves away to press kisses to your tear-stained cheeks before moving down to your neck. “you’re wearin’ my hoodie.” simon’s voice goes soft as he pulls away, looking over the fabric he adored to see you in.

“yeah.” you sniffle.

“always looked so pretty in it.” he slightly smiles. it’s a genuine smile and simon hates that he can’t keep up his composure either. he wants to be mad at you, to call you every degrading name in the book while he forces you to sit there and watch him touch his cock, but he goes soft. he grabs your wrists, pressing his lips to yours for the first time since you’d broke up and it only further breaks through his rage and anger. he’s.. softer than you thought he would be, his lips moving in a gentle synchronization with yours as his hands slip under the hoodie, his touch sending goosebumps across the gentle skin he’s tracing soft circles on as he slips his tongue into your mouth, exploring the crevices he knows like the back of his hand before he breaks the kiss to look at you. “you’re gonna ride my thigh like the dirty fucking whore you are, yeah?” his hands moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as you nod. “atta girl.”

he allows you straddle his thigh, his hands on your hips as you sniffle and rock your hips against his thigh, wanting to complain that he hadn’t taken off your panties, but you knew this softness wouldn’t last long, so you took what you could get, finding a steady rhythm as your still ribbon tied hands were sat higher on his thigh, trying to reach for his cock before he pushed them away, giving you a warning glance that made you pout as you continued to rock against him. your anger towards him melted completely as you looked over him. despite how much time had passed, he still looked at you with love and admiration. his eyes were stuck on yours and his hands were still on your hips, gently stroking your skin in a way that made your cunt flutter as you let out a shaky sigh and lowered your head. “si..” you hum out.

“what is it, baby? what do you need?” he lifts your head and strokes your cheek.

“gonna cum.” you breathe out, squeezing your eyes shut before he slaps your thigh and you re-open them.

“no, baby. need you to wait for me, can you do that?” he’s so gentle right now, which you know is about to fade because said gentleness is what makes you cum, your climax washing over you in waves. it’s so much more intense than the ones you’ve had without him and it sends you falling into his chest, your legs shaking around him and the damp spot in your panties growing as you let out a soft cry, your body shivering when you finally come down and catch sight of his expression.

“never fuckin’ listened, did you?” he sighs, placing you back on the bed and tearing the hoodie in to, causing you to yelp. “simon! i wanted that.”

“shut up, i’ll give you another one.” he hissed as he pulls your panties and bra off. you expect him to eat you, but you’re surprised when he just.. stares at you. his eyes roam over your entire body like you’re a piece of artwork that was meant to be worshipped.

which to him, you were.

he loved every inch of your body. the way your tummy sometimes protrude through your dresses or shirts, how your thighs would rub together when you’d walk and how they’d expand when you sat down, how plush and warm you were. you were a bigger girl, but you never let it bother you. you wore what you wanted and did what you wanted without letting your weight stop you, which is what drew simon to you in the first place.

he had been at a club and he noticed you arguing with a guy for whatever reason. when the taller male began sizing you up, simon jumped in to protect you, despite not knowing you. he watched the way you immediately clung to him, continuing to yell at the guy who didn’t want to even look simon in the eye before he’d just walked off, leaving you to thank him and ask him for a drink, which is how you both hit it off. you were so confident and so sweet, all you needed was just a bit of protection, and simon became that. you became his everything from that night on. you were all he thought of, all he dreamed of, all he saw when he shut his eyes. he wanted you and that was all he would ever want. he loved you, for fuck’s sake, hence why he was so hurt.

he adored you, every inch of you, and you’d just.. left him. he worshipped you, he kissed the ground you walked on, he was obsessed with you. he always would be.

“hate how fucking pretty you are.” he sighs, leaning in close to your neck and peppering kiss after kiss on your body as his hands explore every inch of as if trying to re-familiarize himself with the way you feel in his hands. “makes it impossible to be mad at you.” when he reaches your thighs, he spends a lot of time kissing your inner thighs and grinning at the way you whimper and try to carefully buck your hips up to help him reach the area where you need him most, but all he does is move further away.

“simon.” you try to say sternly but fail, your words coming out in a distasteful whine that makes him slap your inner thigh.

“shut up and wait.” he snarls, continuing to kiss at your thighs while his thumb runs over the area he’d just slapped in an attempt to soothe it. it feels like forever before he finally begins to hover over your cunt, smiling at the warmth before pulling away and grinning wickedly at you. “gotta tell me somethin’ first.”

you groan, but look back at him. “what?”

“gotta tell me you missed me.” he hums, hands squeezing and kneading at the skin of your thighs.

“i missed you.” you groan, clearly trying to get this over with but pout when he doesn’t budge, imploring you to talk more. “simon, ive been having dreams about you since we broke up. of course i miss you.”

“really? what kind of dreams?” he feigns innocence, pretending he hadn’t overheard you at the cafe.

“the last time we had sex. for some reason, every single night and every time i fall asleep, no matter where i am, im forced to relive the last time you were buried in my cunt.” you grumble, growing embarrassed by the admission. when simon stays quiet, you find your embarrassment growing, feeling even more stupid than you already had.

but the feeling fades when he shoves his face between your legs, his tongue lapping at you eagerly, as if he’s been starved of you for far too long.

it’s then that you finally find out what you’ve been missing.

and its simon.

he’s completely ruined you for any other man. no tongue feels as good between your legs as his, no fingers curl the same way his used to, no one’s cock feels as good as his because no one is him. simon is truly the only one who can fulfill you and the thought of that mixed with the feel of him between your legs infills you with shame. you’re so disappointed that you’ve let him back into your life, your home, your legs. and yet, you feel so stupid for having walked away from him in the first place. he protected you, kept you safe. and there was nothing wrong with that. you were crazy for thinking that there was an issue with that.

“god, missed the way you taste so much.” he growls out, continuing to lap at you as his hands grab your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer. “you were always so wet f’me. did you get this wet for them?”

“no—no. never.” you shake your head. “only—nghh—you.”

“just how i like it.” he hums, pulling his lips off of your clit with a pop! “just for me. only for me.”

sitting down, he grabs your wrists and pulls you over his lap. “think i owe you a punishment for running away in the first place, don’t i?”

the punishment in question is a spanking that leaves you wracked with sobs after, all while simon told you just how dumb you were and told you what a slut you were, the words now ingrained in your mind. you felt so disgusting. like you’d betrayed simon. you were nothing but a slut, a complete idiot for leaving him.

when he helped you up, all you could do was fall into his chest, letting out different choked apologies as your hands fought against the ribbon tied around your wrists. your body was wracked with sobs as he held you close, shushing you and rubbing your bare back.

“i’m sorry, im so sorry.” you whisper. “i’m an idiot, im an idiot.”

“it’s okay. we all make mistakes, angel.” he whispered. “i forgive you.”

“need you to fuck me. please. i—i don’t want anyone else. i want you.” you look up at him with teary eyes he can’t refuse, which is why he lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs before pushing in, cooing at the feeling of your cunt re-familiarizing itself with him.

it burns slightly, the once comfortable stretch slightly burning as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“hey, hey. eyes on me.” simon hums, grabbing your chin and smiling as you look up at him. “there we go. that’s my girl.”

it doesn’t take long until he’s pounding into you, his gentle touch a stark contrast from his rough thrusts. “tell me, love, did they feel the way i do?”

“no! no, never.” you cry out, a mess of broken moans and occasionally sobs as your cunt squeezed him. you’d would’ve forgot the way he felt inside of you if it weren’t for those dreams, but having the real thing is so, so much better. you’ve missed him. you were an idiot for leaving.

when simon noticed a tear slipping down your cheek, he smiles. “what? my baby realizing how stupid she is?”

you nod at his words. “ ‘m sorry for leaving.”

“it’s okay, silly girl. i forgive you. i’ll take care of you.” he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead as he continues to pound into you. he pushes his head into your neck, immediately biting and sucking at your skin the way he used to, marking every last inch of your neck before moving down to your chest. “missed your tits so much. so heavy, so fuckin’ pretty.” his lips wrap around your nipple for a few moment before he moves to the rest of your tits, sucking and nipping wherever he could. this was part of simon’s possessive nature, every time you had sex, he made sure to mark you, to make sure other’s know that you weren’t on the market.

“you wanna be my good girl again? wanna be my pretty baby?” simon implores, raising his head and watching as you pathetically nod. “god, i’ll do anything. please.” you moan out.

“cum f’me, love.” he grins, adjusting himself to hit the spot inside of you that would make you see starts, which is what made you crumble. your legs shook and your eyes shut as you let out a cry of his name. your cunt squeezed him, wrapping around him so tightly he couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to. he watched the way your body shook his hold, the way your legs jerked, the way your eyes rolled back. “there we go, baby. there we go.” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, slowing his thrusts to help you ride out your high before smiling. “on your knees, c’mon, baby.”

he helped you onto your hands and knees before pushing into you once more, now slapping your ass with every thrust. “my sweet and silly girl. ‘s all you needed. just a little punishment to remind you of what we had.”

“si.. ‘m close, ‘m so close.” you whine before shrieking as he slaps your ass. “you can wait. you just came. don’t be a greedy slut.”

you mutter out different apologies as simon continues. “you feel so good, so fucking wet f’me. love the way you grip me when i fuck you.”

“y-yeah?” you chuckle, entirely too fucked out to remember your embarrassment. instead, you revel in the humiliation, the shame. in a sick and twisted way, it reminds you to never leave simon again.

“mhm. so tight.” he hums, slapping your ass once again. “she missed me, didn’t she?” the she in question is your cunt that fluttered at his words.

“that answer your question?”

“sure fuckin’ did.”

his pace is brutal, hips ramming into yours as your moans echo off the wall. you make up your mind then and there. you want simon back. you need him back. it’s not that you just can’t give up the sex, you can’t give him up. he kept you safe, protected you, defended you. you needed him.

“simon, i—i need you.” you whimper out, causing him to chuckle. “i’m giving it to you, baby.”

“no, no. i need you.” you repeat, more firm in your words despite letting out a moan just a few seconds after. his pace falters, but he regains his composure, running his hand up your back. “my girl, my good girl. ‘m not goin’ anywhere. couldn’t ever leave you. not in a million years.”

“i’m so sorry, promise i won’t leave again.” your still tied hands grab at your pillow, squeezing it tightly and shoving your face into it to keep quiet, not wanting to disturb your neighbors.

“alright, baby. i trust you.” leaning down, he presses soft kisses onto your back while pushing in and out of you. “but you’re still a dirty slut, and dirty sluts don’t get to cum, do they?” his gentleness faded as he pulls your hair, forcing your head out of the pillow.

“no, daddy. no they don’t.” simon can practically hear your pout as slaps your ass. “need you do somethin’ f’me.” he lets go of your hair and grabs your phone. “call kelly.”

normally, you would’ve questioned him, told him there was no way you’d call your friend while having sex with him—the boyfriend she despised—but you didn’t care about what she would say or her opinion. you knew she’d have an entire monologue prepared, each word a lie about how terrible simon was, how toxic he was. you normally listened to those monologues and made sure you took the words to heart.

which is why kelly was surprised when she answered the phone and you told her exactly who you were fucking.

“why! why would you ever do that?! he’s—“

“kelly, shut up.” you groan. partly because simon just slapped your ass and partly because you’re annoyed with kelly. “he protects—*right there! right there!*—“ you’re cut off when simon finds that special spot, causing the words to die on your tongue as your mind goes blank. it’s as if you loose all ability to function, almost falling forward as whoreish moans and cries spill from your lips, your eyes rolling back and the slightest hint of drool trickling out of the corner of your mouth.

“she’s so pretty.” simon chuckles.

“get away from her! she was doing so good, so good without you!” kelly practically screams from the other end of the phone.

“she wants me here, kelly.” simon mocks, pushing your head into the mattress while his other hand pushes you up just a bit further, forcing his cock impossibly deeper. “tell her, baby.”

“want.. want. ‘im here.” you slur out, your eyes fluttering shut. “feels so, so fucking good.”

“don’t do this. you don’t need to do this.” kelly begs you. but her words fall on deaf ears.

“i love you, i love you.” the cock-drunken slur seems to ignite a fire inside of him that sends his hips drilling as far as he can, the head of his cock practically abusing your g-spot and sending a shriek up your throat and out from between your lips.

“god, i love you too. gonna breed this pretty pussy to keep you all to myself forever.” he growls out, smiling at the way you shriek at that and your cunt squeezed around him. “yeah? you like that idea? want me to give you a baby? watch you grow all round and take care of you when you’re pregnant?”

“don’t you fucking dare, simon.” kelly growls out. “i’m coming over.”

“no need.” simon shrugs. “she’ll be properly knocked up by then.” leaning down, simon presses a kiss to your scalp. “tell her how much you want this, how you want to be filled to the brim with my cum and round with my kid.”

“i wan’ it, i wan’ it.” you sound like an absolute whore, words barely coherent and tone full of excitement at the thought. “need it.”

“see? she wants it.” simon shrugs, grabbing your phone. “we’ll see you at the gender reveal, kelly. or not. i don’t quite like you.” he hangs up, throwing your phone back onto the bed just as your cunt begins to spasm around him.

“you gonna cum, love?” he chuckles as you nod. “good. cum with me, yeah?”

your climax washes over you the same time his does, your cunt gripping him for dear life as you cry out and grab your pillow the best you can with your hands still restricted. it’s exactly what you need and that’s made abundantly clear when you begin to coat simon, your bed, the back of your thighs, and most importantly his cock, in a clear/-ish liquid that washes away the milky white and foamy ring that formed around the base of his cock.

“gonna fill you, oh my god.” simon whimpers as his hands find your hips and grips them as he spills into your cunt, the feel of you squirting and squeezing him all too much. he gives you every last drop of him, not moving until he’s certain you’ve perfectly milked him before pulling out and replacing his cock with his index finger, fucking his cum back into you as you let out a lazy sigh.

“how you doin’ love?” he stands and enters your bathroom, grabbing a damp washcloth and carefully bringing it over your skin as he pecks your forehead. when you hum, he knows what you mean and nods. “i love you, silly girl. don’t ever leave me again.”

“i love you too.” your response is genuine as you tiredly smile at him.

sure, you’re still stuck on the fact that he’d managed to follow you around for a little over a year, but they don’t call him simon ‘ghost’ riley for no reason.