kent family adventures (the girldad!clark kent chronicles)
pt 2 of the masterlist here!
ft. you, leia, and jon kent
slice of life stories of you, clark, and leia and some shenanigans (non-chronological order)
dad clark kent x female reader
(requests open for kent family adventures 💞)
i post a fic everyday at 10PM EST; please interact to be added to the taglist!
david corenswet characters masterlist ♡
1. dad!clark kent giving his baby girl a bath before bed
2. baby’s first shots 💉 - you take your baby girl to get her shots, and let’s just say, Superman might have a weakness after all
3. Can You Babysit Tonight? - You decide to pull the “Can you babysit?” prank on your very devoted husband Clark — who is so confused, so offended, and maybe just a little bit dramatic about it.
(PART 2) I’m not babysitting, I’m parenting! - Your husband Clark gets irritated when you jokingly refer to him watching Leia as “babysitting” her.
4. “Let me see what you have.” “A knife!” “NO!” - You prank your poor husband Clark by giving your daughter a fake knife.
5. Sir, this is a Whole Foods - You, Clark, and baby Leia go grocery shopping — and the second you leave them alone, your husband and daughter become the produce aisle’s hottest attraction.
6. Premium air and tire fluid?! - You prank Clark with the “premium air” TikTok trend — and he almost believes you (because he’s a smart man, but he’s also very trusting when it comes to you). So, you try to prank him again with the infamous tire fluid prank — and once again, poor Clark wants to believe in you, but he’s suspicious now.
7. Leia vs The Justice Gang (A Tale of Total Domination) 👶🦸♀️- The Justice Gang meets baby Leia Kent for the first time (and recruits her)
8. As we are, we two, we three/ As I alone can never be - Baby Leia's here! Dad Clark meets Leia for the first time (and cries). You and Clark bring newborn Leia home for the first time — and Clark is full of dad nerves, baby love, and overwhelming joy.
9. The TikTok Lizard 🦎 - Leia’s newfound obsession is the viral “lizard button” meme from TikTok.
10. Thank you for loving us like this - Healing from childbirth isn’t linear. Clark is there with you and Leia all the way. You never had to ask.
11. Best friends (and second cousins) 🐶 - Krypto and Leia are the best of friends.
12. One Year Later - Clark’s baby girl, Leia, turns one.
13. Burnt pancakes - Just you and Clark making out while making breakfast for dinner.
14. Clark Kent: Girl Dad and classically-trained Juilliard Actor - You couldn't help but think that Clark is way more into playtime than Leia is.
15. The cotton candy disaster - Auntie Kara pranks 5-year-old Leia by telling her to wash her cotton candy. Spoiler: it melts, and Leia never gets over it.
16. The longest night 🤧🤒 - Superman himself becomes Superdad and caretaker, looking after both you and your stuffy-nosed little Leia when you're sick.
17. Dada vs Auntie Kawa - It’s a race to get Leia to say her first word. Kara does everything she can to make sure it’s “Kara”.
18. Kidnapped - You and Leia get kidnapped. Clark stops at nothing to get you back. “Clark— there are people in the house. I’m in our room with Leia, and I— I don’t know what they want. I locked the door but—I love you. I love you so much. And Leia does too. Just—if anything happens, know that.”
19. Clark Kent is doing public service (by being shirtless) - You and Clark take Leia on daily walks full of sunshine, baby giggles, dad abs, and zero awareness from Clark that he's turning heads left and right.
20. Clark Kent: Certified DILF - Clark Kent gets picked up every time you leave him with Leia for five minutes, so you embarrass him by calling him a DILF. Clark embarrasses you by being a Super (Proud) Dad in front of the pediatrician.
(PART 2) “Are you happily married or just married?” - Clark always gets picked up when you leave him alone for a minute. When he sees you being surrounded by people at a farmer’s market, he looks ready to beat them off with a stick.
21. No, you CANNOT drink the laundry detergent - Reasons why your two-year-old Leia threw a tantrum: you wouldn't let her drink laundry detergent. You wouldn't let her stick her hand in the garbage disposal. Clark wouldn't let her stick her tongue in his ear. Again.
22. Who Are You and What Have You Done with Daddy? 👓 - Baby Leia was so used to seeing her Daddy without glasses that when she saw him in his journalist get up, she didn’t recognize him.
23. All of the stars - When Clark finds out what his birth parents really wanted him to do, he is torn between honoring you and Leia as Clark, or honoring the sacrifices of Krypton as Kal-El.
24. It’s a Girl! (…Just Kidding.)🍼 - You (in active labor) and Lois prank a dozing Clark by telling him he missed Leia's birth. Three months later, you prank him again by telling him that you're pregnant, AGAIN.
25. What Clark Kent should expect when you’re expecting - Clark has to deal with your early pregnancy mood swings. And the four times he’s heard his daughter’s heartbeat.
26. Are you mad at me? 🥺 - You accidentally locked the bedroom door. Clark thought you were mad at him. You try to make up for it by making breakfast, but he insists that he knows what you and Leia need more.
27. Family get-together ft. special guest Leia Kent - You and Clark go to see your family for a small get-together. Everyone meets Leia for the first time. Also, Clark stresses over reckless drivers.
28. i can see us (lost in the memories) - Lex Luthor decides to break Superman by erasing all your memories of him. Clark Kent will continue to love you, even if those memories do not return.
29. A Smallville Christmas Surprise - You and Clark add a new ornament to Ma and Pa Kent’s christmas tree. You start nesting, and see just how much the Kent men love.
30. The Chaos of Stars - The rift in the multiverse showed you that in almost every universe, Clark ended up with Lois. Were you and Leia just flukes? What if in this universe, Clark only settled for you?
31. Do NOT accidentally cook our baby! - You and Clark both have post-partum anxiety.
32. Making Clark watch Twilight - You and Clark watch the Twilight saga. He is watching it for the first time.
33. Clark chokes on his toothbrush every morning (and other stereotypical dad things he does) - Ever since Clark became a dad, he’s become a walking dad stereotype.
34. Meet the robin(sons) - Your and Clark’s daughter, Leia, meet the batboys for the first time.
35. Look Up - Clark, finally, manages to prank you.
36. No boyfriends allowed! - No boy is good enough for Clark’s little girl, at ANY age. When Leia is fifteen, Superman has beef with Robin.
37. Can you leave the room? I need to change. - You prank your husband, Clark Kent, by asking him if he can leave the room so that you can change. Also, you shave your bikini area, much to your husband’s horror.
38. Get you alone - Weeks after having Leia, your self-control snaps and you jump your husband’s bones. SMUT 🌶️
39. The Paradox - A teenager who looks way too much like Clark starts popping in.
40. The Kents that panic together, stay together - Ever since you found out you were pregnant, Clark has been on Nesting-Dad-mode. This skyrockets when you are close to popping, and he even recruits Ma and Pa Kent as they prepare for the birth of their first grandbaby.
41. The beauty of her face was beyond my wildest dreams - Little moments throughout the day that make Superman’s heart fuller than it already is. This includes: Clark seeing Leia in pigtails, talking to her via videocall, seeing his baby wearing his glasses, and you reporting some sort of “bedbug” infestation.
42. “I want my daddy!” - Leia bursts into tears when she sees Superman playing with other kids in the playground.
43. Were you even in the room when Leia was made? - Everyone keeps gushing about how Leia resembles Clark so much. Did she really not inherit anything of yours?
44. Leia’s first holiday! - You and Clark take baby Leia to your first holiday as a family of three, which includes her first time on the beach!
45. You don’t want my germs? - You feed Clark some ice cream, but keep wiping the spoon before scooping some for yourself. He’s very confused, and a bit offended.
46. I saw Mrs. Kent kissing Superman! - Your well-meaning neighbor saw you kissing Superman and tells Clark about it.
47. Hi, honey! - Leia, just a little over a year old, thinks Clark’s name is Honey.
48. To add to the family - Leia is two now. You talk to Clark about having another baby.
49. Superdad to the rescue - The three times Clark rescues you from (1) horrible husband stories on tiktok, (2) being shamed for breastfeeding in public, and (3) being reduced to his housewife by some misogynist coworker.
50. My daddy is Superman! - Leia tells her kindergarten class that her dad is Superman. When mild-mannered reported Clark Kent comes to pick her up, the entire class is disappointed.
51. When did you start pronouncing blueberries correctly? - You and Clark realize how fast time flies when Leia start pronouncing words properly.
52. Clark gets a concussion (and flirts with you miserably) - Superman gets a concussion and forgets about his wife (you) and his daughter.
53. Milk thief - You try to initiate sexy time with Clark by telling him your breasts are clogged. But he’s too oblivious, and insists he doesn’t want to ‘steal’ Leia’s meals.
54. First Father’s Day - Clark couldn’t stop talking about his first Father’s Day card, which you cutely signed as Leia.
55. Not invited - You, Clark, and Leia watched your wedding video. Leia noticed that she wasn’t any in any of the clips. Why wasn’t she invited?
56. We need you here. - When you and Clark were discussing him having to balance his duties as Superman and Clark Kent, he accidentally raised his voice, startling Leia. Leia cried, certain that Dada hates Mama now.
57. Bring your kid to work day! - Clark takes his seven-year-old to work at the Daily Planet.
58. You are your mother’s child - Early into motherhood, you start to feel like you’re not being a good mother to your daughter.
59. Looks like we made it - Clark asked you to go on a date with him one month after you had Leia. You were unsure, insecure and nervous, but Clark showed you how much he loves you. And how you still give him butterflies.
60. Shut up, Mom! - You, Leia, and Jon do the TikTok prank where they yell at you to see how Clark reacts. It’s probably not good to piss off the strongest metahuman on earth. A week later, you prank the kids.
61. My daughter doesn’t fly - Bruce has to watch Leia and Damian for a night. It was doable, until Clark Kent’s daughter started flying around the batcave.
62. Superman is giving out free kisses! - When you, Leia, and your friend get rescued by Superman, your friend kisses him, to your—and Leia’s—utter shock. Years later, you and Clark discover that Leia is just possessive over her parents.
63. Sienna (would look just like you) - You really thought you were pregnant this time.
64. Injustice - You and Clark discovered that there was another universe where you two ended up together. That universe did not exist anymore.
(Part 2) As beautiful as the day I lost you - Superman, from an alternate universe where you and Leia do not survive, learns about this universe. The one where you and Leia are alive, and happy.
65. The rock from Anthropologie - You prank Clark by telling him you bought a “decorative rock” (a rock from your backyard) for $500.
66. Daddy’s got you - After his patrols, Clark comes home to a fussy Leia. He spends time with her and rocks her to sleep, still in his Superman suit.
67. We’re dancing around the kitchen (in the refrigerator light) - One night, while you and Clark were clearing up the kitchen, he heard something new. A new heartbeat.
68. Go and fix the sun - Your daughter had a nightmare that Clark had to go fix the sun and didn’t come back.
69. Superman defenders - You and your daughter are Superman’s biggest defenders. No #SUPERSHIT allowed.
70. Through my fingers - An activity in Leia's preschool: parents, blindfolded, have to identify their daughters by touch alone. You and Clark both recognize Leia easily.
71. Take me back to Smallville - You suddenly get teleported to Smallville…fifteen years ago. You see a teenage Clark Kent, back before everything started.
72. First time being a dad - Clark takes care of you and your newborn so much that you almost forgot it’s his first time being a dad too.
73. Superman and Super Leia are on the case! - During the first trimester of your second pregnancy, you have two superprotectors: your husband and your daughter, who always watch out for you.
74. Clark cheated on you (in your dream) - You dreamt that Clark left you and Leia for someone else. The following night, Clark had a nightmare of his own.
75. Clark, pick me up, I’m scared - After getting your tooth extracted, some guy you don’t recognize (Clark) was trying to get you home. You had to text Clark to pick you up.
76. Happy Halloween! - You and Clark bring Leia to Smallville to experience corn mazes and pumpkin patch. Clark finds out that Leia inherited your love for horror movies.
77. Family of two - Back when you and Clark were dating, you discuss having children. Clark was uncertain that he could give you what you wanted.
78. Sunbathing - Clark and his daughter love the sun.
79. You were all the minutes - Clark started noticing that you were growing older faster than he was. He has to come to terms with it, no matter how painful.
80. Mommy’s bump is here! - Your daughter and Clark both insist that your baby bump was definitely not there the night before!
81. Why is there a naked plumber in our house? - You prank Clark by texting him that a plumber came to the house. Clark is distressed because (1) he didn’t call for the plumber, and (2) this guy (heavily edited) is strolling around your house with his shirt off.
82. Daddy’s home! - One of your daughter’s favorite part of the day is waiting by the porch for her daddy to arrive.
83. Every version of you - You, against Clark’s judgment, meet Superboy for the first time.
84. Supermom? - Pregnant with your second baby, you start (unconsciously) floating, sending Clark and your daughter into a panic.
85. Operation: First Date - Leia goes on her first date. When Clark learns about it, he insists that you both go and spy check up on her.
86. Flowers for you - Moody and pregnant, you accidentally snap at Clark. You decide to buy him flowers, surprise him at the Daily Planet, and ask for forgiveness.
87. Superman spotted…wearing a ring? - Superman gets into another scandal when someone posted a picture of him online wearing what looked like a wedding ring. His PR team (Batman) does damage control.
88. The big surprise - It’s time to tell family and friends that you’re expecting a new baby.
89. All about us - You and Clark are each other’s firsts and onlys. People tell you that being with someone all your life does not allow you to grow. Moving to Metropolis makes you think…does Clark deserve better? Do you?
90. The first heartbeat - A small accident while pregnant sends you to the hospital, where you, Leia, and Clark hear the baby’s heartbeat together.
91. Interview with Daddy - Your daughter has to interview someone for one of her classes. Who better to interview than the Daily Planet journalist, Clark Kent?
92. Leia Kent, certified farmhand - You and Clark bring your daughter to Smallville for the weekend, and Leia is all too happy to help her grandparents around the farm.
93. Kryptonite poisoning - You take care of Clark when he gets kryptonite poisoning. Leia helps too, until she starts getting sick as well.
94. The baby is too heavy! - Clark saw videos of dads lifting their wives’ baby bumps and wanted to try that on you.
95. Just a journalist? - You bring Clark to a work dinner, and he feels out of place, especially when a coworker hints that they are surprised that you married a journalist.
Summary: You jokingly ask Clark if you are allowed to eat in front of his parents.
Dad Clark Kent x Fem!Reader
more kent family adventures here!
even more kent family adventures here! (pt 2 of the masterlist)
By the time you were eight months pregnant with Leia, one thing had become very clear to everyone around you: Clark would do absolutely anything for you.
Which was precisely why the prank had been so tempting.
The prank simply appeared in your mind while sitting at the Kent farmhouse table on one warm afternoon, watching Clark pile food onto your plate for the third time before you’d even fully finished the second helping.
“Honey, you need more potatoes,” he said earnestly, already reaching for the bowl.
“Clark,” you laughed, “I’m still eating.”
“You’re eating for two.”
Ma Kent snorted softly from across the table. “At this point, that baby’s probably ninety percent mashed potatoes.”
Clark looked entirely unashamed. “They will be a very healthy, growing baby.”
You bit back a smile.
That was the thing about Clark during your pregnancy, he hovered.
Did you need water? A pillow? Another blanket? Less blanket? A snack? Different snack? Did your back hurt? Were your feet swollen? Had you rested enough? Too much? Was the baby kicking enough? Too much?
The man treated your pregnancy like the world’s most important mission.
And it made him very, very easy to fluster.
And suddenly, sitting there at the table with Ma and Pa Kent, watching your husband lovingly shovel corn onto your plate like he was personally responsible for feeding both you and the baby, the idea struck.
You looked down at your half-full plate thoughtfully.
Then, very gently, you asked, “Clark… am I allowed to have some more?”
Clark didn’t even look up.
“Of course,” he said immediately, mouth still full, already spooning another helping onto your plate. “You barely ate any! Here, have more chicken too.”
You pressed your lips together. You continued carefully, in the smallest voice you could manage. “Are you sure?”
Clark blinked at you. “Sure about what?”
“That it’s okay for me to eat more?”
Clark stared at you for a long moment. Then looked at your plate. Then at you again.
“…Yes?” He sounded deeply confused.
You nodded solemnly, “Okay,” and resumed eating.
Clark reached for the biscuits.
“You want another one?”
“Yes please.”
“Here you go, my love.” He handed it over immediately.
You sighed as your prank failed, silently waiting for another opportunity.
-
Said opportunity was when Ma Kent brought out dessert.
Her specialty peach cobbler was still warm, the smell filling the kitchen instantly.
“Oh my goodness,” you sighed dramatically. “That smells amazing.”
Ma Kent smiled warmly. “Go on, honey, have some.”
You coached your face to look anxious, worried, then slowly turned toward Clark.
“…Am I allowed?”
The room went silent.
Clark froze with the serving spoon halfway in his hand.
Ma Kent blinked. Pa Kent’s expression changed immediately into a frown.
“Allowed?” Ma Kent repeated.
You looked down shyly. “Well… I just wanted to check first.”
Clark looked like his soul had briefly left his body.
“Why would you…what do you mean allowed?”
You kept your face perfectly straight. “I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Upset me?” Clark nearly choked. “Why would it upset me?”
Ma Kent’s eyebrows shot up.
Pa Kent set down his fork, slowly and very carefully.
Clark turned toward you so quickly his chair squeaked against the floor.
“Honey, what are you talking about?”
You blinked innocently. “The cobbler.”
“The cobbler…”
“Yes.”
Ma Kent turned to Clark at the same time he looked at you incredulously.
“Clark,” she said carefully, “why would she need permission to eat dessert?”
“I—she doesn’t!” Clark’s brows were furrowed with concern, slowly feeling like he was unnecessarily put on the hot seat. “Why would you need my permission to eat cobbler?!”
You shrugged lightly. “Well, you may not want me to eat any more.”
Ma Kent slowly turned toward her son.
“Clark Joseph Kent.”
Clark’s eyes widened in immediate horror.
“No! No, no, no—Ma, I swear—”
Pa Kent crossed his arms.
Clark looked even more panicked.
“I have literally never stopped her from eating anything in her life! She eats whatever she wants, whenever she wants. I've actually been actively encouraging her to eat more because she sometimes forgets in the afternoon and the doctor said…" He caught himself, and looked back at you. "What is going on?”
You tilted your head. “But maybe you didn’t want me eating cobbler specifically?”
“Why would I not want you to?!”
Clark looked moments away from a full system shutdown.
“Honey,” he said frantically, stumbling over every word, “I have never, not once, told you what you can or can’t eat. Or do. Or wear. Or…anything!”
Ma Kent was now openly suspicious. “Clark…”
“No! Ma, listen to me—I swear, she does whatever she wants! Constantly! Happily! And I support her! Enthusiastically!”
You nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true.”
Clark pointed at you wildly. “See?!”
“But maybe secretly you don’t like how much I eat?”
Clark looked genuinely devastated.
“What?! No, Ma, Pa, listen to me. I’ve never told her not to do anything she wanted! Ever! If anything, she tells me what to do!”
He turned back to his parents, fully distressed now.
“I am not controlling! Right? I’m not controlling.”
Pa Kent finally spoke, voice low. “Son…”
Clark turned toward him in absolute panic. “Pa, I swear to God, I have never denied her anything in my entire life! I don't restrict her eating. I don't restrict ANYTHING! I don't tell her what to do. I would never." Clark's voice had taken on the slightly desperate quality of a man watching a small fire and patting his pockets for something to put it out with. "She has complete autonomy over everything. Every single thing. I've never once told her she couldn't eat or do or–"
"Clark," you said.
“--have anything she wanted, I mean she went through a period in the second trimester where she wanted a very specific brand of crackers at two in the morning and I flew forty minutes to three different stores to find them, I have the receipts, I can show you the receipts–”
“Clark.”
“--and I don't know what this is right now but I need everyone at this table to understand that I am not and have never been–”
“CLARK.”
He stopped his rambling.
He looked at you.
You were smiling. A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
Then suddenly you were laughing so hard you had to hold your stomach.
The entire table stared at you.
“Oh no,” Ma Kent whispered, already realizing.
You wheezed helplessly, tears gathering in your eyes.
“I’m sorry,” you gasped. “I’m sorry…I was joking.”
Silence.
Clark blinked.
“…What?”
You covered your face, laughing harder. “It was a prank, baby.”
Clark stared. Ma Kent burst into laughter instantly.
Pa Kent leaned back in his chair.
Clark remained frozen. “You…”
“I’m sorry,” you laughed again. “You were just so easy to fluster.”
Clark looked deeply betrayed.
“I thought Pa was about to kill me.”
You grinned at Pa, “He was in on it,” you confessed, remembering how Pa chuckled gruffly when you told him about your plan.
Clark dropped back into his chair dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest.
“I cannot believe you.”
You leaned over and kissed his cheek sweetly.
“I’m sorry I scared you, honey. You're a wonderful husband," you said. "Why do you still have the receipts?"
He put his arm around you, and you could feel him giving up on the wounded dignity, the whole structure of it just gently collapsing.
"Souvenirs," he said again, quieter, “I didn’t want to forget anything about your pregnancy. And so that I could show our baby that I would do anything for them.”
You smiled at him, cupping his cheek tenderly before giving him a kiss. Clark turned pink.
"Forty minutes,” he reminded you, “Three stores."
"I know."
"In the rain."
"It wasn't raining."
"It was drizzling." Clark sighed deeply.
You laughed, then immediately reached for the cobbler.
Clark instinctively grabbed the serving spoon and loaded a giant portion onto your plate.
like a puppy boy! (yan! sub bottom! clark kent x domtop! gn! reader)
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
— masterlist ! ; related post !
a/n: short post to kickstart pride month hehe. more to come soon. just need to spread the pathetic clark kent agenda. like i said, i accidentally wrote this instead of sleeping.
*gulps* imagining an extremely flushed and overly warm clark being fingered by a smaller top reader, hands tied behind him with a fragile ribbon. the bet was set: if he doesn't move his ass to grind against the rhythm of your strokes and break the lace while you're fingers deep in him then he gets to cum, but if he dares to so much as rip the little ribbons holding him down then you get to edge him for the rest of the night— his high denied until you're satisfied enough with your punishment.
clark, as superman, prides himself in his ability to hold his strength back. but right now, golly, your fingers expertly rubbing in and out of the spongy walls of his ass has his veins bulge out of his quivering arms and buckets of sweat dribble out of his incredibly heated body. his eyes are all rolled to the back of his skull the same way his head's leaning against the bed's headboard, the poor piece of wood chipped and cracked from the way he's been repeatedly banging against it. sweat rolls like waves down his exposed adam's apple, littered with bleeding loves bites; just how he likes it.
just exactly how he begged for it.
and just right when your middle and ring finger curls up to rub that oh-so deliciously pleasurable spot inside of him, his swollen lips unleash a cacophony of gorgeous moans and breathy whines, it's like all restraints snap, the same way his wrists twists from behind him and— oh!
you removed your fingers out of him faster before he could truly reach the peak of his pleasure.
he releases a sharp cry, biting his lips when you slap his throbbing cock, where only pathetic spurts of pre-cum leaks out of his reddened tip. guilty tears water his eyes, but his shaking fingers already daintily pawing at your wrists is enough proof of his blunders.
and mistakes should always follow with correction.
"p- please..." he begs, eyes glazed with shame, humping against your clothed crotch.
yet you only glare at the discarded piece of ribbon from behind clark, then back at him, before ultimately running your thumb across his adam's apple, piercing it just a little harder when you feel him gulp.
his eyes remain fixated on your reactions, memorizing every flick of your brow, every frustrated tuts, even the way your skin grazes against his. and burns every feature and sensation of yours into his memories.
this was better than just watching you from afar before, touching himself while sniffing through your stolen blazers.
too preoccupied with his straying thoughts, he didn't notice just how hard his own hands have been clinging to your wrists.
"baby, hands off." he yelps, letting go of your wrist, arms now obediently limp at his sides. your fingers then run all the way down to his swollen nipple, twisting it, smirking widely when clark, in return, shuts his teary eyes and releases a shaky exhale. his cock only throbs even more. right, every part of him had always been sensitive.
for a man who claimed to be made of steel, he sure feels more like the fragile ribbons once tied against his wrists. and yet it's your fault for turning your past colleague this way. his inexperience is cute, but molding him to your whim is better.
maybe it's his karma for all the times you caught him staring too hard from a distance.
"you know the deal. bad boys deserve to be punished. and you proved you haven't been good to me at all— am i right?"
"y— yes."
"i can't hear you." now your fingers have found their way to toy with his faulty tip, still dribbling with pre-ejaculate, red and angry. he gasps, fists clenching the bedsheet, you hear the fabric nearly rip.
"— yes! yes, yes, yes! i- i understand" clark squeaks out a thoughtless reply, breaths coming out hasty. for a moment, it felt like the slightest bit of contact alone could make him cum.
you laugh, his face only becomes warmer.
"good," you lean in closer to him, fingers still on his tip, feeling the way his cock pulses with every slight graze. when your foreheads touch, the way perspire exudes out of his blazing skin makes, his even warmer breaths, his eyes glued to your lips— even his heartbeats thumping out of his chest makes you feel like falling in love all over again. you kiss him, eyes closed, he leans forward but is stopped by your other palm against his hairy chest.
it was a sloppy kiss, teeth clashed against teeth, drool lolls out of wet lips. for a moment, all that echoed inside your room was the sound of smacking and clark's barely concealed whimpers.
it wasn't long before you let go, though, ignoring how clark's head nearly followed you forward. like a dejected puppy, he whines.
then, like a switch, your lips touch clark's red ears, kissing it faintly. he couldn't see, but he could make out the workings of a sinister smile shaping your face. a whisper, all dark and domineering, had every vein in his body pulse like electricity had struck him.
"we're not done yet, baby. remember?"
his cock throbs when you lick the outer shell of his ears.
that's right...
the deal.
you're going to draw out as many denied orgasms as you want. you're going to drain every bit of cum out of him after. then you're going to use his body for your own pleasure, and he'll be nothing but your cute little toy by the end of the night... just exactly what he wished for.
clark is in for a long night.
goodness, he might have to call in sick for work tomorrow.
toy flesh [explicit 18+] — [part 2] follow up to part 1 which is linked in my masterlist. this is lots of cute fluff, next part will get down to more filth. there are tons of nasty opportunities
. . .
She also thinks it somehow has to be a one off thing. A pricey, fancy one off toy that fakes a few cumshots after the first time she cleans and rides it, flooding this pool inside of her and all over her bedsheets. But there it goes again, and again, and again.
Topping her third round off by falling backwards near the headboard, new toy gripped tight into her palm while she slides it in and out to still feel full but finally give her hips a break. It was worth every penny, as ridiculous as the amount really was for a hole in the wall sex toy shop. A lot of the others looked sparkly and lengthy and quite pretty, but something about the girth and the hefty weight of the last (or the only?) one in stock on the shelf made her rush to grab it before anyone else could have.
After paying the man at the counter she keeps scoping out her surroundings for any prying eyes as she’s trying to sneak her giant new purchase, stuffing the box into her purse as best she can. It would be dishonest to say she didn’t rush to rip it out of the plastic, feel out the raw feel of the skin, the veins, the fat. It felt real. Unlike any other rubber playthings she’s bought in the past, this one was almost responsive to her touch somehow. Did it require batteries to act like that? To pulse when it feels her grip, or leak when she teased herself on the tip?
It would jump every time she spat on the head and rubbed the base up and down in a firm grip. Pre cumming right at the tip when she did her favorite forms of foreplay and fooled around with it like she’s playing pretend. It throbbed, it wiggled around, and most of all it fucking came. Like a man.
In warm, sudden bursts, she felt it oozing out while she was just getting started. As heaven sent as it felt in the moment, afterwards it made her furrow her brows and grab the toy again and even look down at her own pussy to ensure she wasn’t feeling things that weren’t really there. But lo and behold, it dripped down her inner thighs, slathering her blanket and oozing right out of the tip of the dildo.
It felt like magic. Like her new rubber cock was attached to a real living person — a needy, sensitive, girthy person hung like a horse that didn’t take a lot of teasing or effort to draw so much arousal out of. But the idea was silly, so much more nonsensical than the fact that it was probably nothing more than just an impressively built and nevertheless expensive toy with some kind of hidden wiring and technology that was capable of pulling off acting like a real living cock. Right?
She doesn’t bother questioning it after five or six rounds in one night over the Saturday of her last jobless weekend before the start of her new position the following Monday. It had done wonders for the stress in her body, the tense and worried state it was nearly permanently in. She’d gotten better at taking it all up to the hilt, stuffing it inside up to her stomach after taking an edible and throwing on whatever TV show could make decent background noise. She grins with her heavy lidded eyes falling closed while another load pumps inside her. The second one of the hour to be exact. That addicting feeling of her toy cock gradually just losing it, losing all control like her pussy did things that triggered this quick, heavy release.
She’ll hang around her home in nothing but her underwear and her robe, eating cookie dough ice cream straight out of the carton, higher than a dopey teenager stuck in her own element. It doesn’t take long for her to take her favorite toy and rut her clit against it until it got warm like some kind of horny genie lamp. And then like clockwork it fills up for her again like it’s getting hard, twitchy, and ready all just for her pleasure. In the very back of her head she thinks this thing is so real it could have the off chance of somehow getting her pregnant since the cum had the consistency and the warmth of a real breathing person.
When Monday inevitably arrives, she gives up making sure every single hair stays in place and just parts it all to one side, buttoning up her favorite coat as armor against the unpredictable weather. As she strolled along the streets to her new work building, petting the dogs passing by on their owners’ leashes and twirling the cord of her headphones, she imagines what kind of office would hire someone like her. Blunt, casual, some neurological differences that make it difficult to focus if the topic didn’t interest her. Virtually no prior experience in the field she’s been hired in. It didn’t feel real getting the call back to learn she’d been selected, but who the hell was she to call them stupid for picking her of all the candidates?
The hustle and bustle was apparent as soon as she entered the building, asking around with wide eyes where her section was, what floor was she supposed to go to. Everyone looked busy but remained patient and kind, directing her to her floor, telling her to find a tall, shaggy haired man by the name of Clark.
It wasn’t hard to seek him out of everybody else, large frame still evident even with his hunched over posture, diligently typing away on his computer. When he looks up she was struck to find that he was almost dangerously beautiful. Handsome, pretty, dorky, everything that had always baited her into making terrible decisions. Just by talking to him she could tell he had anxiety, stiff movements and facial expressions that had her wondering if he was nervous from the pressure of being in charge of a new hire, or if he was more specifically nervous about being around her in particular.
Clark is attentive and sweet, helpful and patient with her learning new things, getting used to the environment and what was to be the new routine. Picking up the mail, distributing the mail, transferring phone calls, helping Lois with office duties and finding supplies with low stock to re-order. Certain areas felt overwhelming but overall the job itself seemed mundane. The only thing sticking out to her was Clark and his antsy eyes and big arms, anxious ticks and shy smiles. How he bent over backwards to help her with just about every question thrown his way or another way, making himself of use to her in any way she may have needed.
On her smoke break she feels the rain start to pour within seconds of going outside, and although she’s walked through rain and shine plenty it was still a bit of a test to see how far Clark would actually go if she’d asked to take her home. And he was so eager, so easy. If she got to know him well enough and if they became comfortable enough, she could give him the nickname of being her own mister Yes Man. Yeah, of course I’ll take care of that for you. Yes, you don’t have to worry about that, I’ve got it. Yup, no worries. Yeah, I’ll get this going for you. He was so full of yes’s she almost wonders what the limit may be.
Throughout the day he reciprocates just about every glance, every minor, innocent brushing of arms and fingers and touches on each other’s shoulders, upper back, arms. He hands her a pen and she grazes his fingers entirely on purpose and doesn’t hide dragging the moment out. The more she does the more flustered he’s become.
When Jimmy meets her and shakes her hand, he pulls her aside to whisper in her ear that Clark is very, very single and she laughs so hard she snorts. And when Clark comes back from his lunch break wearing different trousers than he was before he left, she doesn’t attempt any subtlety at eyeing his new pants up and down and shrugging with a little knowing nod at what might’ve made him have to change. Clark makes up some half baked lie about spilling hot sauce on his other pair, and she nods enough to try convincing him she believes it.
After her training is done and the paperwork is filed and the day is finally, finally over she gets a nod from Clark across the room, tilting his head in the direction of the elevators with briefcase in hand. He nudged his glasses further up his face and sniffled, waving bye to staff and pressing the button to head down, holding the door open with an extended arm.
“Thanks so much again by the way,” she graciously squeezed the thick muscle of his upper arm as the elevator doors close. Clark’s turned bashfully red almost immediately, chin down at the ground pretending to look at his shoes.
“It’s nothing. I really wouldn’t want you um, getting all soaked out in the rain, that wouldn’t be right. I’m glad you felt safe enough to ask me.”
“Of course I did. You’ve been nothing but a big sweetheart. Seriously, if anyone’s intimidated by the height they could have one conversation with you and it’ll change their mind,” she laughs, meeting his wide eyes framed by his thick glasses. The elevators ding to alert they’ve arrived to their destined floor, Clark taking a second too long to process before shoving his arm back out to stop the doors from closing in on them again. His version of a curse word slips under his breath while he nearly drops his briefcase, clearly still tripping and stumbling his way out to the parking garage.
“Well I guess so. I’m not that tall. Maybe a little over average, but— I hope I’m not intimidating. Um, here, let’s go this way,” Clark awkwardly trails off, pointing to his little beat up blue vehicle parked way over in the corner. When he points it out she wonders how he even fits himself in there.
“Uh, usually I prop the drivers seat back for my legs. A little crammed but I’ve had her since I started driving. My Pa gifted me this, and she’s still been up and running good after all these years so I don’t really see a need for finding anything else.”
She nods her head and smiles, impressed. He doesn’t let her hand go even near the handle, ripping it open and holding it while she slides in and sets her bag down on the floor near her feet. “Wow. You know, that shows a ton of loyalty to keep one of these for years like you have. I like that.”
He sheepishly nods his head with curls moving on his forehead before gently closing the door and jogging over to the other side.
She takes in her surroundings, observing the little details. His hanging dog charm around the rearview mirror. Taking in all the neatness, the warm vanilla scented air fresheners. How the seat is propped back as far as it could possibly go to accommodate for his height. She notes how he kept himself a spare pair of glasses in one of the cupholders, another style than the ones he wore to the office. When he turns the car on, music began to boom through the speakers, jolting him with a twitch as he rushed to turn the volume all the way down, laughing through a string of apologies. She only giggles harder, clearly less upset than he was, more amused if anything.
Each mundane little thing about Clark piled more on to this growing irresistible urge to just make the plunge already, to crawl in his lap, to kiss him so hard his glasses get crooked and eventually fall right off his face. It became more tempting with each passing glance from the side, every accidental brush of her thigh with his hand while he shifted gears, a murmured apology with those signature pink cheeks. He always looked so embarrassed, and it somehow always served to really turn her on.
“Uh, so I’ll turn here right?”
“Yeah. Yeah just, just turn then you’ll go straight for a while. I’ll let you know when we’re approaching.”
Clark follows directions, going about five miles below the speed limit as he keeps his eyes on each house passing by, curiously wondering which one could be her home. Was it the well groomed, modern style with a picket fence, or an old school, overgrown lawn with an artsy mailbox?
He slows down more as the end of the street was coming, pulling off to the side as she pointed out her home. Clark forgets to hide how eager he is to scope it out, the little pink painted one story home with healthy plants branching out from their pots on the porch, the lady bug mat, the absence of any cars parked out front. Figures she must only get around anywhere on foot.
Rain still patters on the windshield as his windshield wipers barely keep up in time from the heavy drops, and puddles outside forming in the potholes of the road. Her plants looked to be the only happy ones to have some rain to quench them.
“This is me right here,” she reluctantly says, a sigh leaving her throat while she peers back over to the man in the driver’s seat. “I had fun, says a lot for a first day at a new job. Those are always pretty stressful but you’re such a great teacher that I know I’ll be in good hands,” she says, rubbing the lipgloss leftover on her lips together while eyeing him up and down, back and forth between his pretty face and his robust chest.
“I… I’m not that good, you just made it easy,” he disputes. “You asked all the right questions, you’re smart. I know you’ll get the hang of it real soon—“
“—You know, when I met Jimmy today he told me you were single,” she interjects before her mind could steer her away from the risky decision. “So was he… was he joking or was he—“
Clark groans loud, making a fist and then nearly slamming his forehead into it to hide his face, mortified that Jimmy set him up like this. To have this awkward interaction with his now co-worker.
“Gosh…. of course he did… that’s— no. I’m sorry he was acting inappropriate—“
“No as in you’re not single.”
Clark pulls his head back up, blinks, utterly confused.
“No, no I’m—“
“No as in yes?”
“N-No, no as in he’s right. I… I am, it’s just I didn’t want him disclosing stuff like that that to you, that information. Like as if you’d even care if a co-worker is single or not is ridiculous. If he makes you uncomfortable again I can talk to him, it doesn’t have to be a whole HR thing but if you want it to be I can absolutely help…”
She chews her bottom lip to prevent another shit eating grin from spreading onto her cheeks, placing a deliberate hand back on his upper arm to nab his attention, soothe any of his sudden woes.
“Listen, stop. Listen to me Clark. I was asking to clarify it with you because I was hoping that he was right,” she admits, a soft laugh not far behind the end of her small confession, trailing off with a rub of his shoulder, making him hold his breath and keen from the contact.
“You um. So you aren’t freaked out, you aren’t uncomfortable in any way? I just can’t imagine what it’s like, being a… a woman. A beautiful woman you know, like you, in a new workplace and having men be obnoxious on top of that—“
Clark stutters and takes a breather, shutting his car off and tilting his head up so his neck is exposed, blankly looking up at the ceiling.
“Clark.”
“Yeah?”
He doesn’t look back down or turn his head, Adam’s apple of his throat bobbing as he swallows more nerves down.
“I’m not uncomfortable. Not freaked out. And if you want me to just get my stuff and go, not mention any of this tomorrow, then I could,” she starts. Clark takes a deep breath in like he wants to interrupt, but she holds a finger up and he obeys, shutting his mouth closed. “Or,” she began. “I could kiss you for being so sweet, and we can act normal tomorrow, but you can give me another ride home if you aren’t busy again. And we can see where this goes.”
The drop of his jaw was nearly out of a cartoon, heartbeat throbbing so fast it might as well be audible in the quiet of the small space of his car. He can’t take his eyes off her, blinking ever so slightly when his eyes start to dry up. It looked like he wanted to pinch himself just to make sure everything was real.
“I… I really like the second option more. A lot.” he finally mutters. Licks his lips while staring down at hers like he had countless times today, this time with layers of restraint stripped away.
“I like the second option more too,” she chuckles at his dumbstruck face, soothing a palm over his thigh and rubbing his flexed muscles through his trousers. “I also noticed you changed your pants after lunch.”
Clark swallows while her face comes closer, nearly nose to nose, sharing and exchanging breath.
“Uh, yeah, yeah I….”
“That story about spilling some hot sauce was bullshit, right?”
Clark nods without a second thought, confirming everything she already knew.
“Did you have a little too much fun? Make too much a mess, had to end up changing before you got back to the office?”
“Yeah, yeah I did,” he bows his head down a bit, licking his lips again. Still close enough to smell her perfume, to stare at the glittery shine of her lipgloss, begging to know what it tastes like.
“I thought so.”
Clark doesn’t get another moment to think or conjure up a response before she’s leaning in and he’s dreamily shutting his eyes, humming into her mouth while she tilts her head to the side. Her nails splay out across his neck while he whimpers in her mouth, trying to keep up and savor the exquisite taste of her while he can. With plenty of hesitation trying to hold him back, he goes for it anyway and takes his own palm to the middle of her back, hugging her close to him while they kept making out like it wasn’t any different than coming home after years of being away.
“You’re really pretty, makes it really hard,” he pants. Pulls away but not too far, lips still brushing hers as he speaks.
She laughs right at him, tucking a curl behind his ear and adjusting his glasses so they’re straight again on his face. “Apt word choice there.”
“No! No I mean, that’s not what I meant….”
“As much as embarrassment looks cute on you, you don’t have to be,” she assures with another giddy laugh, kissing his cheek and leaving a subtle glossy mark on the skin. Then aims for each corner of his lips only to be pulled back in by him to get the heated momentum back up and running.
“You’re unbelievable,” he breathes. “I want to just… I wanna keep going forever.”
Shit, is he talking too much too soon?
“I mean you don’t have to, really, you can head home whenever you like… I only meant I like this a lot.”
She doesn’t let his overthinking become worse, just grabbing him by the collar and kissing him again. Adding tongue swirls into the mix.
“You taste like your Spearmint gum,” she observes. “Really nice.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Clark nods, his meek persona still in full swing even after having her tongue in his mouth. “You’d tell me if my breath was bad, right?”
“Of course I would.”
The pair still kept exploring each other’s kissing techniques, her hands stroking his arms and his chest while Clark’s stayed on the middle of her back in easy circles. It could’ve been ten, fifteen, even twenty minutes passing by while the rain hardly lightens up from pouring out from the gray clouds scattered in the sky. Clark offers to walk her up to the door so she could get home safe and dry, and she couldn’t pass up the offer, even if he kept reassuring her he didn’t mean to allude to any funny business. He takes off his own jacket to hover it over her head as they make the short trip, insisting he does it as to not get her hair wet.
“I like your plants, your place is cute. I can pick you up and take you home tomorrow if you’re up for that.”
She grins and gets up on her tippy toes to kiss him once again, an innocent little smooch he graciously accepts and reciprocates.
“And how about the day after that, and then the day after that, and the next week after that…”
Clark laughs at her and puts his jacket he’d been using to shield her from getting doused by the rain, squeezing her hip with another smile and going back in for yet another because it was too good to pass up.
“Absolutely. Rain or shine, I’ve got you.”
“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bright and early. Do you have my number? Wait, hold on,” she unzips her purse and shuffles through it before finding her keys, unlocking the door and barging inside. Clark remains respectfully at the doormat, not willing to push any boundary this early, besides a car makeout here and there. He watches her in blissful astonishment as she scribbles on a piece of paper, folds it up then marches back to put it in his front pocket herself.
“For emergencies. And you know, anything else.”
Anything, she says. Anything else. “Right. Yeah. I’ll text you.”
“Please do. And text me when you’re home safe!”
“I will,” he chuckles, leaning his head back down to steal another goodbye kiss before he walks back to his car with a pep in his step that he hasn’t had in a long, long time.
“Bye!”
She waves from her porch before he chastises her to get back to her house so she doesn’t stay in the rain, but she just sticks her tongue out at him then goes back anyway.
It all felt intoxicating. He wondered if he could even drive in such a distracted, head in the clouds state like this.
His gut fluttered with butterflies and his cheeks hurt from smiling so much, back on autopilot as he starts up the car, blasts the volume back up and turns back to the main road. It felt overwhelmingly unreal that he can still taste her lip gloss and how much it’s rubbed off on him. How he can still feel the ghost of her hands touching and caressing parts of him that haven’t been touched and felt like that. He has stars floating above his head like he’d been knocked the fuck out, unconscious.
Just as he’s venturing back to the street towards his place, his dick starts to feel wet against his left thigh. Still trapped by his boxers and his trousers, that same familiar sensation creeping back up on him before he could press the gas after a red light turns green. He clenches his jaw and tries to stay concentrated with tight hands on the wheel. Gasping when his dick starts tingling as he’s teased and rutted on by that same mysterious force, gliding him in between their lips, teasing their opening with his tip.
Clark barely makes it home and sticks his face in the steering wheel, licking his lips, breathing with his mouth stuck open. He feels when it goes inside, how the thrusts are long and filling and slow at first, excruciatingly wonderful as it’s taking him in down to his balls. Drenching him down with wet arousal on every pull out. His full body shivers again, butts his head against the wheel five times before accidentally bumping the horn.
Mortified with horror, he ducks his head down as much as he could and peaked around to catch only a few witnesses of his neighbors taking out their trash bins out on the curb. He awkwardly waves and subtly grabs onto his bulge through his trousers, dampness seeping through the fabric. With a braced huff, he counts to ten to enjoy the warm embrace before he’s exiting his vehicle, slamming the door and not bothering to fix his floppy hair before snatching his briefcase from the backseat, covering his crotch from the world and jogging to his door, soft rain still falling from above.
When he makes it inside he throws his belongings to the ground, rushes his clothes off akin to how he did on his lunch break earlier. As naked as he was born with those glasses still on, he lies back on the couch and clenches his jaw, absently thrusting up into the unknown heat. Feels the heat react with more tight clenches, taking his breath away. He closes his eyes and hugs a pillow to his abdomen while he pictures his new co-worker on top of him again, bouncing just like this wet heat on top of him right now. Wants her lipgloss to stick to his skin, wants to be engulfed in her hair, her perfume, her smile. Her laugh when she’s making fun of him.
Without any warning but the pit in his stomach squeezing and dropping, he cums like a fountain and it ripples out of him so fast it punches him into a straighter posture, all the sudden sitting up. He sees his own cum lathering his dick and his pubes, and he can distinguish the very moment she’s cumming not long later too.
After Clark lays there and chugs an old but full glass of water lying on his coffee table, he caught up to his breath as he tries to get himself together to draft up a text when he finds the energy to get up and pull that crumbled piece of paper out of his pant pocket.
With multiple tired, anxious tries of attempting to find some neutral ground between sounding caring and interested versus sounding desperate or obsessive, he takes a deep breath and presses send before he could talk his mind out of it.
Hey this is Clark. I made it back home safe awhile ago and forgot to let you know. Just wanna say I had fun and I’ll pick you up around 8:30 if that’s cool. Good night :)
Clark thinks of throwing his phone across the room to ignore the insecurities bubbling out of him. What else should I say. Was what I said too much. Will she even want to kiss me again? She said she’d tell me if my breath tasted bad. What if tomorrow things are different—
A text tone buzzed his couch cushion, phone screen lighting up. Surprised but delighted, he rips it back up off the couch and shoves it in his face to read carefully.
I probably had even more fun than you. Glad you’re home safe and I’ll see you tomorrow :) 8:30 sounds perfect Mr. Yes Man. I’ll be waiting out front for you, get good rest! goodnight!
Gobsmacked, he’s left re-reading the same words over and over and over until his eyes grew heavy and he knew time for bed was gonna have to be a little early tonight. He brushes his teeth, wishing he could keep the remnants of her lips on his mouth but knows he just has to wait until tomorrow for more kisses. With a hiss he scrubs his dick of the sloppy mess left thick and slathered on his entire lower half with a warm washcloth.
While he’s in bed he idly wonders what her nights looked like. If she spends them alone like Clark does. If she was more outgoing than him, had people over, went out more. If her life had more color on the pages than his. Dirtier thoughts naturally start to seep in after that, threatening to really take over the narrative he’s built in his mind. Does she touch herself nearly as much as he does? Can she cum multiple times if she’s coaxed? Does she take more charge or does she want him to take over? Or maybe she wanted both. He could do both.
Endless wonders still can’t help flooding his thoughts, so much so that they infiltrate his dream as he slowly drifts off to sleep. Dreaming of her on top of him, of playing with his tie before yanking on it to pull him around as she pleased. She got down further and nuzzled her cheek against his bulge through his office pants and took him out to lick it down like a lollipop was between his legs, even squeezing on him so good it hurt a little bit.
The dream ended with her on top and riding him, backwards cowgirl style, tight hold of his tie still in her fist. When he’s pulled out of his dream and awoken it’s around two in the morning, and somehow his dick had gotten just as wet and used in the night again, this time while he wasn’t even conscious. Clark thought he’d aged out of having any more dirty, raw, cum-in-his-pants type of wet dreams like these. He guessed that now after the day that he had and the girl that he met that everything was about to turn upside down.
. . .
thank you thank you to everyone who commented and reblogged and liked my first part im so happy you guys are enjoying its so fun reading everyone’s reactions :) i like the alternating POVs too for this between her + him
****(only able to fit 50 tags per post, I’ll make another one linked to this post so I can tag the rest!)
(partial) tag list: @7angel7spit7 @imsonotweird @fuhinn77-blog @sunflowers-and-rainy-days @astraea-and-her-novels @brains-2-beauty @theplaid-wearingmoose @navybluelover @kirbyisking99 @ifyouseethisnoyoudont22 @idontexistrightnow @caffeineaddicty @tinythebunni @contaminatedcupcake @klarkcentral @tragicgirl23 @carlandoxlestappen @thecheeseman27 @darker0moon221b @bad-wolf1991 @just-aliyah @iceyyycapsicle @rrosesandtears *rest of tag list will be in separate post linked to this one cause of the tag limit!
Pierced through the heart, but never killed || Ghost x Fat!Reader ||
One shot (9.8k)
MoodboardAo3 link.
Simon pays the price of his recklessness in the field, but his reward may be worth the pain.
CW: reader described as fat/plus-sized/curvier/chubby, Patient/PT dynamics, Perv!Simon, reader is a nervous talker, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of wounds + violence, rehab shit, military shit, protective!Simon, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, hand kink, praise kink, slight knife play (blink and you’ll miss it), unprotected piv, degradation, lots of cum, oral (fem!receiving), breeding kink, scar worship(?), body worship, clearly 18+ MDNI.
He really fucking didn’t want to be there.
There was no one else to blame for his current situation other than himself. Seating in the sterile waiting room of the health services unit of undisclosed location military base, with his fucked up hand wrapped and immobilized in a splint. Simon was bored out of his mind.
He was waiting for the medical staff to finish their briefing, they were starting him on physical therapy for the foreseeable future. It turns out that all the ligaments and tissue surrounding the carpometacarpal and metacarpophalangeal joints were more complex to heal than one might think. If only he'd known that before using his hand as a shield against a machete.
At least he could take comfort in remembering said weapon buried in the skull of the big Austrian fucker that thought it was a good idea to wear a dirty rag for a mask and come at him with a blade in close quarters, the imbecile.
“Lieutenant. They’re ready for you.” Finally, He stands up and silently follows the nurse who’d accompanied him since they removed the stitches a couple of hours before. She was an older woman, with a stern face and of few words, who hadn’t tried to chat him up while you worked on him, and at first, he thought it was because of his mask, but after a while he noticed she was short with everyone else.
The facility itself had no natural light, only a bright fluorescent-lighted ceiling with sad white and beige painted walls, it was dull and depressing. As they approached the rehab unit, he noticed you, all warm and soft in contrast with the environment.
A fat birdie in baby blue scrubs that accentuate all your attractive curves, with a beautiful welcoming smile adorning your round, pretty face. Like a sucker punch, It made his stomach clench, and other parts of him stir in interest.
Like the nurse, you didn't seem to be phased by his typically intimidating looks; it wasn't that he was actively trying to scare you either, it was just how he came across, plus the black balaclava made him look like a double-edged sword, he was aware of it.
“This is your assigned Physio for the time being, she’ll be in charge of your care from now on… I'll leave you to it.” And with that, the nurse was gone.
You seemed too fucking sweet to be in this place (he’d been in military hospitals that were as hospitable as a Man U pub in East London), and that thought is confirmed the second you open your mouth.
You welcome him like he’d just landed in a beachside resort, he'd never been to one, nor was he opposed to visiting. But now that he thought about it, he could perfectly picture you in a skimpy bikini, lying under the sun, with those tempting lips sipping on a straw from a coconut, that's suddenly turning into a phallic shape-
“Lieutenant, could you please follow me this way?” Your voice -strangely familiar- cuts off his naughty thoughts. Something itches in the back of his mind, like he knows you, maybe from another base, but surely he would remember. He could never forget a face like yours.
“Just Ghost.” He remarks and follows you. Oh boy, does he follow you, like a Malinois taking orders. The moment he gets a good look at your behind, he's sold; that ass and those thighs moving in front of him are his personal version of being hypnotized. Luring him, drawing him in.
Perhaps being here won’t be so bad after all.
He’d done PT before, for his leg and lower back. Yet he’d grown accustomed to the constant ache. The shot of electricity that sometimes ran down his legs, the fatigue that bullied his lumbar spine after an adventurous mission with the 141. He certainly didn’t expect that a few sessions hooked to the TENS machine would magically heal all the shit he’d put his body through during his years in active duty.
Yeah, he’d done PT before…
But it was nothing compared to this, never like this.
Starting with the pretty thing massaging, rubbing, and pampering him. Talking his ears off about everything that had to do with his injury, what the treatment would consist of, what the next couple of weeks were going to be like, what stage of cicatrization he was on, etc.
It felt like heaven, having a pretty lass all over him. Until you flexed his wrist and sharp pain shot like fire from his fingers to his elbow.
You apologize, even though it's not your fault, and try to make light conversation in an attempt to distract him. His answers are short and not as friendly as yours, not because he doesn’t want to be, but because he’s concentrating on blocking out the pain, like he’d been trained to do, like he was used to.
Your breast constantly squeezing against the table the two of you were seating on certainly helped.
The softness of your hands on his scarred one was fuel for his filthy imagination. Your sweet words of encouragement soothed him every time he grew frustrated, and the delicious scent of your perfume made his mouth water, tickling something nostalgic in his subconscious.
And then he started to forget about the pain.
Two weeks go by faster than Simon expected. He was getting better, it was less painful to close his fist, but his strength and fine motor skills were still fucked. He was no longer bored, though, he was using his free time as an excuse to become ambidextrous.
The image of your soft, delicate hands holding him. The contrast of his scarred, calloused skin against yours, how you studied every uncovered inch with such attentiveness, it fed the thing inside him that wanted to sink its teeth on your neck and lock the fuck in.
Wanking off twice a day to thoughts of his PT was turning out to be quite the exercise. His brain had also decided it was a good time to let his breeding kink resurface -It hadn’t gone anywhere to begin with- because his muse had the perfect body for it. When he allowed his thoughts to wander down that path, he would come so fast it left him dizzy.
And you were so witty, and smart, and so goddamn sweet it satiated his sweet tooth, so attentive it filled his chest with a feeling he couldn’t name. Yet, you were a feisty little thing, a kitty with its claws sheathed. You would banter with him about football, throw bad jokes in reply to his, and scowl at him when he tried to cheat during his exercises.
Yeah, he was feeling better than ever.
But then came Soap, giving him shit left and right about wanting to visit Simon at one of his sessions.
Johnny had shown up -uninvited and unauthorized- just in time to see the plump birdie remove the hardened layers of paraffin wax from his hand and start stretching his strained tendons. The tender touch of your cool hands on his hot one and the sudden presence of the Sergeant in his peripheral view made him flinch slightly. It was a small movement, but enough for Johnny to take notice, the bastard smirked, amused, before locking eyes on you, then he lit up like a dog with a bone.
The thing was, Johnny was also into bigger women. Johnny was into anything with a hole. They’d shared porn links of BBW getting pounded once or twice before (BBW getting pounded and bred to be more specific), so Simon knew exactly the kind of nasty shit lurking on the Scots mind. Chances were Simon had already thought of it.
The second Soap arrived, Simon knew he had to lay down limits. No looking, no touching. Easily communicated with a grunt and a subtle shake of his head. Turns out Johnny boy read that as an invitation, and not as the warning that it was.
Soap had then proceeded to grab a chair, and sat backward on it while facing them in the small table that had become yours since day one. And then the mutt-with-a-death-wish introduced himself and started to flirt with you. Right in front of Simon.
You were oblivious, laughed at Soap's usual shenanigans and threw cheeky comebacks here and there, keeping the conversation light and as professional as you possibly could while dealing with Johnny.
“Poor Bonnie, ye probably exhausted after dealing with mean ol’ Lieutenant.”
“You’re wrong there, Sergeant. Ghost is one of the best patients I’ve ever had… You’d be surprised at how rude patients can be sometimes.” That last part was said quietly, and by the expression on your face, you immediately regretted saying it. Simon wanted to delve more into that, but Soap kept talking and changed the subject.
“Bet ya wish it was me in yer care, we’d have a fun time every time…”
When it was over, after the nurse kicked Soap out of the rehab unit for his boisterous behavior, Simon grabbed him by the scruff (with his good hand, he wasn’t going to fuck up your progress) and shoved him into a wall, he made it clear to Soap that he was not to do that again. “A’ight, no messin’ with yer doc, got it, now let off Lt.” He giggled in between forced breaths. Only then did Simon lift his forearm from his throat.
The next day, he decided to go in earlier to apologize for his squad mate's behavior. What he stumbled upon, was an example of your accidental confession.
“I’ve said it a hundred times already, I can’t fucking do it! What’s the fucking point? I’m just wasting my time.” He heard the pitchy shouts before he saw them. A rookie soldier in crutches, towering over you, face red and nostrils flaring. While you were holding onto the handrail of the parallel bars like a lifeline.
“Let's just give it a try, this is the last exercise for the day, alright?” Even dealing with the man's tantrum, you kept your polite demeanor.
“I don’t fucking want to, I’m done.” The soldier started to maneuver his way around the bars, and you followed him, still unaware of Simon's presence. The nurse was arranging some papers on the other side of the room, watching everything unfold silently.
“Sir, we’re not done. I’m here to help you recover, there’s no need to be uncivil.” This time your words were stern, your face frowning in determination. Simon thought it was cute.
“There is no need to be a pain in the ass either, fat bitch!”
And that was enough of that, with a few long steps Simon was in the young man's space, looking down at him and sizing him up, ”Quiet.” One word was enough, the thin veil of anger that disguised the soldiers' fears vanished from his face. “Stop your whingin’. Apologise and sod off.”
“Apologies, ma’am.” the soldier said over his shoulder grudgingly. You acknowledged it with a single nod.
“Not good enough, look at her and say it like you mean it, boy.” Simon ground his molars and clenched his fist to stop himself from doing the violent things he wanted to.
The soldier turned clumsily on his crutches and muttered another apology, slightly more sincere than the first. Simon took a step aside to let him go, he didn’t give a fuck about pulling rank over the lad, he just wanted him gone and away from you. He would deal with it more thoroughly later. He was sure Johnny would enjoy giving him a hand.
Once the shell shock case walked out, Simon approached you. Even though you didn't seem upset from the confrontation, he noticed that your chest was heaving as you took deep breaths to calm down. You were staring at the floor, eyes a little hazy, with a hand resting on your soft belly, working on controlling your breathing.
“Y’alright?”
“No, yeah-” You paused and tilted your head up at him. “Yes, yes. I’m fine.” Your cheeks seemed flushed. Simon assumed it was anger, yet he found you deliriously hot.
Raising the hand he was jealous of from your navel, you comically looked at your naked wrist, “Well, look at the time, right on the dot,” He was not, it was still early. “I’ll just… grab a cup of tea, and then we’ll begin our session. I’ll be back in a moment.” You dashed away, leaving him with the nurse, who now looked at him with her arms folded, one brown raised and lips pursed, clearly not amused by the situation.
After that day, things were… different. Since you were usually the one to start most of the conversations, your frequent chats became strained. In fact, you hardly spoke to him anymore (well, not really, he just got used to your constant yapping), only to give him instructions.
He found that he missed it, your sweet attention talks, what he normally detested in others, he found charming in you. Not having that made him feel uneasy. Not only that, but he desperately wanted to return the gesture. He knew that his usual nonchalant and sarcastic tone wasn’t gonna cut it this time.
You made every effort to avoid meeting his gaze, as it would only become more intense as it sought to meet yours constantly. Because if he couldn’t have your voice, he’d settle for your pretty eyes. He was aware that he was behaving a little insane -like a hunter stalking its prey- but he was unable and unwilling to control himself.
One day, you caught him by surprise and set a gun on the table. A Clock 17, unloaded and with an empty mag, a cleaning kit laying beside it. You told him to get into it and put those fingers to work, then you pulled a .19 from the pocket of your thigh, sat beside him instead of your usual spot on the other side of the table, and started to disassemble it with an efficiency that rivaled Kyle’s. He wanted to fuck you right then and there.
He grunted while appreciating you with a warm smile hidden by his mask, but still evident in his eyes. You turned at the sound, finally meeting his gaze, you gifted him a bright smile that blinded him and made him feel a little hazy.
He blinked slowly, pulled himself together and started to go through the motions of a deep cleaning for a Clock. He could do it in his sleep, blindfolded, and hog tied. Only to find he was a sloppy mess that somehow could not even pull the slide from the frame without struggling with the catch levers.
“You got it, Lt. Slowly but surely.” You encourage him. He carried on, watching your soft hands handle the weapon felt like you somehow were touching an extension of him. Another thought to not share with his therapist.
As he got lost in his thoughts, Simon still had that nagging feeling in the back of his mind. You felt so familiar, there was just something nostalgic about the way he felt about you. Like he was longing for something he couldn’t quite remember, a word on the tip of his tongue. Or maybe he was getting too attached, too fast.
A few weeks after the incident with the rookie, he graduated from the rehab unit and was back at the gym (still with some limitations) and other duties, but still you insisted on going down to the shooting range with him. You wanted to monitor his improvement during work activities, which in his case meant shooting big guns, reloading them, and throwing sharp knives. He’d not been given the all-clear on hand-to-hand combat yet.
It was a mistake. Simon knew it the second you left the comfort of the indoors behind. You were out of your usual scrubs and instead were dressed up in a pair of cargo pants, tan army boots and a black compression shirt that stretched to sinful limits around your shape. It was torture. All the men watching you parade through the base made his hands itch to pull eyes out of sockets.
And then you were pampering him again, carefully massaging and moving his hand before he started shooting at a target. Standing close to him to better assess his hold on the guns, you called him out when he misplaced a shaky finger to avoid discomfort, reminding him that it was important to practice without any compensatory movements, so he didn’t develop bad habits.
You were all over him again, all your attention was on him, on the way he stood, on how he unloaded and reloaded, on how he shot round after round. Not even Price and Gaz introducing themselves diverted your focus. It was elating, he felt intoxicated.
By the time you were done for the day, Simon escorted you back to the barracks sporting a semi. Then he practically jogged to his room and proceeded to jerk off like a madman with the smell of gunpowder and your scent still on his nose. Fantasizing about coming inside you, filling you so full of him, claiming your little holes and-
He was hanging on to his self-control by the skin of his teeth, one little nudge away from losing it.
It should've been no surprise to him that in the end, it was knives that did it.
Oh, the irony.
You were alone, standing in the small warehouse next to the shooting range. It was poorly lit, equipped with big wooden circles with targets painted on them, a marksman table bolted to the floor and a utility wall full of all sorts of sharp paraphernalia.
You were closer than the day before, again in your new uniform, looking hot and smelling as tempting as ever. Meanwhile, he was fucking up all his throws.
You’d been at it for half an hour now, and he was getting more frustrated by the second.
“You are holding them too tightly, you have your full strength back now. The goal is to practice micro-dosing it when it requires gentle movements. Let me show you.” You said while studying his form.
You stand on your tiptoes to reach his injured hand that's been holding the KaBar knife over his shoulder in a throwing stance. Your soft front brushes against his side. Your fingertips lightly touch his tense fingers gripping the handle, and then your voice is right by his shoulder, whispering dirty-sounding words of encouragement.
“Relax a little bit, yes. Just like that.” Your breath caresses his skin, and he suppresses a shudder, “Yes, yes, perfect! Now, do it!” He throws the knife.
Neither one of you sees it land with a thud in the center of the target.
He’s on you before he can stop himself.
With his hands wrapped around your throat, he pulls you impossibly closer to him, you gasp and instinctively grabs his wrists. His thumbs on your soft jaw tilt your head to make you look into his eyes. You moan, an involuntary noise that escapes your throat. The sound travels like high voltage through his blood to his groin.
“Lieutenant…” you whisper, voice cracking with fear and a hesitated question.
Simon growls, slightly tilting his hips against your belly, wanting you to feel his hard cock, his need.
"Always on top of me, touching me, tempting me." He turns slowly, keeping you in his grasp, and you move with him. "You have no idea how long I’ve been stopping myself from putting my hands on you," two steps forward, and he traps you against the old marksman table. Left speechless, your hands fall to his hard chest. Not punching him away, he notes.
His hands travel from your throat down to your hip, gentle but heavy petting your curves, He leans close and nudges your cheek with his clothed one. Your breathing becomes more labored by the second. "So sweet, yet so oblivious to the effect you have on me." He whispers next to your ear as he tightens his grip on you, his fingers digging on your softness, "But I can show you."
Simon picks you up, you shriek and throw your arms around his neck as he sits you on the table. He swipes one hand behind you, clearing the table of the clutter that falls loudly to the floor, purposely missing a small knife, he grabs it and brings it up to point at you with the sharp tip, “You’re gonna owe me a mask after this.”
He lifts the bottom of his balaclava and cuts a piece off to reveal his mouth. Pink and plump lips split by a long scar all the way from his nose, down his cupid's bow, to just above his dimpled chin.
He doesn’t give you time to appreciate the new exposed piece of him, because Simon leans down to claim your mouth in a passionate, claiming kiss. His eyes flutter close as you share the warmth of his body, and the truth of his confession. Your hands slid to his arms, gripping his biceps as you pulled him closer, your tongue tentatively meeting his in an unspoken invitation for more.
The kiss grows more urgent, his tongue diving into your mouth as he tasted the sweetness of your submission. His hands roaming your body, familiarizing themselves with every curve, fingers tracing circles underneath your breast and on the softness of your waist. Your own hands started to explore him, your nails digging into the skin of his exposed arms as you traced his muscles like you’re memorizing him.
Pulling away from your mouth, he nuzzled his masked nose against the apple of your chubby cheek, "If you don’t want this, now is the time to say so, before I lose myself." He was giving you a way out of his possessive grasp before it was too late, before he sunk his sharp teeth into your juicy peach and decided he was not going to let go.
“I want you!” Your voice was a desperate whimper at the mere notion of stopping. You want it, all he would give you, you’ll take it. Your hands grabbed his shirt and tugged, trying to take it off, you managed to untuck it from his pants before he grunted and grabbed both your wrists in each of his hands to stop you.
He kissed you once more and bit your lower lip, making you gasp, He took the opportunity and licked inside your mouth. “Tongue.” he barked, you obeyed and shyly stuck your tongue out. Simon licked, sucked, and bit again. It was utterly erotic.
He pulled away from you and made quick work of undressing, took off his shirt, and then undid the button and zipper of his cargo pants. He was so big, all over. Packed with muscles and a layer of fat that made it seem like he was naturally bulletproof, even when you knew that wasn’t the case. The scars he wore were a crude and raw testament of the truth.
He moved close again, reached for your knees, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive flesh behind them, causing your legs to fall apart slightly. You watched, transfixed, as his hands moved closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. The teasing was agonizing, but you didn't want it any other way. Instead, you took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling with each stroke of his hand.
With a predatory grace, Simon leaned over you, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand traveled up your leg over the thick fabric that separated you from his touch. You felt the anticipation coil tighter in your stomach, a knot of excitement and fear that made your breath hitch. He paused just before he reached your center, his fingers tracing your sensitive inner thigh. You could feel the heat of his body, his scent mingling with sweat and arousal.
"You know," he said, his voice a low growl, "I’ve been dying to know what you taste like." His thumb hovered just above the fabric over your pussy, the pressure of it making you tremble. "Do you want to help me with that, baby?"
Your eyes widened, and you felt a rush of warmth spread through your body. You had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable while still being clothed. But there was something about the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, that made it feel so sexy. "Yes, Ghost," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "I want that."
The Lieutenant's smile grew, his teeth a dangerous sight in contrast with the dark fabric of his mask. "Good," he said, his thumb finally sliding over the seam at your center.
With swift motions, he kneeled down to unbutton and yank your camo pants and panties off, making your hips rise and fall involuntarily, revealing your fuzzy, glistening wet pussy. The coolness of the air made you gasp, and you felt a thrill as his gaze locked on your most sensitive parts. Simon leaned in closer, his nose just inches from your sex. He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled your scent, his eyes closing in pleasure.
The sound of his deep inhale made your stomach flip. You felt a strange sense of power, knowing you could elicit such a reaction from him. His eyes snapped open, and you saw the hunger in them, the raw need that was no longer hidden behind the veil of indifference he usually donned. "Mm," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You smell so good, baby."
Without another word, Simon leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your fat mons, his stubbled cheek brushing against the naked skin of your inner thigh. Your hips jerked upward at the contact, a gasp escaping your lips, the intimacy of the moment almost too much to handle. He kissed you again, this time a bit closer to your clit, the stubble grazing your skin again, sending sparks of pleasure through your core.
"Your pussy is so perfect," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "So soft and plump. Just like a ripe little peach." He placed a hand on your hip, holding you in place as he continued to shower you with wet kisses, each one closer to the center of your desire. It was so bewildering, the way he was rough and gentle with you at the same time.
Your breathing grew ragged, your body trembling with each tender touch. Then, without warning, you felt wetness on your clit as Simon leaned in and let a bead of saliva fall from his mouth onto your sensitive flesh. You gasped at the sensation, the coolness of his spit mixing with the warmth of your slick. His tongue followed the droplet, tracing a wet line up the center of your pussy, and you felt a bolt of electricity shoot through your core.
"Ghost," you whimpered, your hands clutching the edges of the table.
"Shh," Simon soothed, his eyes never leaving yours. "Just relax, sweetheart. I got you." He slid his middle finger along your slit, the tip of it teasing your swollen clit before delving into your wetness. Your back arched as he pushed the digit into you, his knuckles grazing your sensitive skin. "So tight," he murmured, his voice filled with fascination. "So perfect."
He began to pump his finger in and out, the motion sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. You felt so full, so overwhelmed, still you craved more. You could feel your body responding in ways you didn't know were possible, so out of control, it was like an outer body experience. He had barely touched you.
“This was all I could think about every time you were holding my hand,” Simon said as he watched, transfixed, at the way his finger moved. “Making me all better just so I could repay you like this.” Your pussy clenched around his finger, begging for more, and you couldn't help but rock your hips in time with his movements.
"Tell me how it feels," he murmured, his voice a firm command that made your body quiver. "Does this pussy like when I play with her?"
Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn't lie. "It feels… amazing," you admitted, your voice shaking. "I've never felt like this before." You leaned back on your elbows and let your head drop back.
Simon's eyes lit up with excitement. "Good," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I want you to feel good, baby. I want you to know just how much I appreciate you." His thumb began to circle your clit as he continued to fuck you with his finger, the dual sensation making you moan even louder. "But we're just getting started. There's so much I want to do to you, so much more I want to do with you."
He stood up and with his free hand grabbed you by the nape of your neck to pull you upright, “Show me your tits sweetheart, take that fucking shirt off.” You hesitated for two heart beats and he amped the pace of his thrusts, “Take. It. All. Off.”
You swallowed the nervous knot that formed in your throat and started to strip off your shirt. Once you were covered in only your sports bra, you took a deep inhale and straightened your back, reassuring yourself that there was nothing to be self-conscious about.
“You gonna make me repeat myself?” His tone dropped lower, his words a playful threat. You shook your head and off went your bra. As soon as you were bare before him, Simon ceased to move, his fingers still inside you, you even thought he stopped breathing for a moment. A nasty, insecure thought scurried across your mind, but it got squashed by the way Simon was looking at you like he wanted to devour you.
Then he snapped.
He leaned closer to you, his breath hot against your neck. You felt his hand move from your neck down to your chest, his calloused thumb grazing your nipple before he took it into his mouth. It was overwhelming, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he began to suckle. The sensation of his mouth on you, combined with the new relentless rhythm of his finger inside your pussy, left you on the brink of a form of pleasure you had never experienced before.
With each second that passed, your breathing grew more erratic, your body moving in time with his. The sound of his mouth on your skin blended with your moans and the distant sound of the shooting range. The warm flush on your face was a stark contrast to the coolness of his saliva as it dripped down your chest. His free hand moved to your other breast, kneading and rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It was a symphony of sensations, each one building upon the last until you felt like a supernova.
"Do you like that, baby?" he murmured against your skin, his teeth scraping your nipple before capturing it between his teeth. "Do you like how I make you feel?"
Your breath hitched, and you nodded frantically. "Y-yes, Simon." you managed to gasp out, your voice tight with need.
Simon's smile grew wider when he finally heard you say his name, and he leaned closer, his face inches from your chest. He took your other nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tight peak as he began to thrust his finger faster, your pussy clenching around his digits with each vicious stroke. He swapped back and forth, his mouth moving from one breast to the other, never letting the sensation ease.
As he sucked, he let out a low groan, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hand moved to your other breast, giving it a playful slap that made you jump. You felt so aroused, so desired, the thought of someone walking in any moment made you forget about any insecurity, and you couldn't deny the thrill of it. It felt like he owned you, and you were his to do with as he pleased.
With a sudden, almost feral growl, Simon pulled away from your breasts, his eyes locking onto yours. He leaned back slightly, taking in the sight of your finger fucked pussy, his hand still working your clit. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he leaned between your legs, his cheek brushing the tender skin of your inner thighs. You felt a strange mix of fear and excitement as you watched him, his massive frame casting a shadow over your most intimate parts.
"Fuck." he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. And then he lowered his mouth to your pussy again, his tongue sliding through your folds with the ease of a hot knife through butter. The sensation was overwhelming, the combined feeling of his rough stubble and the warmth of his mouth sending you spiraling into a whirlwind of pleasure. You felt the muscles in your stomach tighten, your legs trembling as you tried to hold herself still, and your throat tightened, trying to not let out a sound.
Surprising you with his strength, He lifted one of your legs and placed it over his broad shoulder, his hand wrapping around your thigh to keep you in place. The new angle made you feel even more exposed, your pussy open and vulnerable to his every whim. He took full advantage of the position, his tongue delving deeper, reaching places you didn't even know existed.
Your moans escaped you and grew louder, filling the closed space of the warehouse as the cool air caressed your heated skin. The fabric of his mask kissed your bare thighs as he moved between your legs, it tickled your sensitive flesh as he licked and sucked. You could feel his hot breath against your clit, the sensation making your hips buck involuntarily, nobody had eaten you out like this before, with such desperation.
The Lieutenant's tongue was playing your body like a fine instrument, he knew just how to touch you, just how to make you whimper and beg for more. Each flick of his tongue was a sweet torture, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, without pushing you over just yet.
Your eyes squeezed shut, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you tried to hold back the scream building in your chest. You could feel the tension coil tighter and tighter, your body hanging on the precipice of something you had only ever read about in your stash of romance novels.
"Simon," you gasped, voice a needy whisper. "I'm… I'm going to… "
Your words dissolved into a whimper as you felt the heat inside you build. Simon's tongue had become relentless, swirling and flicking against your clit with a skill that seemed to defy his brusque exterior.
His teeth grazed your sensitive flesh, the slight edge of pain mixed with pleasure, sent you spiraling higher and higher. You could feel your pussy tightening around his finger, the muscles in your soft stomach seizing up, your body shaking with the strain.
Your obscene sounds grew louder, filling the air with the sweet symphony of your impending orgasm. Simon's eyes remained locked on you, the intensity in them unwavering as he felt your body tense beneath his touch. He knew you were close, and the thought of making you come sent a jolt of excitement through his own body.
"That's it," he murmured in between licks, his voice thick with lust. "Let go for me."
He moved one of his hands to spread your pussy lips apart even farther, using his thumb and forefinger, he kept the speed of his tongue while doing it. You could feel the orgasm growing, a rush of bliss that stole the breath from your lungs. His mouth was a brand of fire on your sensitive flesh, and you couldn't hold back any longer. You let out a keening cry, your body arching off the table as you came, your pussy convulsing around his fingers. The waves of ecstasy crashed over you, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath.
Simon didn't stop. He continued to lick and suck, your juices coating his lips and chin as he drank in your sweetness, dampening the fabric of his balaclava. The feeling of his tongue on your clit was exquisite torture, each stroke sending another wave of pleasure through you. You could feel the muscles in your pelvis spasm, your legs quivering as you rode out your climax.
When the last tremor of your release faded, Simon pulled back, a smug smile on his face. His cheeks and lips were wet with your cum, a glistening trail of saliva connecting his mouth to your pussy. He licked his lips, savoring the taste. "Mmm," he murmured, his dark eyes never leaving yours. "You taste so delicious, baby."|
You felt a flush of embarrassment as you looked away, your pussy still spasming slightly with aftershocks of pleasure. Reality started to creep in on your lust-addled mind. But the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, it distracted, you felt beautiful, desirable. He was overwhelming. "Si…" you whispered, unsure of what to say.
Simon chuckled, a satisfied sound that resonated in your very bones. "Look at me, baby," he said, his voice a gentle command that you couldn't ignore. You lowered your eyes, meeting his gaze. "You're so beautiful when you cum," he murmured, his thumb still rubbing lazy circles around your clit. "Your whole body just lights up."
He bent over you, the weight of his massive frame pressing you into the table. You could feel the heat of his chest, the dampness of his skin against your own. His breath tingled your skin as he leaned in, his breath hot on your face. "You liked that, didn't you?" he whispered, his eyes searching for approval in yours, his hand still playing with your pussy.
You nodded, unable to find the words to describe the wave of emotions that surged through you. You could feel your heart racing, your chest heaving with each ragged breath you took. He pinched your clit, the sensation sending aftershocks of pleasure through your body, overstimulating you.
"Good," Simon murmured, his eyes darkening with satisfaction. "Now, give me that sweet mouth."
He shifted his weight, his powerful muscles flexing as he moved to lie on top of you. His body was like a blanket of warmth and security, his weight pressing you into the table. You felt your heart race even faster, your eyes never leaving his as he lowered his face to yours. The edges of his mask and his scruff brushed against your cheek, the scent of him -musky and manly- surrounding you.
His lips found yours in a kiss that was consuming and possessive. You felt his tongue slip into your mouth, tasting, exploring, as if he couldn't get enough of you. Your body responded instinctively, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer, your legs spreading to accommodate his thick thigh between them. The strokes of his tongue slowly became more forceful, and you could feel his hard cock pressing against your soft stomach.
The kiss grew sloppier, wetter, as you both succumbed to the overwhelming passion that had been building for a long time. His spit mingled with yours, the salty taste of flesh mixed with faint remnants of nicotine and the lingering sweetness of your juices. It was messy, raw, and utterly consuming. The stubble on his chin scraped against your skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
With one hand on your jaw and the other still buried between your legs, a sudden primal need took over Simon, he pulled back and spit into your mouth without warning. It was an act of dominance, a claim that left no doubt of his intentions. The saliva slipped over your tongue, warm and slightly bitter. Your eyes went wide with shock, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you swallowed, the gesture feeling almost like a declaration of acceptance.
"Mm, such a good girl," he murmured, his hand sliding up your body, over your curves, to rest on your hip. His thumb stroked your skin, his eyes never leaving yours, feeding all the eye contact you had starved him off. "You're so soft, so precious. Yet I could crush you with my bare hands if I wanted to."
You felt said massive hand grab your waist, his fingers spread wide and sinking into your love-handles as flesh spilled out from between them. He was so much larger than you, his body a testament of his strength and power. You felt like a mere slip of a thing in comparison, it sent a thrill of euphoria through you.
"Nearly became a lefty, and not because of your little exercises, love. I had to jerk off every time I left you." Your eyes went wide, and you felt your cheeks flush. The feeling of being so fervently desired by him was electrifying.
"Do you want to see my cock?" he tilted his head slightly, it was almost comical, but his deep and gravelly voice rumbled over you.
You had seen a few before, nothing bad but nothing memorable either. The thought of seeing Simon Riley's cock was dizzying. "Y-yes," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.
With a predatory grace that defied his size, Simon stood up, his towering form casting a shadow over you. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his cargos and boxers, and pulled them both down with a swift move, revealing his thick, muscular thighs and the massive cock that jutted out from between them.
It was huge, the size of which you had only ever read about in books and seen in the most exaggerated of porn, but still so pretty. The sight of it made you gulp, your eyes widening with anticipation and excitement. You could study it and write prose about it if given the time.
"Look at it," he said, his voice filled with pride as he took his cock in his scarred hand and stroked it slowly. The skin was velvety and pink, the veins standing out in stark contrast against his pale flesh. "This is me, baby. This is your man."
You couldn't help but stare, your eyes drawn to the thick, pulsing length of him. His pubic hair was a wild blonde thicket, a stark contrast to the rest of his body, which was mostly hairless. His balls were massive, heavy, and full, hanging low with desire. He cupped them in his other hand, rolling them gently, the motion causing his cock to bob and sway. "See how big they are?" he asked, his voice a low purr. "These are just for you."
Your eyes flicked up to meet his for a second as you nodded, only to drop back down to his movement, feeling too overwhelmed to find words. He was so imposing, so commanding, and you were at his mercy. "They're huge," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper.
With a wicked smile, Simon leaned back over you, his cock still in hand. "You make me feel things I thought I never would," he said, his voice a low growl. "Can you believe that?" He began to stroke himself more vigorously, the sound of his hand moving up and down his shaft a wet, slick sound that echoed through the air. "Lust, for one. Possessive, for another. Just for you."
Your eyes remained glued to his cock as he spoke, the size of it making you feel intimidated and incredibly turned on. You had never seen anything so brutally masculine. You swallowed hard, your mouth feeling dry as you imagined what it would feel like inside it.
"Tell me, baby," Simon rumbled, his hand moving faster along his shaft. "Do you want to know how it feels to have me inside you?" he asked like he could read your thoughts.
You nodded frantically, the words trapped in your throat. Your pupils were blown wide with desire as you watched him stroke the pre-cum beading at the tip of his cock. You were craving the feeling of being filled by him.
"Good girl," Simon praised, one hand moving to squeeze the base of his shaft and the other grabbing your thigh once more, his cock hovering just above your pussy. "Now, let's put those pretty feet of yours over my shoulder," he said, his tone a gentle command.
You complied, your legs shaking with a mix of excitement and nerves as he lifted your hips off the table and moved you closer to the edge. He positioned you so that your ankles rested on his broad shoulders, your pussy at his mercy, your soft belly and breast offered like a banquet to indulge his appetite. The buzz of anticipation of what was to come making you squirm beneath him, it was almost unbearable.
With a wicked grin, Simon began to drag the tip of his massive cock over your slit, teasing your clit with every pass. It was exquisite, the slickness of his pre-cum combining with your own wetness created a deliciously slippery path. You watched as he worked himself over you, his muscles tensing and releasing with each stroke, his hand moving with the determination of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
Your breath caught in your throat as he guided the full length of his shaft over your core, the sheer size of him making you feel small and unbearably empty. It was so different from when he used his hands and mouth, so much more intimate, it had your entire body quivering. You could feel the head of his cock nudge against your opening, the bluntness of it hinting at the pleasure to come.
"Look at that," Simon murmured, his voice low and filled with fascination. "Look how eager you are for my cock." He leaned down, his mask brushing against your cheek as he whispered in your ear. "You're going to be so tight… So tight around me."
Your breath hitched, your eyes still glued to the sight before you. The tip of his cock was now perfectly aligned with your entrance, the head nudging gently against it. You could feel the warmth of him, the pulsing need that seemed to radiate from his very pores. "Simon," you breathed, your voice trembling.
He was going slow, almost agonizingly so. Simon watched the head of his cock finally breaching your slick folds, and he groaned. Your eyes went wide, your body stiffening as you felt the first inch enter you. It was glorious. He was so big, so thick, it felt as though you were being split in two, like there was a “you” before and after this.
"Look at that," he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "So tight, so wet for me." He began to move, inch by inch, filling you up with his massive girth. With every push, you felt yourself stretching, accommodating more of him, and you couldn't help the moans that slipped from your lips. "That's it," he encouraged, his eyes fixated on your pussy. "Take it all, baby. Take every last inch of your man's cock."
There was a faint pain despite being prepared to take him, it was laced with something pleasant. Each time he pushed forward, you felt yourself opening up to him, your body reshaping itself just for him, for his cock, every cell of your being responding to his steady thrusts. His breath tickled your neck, hot against your skin, as he whispered sweet taunts that sent shivers down your spine. "You're such a good little slut," he said, his voice a low growl. "Letting me fill you up like this."
Your cheeks flamed with both embarrassment and arousal. The words should have offended you, but instead, they made your pussy clench around his cock. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your arousal making it easier for him to slide deeper into you. His movements grew more deliberate, the slow, torturous pace driving you crazy with need.
"Look how much of me you can take," he said, his voice a sensual purr. "You're such a good little slut for me, aren't you?"
The words were like a brand, searing themselves into your soul and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You liked it, the way his words made you feel both dirty and desired. With a final, agonizingly slow push, he bottomed out, fully buried inside you, his balls resting against your ass. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of pain and pleasure that had you panting and writhing beneath him.
"Atta girl," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with hunger and lust. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips with the same demanding force as his cock had your pussy. The taste of him filled your mouth, mingling with your own sweetness.
As the kiss deepened, Simon began to move, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that had your eyes rolling back in your head. He pushed in to the hilt, filling you completely, before pulling back almost all the way out. The sensation was maddening, the friction of his cock against your inner walls making your toes curl, and your nails dig into his skin.
With each thrust, he grew more aggressive, his grunts growing louder, filling the quiet warehouse with the sounds of your sexual consummation. Your moans grew in tandem, your breath hitching with every stroke. You felt like you were being claimed, owned, and the feeling was intoxicating. The pleasure built inside you, a heat that grew with each stroke of his cock.
Simon held your hip with a tight, possessive grip, his strong hands pinning you in place as he fucked you with a brutal efficiency that defied his gentle touch from before. The look in his eyes was like a storm, swirling with emotions that you couldn't quite decipher. Was it just desire? Lust? Or something else, something far more profound? You didn't know, and you didn't care. All you knew was that you needed more of him, you needed him deeper, harder.
Your eyes fluttered shut, unable to bare the weight of his stare, but he was relentless. Forcing you to meet his gaze, "Look at me," he growled, his voice thick with passion. "Look at me when I fuck you." your eyes snapped open, and you found yourself lost in his gaze once again, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he fucked you.
He went rougher, his balls slapping against your ass with every deep thrust, the sound echoing off the walls of the warehouse. It was a primal, carnally satisfying sound that seemed to resonate through your very core, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Each thrust sent a jolt of divine pleasure through you, mixing with the pain of his intrusion to create a cocktail of sensation that was more addictive than any drug.
He lowered his head to your neck and murmured, "I can feel your heartbeat around me. It's driving me fucking crazy, baby." His teeth nipping at your skin. "You make me feel strong when I'm inside you. Like I can conquer the word." More heat bloomed in your core, "You're going to swell up with my cum, love."
Your eyes widened, shock and arousal coursing through your veins, the thought sent a thrill through you. "You like that, don't you?" Simon asked, his voice a low rumble. "The thought of being filled with my cum, growing round and lush with my seed?" He leaned down to nip at your ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "You're going to be the best little breeding slut, aren't you?"
Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you couldn't deny the way your pussy clenched around him, the way your hips began to lift to meet his thrusts. He noticed the change in you immediately, the way you moaned louder, the way you arched your back and pushed your breasts up towards him, like a heavenly offer. "Oh, you do," he said with a smug smile, his strokes becoming more forceful. "You want my cum, don't you?"
"Yes," you whimpered, the word torn from you as he hit a spot deep inside you that sent waves of pleasure through your body. "I want it."
"That's what I thought," Simon said, his grin wicked as he leaned back and began to fuck you with a viciousness that left you gasping. Each thrust was a declaration, a claim, a promise of what was to come. "You're going to be so full of me, baby. So full of my cum." His words were sweet, almost tender, laced with a brutal certainty that had your pussy spasming around his cock.
He placed his scarred palm over your opened mouth like he was trying to suffocate you, his fingers were spread apart and roughly grabbed your face. ”Kiss it,” He demanded, “Lick it, baby.” He gripped you by the waist with the other hand, your soft flesh giving in to his ruthless hold.
You did as he commanded, making out with the flesh you knew so well, licked and kissed the scar you healed. You got lost in the feeling of worshiping the creased skin of his hand. Worshiping him.
With a roar, Simon plunged two of his fingers into your mouth, thrusted in you one last time and you felt his entire body tensing as he reached his climax. You felt the hot, thick spurts of his cum fill you as you sucked on his fingers that still tasted like you. It was exhilarating. His hips jerked against you, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside you.
The feeling of his seed spilling into you was unlike anything Simon had ever experienced before, a primal rush that resonated through his very soul.
Your own orgasm followed quickly, your body shaking with the force of it. Your scream muffled by his digits, your nails digging into the skin of his thighs, you held on as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Simon never took his eyes off of you, watching you fall apart beneath him with a ferocious and possessive stare.
The sound of your combined release filled the air, a symphony of moans and grunts that echoed off the walls surrounding you. His cock swelled even larger, his spurts of cum painting your inner walls and claiming you as his, you could feel his cock jerk with each one, filling you to the brim, stretching you impossibly wider.
"Ten," he panted, his body finally stilling above you. "Ten spurts of my love, baby." He leaned down, kissing you softly, his tongue slipping into your mouth, sharing the taste of the moment with you.
You felt boneless, the scale of your climax leaving you trembling and overwhelmed. You could feel his cum inside you, a warm, thick presence that filled you completely. The reality of what they'd just done settled over you, a mix of shock and euphoria.
Simon's cock twitched one last time before sliding out of you with a wet pop, leaving your pussy gaping open and exposed. He watched you with smug satisfaction, his chest heaving with exertion. The head of his cock was still coated in your combined juices, a white foamy ring around the base showed how good the sex had been.
You lay there, your chest heaving, your legs trembling as you tried to come to terms with what had just happened. You felt… changed, somehow. Different. The intimate nature of the encounter only served to amplify your afterglow, leaving you feeling both sated and yet insatiably hungry for more.
Simon’s cum was slowly trickling out of you, the sticky warmth of it reminded you of the unhinged way you’d acted. You couldn't believe you had begged for it, begged to be filled with his seed. But you had, and now you felt both ashamed and strangely proud of yourself. It was as if a switch had been flipped inside you, awakening something you didn’t know was there.
Simon stood up, his massive cock still semi-hard and wet with your slick. He looked down at your pussy, a proud smile playing on his lips as he gently removed your legs from his shoulders. "You did so well, sweetheart," he said, his voice still gruff with desire. "Can’t wait to get you on my bed."
You felt a swell of hope at his words, he wanted more too. Despite the anxiety and confusion that fought within you, you had never felt so alive, so desired. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.
Still standing over you, he offered you a hand up. As you took it, you felt the tremble in his fingers, the residue of his own climax. He helped you to your feet, his gaze lingering on your naked form, committing every detail to memory.
"I could just bend you over right now and fuck that sweet, tempting ass," he said, his voice a gruff purr. "But I've got to get you cleaned up. Somebody is bound to show up, so we’ll leave that for later." He playfully slapped one ass cheek, making you jump and shriek. It stung, leaving a warm imprint off his palm, a clear gesture of ownership. "You stay here while I look for something to clean us up," he ordered, his tone gentle.
You watched as he strutted away, his muscular frame flexing with every step, the wetness on his cock glistening under the dim light. You couldn't help but admire him, the way his cock bobbed slightly with each movement. It was an erotic sight, one you could get used to.
As he looked around, and the afterglow cleared from your foggy brain, you pondered how to tell him the story; about a young soldier you met in the ICU years ago, when you were just an intern. A handsome young man who had a tube down his throat and a wound on his lower back from ricochet shrapnel. How you had been the one assigned to move all his joints and stretch all his muscles, two times a day, every day, while he was unconscious. How you would talk to him about anything and everything, even if he didn’t answer. How you were the one who took care of the man until your rotation ended, and you were sent elsewhere, never knowing what became of him. Never seeing the soldier again.
Until Simon “Ghost” Riley decided to use his hand as a shield against a machete.
mmmm ;) simon has got a special eye on single-mom!reader, doesn't he? (18+, lactation kink, daddy kink, breeding kink, dark content !!!!)
it's your first day back after maternity leave. you already look different, simon notices this immediately. the way you fill out your cargo pants--fuck, there's no way your arse has ever looked so fat. no way your thighs have ever been so plush--ngghhh...
fuck, you've never been prettier. motherhood suits you. your hair is longer. your eyes are a little brighter. and fuck, your tits look so heavy, can't keep his eyes off of them, can't fucking focus, fuck, fuck, fuck--
you look so cute patching him up. pouty bottom lip between your teeth as you string his lacerated skin back together with a practiced stitch, standing between his spread legs as he sits in a chair in your office. he nicked his shoulder real well in training today, and fuck, is he grateful for johnny's heavy hand because you're standing over him, and he has a front-row seat to the greatest view of his fucking life.
christ, they practically jiggle with every movement you make. you pop the cap off some disinfectant, and the little bounce of your chest makes him chub up immediately, and he doesn't trust the buckle of his belt anymore because you're so fucking hot. and god, it isn't fair, this isn't fair, you must be teasing him--because as he's staring shamelessly at your pretty, perky nipples, he notices the fabric of your shirt beginning to grow damp.
you notice his line of sight after you tie off his wound. you look down, gasping, your hands dropping your supplies to come up and cup your breasts and cover the wetness of your shirt.
"god--dammit," you breathe. you haven't gotten a chance to pump today, it's been so busy in the clinic, and god, they ache.
you're his sergeant. his pretty little soldier. he just wants to help you. he's just helping you, isn't he? that's what this is when he draws his big hands up, shifting your shirt until it nestles below your nursing bra. he's just helping you when he unlatches the strap with ease, drawing down the soft material and baring your tits for him, his eyes bulging when he sees how wet the skin is, how they glisten.
his mouth is so warm. it's the perfect relief after such a long day. his tongue is soft and careful, swirling in heated circles as he soothes the ache in the throbbing fat there. you're so wet--soaking your panties, you know you are, your hormones firing wildly as he pulls back, opening his mouth and catching just a dribble of the warm essence that leaks from one breast. finally, finally--fuck, he's so good at this, his mouth latching onto you again as he groans loudly. he's so sick, it's so fucking lewd, but god dammit, it's just what you need, you need this, you need this.
he likes you like this. he likes you fat around the hips and leaking from your tits and spilling sweetness into your panties. he needs to keep you this way. he needs to keep you pretty and aching and starving for the relief that he knows he can give you.
he doesn't care whose kid it is, he wants to keep you this way. he'd let johnny or gaz fuck you stupid after this if it meant plugging you up and making you full and beautiful and round again. he's never wanted kids anyway, he knows he probably shoots blanks, it's why you got pregnant so fast after he shut the door on your relationship and refused to open it again, isn't it?
nnghghhgh...
fuck, his pants are already shoved low, just enough that he can pull himself out. he's so heavy, balls so full and aching so badly, he's hardly slapping against his stomach. you slip your own trousers off, eager to get back into his lap, practiced pretty girl sinking down onto him and riding him for her life in the dark of her office.
he buries his face into your chest. they're bouncing every time you smack your hips back down against his, and he can't stop the noises he's making as he suckles your tits in his mouth and uses a firm grip on your ass to meet your thrusts with force. fuck, he'd forgotten what a nice cunt you had--he'd forgotten how nice and soft you are, how messy and wet you get, how whenever he fucks you, his entire pelvis is always soaked with the slick of you because you can never stop creaming on his cock.
"so big," you babble, just like you used to, and he grunts as he aims for that little spot inside of you that makes you cry. he wants to see those pretty tears falling down your face, but all it took this time was his tongue sucking on your achy nipples to make you pouty and sobbing.
fuck, you've always been good at taking him, you always were such a good girl, but now he's overwhelmed. your body is so different and yet the same, and he likes it so much more--fuck, there's so much to grab onto now, the smacking of your skin is loud, and you've always been such a wet girl, but now you're positively dripping. he grits his teeth as he looks down finally, watching the way you've wet his trousers, his boxers, your thighs, the goddamn chair. he can't wait to lay you down after this and put his head between your thighs, can't wait to get those tits back in his mouth and make you cry again and again and again and again--
yeah, yeah, yeah--fuck, fuck, fuck--
you collapse after he cums. whimpering, taking two of his fingers and fitting them into your mouth so you have something to suck on, something you always used to do for comfort. he hisses a little as he pulls out just a little, globs of cum dribbling onto the seat before he eases you back down again. you whine, clinging onto him, your eyes shutting as he shoves his cum practically into your stomach.
yeah, fuck--he's gonna make his little sergeants take you nice after this. he needs you to stay like this, needs to keep you fat and pretty and swollen. don't mind the chunky babies you'll have, he'll take care of you, sweetheart, he'll be the daddy that son of a bitch never gave you, yeah?
he grabs the phone nearest to him to check the time as you settle on wobbly legs into the seat next to him. it must be your phone, because there's a picture of a smiling baby as the background. his eyes flicker to yours, and when you catch his gaze, you swallow hard. there's a giant chubby baby you're holding in that picture.
So I really enjoyed writing the first one I made. So here's part 2 where Simon finally proposes! Hope you guys enjoy!
Simon had been carrying the ring for over six months. Everywhere he went, it went with him.
On missions, especially when things started going south, he’d take it out for a moment. Just a second. Just enough.
“Gotta pull through,” he’d murmur, thumbing over the diamond with rough, calloused fingers. “Someone’s waiting.” He’d press a quick kiss to it, then tuck it safely back into his vest before anyone noticed.
Late at night, when the base was quiet and everyone else was asleep, he wasn’t. Sleep didn’t come easy.
So instead, he’d sit by the window, the ring resting in his palm, watching the way it caught the moonlight. The way it shined.
He imagined it on your hand.
Where it belonged.
And when he was home, when you were in his arms, fast asleep, soft and warm against him, he’d take it out again. Carefully. Quietly. Holding it up beside your hand, just to see.
A perfect fit.
A pretty ring for his pretty girl. Customized exactly the way you liked it. Because you deserved everything you wanted. And Simon Riley intended to give it to you.
___
He couldn’t wait anymore. At this point, you might accidentally find the ring before he even got to propose. Unacceptable. So he made a plan, something simple, something quiet. Something just for the two of you.
“You’re finally proposin’, LT?!” Soap’s voice cut through the bar loud enough to turn heads. Simon didn’t even flinch.
“Finally makin’ that ‘wife’ title legal, huh?” Gaz added, taking a sip from his glass.
Price chuckled, patting Simon on the back. “About time you settled down, son.” Simon exhaled slowly.
Big mistake telling them.
Soap suddenly slammed both hands on the table. “Alright, listen up! New mission acquired.”
Simon narrowed his eyes. “Don’t.”
“Operation: Say Yes."
“Johnny—”
“We go in, secure the area, provide emotional support—"
“No, Johnny. You are not fucking up my proposal. No funny business.”
Soap blinked. “…So I’m not invited?”
“…No.”
A pause.
Soap looked genuinely offended. “Gaz, did you hear that? I’m not invited to the most important mission of his life.”
Gaz raised his glass. “Tragic.” Price sighed into his drink.
—
“Simon, where are we going?” You looked out the window, noticing the unfamiliar road leading out of the city.“…We’re not running away from your enemies, right?”
Simon let out a quiet chuckle, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, steady, grounding. “Course not, love. Wouldn’t drag you into something like that.”
You hummed, relaxing back into your seat as the cool night air brushed against your skin.
Then it clicked. The road. The direction.
The restaurant you mentioned a few days ago.
You smiled. Of course he remembered.
He always did.
—
“Target is on the move. Black car. Four wheels. Headlights on.” Soap whispered into the comms like he was narrating a documentary. Positioned from the mountain above, binoculars glued to his face.
“Is this really necessary?” Gaz’s voice crackled through. He was crouched near the setup, tossing flower petals onto the ground.
“Because LT’s plan is boring as hell,” Soap replied.
“Besides, I already paid for the fireworks.”
Silence.
“You what?” Price’s voice came through, dangerously calm.
“I said I got fireworks—”
“We agreed on flowers and a speaker!” Price snapped, aggressively trying to plug in a USB.
“The Bluetooth device is ready to pair,” the speaker announced.
“Where is the bloody USB port—”
___
“Captain,” Gaz muttered, suddenly stiffening. “They’re here.” The headlights cut through the trees.
Panic.
Gaz started throwing petals faster. Price nearly flipped the speaker trying to set it up.
Soap, meanwhile, was already sprinting down the mountain.“Going in for a closer visual.”
“Johnny, do not—”
Too late.
The three regrouped behind a bush ten meters away. “Target exiting the vehicle,” Soap whispered.
“Awh—Simon!” Your voice lit up instantly as you stepped out of the car.“Did you do all of this?”
Simon sighs. He had planned for something simple. Quiet. Just the two of you. Not petals. Not fireworks. And definitely not three idiots hiding in a bush. But he wasn’t about to ruin the moment.
“…Yeah,” he says.
You don’t question it, too busy admiring everything. The view overlooks the ocean, the moonlight reflecting perfectly on the waves. You both walk up to an elevated spot.
Simon wraps an arm around your shoulders and presses a kiss to your forehead.
It was perfect. Even if it now came with… extras.
“That’s it, LT. Slow and steady,” Soap whispers, pulling out his binoculars again.
“They’re like eight meters away,” Gaz mutters. “You don’t need that.”
“Don’t question the professional.”
Soap inhaled sharply. “LT in position. About to engage.” He started vibrating.“Do it—DO IT—”
Gaz slapped a hand over his mouth. “Stand down, sergeant,” Price muttered, helping hold him down.
The breeze was soft. The moment felt… perfect. And then.
“Do you trust me?”
You looked up at Simon, smiling. “Of course I do. With everything I have, Si.” His shoulders relaxed. Just a little.
He took your hands, turning you to face him.
“Love… I’d do anything for you.” Your breath caught.
He dropped to one knee.
“Will you make me the luckiest man alive… and marry me?”
You didn’t even think. You nodded immediately, tears forming as you threw yourself into his arms.
“Yes.”
Somewhere behind the bush, Soap silently celebrated like he just won the lottery.
A twig snaps somewhere behind you.
“Si, did you hear that—”
“No.” He definitely heard it. He definitely knows. But right now, it doesn’t matter. He takes out the ring and gently guides your face back to him. He slips it onto your finger.
Perfect fit.
Finally. He leaned in for a kiss—WOOOOOOSH— BOOM.
You gasped. “Fireworks?!”
Your eyes lit up as color exploded across the sky. “Oh my gosh, Simon! You planned this?!”
Simon stared. Then slowly looked at the bush.
Of course they did.
“…Yeah,” he said.
You ran closer to the edge, completely mesmerized. Behind you, Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. Then called out. “Alright, idiots. Out.”
The bush rustled.
Soap emerged first, grinning like a maniac. “CONGRATULATIONS!”
“Subtle,” Gaz muttered, following behind.
Price stepped out last. “We tried to keep it controlled.”
“You failed,” Simon replied flatly.
You turned, eyes wide. “Johnny?! Gaz?! Captain?!" You let out a laugh and motion your hands for them to come closee. “Come here! Watch with us!”
And just like that, the five of you sat together at the edge, fireworks lighting up the sky.
Laughter. Noise. Chaos.
Simon looked around. At them. At you. At the ring on your hand.
…Yeah. This worked.
He nudged Soap. “This shit has been going on for ten minutes.”
“Yeah."
“How much did you spend?”
Soap grinned. “…Don’t worry about it.”
“Johnny.”
“A whole bank account.”
“…You’re an idiot.”
“Worth it,” Soap said proudly.
Simon looked back at you, smiling at the sky.
And for once, everything felt still.
The proposal didn’t go how he planned.
Not quiet. Not simple. Definitely not private. But you were happy. And that was enough.
Johnny wakes up at 7 o'clock sharp. It's his day off, so he has time to run his errands. He has a little list on a sticky note so he doesn't forget anything.
Get the mail
Get gas for the car
Pick up my prescription
Grocery store!! Need bread and eggs!
Getting the mail is easy. His mailbox is just at the end of his driveway. He has the paper, junk mail, a bill, a letter from his sister, and... a light blue envelope. The envelope has a dark blue wax skull stamp on it. Johnny tucks the rest of his mail under his arm, cracking the wax and pulling the card out.
"You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mr. Simon Riley and..." he mutters. "No fuckin' way!! I told those bloody arseholes! She's real!"
Johnny turns the card over in his hand, a picture of you kissing Simon's cheek, both of you dressed in black. Johnny's surprised Simon let his face be on this. Even though your eyes are closed, he can tell that you love him more than anything in the world.
"Good for him." Johnny grins. "I better be the best man."
He hangs the card on his fridge, marking the date down in his calendar on his phone. The rest of the day seems mundane now.
--
Kyle has been putting off getting the mail for about two weeks now. His little P.O. box is flooding with papers of all shapes and sizes. This morning, he finally picked it up. When he gets back to his apartment, he flops onto the sofa and sorts through it.
"Junk, junk, junk, bill, magazine, coupon, coupon..." he mumbles, tossing each item into its respective pile. "What's this?"
In his hands - the last thing in his absolutely monstrous pile of mail - is a baby blue envelope. Sealing the envelope is almost a TARDIS blue wax seal. The seal depicts a small skull with its mouth open. He gently opens the envelope, brows furrowed. Inside is a black card with gold lettering
"You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mr. Simon Riley..." Kyle reads aloud. "Holy shit. Soap wasn't lying!"
He flips the card over, only to see a picture of a beautiful woman kissing the bloody Ghost! Kyle can tell by the light in Simon's eyes that he has found someone who truly loves him. And she's just as pretty as Soap said!
"Good for them," he chuckles, pinning the card to his corkboard. Kyle scrawls the date down on his calendar, smiling the whole time.
--
Price needs to go through the mail. It's been sitting on his kitchen counter for three days, accumulating more and more shit. He doesn't know why he even gets half this shit. It's all ads, ads, ads. Ocassionally, he'll get a useful coupon here and there. He likes Go Outdoors coupons the most. He needs a new hat, he thinks.
While he's idly looking through his mail, he spots a blue envelope. It has a wax seal on it. Price narrows his eyes at the envelope. He doesn't recognize the address, but it has Simon's name on it. With little ceremony, he opens the envelope. He pulls out a gold-on-black card. "You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mr. Simon Riley," he grunts. "Well, shit. I owe Soap an apology."
On the back of the card is a gorgeous lady kissing Simon's cheek. Simon's brown eyes are shining with pride, and he can see the woman is hiding a smile. Price rarely sees Simon without his mask on, but he seems to do it so freely with this girl. "Good for the bloke," he chuckles, putting the invitation on his office desk.
Simon deserves something good in his life, Price thinks, a hint of sadness behind the thought. He's had the hardest life out of any man Price has ever met. It's about damn time something happy happens to him.
--
"Simon, I cannot believe you didn't tell them about me until we sent out those invitations!" you exclaim, swatting his thigh.
Simon shrugs. "I was protecting you. Didn't want the bad guys to find my lady, now did I?"
"Well, I think you should have still told them!" you huff, crossing your arms. "It's a lot to drop on someone, you asshole. If one of my friends suddenly sent me a wedding invitation when I thought they were single, I'd have a bloody cow!"
"It's different for men, love," he replies softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your crown. "I didn't even know Johnny had sisters until a couple of weeks ago."
"That's ridiculous," you scoff. Simon pulls you into his lap, smoothing his hand over the curve of your spine. You melt immediately, resting your chin on his shoulder. He kisses the side of your head, which makes you go even softer.
"I think I would've kept you all to myself forever, if I could have," he says against your hair. "But I think being able to call you my wife outweighs that."
You sigh softly. "I still think you should've told them."
He chuckles, a low rumble deep in his chest. "I think it's more fun this way."
"Maybe," you giggle. "I hope they liked the invitations."
"They were perfect, baby," he promises, kissing the corner of your mouth. "You did a good job."
"No, no, no, you have to believe me!!" Soap argues with Gaz. "He has a little fiancée who lives in a cottage with him! She planted flowers in his walkway! And she scolded him for crushing them when he was piss drunk!"
"Ghost doesn't even like flowers," Gaz sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this is the hundredth time he's heard this. Maybe it is, knowing Soap. "Not unless they're dead, I reckon."
"I swear it on me mum and me sisters!" Soap exclaims, raising his right hand as if swearing on the Bible. "She had a little bookcase under her telly, and embroidered throw pillows on the couches! With blankets softer than anythin' I have ever seen!"
"Enough!" Price grumbles, sitting up from his chair like a father who has heard enough bloody arguing. "Soap, stop making up stories. Gaz, stop instigating shit."
"No, no! Cap, you gotta believe me!" Soap begs. "She answered the door in a pink slip gown! She had paintings of flowers on her walls! With butterflies!"
"Oh, aye, and d'ya suppose she had curlers in her hair?" Price snorts. "I've been to Ghost's house, Soap. It has movie posters, pinup girls, and ashtrays. Nothing like what you're saying."
"How long ago was that?!" Soap exclaims, throwing his hands in the air.
"I'd say about two years ago," hums Price, scratching his beard thoughtfully.
Just then, Ghost walks into Price's office, where the boys had been idly chatting. Price offers him a cigarette, which Ghost refuses. "My lady asked me to stop smokin'," he grunts. "Started chewin' gum instead."
"Oh, right." Gaz tosses a crumpled sticky note at Ghost. "You and Soap are trying to play a prank on us, innit?"
"It's real!" Soap shouts, exasperated.
"What's real?" Ghost crosses his arms.
"The woman at your house! In the pink nightie with the pretty eyes and the flowers!" Soap points at him with an accusing finger. "Your fiancée."
Ghost just shrugs and makes a noncommittal noise. Price and Gaz are still looking at Soap like he needs to be locked up in an asylum.
"Johnny, I'm going to ask this gently," Gaz begins. "Are you bloody mental?! Makin' up a story like this?"
"It's not!" Soap whines. "She's real! She told me I could check on him the next morning after he got shite-faced at the bar!"
"She give you a kiss on the cheek too?" Gaz mock-pouts at Soap.
"She better not have," Ghost growls.
All three heads turn to look at him in unison, the argument falling silent. "What?" Price and Gaz ask while Soap leaps out of his chair.
"I fucking-! I fucking told you so!" he stammers. "Tell 'em, Ghost!"
Ghost shakes his head. "Keepin' her safe, Johnny. Not that you'd understand that."
Ghost never talks about his home life. He never tells anyone anything. Not even Soap knows what goes on in Ghost's house. He knows that Ghost comes to bars. That he comes to work. But between the work and boys' night, nobody knows anything about him.
That is until Ghost has a little too much to drink one night and can't drive himself home. Soap had been the DD that night, so he asks Ghost for his address. Ghost reluctantly gives it to him after a few minutes of badgering and begging. The drive to Ghost's little townhouse near the base is peaceful.
The first thing Soap notices is that the lights are on. The second thing he notices is the flower bed by the pathway to the door. As Soap helps Ghost out of the passenger seat, he finds himself staring at the flowers. "When did you become a gardener, mate?" Soap asks.
"Huh- wot?" Ghost slurs.
"The flowers, Simon," he clarifies.
"Oh, the old lady planted them," replies Ghost, stumbling over a decorative brick. The brick shatters and crushes the flowers nearby. Soap tucks himself under Ghost's arm, supporting his weight as much as possible.
"The old lady, eh? Like a... neighbor or somethin'?" Soap prods.
He shakes his head. "No, no, my girl."
"What." Soap's jaw drops. He's standing at Ghost's door, hand on the knocker, but he finds himself unable to move. "You have a bird?"
"She ain't a bird," Ghost grumbles, swaying where he stands.
Soap finally manages to get himself to knock on the door, still holding Ghost up like a crutch. Sure enough, a pretty little thing answers the door in a nightgown.
You see Simon with his mask half-on and a stranger with a mohawk supporting him. You assume the mohawk man is one of the mates he goes to the bar with on Fridays. Simon must've had a bit too much tonight because usually he drives himself home when he's sobered up.
"Um, hello," you say tentatively.
"Hi, angel," Simon slurs at you.
"Hush, you're too drunk to call me an angel," you scold. "How much did he have to drink?"
"My name's Johnny, by the way," the man says, surprisingly Scottish. "I'm not sure. Four or five pints? A couple shots? The footie game was tonight and we got a wee bit excited."
"Oh, he's gonna be so hungover and cranky tomorrow," you mutter. "Come inside, Johnny. Help me get him to the couch."
"Not the bed?" Simon whines.
"You're in trouble, mister," you reply curtly.
Johnny spins around in the living room of your house like he's visiting a museum. He clearly didn't expect a house so cottage-y from a man like Simon. Paintings of flowers hang on the walls. A throw blanket and two pillows are on each couch. A TV is mounted to the wall over a short bookcase.
"This is right beautiful, mate," Johnny chuckles.
"She decorated it!" Simon replies proudly. "It's somethin' special, innit?"
"Shut it. Still in trouble for crushing my flowers and coming home pissfaced," you snap. "Johnny, welcome to our home. Simon will still be here in the morning if you want to check on him."
"I didn't know Ghost had a girlfriend," he whispers.
"Girlfriend?! I'm his fiancée! He didn't tell you about me?" you scoff. "Simon, you are in so much trouble!"
"Fiancée," Johnny breathes. "I didn't think it possible."
Obsessed with the idea of Simon Riley having a big baby. Like a 13 pound baby with the chubbiest cheeks and his lovers eyes. He carries her around like she’s his pride and joy and does bicep curls with her while she squeals in his arms.
She’s an absolute terror as a baby. A wrecking ball of chaos and joy and he hates it so much but loves it too. Shes loud and excited and so very clearly a mama’s girl, but he’s okay with it. He loves her and his wife so much, but he knows that one kid is really all they should have given his line of work.
And when she’s about five years old, his wife ends up getting pregnant again. It was a surprise—he’d had a vasectomy after the first baby, but it healed on its own. So his wife is expecting another easy pregnancy because their daughter was easy, but this time it’s harder. She has morning sickness and her back hurts and she can’t seem to eat enough food because of the nausea so he’s worrying constantly.
He’s off on a mission when he gets the call that his wife at the hospital, three weeks early. She started bleeding and having contractions, so he jumps on a plane as soon as he can and gets back just in time for her to be getting out of a c-section.
And there in her arms is the tiniest baby boy he’s ever seen. He was expecting another big baby, but this one is barely five pounds and tiny. His daughter is over the moon with the tiny thing, and his wife is exhausted so he’s taking care of the babies.
His son ends up having his sweet brown eyes, but his lovers dark hair. He’s still little, and shy, and he has asthma so he isn’t as athletic as Simon was. He’ll always be the baby of the family, but they don’t coddle him. He knows he’s little, but he’s oh so smart and oh so sweet. He’ll do great things one day, just as their daughter will.
As they grow up, his daughter is a force to be reckoned with. She drags her little brother around everywhere and shows him off, and she very much takes after her dad when it comes to the fire she has to protect him. She’s twice his size and ready to fight anyone that comments on him, so she ends up becoming a strong girl who knows how to fight because her daddy taught her all the right moves (and when it’s appropriate to use them).
One time a boy on the playground commented that his son must’ve been adopted since he was so little compared to the others in the family. Of course, it was their daughter that dunked them into a mud puddle and told them to leave her brother alone—but that was the first time he stood up for himself, too, because he was proud to have his daddy’s eyes and birthmarks.
And his wife is long since retired from having kids—has had her tubes tied during the c-section and focuses on work now that the kids are older. Their little family has grown and changed but he loves it. He doesn’t miss a single concert or sports game if he’s in town, and if he isn’t in town, his wife records it so he can watch when he gets home.
Simon never thought he would be a good father to even one kid, but he had a wife and two kids that he spoils every day and that look out for each other and him.
Just obsessed with Simon and his babies being unnaturally large or absolutely tiny.
You were finally settling in with the team. Not to say that all of your worries about fitting in were assuaged; when you sat down the conversation still died down, and the interactions were still sometimes stilted, or they seemed avoidant about touching you, but you didn’t feel as uncomfortable with your semi-isolation as you used to.
Today you were flying to meet up with the ULF and someone named Farah Karim to collaborate on some threat. You hadn’t met her or her team before, but you were told by the 141 that she did good work, and so did her right hand man, ex-CIA Alex Keller.
When you arrived, a woman with a headscarf greeted you all brightly. Besides her, a man with a mustache. Both were…easy on the eyes to say the least.
“Price! It’s good to see you again.” They grasped each other’s forearms in greeting before she turned to you. She sized you up briefly, “and a new face…who is this?”
“Farah, meet the newest member of the 141.”
You smiled politely and shook her hand, “pleasure.”
“Hope they’re not treating you too terribly, and if they are, I can knock them around for you.” She shared a teasing glance with Price.
“Yeah, I’d take her word for it. Been at the receiving end of that myself one too many times.” The man besides her piped up. “I’m Alex, ‘s good to see a new face. Especially one as nice as yours.” His tone turned a different color at the last part.
Before you could think to respond to that, Farah jabbed her elbow into his side.
“What Alex means to say, is that we are glad you a here. Please follow me.”
You tried to push the interaction from your mind and keep a strictly professional demeanor. But…it had been a while since someone had talked to you like that. Since you felt wanted.
You got to talk to Alex a bit more as you all shuffled around settling in and discussing strategy, and he was nice. Really nice. And attractive. And he smelled good which was honestly impressive if you considered how sweat—
“Sergeant!” You snapped out of your train of thought. “You with us?”
“Yes, Captain. Sorry.”
Price was not happy. Farah was eyeing you up and Alex was blatantly flirting and you were staring back. He liked to think he was a man in control of his emotions, and he owed a lot to Farah and Alex, but if they didn’t stop making a move on you right now…
He could tell the rest of his boys were bothered too. Kyle didn’t have his normally pleasant expression on, Simon was doing his death stare, and Johnny was clenching his jaw so hard he thought it might crack.
It really was their fault they hadn’t made a move sooner. But they weren’t sure how you would feel about the whole thing, and John had insisted they wait longer to not compromise the team dynamic.
But every day they fell harder for you. John just didn’t realize there could possibly be competition.
The op went well enough. As a group you were able to stop the threat. The real treat was getting to know Farah and Alex. They were both incredibly fun and interesting to talk to, and they treated you so well. Farah showed you around their compound and they ate with you every day. You almost felt…courted.
The other positive was throughout this mission, your own team seemed to warm up to you more. Gone were the stilted conversations and the touch avoidance. Rather, it’s like they started to overcorrect. Price’s hand found your waist to guide you, Soap was tossing his arm over your shoulder regularly, Kyle was patting your head at every turn, and Simon…didn’t look like he wanted to kill you anymore (baby steps). You don’t know if it was the change of scenery or if the presence of their other friends made them more open, but you weren’t complaining.
When it finally came time to leave and head back to your own base, Farah pulled Price to the side one last time to ask,
“So…is that one yours? Because Alex and I—“
“Ours,” Price cut her off with finality, “just doesn’t know it yet.”
sokka x reader (gn!reader [fem. leaning]) [getting together, mild crack, fluff, jealousy, confessions, first kiss]
summary: you and sokka are both very affectionate people, and there isn't anything wrong with that. a conversation with aang shifts your perspective, and for some reason, you think avoiding sokka will do wonders for your relationship. spoiler alert: it doesn't.
warnings: probably some fem!terms, jealousy, mild arguments, reader avoiding sokka, tame sexual joke(s), maybe ooc (i haven't written for avatar in a LONG while), reader is fucking stupid, oblivious reader, misunderstandings, maybe spelling errors, no use of y/n, second person
word count: 7.6k (yo..flip that around....)
note: i've always been a sokka girl.. HE'S SO BAD i haven't watched the movie i'm waiting for actual release but oughhh ignore any canon inconsistencies because of that i wrote this in likeee one day i love him i am working on my other fics i swear ALSO i will take requests for avatar...... just make sure to check over the rules okay enjoy baiii
Yours and Sokka’s relationship was platonic.
Very platonic. As platonic as it could possibly get. So platonic, in fact, that you had never even thought of dating him or anything silly like that.
(Well. Maybe that last part was kind of a lie. But it had only been once or twice, back when you were stupid teens trying to figure out how to save the world.)
You, personally, thought that it was obvious.
Apparently, it wasn’t.
“I’m pooped.” Sokka sighs loudly, leaning heavily on your back as he peers over to glance down at Toph, who stood before you, crossing her arms.
“What distinguished vocabulary you possess.” You reply, smiling lightly as you reach up and pat blindly at his arm.
“Thanks. I try.”
“Oh, I can tell.”
“Can you?”
“Of course.”
He hums happily. “I appreciate it.”
Toph clears her throat loudly. You turn your attention back to her quickly, an apologetic tone in your voice.
“Sorry, Toph. What were we talking about?”
“Nothing important.” Her eyes narrow slightly as she stares right at you, although not quite at your eyes. “Sokka.”
“Toph. Wonderful to see you, as always.”
“Can’t say the same.” She replies, deadpan. For a moment, Sokka jostles against your back, an offended noise leaving his lips before you lightly jab an elbow into his side. He gets it after a moment.
“Ah!” He perks up, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you quickly. “Ha! I get it! Good one, Toph! Real knee-slapper!”
Toph lets the faintest smirk appear on her face.
“I’m sure we all got it.” She says, leaning back on her heels. “What do you want?”
“Can’t I say hi to my friends?” Sokka tilts his head, his cheek brushing against your ear. “Is that a crime, Toph? Am I going to get arrested?”
“It’s a crime when it’s the two of you.”
“Huh?” You raise an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Everything.”
You turn back to exchange a look with Sokka, who shrugs back at you, just as, if not more, confused.
“Okay.” Both of you say in unison as you look back at her.
“Ugh. Don’t do that. That’s weird.”
“Well, I wasn’t lying when I said I was just stopping by to say hi.” Sokka stretches, taking a step back from you. You miss the warmth that came with him. “Got things to do, people to see, yada yada.”
“I’m sure you do.” Toph responds, raising an eyebrow. “But with all of your impending duties, you just had to come say hello?”
“How could I not? I heard very familiar voices and I couldn’t resist.” Sokka’s hand finds its way to your cheek, pinching it lightly and tugging before letting it go. He knows better than to try that with Toph. He learned the hard way.
“Oh, we know what you can’t resist.” Toph cackles. You don’t get it. You turn to Sokka, a questioning look on your face, but once again, he looks just as clueless.
“Uh…sure.” He smiles, patting your cheek where he’d just pulled.
You laugh softly, swatting away his hand. “Aww, well, we appreciate it.”
“I don’t.” Toph interrupts.
“You definitely do. I can feel it in your bones.” Sokka declares confidently.
“My bones?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve developed bone bending. I can detect what you truly feel. Of course, I’ve always had this ability. Say goodbye to being used as a lie detector, Toph. I’m the new big deal, and heart rate won’t matter this time. This is all in the bones. You can’t fake bones.”
“Bone bending, huh? Enlighten me.” You grin, shifting your weight onto one leg as you turn to focus your attention on him.
“I’d love to.” Sokka beams back. “Now, this all started way back when—”
“Well, I’m sure you’d love to, but weren’t you just plagued with ‘things to do and people to see’?” Toph cuts in.
Sokka looks thoughtful suddenly, like it had slipped his mind completely. “You’re totally right. Bone bending just gets me so distracted. I’m very passionate about it, you see. It’s kind of my whole thing.”
You snort, shaking your head. Sokka looks utterly delighted as he takes a few more steps backward.
“Alright, see you guys later. Don’t miss me too much.”
“We’ll try not to.” You reply happily. He puts a hand to his lips and loudly blows a kiss to the two of you, spinning on his heel and happily whistling something off-tune.
“I can’t stand you two.” Toph complains as Sokka leaves. You know that her volume is always loud enough for everyone around to hear. Sokka turns his head back, just barely, to stick out his tongue.
“Jealous!” He calls, and then he’s gone. You laugh and wave at his back as he goes.
“What?” You ask as you look back towards Toph, whose expression can be described as nothing but disgusted. “What?”
She scrunches her nose, fanning under it like she’s trying to get rid of a painful odor. “I would say ‘you know what’, but you don’t, which is what makes this worse.”
You blink. Okay. Vague. Thank you, Toph.
“I hate lovebirds.” She continues, walking forward. As she passes you, she hits your arm. In turn, you wrap your other arm around her shoulders and press a kiss to her head.
“Get well soon?” You try as she playfully shoves you off.
“I should be saying that.”
As she goes, she mumbles something about idiot boys and idiot girls that she surpassed in intellectual ability. You didn’t dare to doubt her.
Recently, she’s been doing things like that. Unclear words that could rival proverbs of ancient past and riddles that would make anyone’s head spin. Sickened looks and scoffs and odd comments. And it was only when you and Sokka would interact.
Weird.
You didn’t think there was anything to warrant the behavior, but Toph was a little difficult to understand sometimes, so you didn’t really think much of it.
And then Zuko would flash weird looks when Sokka would wrap an arm around your shoulder and Katara would stare when you leaned against him.
Which was also weird.
Everyone had their own lives, now that you’d all grown up. You weren’t a bunch of (pre-)teens worrying about the fate of the world anymore. You had more normal but tiresome responsibilities, which meant not seeing each other as often.
But the times you were all together, all you would get were funny looks.
And you weren’t stupid. You knew that it was for a reason, but you truly couldn’t understand why.
So, of course, you decided to consult your beloved friend who would never keep you from the truth.
The Avatar himself.
“Aang! Hey, Aang!” You call, waving wildly at the retreating flash of yellow and orange you know and love.
Aang stops in his tracks, turning around with a thousand-watt smile already lighting up his face.
“Gee, you’re excited!” He notes, grabbing your forearms as you slow to a stop in front of him. “What could I have done to deserve that?”
Sometimes, you catch a glimpse of the little boy you’d met all those years ago. It’s the same with Toph. It melts your heart and makes you sad, knowing how quickly time slipped by, how tall and strong and wonderful the kids you knew got.
“I need advice. Help. A talk. Whatever.” You shake your head.
“What’s going on?” Aang’s eyebrows furrow slightly as he glances down at you. “Nothing bad’s happened, right?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that.” You correct, rubbing at your cheek lightly.
The two of you sit down on a nearby bench, your foot tapping against the ground quickly. You slam a hand down on your knee to make it stop. Aang raises an eyebrow.
“Okay. Uh…why is everyone acting funny?”
Aang thinks about it for a moment. “They are? Who’s everyone?”
“Toph. Zuko. Toph. Katara. Toph. Have I mentioned Toph?”
“No, I don’t think you have.”
After a beat, the two of you erupt into giggles. It feels oddly childish for how old you are now, but it feels good to relax.
“Seriously, though.” You clear your throat. “They just keep saying weird things and casting judgmental looks. Have I secretly been declared the enemy of all?”
“Not that I know of?” Aang shrugs, leaning back against the back of the bench. “Do they just…always do it?”
“Always? No, no. It’s…it’s only when Sokka’s around.”
Aang freezes. His eyes widen slightly and his lips pull back into a faint grimace, but you’re too busy letting your words take over to notice.
“And I don’t even get it at all! What could possibly be the reason for all the funny behavior, huh? It’s not like Sokka and I have been acting differently. If anything, I think we’ve been acting the exact same this whole time. As normal as we possibly could be. I haven’t said or done anything out of the ordinary, not that I know of, so whatever warrants this has to be—”
“Okay, okay, okay.” Aang raises his hands, cutting you off. “I think I see the frustration.”
“Do you?” You ask, exasperated. You slump back against the bench.
“Definitely.”
The look on his face looks strained, like he’s trying to hold back an awfully pained expression. It only makes your worries worse.
“What?” You ask desperately. “Don’t beat around the bush like Toph does. I’ll cry.”
“You won’t cry.” Aang says simply. “Uh…where to start…”
That’s a terrible beginning to an explanation. That means there’s a lot to go over and you were in some deep trouble.
You wait not-so-patiently for him to continue.
“Sokka…and…you…” He begins slowly, clasping his hands, “are very…close.”
“...yes.” You nod back just as slowly. “Aren’t we all?”
“Well…yeah. But there are different levels of being close.”
“Sure.” You agree. “Like you and Katara.”
“Right! Like me and Katara.”
“Right. So the problem is…?”
Aang bites the inside of his cheek. “The problem is…that you and Sokka are very close.”
“You said that already!” You complain. “What’s so wrong with that!”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just that we…are…wondering…about…the extent…of your relationship!”
The pauses he includes almost make you want to strangle the words out of him. Instead, you take a deep breath and try to collect your thoughts. The extent of your relationship? There’s only one thing you can come up with to explain that.
“We’re not fucking.”
“I didn’t say you were!” Aang cries, a faint hue of red dusting his cheeks like he wasn’t the one to insinuate that.
“Then what were you saying?”
“I was saying that maybe you and Sokka are a little closer than everyone else is!”
“I…guess?” Your eyebrows knit together. “Not really, though, right?”
“Ehh…” Aang trails off, glancing away.
“What?” You pry, leaning forward. “Say it. I won’t say anything.”
“Ehh…” He repeats, turning his head completely around.
“Aang!” You grab his face and snap it back around. “Stop avoiding the topic!”
“I’m just trying to think about how to word this!”
“Just say it straight up! I won’t say anything!”
He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘you will’ but you ignore it for his actual input instead.
“Let’s see…okay. You’re very…comfortable around Sokka, right?”
“I’m comfortable around everyone.” You respond.
“That’s different.”
“No it’s not. I’m the same with everyone. Aren’t I?” You try to think back on it.
“I’d say you’re a bit more affectionate with Sokka.”
“Affectionate how?”
“Well…you know…the basics.”
“Such as…?”
Aang clears his throat. “Uh…you guys hug a lot?”
“I hug everyone. That’s not weird. You hug everyone. Is it weird to hug people, Aang?”
“No!” Aang shakes his head. “Hugging isn’t abnormal. But you kiss him, too.”
“On the cheek. There’s nothing wrong with kissing people on the cheek, or anywhere else.” You cross your arms. “I kiss everyone, too. I kiss you on the cheek. I kiss Katara on the cheek. And Zuko and Toph.”
Aang runs a hand down the side of his face. “Right. You do.”
“I do. So, what’s the problem?”
“It’s just that…you…kiss Sokka on the cheek like I kiss Katara on the cheek.” He snaps his fingers, leaning forward once he’s made the connection.
“Uh…” You close your eyes, picturing the four of you side by side. “But you and Katara are together.”
“Yes…” Aang nods supportively.
“Sokka and I aren’t together.”
“Right…”
“So how would I kiss him that way if we’re not together?”
“Exactly!” Aang claps. “You’re close to him in a way that Katara and I are close, except you aren’t together.”
It takes a moment for you to realize what he’s getting at. Once you do, your entire body seems to heat up.
“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” You shake your head so hard you might rattle your brain. “So—you’re saying that everyone is acting weird because Sokka and I act like we’re a thing?”
“Basically?”
“But we’re not!”
“You could be?” Aang tries. “I mean, do you want to be with Sokka?”
Loaded question. Your mind shortcircuits, your heart skipping a beat as the idea firmly plants itself in your head. You and Sokka? You and Sokka?
It’s not like it was a completely foreign idea. You see where Aang’s coming from, but also, that’s Sokka. Sokka, who’s been the same with you since the day you met. Sokka, who’s been by your side for years and never said a word about it. Sokka, who you’ve watched get and lose partners over the span of your journey together.
He wasn’t ugly. Quite the opposite, really. You could admire that without having a silly crush on him.
But…but you did like him. Kind of a lot. That didn’t mean it had to be in that way.
Still…you did get a lot happier when he was around. And you were more comfortable with his presence and letting him place a hand on you or an arm around you. You’d let anyone do that, but you suppose that maybe you wouldn’t be as ecstatic and content with it if it had been Katara or Toph instead.
Those were feelings, though. Normal feelings. You think. You’re not quite sure, actually. So what were all the weird looks for then? Did the others find your relationship odd, or did they…
“Honestly…everyone thought you guys were dating.” Aang cuts off your train of thoughts as if reading your mind. “I mean, that’s just what it looks like.”
“For how long?”
“Huh…I don’t know. It’s looked like you’ve been dating for years.”
“Years?” You repeat increduously. It can’t have been that long that the two of you had been…ugh. This was hurting your head. You still hadn’t answered Aang’s question.
I mean, do you want to be with Sokka?
What would that entail, anyway? With what Aang’s saying, nothing would change. Except the presence of actual kisses, and maybe waking up with him, and living together and—
Okay. That got too real too fast. Your face flushes and you turn away slightly. Aang—alert, lovely, and too observant for his (your) own good, Aang—catches on instantly.
“You do!” He cries, overjoyed. “You do want to be with him!”
You shake your head quickly, but he enthusiastically points at your leg. “Look at that speed! You only do that when you’re really nervous!”
True to his word, your leg was bouncing at the speed of light. You slam both of your hands down on your knee to make it stop, your eyes wide.
“Not so loud!” You hush him, despite the fact that you were probably being just as loud.
“Sorry, sorry!” He whispers, leaning in to grin at you. “But you do like him!”
“I…maybe?” The roar of emotions in your heart implied a more honest sentiment.
“You do. So…talk to him.”
“I can’t just talk to him.”
“Sure you can! He’d get it.”
“How would you know? He thinks this is all normal.”
“No way he does. Sokka’s not that stupid.”
“Does that mean I was stupid for thinking so?”
“I didn’t say that! I just meant that he’s probably having an epiphany right now, too.”
“Is he?” You raise an eyebrow. “And you would know that how?”
“Katara wanted to talk to him earlier.” He shrugs.
Crap. Okay. So the two of you were being cornered and told exactly what’s going on between you both. Definitely comforting.
“What do I do? Aang, guide me through this, now.” You lean in closer, eyes darting around like Sokka might pop out of any corner.
“Just talk to him. It’s not like he’s a stranger anymore. You’re never afraid to speak your feelings. So…just go for it.”
“That’s not clear enough!”
“It doesn’t have to be. Do you want this turning point of your life to be pre-planned and rehearsed?”
“I…guess not.”
“Exactly! It’ll be more authentic and successful if you just lead with your heart and go for it.”
“I can’t just do it now!”
“Then don’t. Sleep on it. Let yourself grasp the lines of your emotions, then ask to see him, and go!”
“What if he hates me for it? What if he really thinks that this was all friendly?”
“He won’t. Trust me.”
“How would you know?”
“You know who knows Sokka the best?”
It doesn’t take a second to reply. “Katara.”
“Exactly. Their sibling bond is really strong. And Katara is completely convinced that he really lo—likes you.” The stutter goes unnoticed.
“Are you sure about this?” You chew on your bottom lip. “What if everything gets messed up?”
“It won’t. I promise. Even if the impossible happens, you and Sokka have been friends too long to let this damage you in any way. It won’t change things.”
“I don’t know. This is pretty big.”
“Bigger than defeating the Fire Lord?”
You crack a smile. “Maybe not.”
“Definitely not.”
A long, deep breath mostly calms down your nerves. You nod slowly, leaning back and looking around.
“Okay. I’m going to…think about this. Sleep on it.”
“Good.” Aang nods back. After a moment, he looks back at you. “I think you guys would be really good together.”
“Really?”
“Really. You’re like two halves of the same person. You’re both better and more complete together.”
“Aww, Aang. You’re so sweet.” You smile, pinching his cheek. He laughs softly and pushes your hand away.
“I’m serious. You’re one of my best friends. You deserve to be happy, and I think Sokka would help with that.”
You might actually cry now. You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his shoulders and hug him tightly. It takes less than a second for Aang to reciprocate, squeezing you so tightly you might lose your breath.
Neither of you say a word. You don’t need to.
After a few seconds of silence, Aang breaks it.
“Also, we’d pretty much basically be siblings if you two got marr—”
“Aang!”
—
You weren’t lying to him when you said that you’d actually think about it.
You did think about it. You slept on it that night and dreamt about it. You ate breakfast the next morning thinking about it. You worked and thought about it. You took a walk and thought about it. You talked to Zuko and thought about it.
In fact, it hadn’t left your mind once.
Because the moment the realization was planted in your brain, you weren’t able to let go at all.
You were lucky to not encounter Sokka for the majority of the day. You might have died if you did.
Now, the problem was that idea carried over into the next day. And the next day. And the next. Until it had been nearly a week since your eye-opening talk with Aang, and you had barely interacted properly with Sokka since.
It was stupid to think that no one would notice. It was kind of obvious.
Really obvious.
Toph and Sokka are sitting together and talking? Great! You’ll sit down next to Toph and let her lay her head on your lap while you let them mostly speak.
Katara and Sokka are walking together? Lovely! You’ll let Katara stand in the middle and act as a barrier while you try to grasp the overwhelming feelings he brings.
Everyone is hanging out after dinner? Fantastic! Zuko can take your weight as you lean against him and try not to fall asleep.
Aang, too smart for his own good, did not allow you to use him as a wall.
He caught you on day six, pulling you aside.
“So…what did we talk about?” Aang asked, raising an eyebrow teasingly.
“To talk to him, yeah, yeah. I’m thinking right now, okay? Can’t a person just think?”
“Not like this! You’re not even trying to act normal anymore.”
“Just give me a couple of more days. I’ll get there. Promise.”
You were now closing up on day seven, and you still had no idea what to do.
You wanted to talk to him about it. Of course you did. But the idea of actually having to face him and talk about something so personal felt so…weird. You just didn’t want to have to do it. Not now, at least.
Except you did want to talk to him. You didn’t know how, but you really did want to. You were good at talking, just going with the flow, so why did this mess you up so bad?
Ugh.
Night was falling, and you weren’t feeling any more tired than you had a couple of hours ago. You’re smart enough to know when you’re not going to get any sleep. So, obviously, you have to take a nighttime stroll instead to clear your head.
That would help. Walking always helped, even if you drowned in your own thoughts first before letting yourself be pulled out.
You all were staying in a relatively small village in a relatively large house together. Did that make it harder to avoid him? Yes. Did it make it more suspicious? Yes. Which is exactly why you should have gone out on a walk ages ago.
Well, you can’t change the past now.
It’s not too lively outside. Things are dying down, and most people are retreating to their homes after a long day of work. A couple of them greet you with tired smiles as you pass by, which you return with double the energy. Waves and calls of good night’s take up most of your initial excursion, leaving you no room to think until you get to the very edge of the village.
It’s quieter out there. The moon shines down on you, peeking through dark clouds that might bring about rain later. You’re not too sure about the forecast.
As you make your way along the perimeter, you try to gather your thoughts, you really do. They’re just as much of a jumbled mess as they were way back when you first figured out what the two of you truly were. Or, tried to figure out, at least.
What you do know is that you like Sokka. Like like, bordering onto actual love, which is a terrifying thought. How could you have been in love with him for all this time and not know? Scary. You’d like to stick to like like instead, just for now, just so that you don’t implode.
You don’t know if he likes you back. Aang swears on his life that he does. You want to believe him, but doubt always makes its presence known, no matter how much you try to push it down. You can’t force yourself to believe it, but you can try. For now, you’re just going to think about this logically.
He might like you back.
So…how to bring it up? Something tells you that ‘Hey Sokka, I talked with Aang and I realized that I’ve liked you for a while now, you should let me be your girlfriend’ won’t really work.
You could be really sappy about it and have a nice long speech prepared. Or you could go out on a whim and say something simple.
Neither sounds very appealing to you. You want something meaningful, but like Aang said, not forced. You want it to matter.
You don’t even notice the figure standing in front of you until you crash right into him, too focused on staring into nothingness. Apologies are already spilling from your lips.
“No, no, it’s okay.” The man reassures, grabbing your shoulders to stop you from tripping over yourself. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I am. Sorry again. I’m totally fine. I really don’t know why I—sorry.” You respond, trying to shove down the embarrassment that comes with nearly knocking over a stranger you definitely should have seen coming.
“No harm done, promise.” He reassures. His hands have not yet left your shoulders, and when he notices that, he quickly drops them like he’s been burned. “You must have been deep in thought, huh?”
You offer a shrug, rubbing your arm. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Love troubles?” He asks. You startle, taking a step back. He laughs and tilts his head. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“I’m not that obvious. I’m not…am I?” You ask desperately, nearly hissing as you lean forward, your voice hushed in fear of someone else nearby overhearing.
The man offers you a comforting grin. “To me, maybe. I’m not too sure about anyone else.”
“So you know about love troubles.”
“Woah, woah, woah. Let’s not go accusing a guy without even asking his name!” The man raises his hands in surrender.
“Ah…you’re right. Sorry. May I have the name of the gentleman who I nearly knocked over?”
“Why, of course. I’m Lee.”
You do not believe that for a second, but Lee was a pretty popular name. You let him off the hook.
“Well, Lee. I suppose we’re both having our own love struggles.”
“Maybe we are.” He offers a one-armed shrug. “I think we’ll get past it.”
“I sure hope we do.”
It’s weird, the concept of mildly opening up to a guy you’ve never seen before and likely never will, but that’s also comforting. He’ll forget all about you at some point, and you him, so you won’t have to worry about gossip spreading. No one will care.
Before you can do something stupid like dump your entire life’s story on this guy, he speaks first.
“I think that you might have a name as well.” Lee asks, shifting his weight as he leans on his leg, a little closer.
“I might.” You joke.
“And that name is…?”
You open your mouth to reply, but when your name is said, it’s not your voice that responds.
It comes with a heavy arm around your shoulders, firmly planted behind your head, completely wrapping around your body. It comes with a warmth you’re very familiar with and a scent that can only be matched to one man you know.
“I’ve seriously been looking for you everywhere. I mean, I nearly had to start checking under everyone’s beds, and I don’t really want to know what I’d find under Zuko’s.”
Sokka.
Okay. Awkward. Lovely. You’re kind of afraid.
Lee looks a bit taken aback, his eyes widening. His gaze meets yours and he mouths ‘love?’ to you, to which you breathe out and nod.
Sokka catches this instantly.
“What was that?” He asks, squinting. “A secret code? That was weird.”
Lee coughs. “Uh…we were just talking.”
“Right.” Sokka nods, stretching out the vowel as he raises an eyebrow and looks between Lee and you under his arm. “Cool. Well, we’ll be going now, alright? Bye.”
He turns you right back around, his arm guiding your body and forcing you to follow after him. You turn your head back to look at Lee, who smiles at you. You look back front, then back at him again, to which he forms a heart with his hands and a thumbs up.
Your cheeks flush pink. Sokka’s free hand plants itself on the top of your head, swiveling it back to face your front.
“Why—are you blushing?” Sokka cuts himself off, sounding absolutely scandalized. He lifts up your face and appears to analyze it, his fingers grasping your jaw.
“No.” You deny pathetically.
“Holy bison, you are.” He shakes his head. “Hold on. What was going on back there? Who even was that? Why were you out so late? Was that your…your secret lover?”
His voice spikes in pitch, just like it would back when you were teens and his voice would crack. This was really embarrassing now.
“That was…not…my ‘secret lover’. I don’t have a ‘secret lover’.” You correct, reluctantly pulling his hand down. “I just went for a walk.”
“Uh-huh. And you just happened to stumble upon a handsome guy down there and spark conversation.”
“That is exactly—a what guy?” You nearly shriek.
“Don’t act innocent. I can see right through your ruse.” Sokka’s arm does not loosen around your shoulders as you continue to walk.
“What ruse?”
“The one where you’re trying to convince me that you weren’t sneaking out to see a guy.”
“I wasn’t doing that.”
“Then what were you doing?”
“Walking.”
“Walking. Right. That didn’t look like walking.”
“Well, it was. Until I accidentally bumped into him.”
“Bumped into him!” His grip on your shoulder tightens. “I guess you stumbled right into his arms, too!”
“That did not happen.” You frown. “Why are you making stuff up?”
“I’m coming to plausible conclusions.”
“You aren’t.”
“I am.”
“You weren’t even there!”
“Exactly! Who knows what else went on before I got there? Did you exchange poetry? Recite haikus to the stars?”
“None of that happened!”
“Of course not. So I’m just supposed to believe that you haven’t been avoiding me and seeing some villager for the past week.”
Before you can try to refute his claims, he shushes you, his finger pressing against your lips.
“And don’t even try to deny the avoiding part. I’m not stupid. You can attempt to cover up seeing him, but you can’t pretend you haven’t been running away from me.”
His finger leaves your lips, and you fall silent. He was right. You were avoiding him, just not for the reason he thinks.
“I…was not…seeing Lee in the village.”
“But you were avoiding me.”
You chew on your bottom lip slowly. “It wasn’t avoiding.”
“It most certainly was.”
“I just wouldn’t call it that.”
“I would.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Well, then what would you call it?”
“...taking some time to myself?”
Sokka frowns. “Really? Of course, that doesn’t apply to Katara, or Toph, or Aang, or Zuko. Just me.”
Right. If anything, you had doubled your levels of affection with the rest of your friends. You swallow thickly, trying to find the words.
“Maybe I needed a bit of time from you.”
Why did you say that? Why would you say that? You can’t even try to take it back.
Sokka falls unusually silent. The only sound is the fall of your syncretized footsteps against the soft earth.
“Why?”
You barely hear it. You probably wouldn’t have if you hadn’t been listening for something, anything to leave his lips.
“Nothing important.” You were making some really bad decisions.
“It was important enough to give me up.”
“I didn’t give you up.”
“It sure feels like you did.”
You don’t have a response for that. Sokka sighs.
“Listen.” He starts, his fingers flexing against your shoulder. “I don’t care if you’re seeing…‘Lee’...in the village. That doesn’t matter to me. What—I’m talking right now, wait, you can defend yourself later—what matters to me is that you stopped finding me to find him.”
“That’s not what this is. You keep bringing Lee up, but he’s not the reason—”
“Then what?” Sokka interrupts, albeit not harshly. It’s soft when it shouldn’t be, which is why it stops your words despite the lack of violence in them. It just sounds…defeated.
What do you say now? That you have feelings for him and instead of dealing with them like an adult, you’re acting like a teenager with a crush that will never be reciprocated? That you’re practicing what it’ll feel like if he rejects you?
It’s stupid. You know he won’t do something drastic like lash out or insult you if you say something. You know he’s not like that. You know that you’re both better than that. But your mind just keeps jumping to all of these horrible ideas, and you have no idea what to believe and what not to.
You think that you should start with your heart.
“I talked to Aang a while ago.”
Sokka doesn’t say anything. He nods slowly, like its encouragement to keep going. You do.
“A week ago.” You continue. You know that he knows that’s when this whole thing started. “I wanted to know why Toph was acting so strange that day.”
“Yeah. That was weird.” He replies simply, his mind clearly elsewhere. You don’t know if that’s good or not.
“And…we talked.” You conclude, nodding along like you’d just revealed the secrets of the world.
Sokka waits for you to keep going. When you don’t he looks down at you, his eyebrows furrowed.
“That’s it?” He scoffs. “That doesn’t explain anything! What did you talk about.”
“That’s private information.”
“So why would you tell me that?”
“I don’t know! That’s kind of what led to this whole thing, okay?”
Sokka takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, let’s start over.”
“Starting over. Got it.”
“You’re avoiding me.”
“If that’s the word we have to use.”
“It is. Something happened, and you’re avoiding me. Aang and you spoke about something, and you’re avoiding me.”
“...yeah.”
“Okay. So what was that ‘something’?”
There was no use trying to beat around it now. You need to man up and spit it out. That’s right. You’re a grown adult. You can face your feelings.
“We…are close, aren’t we?”
Sokka stiffens for a moment, but he nods. “Yeah. I’d say we’re pretty close.”
“More so than normal?”
“Uh…let’s define normal?”
“I don’t know. Like the way I am with…Toph?”
“Toph can’t be used as an example for normal.”
You roll your eyes. “Okay, Sokka. Whatever. What I’m trying to say is…is that…Aang let me know that we’re…like him and Katara.”
“We are nothing like those losers.” Sokka puffs up his chest.
“Sokka.”
“Sorry. Continue.”
At least you know that he’s not really pissed at you. He wouldn’t joke around if he was. That’s a good sign.
“It means that everyone thinks we’re a thing.”
He stops in his tracks for the first time since your conversation began.
“A thing? Like a couple kind of thing?” He repeats, the disbelief coating his voice clearly.
“Yeah. Like a couple.”
“Huh.” His nose scrunches up. “So…you found that out…and you decided that you couldn’t be seen around me anymore lest Lee find out?”
“No!” You cry, swatting at him. “Stop bringing him up! I don’t even know him!”
“What am I supposed to think?” Sokka bites back.
“You’re supposed to believe me!”
“I’m trying!”
“It sure doesn’t seem like it!”
His arm finally drops from your shoulders as he covers his face and groans. “Okay. Fine! You don’t know who Lee is. I believe you. But you avoided me for some reason.”
“I told you the reason.”
“People think we’re a couple. You’re…embarrased, and you decide to stay away from me so that they don’t think that anymore.”
“That’s not it.”
“Well, that’s what I’m hearing right now.”
It’s your turn to cover your face and groan. “It’s not that part of it.”
“Then which part?”
“I’ll tell you if you stop asking questions.” You uncover your face just in time to catch him zipping his lips.
Is this it? Do you just say it straight up, now?
“I just…needed some time to think about the…extend of our relationship.” You breathe out. “That’s all.”
“So…you wanted to reflect on what we truly were.”
“Yeah.”
“And you came up with…?”
“I…don’t know.” You confess. “I don’t know.”
Sokka exhales slowly. Is that a bad sign? Maybe.
“We’re…friends.” He says.
“We are.” You repeat hollowly.
“Right. So…that’s cleared up, then.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple.” You say before you can even think about it.
Sokka’s breath hitches. He stays silent for a moment. “Yeah. I didn’t think so, either.”
So you were both on the same page there. You agreed that there was more to it than friendship. That’s…good. Hopefully.
“Was it only because you needed to think about what we were?” Sokka asks.
“What?”
“You avoiding me. Was it just because of that?”
“I…yeah?”
“So it wasn’t that you…you hated the idea of being with me and had to distance yourself to stop the assumptions?”
“What? No! No, that wasn’t it at all. I just needed to think about it.”
Your outburst takes him by surprise. Once the words register, his raised eyebrows lower into an expression that looks more relieved than anything.
“Okay. Good to know.” He wets his lips. “And…and you’re being honest about that guy—”
“How many times do I have to say it?” You groan. “I don’t know him! I bumped into him and we spoke for a little bit. He has his own love troubles to navigate.”
You try to ignore the fact that you called what’s going on between you ‘love troubles’ so blatantly. You know he caught onto it. You know he knows that you know. Neither of you say anything about it.
It was kind of annoying, the way he just kept going back to Lee like he was—
Holy shit.
“Oh.” You say simply, turning to face him completely. “You’re…jealous. You’re jealous.”
“Wha—what?” Sokka splutters, taking a step back, his hands raised as he shakes his head vigorously. “Me? Jealous? Of that guy? No way!”
“You are!” You protest, taking a step forward to make up for the distance that he’s putting between you two. “That’s why you’re so pissy!”
“I’m not pissy!”
“You so are! I get it! I get it now! You’re so upset because I was with him!”
“I’m upset that you’re pretending to not know me anymore!”
“It’s doubled because of him!”
“So what?” Sokka turns it around suddenly, taking a step forward with a sudden surge of confidence. “Huh? So what if I was upset? I have a right to be! You start avoiding me, and then I go out for a walk to clear my head, and I find you all buddy-buddy with some random guy all alone at night, and what am I supposed to think of that, huh?”
You gape at him, but it’s obvious that he’s not done.
“The only thing I can think is that you’ve found a new guy to replace me or something, either as a friend or—or something more, and I haven’t even been able to have an actual conversation with just you in a week and here you are just all over this guy like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen and—ugh!”
A hand flies up to dig his fingers into his scalp. “Whatever. Whatever. Forget it. It’s stupid.”
His incoherent mumbles and pacing that leads him away from you snap you out of your stupor. “Wait. Wait! Sokka, hold on!”
Sokka stops, slowly turning around to face you.
“It’s…it’s not stupid. It’s not. I’m sorry. I’m the stupid one. I don’t know why I avoided you like that for so long. I should have just been straight up with you and done things like an adult. I’m sorry for making you feel like I was casting you aside or seeing someone else or anything along those lines. Really.”
The two of you are standing face to face, yours angled slightly upwards to meet his eyes. Sokka’s fists clench and unclench. Silence suffocates you until he closes his eyes and breathes out.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize or anything. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions and accusing you without just asking first.”
“I guess I still have some growing up to do.” You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly.
“I think we all do.” Sokka replies. “But that’s the fun of it.”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes.”
When you fall silent, it’s much less awkward this time. Still, you know that it’s not the end of your conversation.
“So…you were jealous.” You bring up again.
“Are you going to let that go anytime soon?”
“I’ll think about it.” You smile, but that’s not the reason you brought it up. “Why?”
“Why? Maybe because you were talking to a guy I didn’t know. Alone.”
“You called him handsome.”
“He kind of is. Alright, how was I supposed to feel seeing you talking to a handsome guy I don’t know all alone?”
“The others wouldn’t have reacted the same way.”
Sokka huffs. “No. They wouldn’t.”
“It’s different, then.”
“Yeah, it’s different with you. It’s always different with you.”
You stare at him with wide eyes. Sokka meets them for a moment, then grows flustered and turns away.
“I…I do like you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” He mumbles.
“Like me? Or…like like.”
A quick hesitance. “The second one.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah, huh.”
So…Aang was right. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up, but once it does, it becomes a complete mess. Your body performs about a hundred actions at once, including overheating, fidgeting fingers, rapid blinks, and nervous twitches.
“Are you going to say anything, or are you going to leave me hanging?” Sokka asks, his own nervousness concealed under a confident demeanor that you’ve long since been able to see through.
You nod, your lips parting. Here it is. This is your chance to say something, to tell him how you feel, how you want more and how you—
“I love you.”
…
You did not mean to say that. It was true, it always had been, and your heart had known that, which is why it took over instead of your brain. But you were supposed to start off slow and sweet, not jump straight into it.
Before you can even apologize for the way it made both of you freeze, Sokka’s lips parting in shock and yours quivering as if unable to take the recoil of the confession, he moves.
In an instant, his hands fly up to cup both sides of your face, his thumbs resting on your cheeks as he pulls you up to meet him halfway.
His lips are slightly chapped, contributing to a vague rough feeling that’s drowned out by the overall gentleness that comes with the kiss. It’s a simple press of lips to lips, his perfectly slotting in against yours. His hands stay firmly planted on your face, and your hands come up to rest on his chest in turn. You tilt your head slightly, but the moment you make a move, he snaps back.
His eyes are blown wide, a regretful expression on his face that scares you into believing that he’d realized that he didn’t actually like you or something. He backs up, his hands slowly falling from your face. “Crap. Sorry. Was that too soon? That was too soon. Sorry, I should have asked, I—”
You grab him by the collar of his shirt and tug him back down again. His hands shoot up, and then quickly find a place on your waist. In turn, you loop your arms around his neck. It’s not any more rushed than the last one. He’s savoring you with a gentleness you didn’t think you’d ever experience. He doesn’t push hard, just enough to make a imprint that you can’t easily get rid of.
This time, you pull back, making sure to keep your arms around him. His eyes flutter open and he looks at you. Differently. It’s fond, and while he’s looked at you like that before, there’s something so loving in the way his gaze softens that it practically turns you to mush.
“We could have done that a week ago.” He whispers to you.
“Guess we’ll have to make up for missed time.” You respond, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.
“I like the sound of that.” Sokka smiles, dipping down to steal another kiss.
BONUS
“So…were you lying when you said you didn’t care I was out with Lee?” You ask as you walk back to the house, Sokka’s arm wrapped tightly around your side.
“Oh, yeah. I was lying straight through my teeth. I was going to cry and everything.” He grins back, swooping down and pressing a quick kiss to your head as you cross the threshold.
As you turn, you hear something shatter. You jump slightly, your head swiveling to find the source as Sokka pulls you back and his shoulders tense.
“You…you did it!” Aang cries, a shattered glass at his feet. He sounds suspiciously on the verge of tears. “I can’t believe it!”
“You didn’t believe in me?” You tease, relaxing as you rest your head on Sokka’s shoulder.
“Not at all.” Aang jokes back. “But hey, I’m happy for you. Even if nothing’s really changed”
He was right. The only thing different about you guys was that you could kiss him on the lips. Still, it’s not like you’d want it any other way.
“I’m happy, too.” You reply with a soft smile. Sokka beams, grabbing your chin and kissing you again.
You don’t think he’d get bored of that anytime soon.
