Keeping an Ear Out
Skips Shadley x afab reader CW: nsfw, kinda creepy behavior
Summary: Skips is used to navigating the house through darkness, or the sounds that the shadows absorb. It can get lonely, but he finds comfort in his dark world. When you move in, the sound of your voice gives him something new to look forward to during the day. And your voice at night is something else entirely... A/N: this is me expanding on my nasty skips drabble. You can also read this on ao3 where i'll be posting another chapter.
Skips had long grown accustomed to being alone before you received the dateviators. Sure, there were many other objects and concepts in the house, but with Skips being a literal shadow, he was confined to a completely different world than the rest. It didn’t feel much like confinement to him, though. Skips enjoyed the darkness. It was the loneliness that came with it that he could do without. For as long as he could remember, Skips navigated the house by flitting from room to room like a ghost, waiting for the lights to flick off, or the curtains to be drawn shut. He was only able to move freely at night, when the house seemed to shut down. Maybe he’d run into Timothy staying up late to clean his time pieces, or one of the workaholics like Hoove or Holly, though they were usually too busy to talk for long.
In the daylight, he observed what went on in the house using the sounds that traveled through the shadows. Listening to the arguments, games, and conversations that the other objects engaged in during the day was entertaining enough most of the time. At least until Skips would remind himself that he knew more about these objects than they did about him. He missed what it feels like to have someone know you. To have someone want to know you. He remembers being intrigued by you when you first moved in. You were a new face, a new voice. Skips welcomed the sudden change.
Before long, he found that he loves listening to you more than anyone else. He loves how you think out loud, your talks with yourself are somehow structured like an actual conversation. Every now and then, he’ll catch himself talking back to you like you’ll hear him. In a most recent instance, you were getting ready to run some errands.
“Wait, am I forgetting something?” You pat down your pockets and double check everything you have with you.
“Your phone’s still in your room.” Skips idly whispered as he studied your inflections from the shadow of the end table in the hall.
“Ah!” You verbalize your realization as you quickly turn on your heel and rush up the stairs. As if you truly heard him. Skips pretended you did as he listened to the door click shut behind you.
The light doesn't stop him from admiring you. From chasing your voice. Skips is usually sure to find a dark spot in the bathroom, maybe behind the sink or in the cabinet so he doesn't miss the sound of you singing in the shower. He’ll camp out in the slim shadows of the dining or kitchen tables when you play music on Rainey. He relishes listening to what you listen to, trying to figure out why you replay certain songs or skip others.
As expected, he only ever sees you in the dark. He thinks you’re beautiful, and it really isn't easy for one's face to leave an impression in the shadows. Skips will try to steal a glance at you as you get in bed or while you’re struggling to find a light switch in the closets. His favorites are those precious occasions when you roll out of bed in the middle of the night, stumbling to the kitchen for a snack or a drink of water, unable to sleep. In those quiet moments when the other objects have likely already winded down for the night, it's just the two of you in the kitchen. Even if you don't realize that you have company, Skips misses being in comfortable silence with someone else.
The first time it happens, it's late at night and you're upstairs in your room. It hasn't been too long since you moved in, and Skips is awake and lost in thought. He hears something, a soft sound gliding through the silence of the shadows. A gasp. He recognizes your voice after pondering it for a moment, you must be having trouble sleeping again. Last he checked, you were reading a book in the lamp light.
But something's different this time. Your voice and your breathing seem slower, more fragile. He hears you draw in a sharp, shaky breath. Followed by a low groan, the bed sheets rustling beneath you. It doesn't take long for Skips to realize what's happening, and his deep flush left his ears buzzing. He’d never judge you for it, it's only healthy. He still feels ashamed for listening so intently to such a private moment, but how could he not? Your languid moans and hushed sighs were honestly adorable.
He indulges a bit. It just gets to be too much, the delicious gasps and moans tumbling from your lips now paired with faint wet sounds punctuating each stuttering breath. Skips, from the guise of his shadows, listens to you work yourself to completion while imagining it all. He can practically see the sweet faces you make when you hit the right spots and visualize you plunging your fingers through your folds, arching your back against the mattress. He palms his own hard-on through his pants in a rhythm that matches the rise and fall of your moans echoing towards him. Skips whispers your name helplessly as he ruts his clothed, leaky, cock into his fist while fantasizing about what his name would sound like on your pretty lips. He’s thought about that many times before, but not like this.
He lurches forward when you squeal, his chest heaving at the sound. The darkness around him feels warm and soft. Dark, smoky tufts of hair fall over Skips’ eyes as he bites his lip, using his free hand to push his shirt up a bit, seeking relief from the sweat pooling at his core. He grits his teeth together, fighting back his moans and sighs to avoid them drowning out your own. He wont last long like this, his eyes are half shut and he's laying on his back now. The hand that was clutching at his shirt moves to clamp onto the other one at his crotch. Skips throws his head back as he shamelessly humps his shaking fists, and the only thing in his mind is you.
He cums first. His chest shakes as your smooth, sexy, voice works him through the aftershocks. A wet spot seeping through his jeans and soaking his palm. Skips rushes to lower his pants, his wet cock springing free, before wrapping his fingers around himself and rubbing his sensitive tip. He tortures himself as your voice grows louder, your breathing more rapid. He nearly cums all over again when you finally let out one last shattered groan, indicating your climax.
Skips now waits for these moments with bated breath.
Whether day or night, he keeps an ear out for you. He memorizes the rhythm of your breathing and the intensity of your voice; your pleasure is music to his ears. When he touches himself, he imagines your soft hands running over his body, your beautiful voice telling him how good he feels under your palms. Sometimes, he overhears gossip from some objects- mostly those in the bedroom and bathroom- about how you like to tease yourself. Sometimes, he catches himself envying them. He admittedly wonders what you look like coming undone in the daylight. He imagines you writhing in bed or pressed against your shower door. He doesn't watch you though. When you turn off the lights in your bedroom and fumble around yourself in the darkness, it takes an insane amount of will for Skips to refrain from basking in the sight of you. There just seems to be something more special about losing himself in your erotic echoes. Maybe one day, though.
When word travels around the house about the little box that crashed through a window in the front door; the box bringing the dateviators and Skylar, Skips’ heart lurches in his chest. It's a dream come true. His cheeks grow hot at the idea of finally meeting you, of you finding him, or even looking for him and taking the time to step into his life. Into his shadows. He quickly chooses a shadow, the one that the globe typically casts onto the hardwood when the sun peeks through the window in the afternoon. He has it stay still. Skips holds his breath as he decides that this one shadow will be stuck in this spot at all times, at any time of day, just for you. He crosses his fingers and hopes that you will notice. But what is he going to say when you do?