Synopsis: your seatbelt is stuck while you're arguing with rafe in his car.
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"pull over."
He exhales through his nose, not the type that sounds like a sigh - the kind that sounds like someone before they snap.
"You are not going anywhere" his words were non-negotionable, they held this air of authority about them.
But you won't be told what to do, especially not when or when not to leave. Not by anyone, including Rafe.
"Rafe! Pull over!" You practically shout, not caring about your composure. You were too angry for that - too angry that now he's attempting to keep you in this car against your will. Well that's not happening, even he knows that.
Rafe slams the brakes harder than necessary, the tires skid as it spits out gravel from beneath the rubber. The car jerks to a sudden stop.
"There. Happy now." he spits sarcastically, as he yanks on the handbreak so heavy-handedly it looked like it might break.
You wanted to bite back with something brutal, but there was a voice in the back of your mind that would never let you hurt him - never intentionally. Just like what he has, but only his is louder, woven together with fear and helplessness.
So for now you'll just leave and get some air that is apparently the cure to everything.
You go to unbukle your seat belt - but it doesn't budge. You pull and tug at it, but it remains stuck in place. You shook your head, the damn audacity of this safety-feature.
"Of course." you mutter to yourself, not daring to look up, let alone at Rafe.
"You need help, sweetheart." He says, the mocking tone was not missed by you. It didn't do anything to calm your anger, only stirring it up more - but maybe that was his intention.
"Fuck you"
You continued to pull at it, trying to free it, but this stupid car had a habit of doing this. Trying to keep you hostage in it, but you weren't in the mood this time. A second away from straight up cutting the damn belt off of you.
"You were so ready to storm out all dramatic." he murmers, pulling you from your thoughts and back into this suffocating argument.
"Don't start with me Rafe." you warn, but there was a cadence to your voice, this slight softening.
He watches you for a second, his jaw tight, chest rising and falling like he's about to do something reckless. But then again, when wasn't he.
You yank the belt again. Feeling like a leashed creature trying to free itself from a capture. You felt pitiful.
Rafe reaches closer, to the latch of the buckle. You could smell the expensive cologne that he was wearing - the one that he only wears for you because it's your favourite.
Pausing there for a moment, his gaze is not even on you, rather the buckle itself, he spoke lowly, "You know why it pisses me off so much? It's not because we are fighting. It's cause everytime you threaten to walk away, I think you actually might."
After a pause - one filled with this odd feeling of rawness - he finally unclicks the seatbelt, it pops open with a soft click.
"Congratulations." he mutters "You're free."
He slumps back against his seat, gripping the steering wheel like he was trying to strangle it.
You felt... Disorientated.
You felt like you're corrupting something - something sacred. It filled you with fear, regret, dread. Once again it was a creul reminder that Rafe is just something filled with so much love and nowhere to put it.
You changed your mind. And right now you don't care about how your pride feels about that fact, you just don't want things to be like this.
You inhaled a shaky breath as you scavenged your mind for a string of words to break the silence.
"Asphyxiation doesn't really work on polyurethane" you say, your words more a peace offering than a comment.
Rafe looks over to you with little enthusiasm, the weight of the argument still hanging on his features.
"What?" he says, with little patience and you realise your comment might be a little inappropriate.
Your gaze travelled to his hand on the steering wheel, contemplating if you should actually explain it.
"Never mind.." you mumble, looking down to your lap in defeat and slight embarrassment.
Rafes gaze landed on you, he hated that you looked embarrassed for trying to bring something up with him. It was just an argument, he was just as much to blame as you.
"No what was it, baby?" he says, his gaze scanning over your features the second you graced him with eye contact.
"I was making small talk, but it's not like we just met or anything." you say softly, your eyes taking in his gentle features, "... Can you take us home?"
Rafe's eyes lingered on you, then he softly nodded "Of course, baby. Let's go home."
You pull your seatbelt back on as Rafe joins the road again, the engine a soft grumble like it was scared to interrupt us.
Rafe softly places his hand on your thigh, his touch somehow able to still offer you the choice of the contact or not. But you didn't push him away, you will never push him away.
Synopsis: Rafe doesn't care about the argument anymore, he wants you to come to bed
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Your mind is busy, your throat choked up, you can't help but aknowledge that this is the pain that drifts alongside loving someone.
Your argument with Rafe was silly - it was horrible, but at its core it was childish.
Now you are lying on the worn sofa, clutching a thin blanket that smells slightly musty. The cold apartment creaks like it's trying to prove something - like it's trying to put salt in the wound.
You hope that you're being dramatic, but it feels like your heart is breaking.
It was the way he said it, and it circles your mind like a caged animal. You don't even care about the nature of the comment, it was the way it made you feel.
And you're responsible for your feelings, so you believe that it's your fault; he cannot force you to feel anything.
But then again, you'd never do that to him.
And it spins your mind in nauseating circles. You can't catch it, can't pin it down and force it to divulge the logic. It's a special kind of madness that makes you fray at the edges.
You heard a creak by the doorway soon followed by a soft, murmering voice, "You seriously sleepin' out here?"
You didn't react and that made you feel guilty. You just didn't have any more fight in you. At the end of the day you are, but a woman.
A tired, slightly traumatised, madly in love, woman.
Rafe comes further into the room, the soft dip of the sofa indicating he is sitting there. You could feel him. Like a heat source - your heat source - but sometimes he burns just a little too hot and it hurts you.
Rafe sighed heavily, his voice was rough from his restless hours in bed, "C'mon. Don't do that."
He hated that he hurt you and he hated that you were resulting to the silent treatment. Seeing your sad little state covered in a pitiful excuse of a blanket, out here alone, well, it could shatter him where he stood.
He was a strong man - an even stronger boyfriend - but this sight alone was something that could break him beyond repair.
"I didn't mean it like that." he says, his voice genuine, "I say dumb shit sometimes, you know that better than anyone."
You wish he would just leave, holding back the tears were becoming difficult. You just didn't know what to do, you never had anyone who could guide you in matters of the heart.
"I hate not havin' you next to me, baby." his voice was practically a whisper. It was like the room was trying to swallow his words.
It was a plea, and a plea coming from somebody that you love should be of profound value.
You turn your head to look at him. Even in a dark room you could find him like a moth to the flame. He was already looking at you, already gazing at you with enough regret to define the word itself.
Giving him your attention, It didn't feel like yeilding because there is no competitiveness. It felt like a whisper. A soft humming that carried a swirling, wordless reminder.
This relationship, it's love. It's special.
Your traumas are adored until they dissappear. Fault doesn't exist between you. Unconditional is a promise. Love is the substrate of which you both stand on. You make each other better people, so when he looks at you all you see is the pure, bare extract of his heart.
Tears were stinging your eyes, and he didn't need light to know that.
His hand pawed at the soft curve of your waist, the contact not forced, not inflicted, but rather like a gift. As if he wants to offer something beyond words to you.
"Come to bed." he murmers like he's speaking to a part of you that is so fragile it would disintegrate with mere words, "Please."
The wave of relief and want crashed over you, and you found yourself replying, "Yeah, okay."
With the blanket still draped over you like moss or something equally as consuming, Rafe shifted and lifted you into his arms. Carrying you down the hallway like you were a feather, soft, light and delicate.
Placing you softly on the bed, he pulled the thin, musky blanket from you - replacing it with the fluffy, crisp quilt. He mutters some degrading comment towards the thin blanket before discarding it on the floor.
He climbed in behind you then in a swift movement pushed the front of his body against the back of yours, his arms enveloped you protectively.
Your heart stammered slightly, the contrast of this moment, and the moment of about five minutes ago was disgustingly polar-opposite. His gentle touch, his warmth seeping into you - how it should be.
"you think I'm going somewhere?" you joke, for the sake of saying something so that you wouldn't cry with relief.
"You're never goin' anywhere again." he mumbles with absolutely no humour in his voice. Because he believed if you slipped away he would literally break apart, at this point it's survival - he's not messing around with you.
"You're going to have me thinking that I'm a hostage."
"That's exactly what I'm doing, baby. I am trapping and you ain't ever leaving." he murmers in a smooth, tired voice.
You smile slightly, you can feel by how his touch is a little heavier that he's finally able to relax. In a soft whisper you reply, "Doesn't sound like a bad thing to me."
Masterlist ~ Rafe cameron x sweetheart reader ~ MDNI
Rafe doesn't know why he can't satisfy his girl, shy reader has to confess that she's into the rougher side of things.
Part two here
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The sunlight reached through the double glazed windows of your apartment, drawing bright shapes that decorated your bedroom.
Your boyfriend Rafe sat on the edge of your bed, his eyes slightly shadowed as he breached a rather sensitive topic.
Your sexual satisfaction.
You busied yourself with pulling on your jeans, but you couldn't quite escape Rafes line of vision - and it burned into you.
It burned because his girls satisfaction was a big contributor to his ego. He wanted you to feel fully pleasured. To have your desires and lust respected and endulged.
But because of last night, and almost every single time prior that he's made love to you, he feels he's... Lacking in fulfilling your appitite.
He feels he can't please you in the bedroom, and that cuts him right where it's vital. That you've been pretending to enjoy it, hell, how many times have you faked it?
His ego - his heart - cannot take it anymore. Beyond it all, he's ashamed that the girl he calls his, is unsatisfied.
"How many times have you faked it?" His voice was sharp, assaulting the the air as he demanded you to answer.
You almost stumbled, but instead your hand hovered near your belt buckle that you were about to tighten.
"Sorry?"
You heard him the first time, you definitely understood the question that he was asking. But you just needed a moment to think because he's never asked anything like this before and you could tell that he wasn't playing around.
"How many fucking times did you fake an orgasm while I was fucking you."
The question sent chills down your spine because it wasn't a question - it was a statement. It was an accusation that demonstrated how hurt, apologetic, and embarrassed he felt.
But you too felt embarrassed, because you have, in all honesty, faked it a few times.
"I didn't-... I don't-" your words were faltering, you looked like the epitome of a liar as you fumbled your way through your sentence.
"I like having sex with you, rafe." you finally opted for. Which was true. Honest to God it was true.
"You don't fucking act like it." Rafes voice was low, it was bordering on a sulk if he wasn't so offended by all this.
"I do like it..." you insist, fiddling with your hands nervously.
"you faked it last night didn't you?"
His words were low, his icy blue eyes colder than usual, but he still looked at you like he wanted something from you, beyond the answer.
Your words felt like they could start a war, felt like they were capable of that.
So with all the grace, love, and care that you possess, you navigate the answer.
"Yes.. I did. I faked it last night, but having sex with you is beyond just the satisfaction. Just being that close and held in that way from you is satisfactory enough."
As your sentence finishes and you looked into his eyes, you could notice both relief and frustration. You knew it was a difficult thing to have to confess, let alone hear.
"Aight, but sweet as all that is, it's not good enough for me."
"what do you mean?"
"Baby, why on earth can I not satisfy you, and why do you pretend that I do, hm? We gotta work this out."
"it's not like that-"
"What is it you don't like? Don't like what I'm sayin'..? Don't like how rough I am? What is it that I'm not doing?"
You felt your cheeks blushing at the slightly sexual nature of his questions. He could be so forward with these things and forget how shy your nature was - but then again this was very important to him.
You mumble an answer, half hoping that he wouldn't hear you. That all this will go away and dissappear so that you could save your blushes and your embarrassment. But it won't, and you can't hide under mumbled sentences and silences for long.
"What was that, baby?"
The question made your stomach turn. How in heaven are you going to explain to him that you liked it rough. That his sweetheart, the sweetheart that is too afraid to speak in front of groups, too afraid to have this conversation with him, wants to be railed in a hardcore way.
It made you feel uncomfortable, and it made you hate yourself.
"Talk to me, baby." Rafes voice dragged you from your thoughts and back into his eyes. His relaxed body continued to watch yours, expectantly, curiously.
Parting your lips, you endeavoured to start a sentence, "..I find that rough-"
You cut yourself off, the words felt like coughing up a razor. You hated yourself for ever having a preference for this type of sex - even if you couldn't really help it.
"You don't like me going so rough, that's okay baby. I'll take it very slow-"
"No, that's not what I meant.."
You huffed. Whenever you had sex, he never treated you roughly, and it would surprise him that the problem was that he was going too soft.
"I would prefer it a bit.. More... Rougher." the words tried to climb back into your throat like some nocturnal rodant, but to no avail.
Rafes head tilted to the side as he registered your words. His mind trying to process the fact that his shy, delicate girlfriend wasn't pleasured during sex because he wasn't rough enough.
"you want me to be rougher?" he asked, his voice low. Trying to fully understand what it was that you were saying.
"Yeah.." you say, your voice was light.
An agonising amount of silence passed where he simply kept his gaze on you. His eyebrows slightly furrowed as he processed this information.
Finally he spoke, "Like.. How rough..?"
"I don't know, Rafe. Just.. Forget it." you huff, yielding from this unbearable tension that was in the room.
You didn't want to feel so embarrassed any more, didn't want to feel so exposed. It wasn't his fault - he was just confused - and you, you were just feeling humiliated.
You turned to leave, but you were suddenly pushed against the wall, your back hitting it as your hands were pinned above your head.
"Like hell I'm going to forget it." growled Rafe, who was inches from your face, his eyes watching yours with so much arousal it made your legs feel weak.
"I''m going to fuck you like you've never had it before. I'm going to make sure to make up for all the times you never felt satisfied. You're going to forget how to ever fake it again."
You part your lips to speak, but nothing came out.
"And when I'm done.." Rafes dark voice spoke in your ear, "we are going to do it all over again."
Synopsis: are you really trying to bribe me into speaking to you?
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"baby, speak to please." Rafe practically pleaded, but he was simply met with silence as you snuggled your face into the blanket.
He knew it wasn't his fault - that it just felt like you were pushing him away. You just had a bad day, needed to hide for a while, but he couldn't seem to exist in this kind of silence.
Kneeling in front of this couch, watching your little trembles as you sobbed, it shattered him. Made him feel pitiful and helpless.
He needed to help you but he didn't know how. And all this thinking about how he felt made him feel selfish; how could he be thinking about himself when you were like this?
You felt bad for shutting him out, drawing more comfort from an old blanket than from his arms, but sometimes that is just how it is.
Work was hard today. Drained you of resilience, so now you sat crying as this frail, defenseless creature. You couldn't be blamed for feeling a little ashamed of your current state. For wanting to hide it.
Rafes hand pulled at the edges of the blanket, too scared to touch you, too afraid to ask.
Words lingered on his tongue but they all sounded like a plea, sounded desperate and weak.
Rafe ran away from his feelings like they were some sort of desease. He prided himself in being a better man because of it. But you pulled them out of him in embarrassing ways, and he needs to hear your voice.
"baby..?" he spoke softly, hoping for some acknowledgment. His heart was hammering as he prayed that at least your eyes would meet his.
But there was nothing.
"Talk to me please." his was begging and he didn't even care anymore, "Please say something. I'll give you anything. Anything you want in gold just say something."
What else could he do? He didn't know how to handle emotions but he knew how to handle money, so it was worth a shot. It would work for many people that he knows, but then again, you're not everybody. You're the only one who values feelings over financial worth - over everything.
Your eyes flickered to his.
Your beautiful, sad, sparkling eyes finally met with his and he swore his heart stopped.
"Are you trying to bribe me into talking to you?" you say in a shaky voice, sleeve pawing at your eyes to dry them.
He felt his heart stammer back into his consciousness awareness, it reminded him that time is moving and he should answer you.
"Y-Yeah, I am." he mumbled, feeling like a nervous school boy.
"I'm not ignoring you.. I'm just sad." you reply, analysing the way his expression was slightly tight - slightly scared.
You never meant to scare him.
He knew you noticed, and although it embarrassed him, he is glad he didn't come off as a dick for trying to bribe you into talking to him. The mere fact that you can just see the truth in his actions is more than he could ask for.
"Can I hold you?" he asks, his shoulders heavy, hands never feeling so empty. He's never really realised that since he fell in love with you his arms have never been empty.
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, confrontation, comments on having a bad childhood.
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He couldn't. He wouldn't speak to you like that.
You were the most precious thing in his life. He promised you he would treat you flawlessly every goddamn day, and he did - he does - so there is no way in hell that he'd speak to you like that.
Sure you both were in the heat of the moment, a specific type of warmth soaking the sheets, legs tangled, and tongues tied around each other.
Your hands claw his back. Hips rutting against his. His sweet praises swirling in the lust-filled air.
The words slipped out. Slipped like there was a team of beavers all scheming together, as they ripped down a damn holding your desire.
"meaner.. Be meaner to me." You whine, as Rafe continued to pound deep into you. He was practically knocking the air out of your lungs as you lay there.
And he tried. Always wanting to give into his girl's desire. Always trying to satisfy you physically and emotionally. Beginning to mutter some filth to you, feeling you throb on him in satisfaction - it made him proud, smug maybe.
You were this whimpering, breathless mess beneath him. But make no mistake, he worships you like a queen, no matter how dominating he is. And you loved it.
"More Rafe.. Go darker.."
That request sent off alarm bells in Rafe's mind, his mind wrapping around the nature of your meaning. Go darker? And this isn't the first time you've asked for it.
You've also been asking him for it previous to this occasion - begged for it.
Slowing his thrusts to a stop, he looks to you with a confused expression, "What do you mean, baby?"
Your eyes scan over his. Noticing the way his unsettled gaze tried to look into you. You felt the chill of the air wash over your skin, as that embarrassment that comes after lust rinses itself off.
"Why do you want me to talk to you like that?" Rafe murmers, his voice calm but firm.
That made you feel uncomfortable.
You felt humiliated and you were to blame for it. It felt perverse, like you were some lewd, slimy creature begging for this filth.
You parted your lips to speak but there weren't any words to come out. Just measly air exhibiting its pitiful attempt to portray a justifiable defense.
"You beg me to degrade you," Rafe said, his words empathetic and yet slightly gaurded at the same time, "like really rip into you. I just -"
His words sat in the air as he cut himself off. No amount of gentleness would had made his soft gaze feel less scrutinising.
"is it a kink, or is it.. Something else?"
"forget it, Rafe, seriously. It is nothing." you felt the defensiveness coming up in you like a physical sensation, and it was unbearable.
"Don't fucking do that." he spat back, his tone was like ice and fire both combined. You knew you were being difficult - not intentionally - but your behaviour was simply difficult to handle.
You were closing off and that was a very brutal way to hurt Rafe. He wouldn't stop, he refused to let you close yourself off. To isolate him from this part of you.
"So what is it huh? You like being treated like shit? That what turns you on?"
You've made him angry now. And although it was a stunning thing to see, the conditions were severe. In this current state it made your heart race and your nerves to saunter up the charts.
"You really get off on that, huh?"
There was a hint of mockery in his voice. You were pretty sure he was rage-baiting you. Forcing you to reply, respond, or at the least defend yourself. What else could he do?
"I don't actually want you to hate me." you spoke, a deep breath being the only comfort you could scavenge for yourself.
The only grace that you could offer for yourself.
It almost couldn't be noticed - the way his eyes softened. The way that he felt relief, the way any word you could have said calmed his well-hidden fears. But you noticed, of course you did.
"I used to be spoken to badly as a kid. I think some of that, you know, translated.." you spoke carefully, like you were still testing the waters of his frustration.
The names, the commands, and the way you told him not to hold back, it was all this structure built around this fragile fracture from childhood.
"it makes it mine.. And at least it's controlled. It's not just someone deciding that I'm worthless." the words were coming out a lot easier since Rafe was looking at you with that gorgeous look in his eye; love, it really doesn't need words.
"Twisting it into something that feels safer, somehow."
Rafe was calmer now, his body no longer tight with tension. You could now hear the clock that ticked on the wall, could now feel that static-tethering of comfort as it re-established itself between us.
"I get it.. I just- you want it and I just can't speak to you like that. At all. Is so damn degrading."
"That's kinda the point.." You say, that landed like a tiny attempt of humour in a sea of stress.
A smile tugged at Rafes lips at your obvious statement. He was glad of the fact you were trying to lighten the situation - it was difficult for him in ways it wouldn't be for you.
"I don't want to say that type of shit to you, but if you want it.. A lot, then I will." Rafes sincerity was palpable, and it only goes to demonstrate that he really is devoted to you - but you didn't need another reason to believe that.
"I love you, Rafey."
"I love you more." and the words weren't a comment, they were a statement. An undying, unyielding commitment to always remind you that you deserve love - because you do, honest to God, you've always deserved it.
Masterlist ~ Jealous Rafe cameron x Girlfriend Reader
Synopsis: Rafes jealous - but there's a twist.
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"Once again you're giving all your attention to him. Acting like I'm invisible or some shit like that?"
Rafes voice was low but simmering with anger. He felt a lot more than just rage, there was hurt, possessiveness, fear - but never once will he admit to himself he feels those things, so all that he'll allow himself to exhibit is anger.
His jaw twitched as it did when he felt this way, body tight with tension. Parting your lips you spoke carefully.
"it's not that you're invisible-"
"Bullshit."
You bite your lip, his interruption reminding you just how hurt he is. You felt guilty - of course you did. You hoped that he would understand, that he would shine a bit of mercy on your situation - but he wouldn't even listen to your case.
His voice was dark, and if anger could cause a spark he'd be a forest-fire. All dark, black smoke, only able to function at a dramatic degree, because whats the point of acting calmly when he feels the extract of pure wrath rushing through his veins.
"If I'm not enough for you then I wish you'd just come out with that shit. Don't have me keep coming back to you like I'm some blind fool."
"Rafe please.." you spoke gently, feeling his anger was getting out of control now.
Rafe scoffed, pacing the length of the room. He felt lied to, he felt stupid, and he felt like he was losing you.
And you watched hoping he'd calm down so that you could have a reasonable conversation, but he spoke up again.
"you sneak in here.." he takes a step forward towards you as you sit on the bed, ".. And you choose that thing over me.".
His eyes land on the teddy bear that sits on your lap. The root of it all - the tree of it all, in fact the whole goddamn biosphere of it all.
"I felt upset, okay. There's nothing wrong in what I did." you defend yourself, attempting to move the teddy bear out of Rafes line of vision.
The way that Rafe was glaring at it made you fear for its safety.
"That is the damn problem. You choose that thing. Over. me. Your boyfriend."
"That thing, as you keep referring to it, has a name. And you know it, so use it."
"Doesn't deserve it."
"You're a child, Rafe."
"Says you. Who's coddling some goddamn bear like a child."
"Fuck you."
A buzzing silence immediately met the room as that undefinable recognising passes between you both - the kind where you both realised you crossed a line you didn't intend to.
Rafe sighs dramatically, he didn't mean to pry into your coping mechanisms. It was probably childhood rooted and here he was calling you a child for it.
He didn't even mean it. He was just angry.
He sits down on the edge of the bed, brushing his hair back with his hand. Your eyes flickered over him, feeling guilty for swearing at him.
"I'm sorry." you murmer sheepishly, causing Rafes tentative attention to land back on you.
"no, I am. I shouldn't have- fuck. I just hate it, okay. Makes me feel so damn useless."
"it shouldn't really effect you." you say delicately, because it was true.
It shouldn't bother him that you go to an inanimate object for comfort when you want to be alone. You're saving him from his girlfriend being clingy, and saving you from all the fear you find in intimacy.
"It fucking does. I can do whatever that bear does a thousand times better."
You drop your gaze to your bear, feeling guilty, feeling defensive, but not saying a word.
This is all beginning to feel sensitive. You've never found yourself in a predicament like this so you don't know what you're going to lose. It scares you.
Rafe watched you as you focused on your bear. How you held him like you held the world and he felt so damn jealous.
Inhaling deeply as he tried to channel his emotions with maturity and support, he tried to think of what was right.
So with a soft voice he spoke into the silence of the room, "I can be soft too."
You looked at him, hand fiddling with the bear. You wanted to give it to him. You wanted to be that kind of intimate with him - but it was hard.
That side of love, it resembles fangs and teeth. It demands honesty and vulnerability, and that will never be easy to give.
Rafe could see in your eyes - in your posture - the reluctance and the fear. He loved you and he understood you. So he knew what he was doing when he gently reached to take the bear out of your hands.
Taking the bear he tossed it aside, and enveloped you into an embrace. You wouldn't have let anyone else do that - but this was Rafe.
And when his warmth seeped into your skin you couldn't help but just sink into the comfort. Of course he was right. He was much better than a bear, but a bear had no risk.
"Isn't this better?" he murmers into your hair as you nuzzle your face into his neck.
"Of course, but don't rub it in." you mumble in response.
You felt him squeeze you tighter, causing any last bit of anxiety to evaporate. You loved him, and you could feel how much he loved you in ways like this.
"I won't be competing with a damn bear. That's just sad." Rafe says, causing a giggle to lip past your lips.
Masterlist ~ Simon ghost Riley x girlfriend reader
Warnings: 18+ Mdni
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It began small, like it always does.
A look, and then a comment, and then the catastrophe. Like most things in life Simon would push it down, leave it to sort itself out. But there sometimes comes a point when he must confront it - and for Simon, that comes out in brute force.
"You didn't have to knock his face in!" you yelled, hurling your bag onto the kitchen counter top. You tried to keep it down, tried to be compassionate, but Simon didn't even seem fazed with his actions.
Sure the guy was ogling you, and yes, he ended up flirting with you, but surely simple social skills would have been enough to resolve the issue.
Simon stood in the doorway, his body taught and large as it always is. His eyes held nothing that resembled remorse. It looked as though he was waiting for you to finish your rant like you were a child throwing a tantrum. That pissed you off even more.
You huffed, it was like talking to a brick wall at times. Continuing your rant, you say, "it was aggressive- it was violent and you threw the first punch-"
"Stop right there." his words shot out in a gruff bark causing you to immediately halt.
You instantly knew what you did, you used two words you always tried not to use. 'Violent' and 'aggressive'. How could you have become so wrapped up and used those adjectives towards him.
"I-I'm sorry, Si." you say and your words were sincere. Probably the most heartfelt you've spoken all week because what you just said felt abhorrent.
You just called your Simon violent and aggressive. Like he was some out of control dog, some animal that people think is a monster. You called him something he doesn't want to be around you - something that his job demands of him and what makes him ashamed to be beside you.
You called someone that you love those things.
He didn't reply straight away, taking some steps further into the kitchen. The dull thuds of his boots rumbling through the floor and into your spine.
Of course it hurt him, pissed him off a bit too. Your apology - just like everything else about you - was true, pure and honest.
You got passionate sometimes, he knew that. You always had a way with words, used big ones, learnt them like they were artistry. He was fascinated with some of the things you said, the way you formed them like they were sculptures. And you were pedantic with definitions, picked them apart till you knew what made each and every word beat.
You were delicate.
But those words still came to mind and that hurt. He stopped in front of you, watching the rise and fall of your chest. The way you looked at him with a bit of nervousness and even more love.
"He looked at you like he didn't value his life. He was lucky I didn't put a bullet in 'im." the words sounded different in his head, it kind of contradicted his intention of explaining why he punched the man.
Your eyebrows furrowed, you tried to speak gently, "Simon, I know it's frustrating when those types of things happen but you can't just start a fight because of it."
Running his hand up your side, it skimmed your waist, leading up towards your neck. He didn't feel violent when he was with you, and the only thing that felt aggressive was the force behind his love for you. You were the only thing that made him gentle.
"hm, well I don't think you're one to talk. You can't defend yourself for shit. When was the last time you didn't let someone walk all over you?" he knew it was a little harsh, and by the way your lips parted and nothing came out, he knew you were a little off-gaurd.
"this isnt some sort of competition-"
"No, it's my job." he cut you off and his words were a statement - a declaration, "if I'm a violent man, an aggressive man, I'm going to use it to defend you."
His hand rested on the base of your neck, softly soothing your skin. It felt dominating - possessive - you don't even know if he does it deliberately, but it makes you a little breathless.
"You're not those things.. You've just been made to exercise them." you say. It was one way to look at it. But to see him as a man that has been corrupted is, at the core, humiliating. He'd rather be to blame for the darkness that ran in his veins.
"I won't let any man who thinks he has a chance with you, walk away, and I'm sure you already know that is the kind of man I am."
You nodded, you knew it was. You appreciated the strength that he had in him; slightly animalistic as it is also measured and calculated. You don't want to pressure him into being something watered down, don't want to turn a mustang into another tame horse.
"you really hurt my feelings, luv." he whispers, and you swear you a slight smile creep onto his lips "letting men flirt with you, calling me those things.."
Your head tilted to the side, he could see you were confused with what he was doing. He's teasing you, and whenever he does you always look so damn cute.
"I didn't think you saw me as aggressive.."
"I don't-"
"well I am, and I'm going to show how it can be a good thing."
His hands grip your hips and in a sudden pull he yanks you towards him. You stumble into his hard frame and his hands travel to your lower back.
You quickly understood what he meant, and by the way his hands traveled down your back, and his hips grinded into yours, you could tell he was getting riled up.
His breath tickled your ear as he whispered in a low, gruff tone, "I kinda like when you let me be rough with ya."
Neighbor!SimonRiley x Female Reader ~ Readers missing cat is behind her neighbours door, so she knocks.
Down the hall was a military soldier with tattoos curving around his arm and a skull mask veiling his face. He has a cold expression, weapons, and he has your cat.
You thought she went missing, losing hope of ever finding her again, until you heard the soft little meows. Little chirps and purrs that filled the corridor between your doors.
Doesnt even sound like she's bothered that she's gone missing.
You stood outside the large dark door of your neighbour you've never spoken to. Your chest was tight, you were often a little anxious of talking to new people but there was usually no reason to be; this time there is.
With measured bangs that were a little too steady, you knocked your fist against the door - announcing your presence, and probably your nervousness too.
You took a tiny step back, and when the door swept open you were greeted by the large, muscular soldier you expected to see.
His scrutinising gaze travelled over your body for a moment.
"what'd ya want?" he finally spoke, in a gruff, deep tone that felt a little disarming.
"I just wondered- well I came for..." as you pushed your words out of your mouth you noticed the head of your little kitty appear from behind the man's boots.
".. For her." you pointed towards you cat - Bonnie - causing the soldiers gaze to follow your line of vision until it landed on the cat beside him.
"She yours?" he murmered, his eyes a little calmer as they met yours.
You swallowed hard before replying, "yeah, her name is Bonnie."
A scoff passed his lips at the ridiculous name, before he reached down and picked up your cat. She curled around in his arms, looking absolutely tiny in comparison to his broad chest.
"Been wonderin' where she came from." he spoke, his large hands somehow gently caressing her like she was built out of glass.
The contrast was, in a way, striking. You hands were shaking before you knocked on his door, but the way this rugged, hardened man gave affection to your precious Bonnie, it was beautiful.
"Your mother got'a name?" his eyes reached yours again, but he wasn't anything close to intimidating anymore, not with a twisting white kitty in his arms.
You told him your name and he told you his. Telling him about how she probably got out and into his life, he listened intently, though a little wary.
Bonnie watched simon with wide dreamy eyes as she wrapped herself around his big muscular arms; it crossed your mind as to what it felt like, but nows not the time.
Simon spoke again, voice casual, yet low, "I been feedin' her left over chick'n."
You almost rolled your eyes, of course, this cat was a slut for chicken.
"she loves chicken so.. That's probably why she keeps returning." you reply with a small smile.
He was distant, edgy, as if he expected you to act out of line. You wondered what had hurt him.
"probably should return ya to your mother, Lil one." he says quietly, almost whispered, but you heard it.
In a slow movement he came forward, gently resting Bonnie in your arms. Your hands skimmed, you felt how cold his were, he felt how warm yours were.
Once she was safely settled in your arms he took a step back, rubbing his jaw in a slightly apprehensive manner.
You notice his black shirt was now covered in white cat fur, you tried to hide the smile that pulled at your lips. "You can use tape to get that off.." you say before he had to notice.
"Aye, I will do that, luv." he gruffly responded, using his hands to brush the worst of it off. You noticed the heat that spread over your face the mere though of what that would feel like - Your hands skimming down his chest, You can tell by the contours of his shirt the type of sight he was hiding under it.
"Look, you can come by whenever you want to see Bonnie," you offer, understanding better than most a connection to a cat.
You couldn't deprive him of that, after all, Bonnie clearly really likes him.
"Aye, might take ya up on that." you swore you saw a slight smile meet his eyes, that smile that cats get out of you.
When you made your way back and closed your door, all you could do was pray that he'd come knocking soon. And as you nuzzled your face into Bonnie's silky fur, you could smell the faint hint of his aftershave.
Maybe you're a little pussy whipped for your neighbour.
