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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 5 days

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Call Me When You’re Sober

Summary: The scents of aftershave and laundry detergent fought with that of sharp whisky and for a split second, you closed your eyes, pretending that nothing had happened between the two of you, that you were still having silly date nights every weekend like you used to two years ago and that the cold of distance had never moved in alongside with spilling the contents of your moving boxes into his living room.

Pairing: Simon Walker x afab!Reader

Word Count: - 2.3k

Content Warning: Plot With Smut 18+!, Angst Gallore, Hurt/Hardly Any Comfort, Unprotected P In V, Everybody Is Kinda Very Uncomfortable In Here, Mentions Of Alcohol

A/N: Massive thank you to @ohlookapan for indulging into my Simon Walker brain rot!

This is supposed to eventually grow into a multi-chapter thing, but let's see how far we come 🫶🏻

Tagging: @queer-crusader @somethingblu3 @blueberrypancakesworld

Don't cry to me, if you loved me

You would be here with me

You want me, come find me

Make up your mind

- Call Me When You’re Sober By Evanescence

A sharply burning sensation emitted from your tired and weary eyes, the discomfort buzzed through your skull and the sensitive skin of your under-eyes alike, yet, no matter how hard you tried to let your mind wander and dissolve into much-needed sleep, you couldn’t.

With your thoughts racing and a new, uncomfortably hot gush of tears pricking at your tear ducts, you pushed your face into the pillow.

Everything seemed to suck so fucking hard.

Work - shit.

Friend circle - deteriorating rapidly.

Relationship - raging dumpster fire.

No matter how hard you fought to keep it all together, to glue together the sparse things that could be glued back together, that little card house called your life came back crumbling down at the very first breath of inconvenience and misery certainly loved your company as of late.

As the heavy wooden door to the apartment flew shut, leaving the walls to vibrate for a moment, you flinched and groaned, knowing just by the sound of it that trouble was highly likely ahead. Feeling yourself tethering at the edge of patience already, you wanted to hide your head beneath the pillow, to muffle the uncoordinated sounds of your boyfriend stumbling out of his boots and slightly struggling to get his torso out of his coat. He groaned just like you did moments before, complaining under his breath and careening through the corridor whilst your mind depicted the mental image of his nearly terrifyingly tall and lean body having been dulled down, incapacitated to the point where his olive green coat would be found tossed to the floor instead of hung up nicely.

The sound of the door to your shared bedroom being pushed open came to you much more quiet and gentle, at least some decency hadn’t been lost just yet.

“Hey…” You hummed, turning yourself onto your back, choking back a wayward sniffle.

“Still up?” Simon retorted, questioning whilst stating the obvious just the same.

“Can’t sleep.” Your answer came quickly, being fabricated out of the same sense of obviousness.

“Hm.”, Simon hummed, pulling his thin, gray t-shirt over his head and tossing it in front of the nightstand, “What’s up?”

What’s up? You couldn’t keep your jaws from clenching down, teeth gritting in the futile attempt to shove back a sob. The very second the pathetically pained and tortured sound slithered past your lips, Simon’s intoxicated sense of attention was on you.

“What’s going on?” With his fine eyebrows raised into an arch, he flopped himself onto the bed, mattress curving down under his weight as he seemed to cup you with his height, half embrace, half sloppy attempt to find some sort of comfortable position.

Inevitably, it drew you in, pulled you closer to him with the need to simply press your face into his chest and hide away from everything for a moment.

“Everything fucking sucks. What’s up with everybody lately?” Your already heavily strained walls caved down with every word, some of them addressing Simon just as well but that went conveniently right past him.

You turned to the side, body curling up into Simon’s almost embrace in search of comfort. The cold from outside still clung to his fingers and face as he rested his chin atop the crown of your head, slender fingers finding your waist underneath the oversized sleeping shirt loosely covering you.

“It’s the season, I bet. Dark, raining all the time, y’know? Hard to keep up a good mood when it’s pissin’ again outside.” He wasn’t entirely wrong, however, it didn't even begin to cover your struggle in the slightest.

The brief inkling of frustration that had bubbled up in your stomach over it got washed away as quickly as it had formed by the pungent waft of deeply smoky whisky that trickled from Simon’s words. It didn’t actually surprise you anymore, only enraged you a little more every time it happened because he allowed himself to be careless enough to numb it all down, to quite literally drown it all out and be comforted by bottles.

“Yeah, probably.” You shrugged your shoulders in a whim of apathy, the palm of your right brushing over his side, hardly really touching him although everything within craved to do so.

To your surprise, Simon caught the notion. For the duration of a quick peck, he pressed his lips to your hairline and mouthed a swift: “Issok.”

The touch of his skin against the inside of your hand felt off, strange, and almost unfamiliar and the realization hit you like a sour burp, bile gushing up along the root of your tongue, leaving you with a sharp sting. For an uncomfortably long moment, you roamed your memories in search of the last time he’d hugged you or vice versa. It must’ve been weeks already, apparently falling out of familiarity happened quickly.

In a terribly overcompensating fashion to counteract the feelings rising inside your chest, you pulled yourself closer to Simon until your face was snuggly nuzzled into the curve of his neck. The scents of aftershave and laundry detergent fought with that of sharp whisky and for a split second, you closed your eyes, pretending that nothing had happened between the two of you, that you were still having silly date nights every weekend like you used to two years ago and that the cold of distance had never moved in alongside with spilling the contents of your moving boxes into his living room.

“Can’t we just leave? Drive and don’t look back?” You hummed into the crook of his neck, the tip of your nose brushing against his skin softly.

“I wish, but I doubt that’s how it works.”, Leaning into your touch, timidly following your invitation, Simon led his hand to wander along your stomach, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like it’s your fault, love.” Was it not, though? Your little, saccharinely sweet white lie prompted the corners of your mouth to twitch downwards.

You were fucking yourself over and all it took was Simon to so much as breathe in your vicinity. You really dared to cry unto yourself about everything being shitty lately, about his actions or much rather the lack thereof tearing you up from the inside but what were you doing in all this? Pampering him in moments you could very much speak up.

A quick, low hum of his got lost in your temple, the vibrations of his uttering sending a wash of goosebumps down your body. The physical reaction was followed suit by your breath hitching in the back of your throat as his hand crept up for the pad of his thumb to trace along the curve of your breast.

It took but this barely even there crumb of affection, already more than you’d expected to be subjected to anytime soon, for you to feel like you were dissolving. Any sort of reason or proper critical thinking turned into mush the very second Simon’s lips inched down to reach your cheek, coaxing you to lift your chin from his shoulder and turn your face towards his.

“Simon..:” You mouthed his name like a breathless prayer.

He shushed you gently, his mouth now skipping over your cheeks in direct aim to press down onto your lips to shut you up. At that, your stomach started twitching and turning as if you were to board a rollercoaster; nervosity pitted in the depths of it whilst your insides felt like being elevated all the same. Up and up and further up, dangling right on the edge expecting to fall, to be dropped, ripped down into freefall until the ride was over.

Your heart hammered against its ribcage with such vigor that you were certain Simon was aware of it. For a split second, you felt a sense of embarrassment passing you by, triggered by how easily he had you all wrapped around his fingers just by touching you. It set you ablaze with a growing need to feel more of him, to devour him whole if he would just let you, wants and needs clashed within whilst his touch still somehow came unnatural. Something about it was blatantly off, and you tried to drag yourself to care, but your need for quick, cheap escapism posed as way too hungry. He might’ve been sloshed off the whisky so you got drunk on him for the time being.

In the absence of his shirt to find purchase on, you palmed at Simon’s hip, pulling him onto you for you to roll on your back again, shoulders digging into the soft mattress below under the doubled weight. Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist immediately, not planning on letting go anytime soon, not when you felt Simon pressing against your crotch like that and for a moment you sensed all your reasoning leaving your body, your mind effectively going blank, in the very second your other hand tugged at the elastic of his shorts with a sense of greed and hunger that would’ve left you speechless about yourself under sane circumstances.

Simon didn’t stop you as your nails lightly scratched along his lower back and neither did he pull his hand from groping at your breast, thumb flicking over your pebbled nipple repeatedly, eliciting quiet moans to trickle from your lips into his mouth, drinking them all up.

You arched your back from the sheets, pressing your front against his chest for your other hand to shove and tear at the delicate fabric of your slip, dragging it past the round of your behind until you could awkwardly shimmy out of it, heels nudging and scratching along Simon’s waist.

“No need to beat me to it.” Your boyfriend laughed in a weirdly dry tone, trying to take the edge off his very own comment but it pricked uncomfortably regardless.

“Sorry…” You muttered in return, the sour sting dampening the momentum of the situation for a brief instant.

“ ‘M just messing with you.” The tip of his nose nudged yours softly, stroking along the bridge until his lips left a gentle peck in the space between your slightly crinkled brows, aiming to smoothen them out again.

Instead of addressing them, you decided to leave his words hanging in the dark air of the bedroom, waiting for them to slowly and most of all silently evaporate into oblivion. The only hushed sounds quietly echoing from the tapestry- and picture-adorned walls now were the hasty shuffling of fabric and shallow breaths, a poorly choked back moan that pushed a watery sheen to glaze over your eyes as Simon drilled himself into you.

The sensation of being stretched out like that, skin against skin and heart to heart came painstakingly foreign to you. You were well aware of how soft, bendy silicone or your own fingers felt when you hid yourself away for a quick stress release in the bathroom but having Simon above you - inside you - threatened to overwhelm you with its intensity. It very much wasn’t a matter of you being wet enough or not, yet it nearly pained you to be so full of him, your mind suddenly acting in dissonance to a body that couldn’t get enough after being starved of attention and affection alike.

“You okay?” Simon whispered to you sweetly, sounding as if he actually cared, as he rolled his hips into your lap.

“Uh-huh.” You pressed between slightly quivering lips, your body awash with the pressing need to just let him work you, to finally fuck the doubt out of you so you wouldn’t have to deal with it all by yourself all the goddamn time.

You wanted Simon to use you for a little while because that would’ve given you at least a fake sense of purpose in this gradually deteriorating clown show of a relationship.

“Fuck me,” You muttered with your lips moving against his collarbone.

“What?” Simon halted and it made you want to cry out in strained patience and desperation.

“Fuck me, please, rail me into the mattress, whatev-” You got cut off unexpectedly, the air being plowed out of your lungs by Simon having very much understood and now doubling down.

For a moment you felt like choking on your breath, air getting stuck in your throat that tried to exhale just as much as groan into his smooth check as he pinned you down against the sheets with the weight of his body, effectively pushing past the border of emotional overstimulation with much more primal needs eventually taking over.

You’d pleaded unto him to make you forget, to properly fuck you into the next day and that’s what he did with reckless abandon. In this state of fragile ecstasy, you clawed at Simon’s sky, leaving red marks with your fingernails all across his waist whilst teeth latched into the firm muscles of his chest. With everything you held on to him, allowing yourself to be taken away by comfortably numbing surges of pleasure for as long as Simon towered above you, spreading your legs with the width of his hips until you couldn’t feel them anymore.

#simon walker #simon walker x reader #simon walker smut #simon walker x you #hollyoaks #neil newbon #neil newbon fanfic

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