#cod ghost

[baohanhanesel]

Riley w Simon !!

This is Soap's wallpaper btw

[tojisteddy]

What More Can I Say?

“You’re hurting me baby, you don’t know what it feels like.”

or: Simon is overly stressed from the everyday pressures of life and accidentally lets it out on you.

cw: 4.8k words, 18+ mdni, angst then fluff, no use of y/n, encounter with ex (not bad), fight with Simon, established relationship, miscommunication, cursing, reader! doubts themselves/ retreats into themselves, Simon being an asshole, meanie!simon, (if you squint) very lite dd/lg themes, inspo songs.

a/n: I’ve been working on this request since May, going back and forth on this. this is my final submission.

You are, in every singular way imaginable, the one person on this planet Simon cherishes the most.

And it’s not like you tried your hardest to get in his good graces. you just, fell from Heaven. You must have. A stray who looked up at him with such alluring eyes, the only option was to take you in. Learn to love just how a man should.

He hadn’t properly cared about anyone, not since his younger brother Tommy died. Of course, he cared for the other members in the 141, John was like a father to him, a proper mentor. And Johnny and Kyle were like having two twin brothers who got into mischief.

But there was something about you, something that made him want to take care of you, love you for exactly what you are— his lovely doll and his alone. His baby girl.

Couldnt get enough of you, had to have you in arms length if you went out, and the man knew you loved to dance. He wouldn’t stop you, just needed to feel you once, feel your tension roll away, melt in his arms. Even if he babied you in your tipsy state.

Or maybe when your talked about your favorite movie or artists, rambled on and on about the new winter/fall collections you liked, you’d stop mid conversation, see if he was there because you were used to people drowning you out when you got boring. But his hand would come to caress your nape, gently caressing it with his thumb, that look in low look in his brown eyes that made you feel like you could move mountains single handedly, “Keep goin,” he’d murmur, all but fixated on your pretty face, your eloquent voice, the little stutters from your heart pounding here and there.

And it always does the trick, knowing hes there for you. The little encouragement even when he didn’t talk as much as your past partners, that sweet look of admiration that swirled in his warm brown eyes as he looked at you, making you dinner, taking his large hand in yours and kissing it, using any excuse to see you on his lunch break. “I had a bit ‘f time ‘s all.”

Yeah, sure. Just to see that unconvinced beautiful smile, leaning against the wall of your work place and taking the lunch he ordered for you.

You weren’t a stressor, you were everything to Simon.

It’s just— life can be a pain in the ass. Maybe too much of a pain in the ass. So much so it created a tension under the Riley household.

A big mixture of everything— the stress of his job and the lower ranks lacking on missions, the leak in the roof he didn’t have time to get up there and fix, the floorboard that kept squeaking every time Simon would step into the dogs room on the base floor, he’d replaced it once before and yet it still squeaked. Then you, His loveable Angel, you. Through the mess of it all, he just wasn’t seeing eye to eye with you. Unable to see you through the fog of bullshit. And maybe the irritation of the things he couldn't control in the moment poured into the situation, into your loving home.

He wasn’t one for many words, always been that way. A nod is sufficient enough some days, clean cut direction is better on others, a dad joke on the easiest (or worst) days. And the blonde always made the biggest effort to be clear but gentle with you, even if the words came out more harsh than he meant to. You could understand the gist of it.

But lately, he doesn’t know what to say, or maybe he’s tired of all of the words he needs to be using. And you’re no mind reader, he knows that. Maybe it’d be clear to him if he started fucking acting like it.

It’s not like you or him meant for it to get to this point.

It’s just a quick storm passing through, just rain. But one slick comment lead to another, and a sarcastic reply to follow.

A yelling match.

It’s not just a breeze or drizzle, it’s the tornado, a whirlwind of anger and frustration. It’s annoyance and lack of communication.

Simon’s voice was loud, deep and yet, it’s the lightning. It strikes and pains even when it has no knowledge of it doing so, and hits every nook and cranny of the walls of the room. You are the thunder, furious and wild, willing to get loud if need me, raise your voice louder than you thought you could. Trying to understand where it went wrong, where it could be fixed. If it could be fixed. Pointing two fingers at him from where you sat at the kitchen table like a gun, saying some rebuttal you couldn’t even bother to remember, because it was stupid for him to yell at you like some- like some-

“If you want to bitch all night about the fucking laundry, go do that fucking else where! There are thousands of bitches that would give enough of a fuck about that, I’m so sure Simon!”

“It’s not just the fuckin laundry [+]-“

“—Then I should wait on you hand and foot to find out, on my knees and ask you word for word what you want-“

“— It’s like you’re ignorin the things I’m fucking sayin and purposely forgetting. ‘M asking you bare minimum. Don’t you realize I have my own shit to take care of?”

“So do I, but I’m not being so damn self centered about it! I’m trying to understand. But you don’t even wanna talk about it—“ You shake your head, sarcastic chuckle leaving your throat, “this fucking stupid, this is stupid.”

It only makes him more angry, bitter, “Me putting up with your shit is stupid. Me having to play your therapist when you can’t control yourself for once is stupid!”

You roll your eyes, “I’m not a fucking child Simon. I’m asking for you to be in a relationship with me! Care about the simple shit with me! Why can’t I get a little grace, just like I give you?!”

And he snaps, more than before, he yells, “So I have to look after you every second of the day? Are a fuckin needy bitch [+]?! Is that it!?” He stops for a beat, lightning striking, and it lands— “It’s never just one thing, it piles on to your bullshit. Fuck me, you can never do shit for yourself, can you?”

Maybe that’s what hurt, above all the other shit said tonight, that’s what takes you back. Makes you feel much smaller than you actually are, what you try to present yourself to be. Back to your ex’s, back to being the child who wanted to prove something to everyone in the family- to your siblings, to your mother— your deadbeat father.

It’s a late reaction but you flinch, shoulders slouching, defeated.

“It’s needy for me to want you to not ignore me?” Your voice is shaky, it’s practically a squeak. A question asked in disbelief.

“O-Or ask you for your opinion for the things that go on in my life? Or wanting to confide in you or wanting you to be able to confide in me?”

You want to laugh, but you don’t have the room for it, the strength for it. And you search in Simons eyes for something, anything. Maybe you’re too fast, looking away from him so fast that you can’t see the remorse as he stands where the tornado of your fight once was. In the broken pieces— Clarity. And that seeing the mess hes created pains him.

You nod, tears brimming your eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that was me pushing it. I’ll watch myself from now on. Sure to not bother you.” And you walk around him, almost recoiling when he goes to grab your arm, A silent plea, that the words that fell from his lips he truly didn’t mean. But you dodge his touch, running up the steps, the dogs following quickly behind with the clanging of their collars.

But Simon’s throat is stuck even in stage painful quiet, it’s closed, the words never come out when he needs them to. He rubs his face, letting out a heavy sigh.

Leaving him alone in that quiet, dimly lit kitchen.

The faucet left dripping.

୨୧・┈┈・┈┈・୨୧

You didn’t remember your apartment feeling so- so barren.

When’s the last time you slept over here though? A month? No, 3 months ago? You didn’t have a need to be here. Where you could still hear cars honking and passing in the early morning and late nights. You always just grabbed a couple things and scurried back to the car so Simon could take you back to his house.

You’d turned it into a proper home, the two of you. Your CD’s and records were in the bookshelf alongside his plethora of dvd’s and vhs’. The living room decorated to your liking, kitchen more simple yet homey. Both the dogs with getting new adorable dog beds in the shape of an egg and the other green with white flowers on it. Pictures of the two of you hung on the newly painted walls, mostly of you but that’s how he wanted it, little knickknacks and artwork filling up different spaces, plants filling in corners.

Something told you, you’d need an escape plan one way or another. Just in case. You plopped down on your bed after a long day of work with a huff, the few stuffed animals left here plopping around to the side along your pillows. You wanted to drown in your comforters.

And maybe this was good for you, a snap back to reality. Right? This- break? break up?- was a good thing. That’s what you needed. You’d been clinging onto Simon too much already, you forgot the girl you once were.

Independent, fierce, unflinching.

Finding solace in your aloneness.

Or this was just bound to happen, what karma had laid out for you in a past life. People get tired of you quickly, it’s a simple fact. It’s something you’ve felt your whole life. Maybe you stress them out, or you’re too boring, or don’t talk enough, and you’ve changed and changed as much as you could and it always leads to nothing. Always leads to wanting to crawl into yourself and fix whatever switches are “wrong” with you. This is just another reminder to keep people at their distance. Even people you love.

It didn’t make it hurt any less.

You cried and cried yourself to sleep, puffy eyes in the morning, breakfast missed and in a dash to get to work. Had a headache by lunch, ate the frozen meal for dinner. Washed it down with a nice bowl of ice cream, stared at the two missed calls from Simon for an hour before passing out on the couch.

You wouldn’t call him back, what for?

You couldn’t rely on that man forever. Or maybe not be as needy. Time apart is necessary. Not like this. Perfect for a time like this. Right?

Simon didn’t think you’d answer the first time, maybe not even the forth. But he called, even though it wasn’t like him. Once just to see if you answered at the top of the day. Another at the end of the day just for his sanity, to hear your voice through your voicemail.

Everything felt empty without you.

Even the dogs kept circling the door waiting for you, an evening filled with whines from Fish, his favorite toy in his mouth while Slugger laid down in the entry way, just waiting.

But you weren’t coming home. Not anytime soon.

It hurt to see your keys not where they usually were, or how you shuffled around the house his shirt with tired eyes from the day. Or the sound of your voice as you took a call, peaking your head out the bathroom to give him a wave, mid skin care routine, the roll of your eyes and middle finger when he teased and said you looked messy. How you ran your fingers through his locks in the middle of the night when all he wanted to do was just be, but with you.

How was he gonna fix it? What more could he say to get through to you? The anger and frustration ceased to exist, even at work it showed, nothing was worse than silence. And the men under him thought the worst was bound to come to them. Maybe they did fuck up that bad. But it was the opposite.

“You alright mate?” Kyle asked as they sat in the mess hall for lunch, Simon was mid bite of his food. Barely hearing any of the prior conversation.

“ ‘M fine.” He grunted, swallowing his food.

Kyle and Johnny gave each other a knowing look, “Ye don’t look fine.” Johnny raised a brow. “Know yer a quiet lad but you’ve got the wee babies thinkin yer gonna kill ‘em. Just think- well I think—”

“—Fuck do you want me to say?” Simon bit, louder than he intended to, the table looked over tat them wondering what was going on. He tensed, eyes growing weary from his own actions.

Kyle gave a reassuring smile, “Just sayin we’re here for ya man, if you need to talk. That’s all. John too.”

“Yeah…” he nodded, standing from his seat and walking away. And he knew that, that people are there for him during the hard times— that you would be there for him during those hard times. It’s just sometimes, something in his brain would over react or just wouldn’t remember it.

Well, maybe it’s not his boys he needs to talk to.

It’s his therapist.

୨୧・┈┈・┈┈・୨୧

Five days, since your fight with Simon.

Five days of dreading getting off work and going home alone.

Five days of trying to pick up the pieces only to be left with cuts on your hands.

As long as you could make it to the weekend, is what you thought. You were practically flouting your way home as you walked through the streets of the city. It was busy with rush hour traffic, pedestrians just trying to get, home or to the pub.

Your hands shoved in your pockets mc trying to keep warm, you heard a yell from behind you and turned to see what was happening. You rocked on your heals as if you didn’t hear it, then you heard another yell over the music blaring from your headphones. You snatched them off, a confused look on your face till you met his gaze.

Issac, an ex who was probably the most ridiculous man you’ve been with. Ridiculously sweet yet too fucking silly, a cheater. But he was fun to be with. But truly he was not who you wanted to see right now. He’d be the exact person to flaunt their happiness in your misery stricken face without realizing it.

Not right now.

But you couldn’t slip away in time, giving him a tight lipped smile as he waltzed his was toward you in the crowd, gleefully saying your name as he wrapped you in a hug.

“Long time no fucking see. Damn, it’s been ages, hasn’t it?”

You shrug, “Perfect timing I think, you got on my last nerve the last time I saw you.”

“We had a little fight.” He muses, letting you lead the way, no problem with walking you to wherever you were going even if it was in the opposite direction. Catching up wouldn’t hurt.

“You picked up your shit with a gnarly attitude. I wasn’t the problem.” You scoff, pointing at yourself.

Issac shoo’s the idea away, “What’s in the past, is in the past,” he looks across the street your both about to cross and then towards you, your baggy eyes, “What’s up with you? How’s life? You look a little…”

“Tired?”

“Shit, actually.”

“Thanks for rubbing it in! That’s exactly what I needed to hear right now.” You said sarcastically.

“Sorry,” he gave you an apologetic look, “Just thought you were living it up since you looked so good on Instagram.”

“I always look good on Instagram,” you remind him.

“ ‘s that right?” He teases, pulling about a joint from his pocket to light. You can’t help but chuckle in annoyance, this little shit.

“Just- got in a fight with my boyfriend is all.” You finally confess. It’s no point in lying, at one point you two were close friends, before the relationship. But things change.

“Ahhh, tale as old as time.” He hums, “About?”

You sigh, brushing your braids out of your face, you decide with the simple answer, “The laundry.”

Issac bursts into laughter, almost dropping the lit joint in between his fingers. People around you give you questionable looks but continue walking.

“Oh fuck off! Never mind me, what about you? What are you up to?”

He thinks for a moment, gently bumping shoulder with you, “Modeling gigs, goofing off. Not much else, I’m living the single life.”

“For once.” You snicker.

“And only this once. I hate going home and the house is fucking empty, it’s boring all holed up even if it’s for a bit!” He groans but you wince. Did it really feel like that? So dreary?

No. Yes. Shut up.

“Sorry.” He mumbles, noticing the little silence, but your shrug, “You’re good.” You take the joint from his fingers, taking a drag, “It’s a tax.”

“My ass… but your boyfriend and you, fightin over something so simple…” he clicks his tongue, taking the joint back and smoking, “Damn, we’ve fought over less. The way I walk, was it, one time?”

And fuck did it make you feel like shit back then, but it makes you laugh now, how silly you two were, “We were young, we were trying.”

“Trying too hard. Least I was.” He shook his head, muttering that last bit. You cock an eyebrow but he doesn’t repeat himself. “But at least you’re thinking about it, making up. We used to fight and that would be it.”

And it’s true, maybe you two were too similar, you would fight, break up for a month and make up, especially he cheated. He wanted to make it work, something like his parents. Ignore the major flaw that shifted your entire relationship. But your gut would turn every time he went out. Acne flares, holing yourself in more than you were now.

Thank god you two broke up.

“I wouldn’t wanna break up with the guy I’m with anyway,” you glance over at Issac, trying to make up for the tiniest uncertainty in your own words, you smirk, “He’s taller than you.”

“Oh come on, I still got this gun show.” And he flexes his muscles, at least tries to, under his trench coat.

“And he’s definitely stronger than you, he’s in the military” you giggle, genuine this time. And the thought of Simon wrapping you up in his warm embrace swarms you, you bite your lip, but your words tumble out, nothing but love spilling out life water overfilling a glass. “But overall he’s just good for me. He understands me, or at least he tries his best to. And he takes care of everything when I’m in my head too much. And he has funnier jokes than you, a little rough around the edges but warm at his core. Makes me feel like I can do anything. He takes his time with me.”

You sigh, walking down the steps, to get to the station, “A-And I want to take my time with him. Just— shit, I don’t know. It’s one of those times we’re having a hard time listening to each other.”

“Well, all's settled right? You should be able to hear each other out now that you’re both not so angry.” He asks, tapping his pass.

You shake your head, tapping your pass and following behind him, “He’s probably just calling to see if I’m alive or not. Nothing serious.”

You’re so used to giving up, and maybe part of it is on you. You’re used to every game in this life being winner take all, and you being left with nothing, picking up the pieces. Hell, even Issac “won” at the end of your relationship. You would rather fold, with the little dignity you have left, go back to your ways. Free and searching for a new feeling.

But it’s never a new feeling, is it?

You just so desperately want to be wanted, the want to be needed. Even if it’s for a little while, it’s something you craved your whole life. Oh, you’d dance in the sunshine if you could get that feeling.

But it leads you to be so dependent and needy, right?

“—How will you know if you don’t try? You said you like him right? And if he’s trying to reach out, he must like you some kind’ve way.”

And it makes your heart leap up, a shiver rolling down your spine. It’s silly really, that thought of that brute having you on his mind makes you want to spin around and smell the Daisys. You bite the inside of your mouth, rocking on your heals as you stand in place. “And if it’s not worth it?” You mutter.

Issac bumps into your shoulder again, he clicks his tongue, “Fuck, you just said he was the man of your dreams didn’t you? Why would you run away from that? You gotta fight for what ya want!”

Fight for what you want? And what did you want more than anything right now? At this exact moment?

To see Simon.

And maybe the weight lifts off your shoulders, noticeably so. You shove your hands further into your pockets, you’d try. Just this one time, you’d try.

The ends of Isaac’s lip curves up, “I know, I know, I’m such an amazing guy for helping you out. It’s the reason the ladies love me”

“Yeah fuckin right.” The train begins the pull in, more people crowding around the entrances of the public transportation. The doors open, the train conductor calling out the station.

“You ever think we could get back together? Or made it work?” He calls out as you step onto the train. And it’s probably the most genuine he's been since you started this conversation.

You suck in a breath, but you can’t help the corners of your lips curving upward, heat rising on your cheeks, heart pounding faster, “Not a chance.” You take him in one last time, he’s completely changed since the last time you saw him. Long curly hair now short into a fade, looking refreshed and at ease, in business casual which he used to hate. You both had changed, and for the better.

And if that meant not seeing each other ever again, so be it.

“And honestly, I’ve probably fallin more in love with that guy just from talking about him with you.”

And with that, the doors to the train close. Issac takes a step back on the platform, gives you a waves with a solemn look on his face. Disappearing into the crowd as the train rolls away.

୨୧・┈┈・┈┈・୨୧

If Simon would’ve known you would reply to his one singular text before his calls he would’ve texted you sooner.

He built up the courage to talk to you, find the words he needed to apologize. And he didn’t know if they would come out right, as if they ever did, but he was more than willing to try.

He sat on the bench, inside of the park next to the train station closest to his place. The sun was peaking through the clouds, and the sound of children giggling a little bit aways. Simon’s knee bounced in anticipation, tired eyes moving around the open space till he found you, still beautiful as ever. In a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt that was almost wearing you. Braids in a claw clip, you made his heart jump.

He doesn’t say anything when you finally get in front of him, just stands, avoiding your deep mocha eyes, that shy but uncertain look that’s written on your face. He hands you the warm cup of tea that he ordered at the coffee shop before coming here. “Just how you like.” His voice is ragged. Taking a sip of his own tea to relax himself, 3 sugars, a drop of milk, but it’s just barely helping.

He nods for you two to walk down the path, but it’s awkward, both of you don’t know what to say or how to act. The birds are tweeting, there are people riding their bikes— it’s serene.

Simon clears his throat, deciding to push his nerves away, “[+], I’m sorry.”

And he feels silly, he doesn’t even remember the last time he apologized like this. Raw and scared, and unknowing what reaction he’d get. You can apologize to superiors with a ‘sorry sir’, let them berate you until they’ve got the anger out or just sigh and wave you off, you’d sort out the problem some way, somehow. But it’s the silence that comes from you that makes him worried. That makes the 6’4 brute want to sink and hide deep inside his shoes.

You rub at your neck, you can try too [+]. Try to make it work. If it meant to change— “It's okay. I could’ve listened and controlled myself but I didn’t and—“

You cut yourself off when you look over at Simon, he’s frowning— almost scowling, “No lovie, god no. I- shit.” He curses a couple times to himself, running his fingers through his short blonde hair, stops in his tracks to face you and gently takes your free hand in his. It’s warm compared to his, it’s enough to feel you, know that you’re really there in the moment.

“I shouldn’t’ve talked to you like that. Or made you feel like that. Ever. This isn’t your fault.” He shakes his head. “ ‘Nd ‘m not just saying things you want to hear, I thought about it properly, even wrote down what I wanted to say, talked about in my group.”

“Group?” You ask.

“Therapy.” He clarifies, swallowing his pride, “I went after too long, I’ve been needing to sort some things out.”

“And I want you to rely on me. ‘Nd talk to me about anything. You’re not too clingy or needy, and even if you were I’d still want you to be that way with me because- I love you. I love takin care of you ‘nd bein there for you when you need me.” He breaths out, searching your eyes, “I know it’s no excuse for me to be- to be stressed from work and take it out on you by being some daft dick head who suddenly gives a shit about when the laundry is done. Or calling you out your name just because you want to talk properly. Shit, I’m just not used to it, expressing myself to you, or anyone. And I’d just- fuckin hell- I’d hate for you to feel annoyed by my own shit.”

You take a second to take in everything he's said, and that he’s being more than sincere in his words, the somber look on his face. You bite your lip, hesitant, “But that’s what a relationship is. To lean on your partner when you need them most. And I’d hate to sound repetitive, but I’m here for you. Whenever. It’s not just you taking care of me.”

“I-I know, I learned that these past couple days. And I promise, I’m going work on talking it out with you, instead of talking at you.” And he takes a step closer, entering your space, kissing your hand, “I need you more than anything in this life, [+]. Home doesn’t even feel right when you're not there. And Fish just won’t stop crying for you.”

“Can you forgive me? Please come home kitten. Please?” He pleads, looking down at you with those pretty brown eyes.

Your cheeks heat up, heart swelling, you give him a slow nod. Relief fills his eyes, gently tugging you into his arms and holding you like you’re the last person on earth. And you hug him back too, your eyes closing just at the feel of him.

“I missed you baby, god, I fuckin missed you.” And he breaths you in, the sweet smell of your shampoo filling his nose and he kisses the top of your head. The weight of his shoulders finally falling off.

He grunts, lifting you off your feet making you squeal, “Gonna take you home,” he mutters, continuously kissing all over your face, kissing your lips a few times for good measure. “ ‘nd take a nap. I’m exhausted, can never sleep a wink without you kitten.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck,

“Same here Si, same here.”

a/n: this post is all over the place with plot holes and has lore that literally won’t make any fucking sense to any one but me. I know. Trust me, I know. And I know it might sound drastic for Simon to go to therapy just over an argument, but my hc is that meanie!simon (specifically) has past anger issues and sometimes he forgets the steps to regulate/properly express himself and his emotions. I know this isn’t what ppl wanted out of me after so long, I just haven’t been confident in my writing as of late but I really gave it my all with this post (I’m really not used/good at writing angst but wanted to try). Sorry for this long authors note. Much love.

most recent masterlist

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱<3: @bruisedfig @tessakate @sevikasblackgf @mocha-the-muse @dollfwn @mims900 @lillybunni

[skulldetergent]

ghoap height difference appreciation post✨️

[byfawn]

after a couple days together, you see simon without his mask for the first time ever.

you were curled up on the couch, tail flicking lazily as you watched simon move around the kitchen. he always kept the mask on around you—even at home, even when it was just the two of you. you never questioned it. you knew better than anyone the weight of things you wanted to hide.

his hands came up, fingers hooking under the edge of the mask as he tugged it off with a frustrated sigh, probably from the heat of the kitchen. he didn’t realize you were watching. not at first.

your breath caught.

his face was beautiful.

a jagged line cut across his nose, another twisting near his brow. his lips were chapped, his stubble uneven in places where scars interrupted the growth. his jaw was sharp, clenched tight like he was bracing for something.

and his eyes. god, his eyes.

so much softer without the mask.

you didn’t realize you’d moved until you were right in front of him, your hands reaching up before you could stop yourself. he froze, his breath hitching as your fingertips brushed his cheek.

you expected him to pull away. to snap. to tell you not to touch.

but he didn’t.

he leaned into it.

your thumb traced the curve of a scar, slow, reverent. a quiet chirp escaped you—something questioning, something awed.

simon let out a shaky breath, his own hand coming up to cover yours, pressing it harder against his skin.

“ugly, ain’t i?” he muttered, voice rough.

you shook your head immediately, ears pinning back in protest. no. no, he was wrong. you nuzzled into his palm, purring so loud it vibrated through your whole body.

[unknownsvoid]

simon is genuinely so obsessed with how dumb you get over his cock. whether you're being drilled by it, having it in your hand, sucking it, hell even by looking at it has you all shy.

don't get him wrong. it's cute and everything, but when he's having to fuck you with his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, while fucking you in a supply closet literally twenty minutes before a meeting. it gets kinda annoying, not that he is complaining. well, he is, but it's worth it in the end when he sees your dumb, cock-drunk face.

his dick pounds in and out of your warm, wet cunt, it pushing him away before dragging him back in for all his worth. it drives him insane. he barely has to do much. your cunt is so greedy it just sucks his cock in and then spits him back out.

one of your legs around his waist while his fingers are pushed deep down your throat to shut you up. you're too dumb to even think right now – spit slobbering all over his thick digits. he doesn't mind it though. he finds it verrryyy cute and verrryyy arousing.

"shhh, doll, wouldn't want the others to hear us, hm? what would they think if they say their lieutenant fuckin' his co-worker like this, hm?"

he smirks. he knows damn well what he said went in your ear and came right out of the other. he knows you can't process anything right now but pleasure.

your cunt clamps down onto him, "c-cumming! shitshitshit!"

though it was all muffled with his fingers in your mouth. he could tell what was about to happen anyway.

the way your eyes roll back and your cunt began to flutter around him while more of your delicious juices leak onto his cock, even more than before. yeah, he joined you soon after. his cock spurting warm cum deep into your quivering pussy before he pulls out of you with a groan.

five more minutes.

well shit, you're going to be late to that meeting. i guess it was worth it for a quickie though...

[rottingpink]

simon's girls

cw. angst, fluff? uhh you're very much so a housewife... don't want to spoil too much!

synopsis. simon riley's heart is shared by three girls.

masterlist navigation

simon riley has a dog he's had since his twenties. now, as he enters his late thirties, his little pup is no longer a tiny, wriggling thing with too much energy and a lack of bladder control, but a gentle old girl who needs more naps and has a smaller appetite.

her name is maisie. soft and old-fashioned, just like simon loves. simon chose the name when he found her waddling around a dirty alleyway with trash stuck in her fur, searching for scraps. feeling pity for the little thing, he knelt down, held out a hand, and she barrelled to him without hesitation, like she'd been waiting her whole life for him to save her.

or maybe she'd been waiting to save him.

maisie's old now. muzzle's greyed along the edges, she runs a little slower when she's helping simon around the farm, a contrast from when she and simon were an unstoppable pair on duty in the force, taking down enemies swiftly and saving civilians in need. maisie'd trained with him. sniffing bombs, doing rescues, the works. maisie'd saved people from drowning, tugged civilians out from under rubble, found a hidden trapdoor rigged with explosives during a mission.

she'd jumped in the way between simon and a man with a sleek machete once and took a slice to her cheek, but she didn't mind at all. as long as simon was okay.

"stupid girl," he'd said, dabbing the whining pup's cheek with a warm washcloth those years ago. "shouldn't fight all m'battles for me. 's not fair you get hurt in place of me when i can handle it a lot better than you," she'd given him a playful head nudge and licked his cheek.

simon's not a sentimental man, not with most things, but when maisie's brought up in conversation, like when johnny goes, "oi LT, how's that pup of yours doin'? been a while since she's been on base," simon's voice always softens to talk about her. he scratches behind her ears much gentler than he did when she was younger, and if she's having a bad day, he'll carry her upstairs to sleep at the foot of his bed. no one, not even johnny, mocks him for it. why would they mock simon for adoring something so purely?

maisie still always perks up when simon comes home, tail slow and thumping against the floor and ears perking at the sound of the lock clicking, and she walks over to where he's entering and yips happily at her best friend. he always kneels to her, drops what he's holding to pet her cheeks. "there ya are, lil' miss. always know when i'm home. still got y'wits about you, hm?"

maisie was simon's first girl.

you were simon's second. first, a cute girl at a pub, then the girl he was dating, then his girlfriend, fiance, and finally, best of all, his wife.

his beautiful, soft, clever, precious little wife. you're the only person alive who can make him nervous and flustered. he's been trying and failing for those horrible flips in his stomach to relax whenever he's around you. worse is the raging hard-on he'll get whenever you do the most menial, everyday tasks.

and your voice. the way he'd be in the house finishing up some work before he joins you for the night, when you'd stand by the doorway of the bedroom in a sheer, tiny robe and purr, "come to bed, baby, haven't seen you all day…" oh he's going to ruin you.

you're his everything. his home, safe place. he'd give up everything if it meant you'd never get hurt a day in your life. it kills him every time he has to leave you behind, when you stand on the porch of the pretty farmhouse you share, wrapped in one of his shirts with the sleeves swallowing up your hands and you look up at him with a forlorn expression that breaks his heart.

when he tells you through a letter that he'll be coming home soon, you wait in the kitchen with the windows open in one of the little dresses he bought for you with a feast prepared for him. the hem sways around your thighs as you pace the kitchen barefoot, glancing toward the gravel drive every few seconds.

maisie's paws patter gently across the hardwood as she follows you from counter to window to front door, tail wagging slowly like she knows he's coming. when the sound of tires crunching over gravel finally comes, you freeze. maisie perks up with a quiet huff and makes her way to the door, giving a single excited bark to tell you her best friend has arrived. you wipe your shaky hands on your skirt and rush onto the porch with excitement, just in time to see him climb out of the car.

simon, despite looking tired, is ecstatic to see you. there's a shiny glint in his eyes and a soft smile he reserves for you. he's broader from months in the field, tan and scruffed with deep shadows under his eyes. regardless, they light up when he sees you.

his shoulders drop in relaxation as he rushes toward you without pause, boots thudding on the earth, gaze locked on you. he scoops you into his arms so swiftly that you're lifted off your feet. you wrap your legs around him as he kisses your lips intently, then your cheeks and neck; he can't get enough of you. it's always like this, overwhelming at first because he needs to make sure you're real. he leans back just enough to take a look at you.

"look at you, lovie. been takin' care of yourself while i was gone, haven't you? look s'beautiful."

then, as if it physically hurts him to pull away, he finally releases you and crouches by maisie, who's been waiting for her turn with simon, wagging her tail with a slow, happy rhythm. he kisses her muzzle like always, then leans his forehead against hers, whispering, "missed y' too, old girl."

sometimes simon can't believe he's made you his wife. you, the kindest, most beautiful creature on the planet, is mrs riley. he's yours, every bit of him all belongs to you.

he adores you so much it's almost sickening. he wakes up before you and just stares, fingers brushing your cheek, neck, and soft hair, pupils dilated and heart thudding in his chest just from being near you. he has the physical reactions to you that he had when he first started dating you. in fact, they might've grown stronger.

maisie's his best friend, yes, but you're his whole world. but, there's one more girl.

one left, one small, soft girl nestled in his wife's tummy, tucked safe and sound inside you. you're pregnant with his daughter.

when he found out, he didn't speak right away, you'd been sick for a few days prior to taking the pregnancy test, and he'd thought you'd just had a cold, but the morning sickness and hormonal imbalance and missed period had been enough symptoms to get you to check. besides, he'd... been filling you up a lot more recently. you'd ran out of condoms and birth control kept making you sluggish and queasy, so you'd told him it was fine. told him you'd track your cycle, and that it wouldn't happen, not if he pulled out in time. but simon had been greedy.

simon's always fucking greedy. he can't get enough of you, your taste, scent, his cock nestled in you to the hilt, your soft gasps and breathy moans. simon would nod, swear he'd be careful and that he'd pull out, but when you're wrapped around him, skin to skin and he's so close and so deep, and murmur, "mmh! inside, simon please," with your big, shiny eyes, all his restraint flies out of the window and he'd fill you to the brim with his cum.

so it wasn't really a surprise, but when the test turned positive, and you'd shown him the faint pink line, he'd stared in silence, then took it from your shaking hands with a strange expression, thumb brushing the edge of the little piece of plastic like it was something holy. then he knelt by your tummy, hands cupping you, and asked, "you're sure?"

" 'm... 'm sure si,"

your daughter started showing as a little curve at first. simon noticed quickly. he noticed everything about you, especially now. how you got sleepier during the day, how you started getting cravings, how your hands kept wandering to your belly.

he can't keep his hands off you because he's so obsessed with the way your skin's glowed more from your pregnancy, how your hips and thighs and breasts plumped up, how your belly grew swollen with his child. "morning, little miss," he'd whisper to the bump, "you treat your mum nice, yeah?" you'd hum sleepily in response, threading your fingers through his hair.

maisie's noticed your state too. she's been extremely protective over you, curling up to your side in bed.

the first time the baby kicked, simon was sitting behind you on the couch, one hand on your stomach and he felt it, a tiny push under your skin, simon just blinked and then looked down at your belly with surprise. "she's sayin' hello," he murmured hoarsely, "little bugger knows her old man's home."

when you go into labor months later, it's late into the night. your water breaks after you've been in deep discomfort the last few weeks and aching to get this baby out of you. you knew it was tonight too. you and simon had been sitting awake tensely until now.

he sits up immediately, extremely alert, and scoops you up into his arms. he's terrified, truly, but is being strong for you as he rushes you to the front door while you whine and beg for him to hold you and not let go of your hand no matter what. "i know, wifey, i know, got you. you're safe."

maisie sensed it too. before he can put you in the truck, she scrambles to the door with the two of you. her tail lashes back and forth slowly, gaze locked onto you with her head tilted. she thinks you're in pain and wants to help simon protect you. simon nods to her, wanting to make sure she understands. "easy, girlie. you watch the house. i'll bring your mama back with the new little one, i promise."

at the hospital, simon praises you all throughout your labor, hand petting your hair softly. "y'doin' so good, baby. you've got her. you're almost there. just a bit more, yeah? that's it, that's my girl." even though he believes in you, hearing you in pain is making him genuinely distressed.

when you finally get your daughter out of you later, he stiffens and squeezes into your hand, staring at the wailing little girl being transferred into your arms. simon's eyes flood with tears and he just stares in disbelief at his daughter.

she's got the tiniest fingers, already curled into fists, and this soft little tuft of hair and lungs stronger than anything he's ever heard. simon leans over the two of you, cheek pressed to your head, hand shaking as he touches his baby's back. "look at her, lovie. look at her."

he sniffles softly, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hand and leaning closer to his child, who's slowly quieting down. "hi, sweet girl," he whispers, voice hitching as he strokes her hair. "I'm your dad. I'm your bloody dad."

when they go home, maisie is waiting at the door, tail wagging slow and anxious. she sniffs the bundle in your arms once simon lowers it close to her face. "gentle, mase," you remind her softly, letting the pup nose at your daughter's tiny sock covered feet.

"that's your sister," simon tells her softly. "you're gonna help us look after her, yeah?" you smile at simon and lean into his side, while simon's eyes flit between the three of you - at his old girl, still loyal and sweet, and his wife, the loveliest thing he's ever laid eyes on, and this soft little baby in his arms who already owns his whole heart. he feels so full. warm. safe, and at peace.

maisie gets to see two whole years of that baby grow.

two years of your daughter's tiny hands petting her head and grabbing her ears, of hearing giggles when she wagged her tail, or lazy sunday mornings of you and simon cuddled up with the baby between you, and her at your feet, watching quietly.

maisie's patient. she always has been, but something changed when the baby came. maisie understood her role in your and simon's life was changing. she was meant to stay a little longer in your lives to make sure everything was as it should be. long enough to be the baby's first friend.

"do-gee!" the little one would chirp, toddling after maisie on chubby legs, arms outstretched. maisie would just thump her tail and let the baby crawl all over her. simon has so many photos of them cuddling, in the backseat of the truck with your daughter beside her mid nap, of them playing, sharing toys, and more.

maisie showed the baby the farm grounds too, told the other animals to be gentle with the new tiny human and to keep watch over her like she once did. she didn't forget about spending time with simon, even if she was preoccupied with the baby a lot of the time too. she wanted to make sure her final days were with him.

even though the old girl's hips had stiffened, and the greys on her muzzle had spread to her chest, she still went with him every morning during rounds. across the fields, past the barn, through the fence line where the cows gathered. her gait is slower, more careful, but always determined.

until one morning. the sun was just coming up, you were still asleep, your (now) two year old asleep in your arms. he was up early like usual, wanting to go check the farm like usual on the drizzling morning after having his morning tea. he whistled by the door. "c'mon, mase. let's check the fences."

she didn't come. at first, simon thought maybe she was just slow to rise. but after several minutes with no response to her name and no sight of her anywhere near the porch or in the house, he grew worried. simon jogged out to the side field outside of the cow pasture where wildflowers grew, dewy from the rain.

and there she was, curled in a patch of daisies. her head rested softly on her front paws, eyes closed, like she was just asleep. but not breathing. maisie always let out little puffs of air and quiet snores when she slept.

simon couldn't move for a moment, frozen in place. deep down, he'd known that maisie's time was coming soon, but deep down, he hadn't accepted it. he thought she'd be with him forever.

he dropped to his knees in front of her. "...mase."

...

"mase?" simon touched her side, his hand shaking so hard it barely made contact, and there was nothing.

maisie, his girl, his first girl, was gone. in the flowers, the morning light, like she'd chosen that spot on purpose. she didn't want to make it hard for him, or you, or the little one. she went outside to die in peace.

simon pressed his forehead to her and sobbed.

he buried her right under the flowers. you were there, hugging simon quietly after he laid maisie to rest. your daughter didn't really understand, but held your hand and toddled up to the mound of soil curiously. after you told her maisie wasn't going to be around anymore, she said, "do-gee sleeping?"

simon nodded, throat too tight from the need to sob. he can't muster any words right now, because if he opens his mouth, he'll break down. so you take over. you pet your daughter's hair, pointing to the grave quietly. "mhm, right under there, baby. can't wake her, okay? she's gonna nap for a long time." your daughter nods, placing a daisy at the head of the mound and holding your hand as the three of you walk back to the house.

its hard for simon to break habits. he keeps reaching for maisie's ball and her stick with the intention of calling her to play outside, and reaching his hand out to the foot of the bed when he's half asleep so maisie can headbutt his palm. though he has his baby girl and his wife, a piece of him got laid to rest when maisie passed. a piece curled up forever in that field of flowers, resting after a job more than done.maisie held on just long enough, and when she knew they were safe, really safe, she let go. the quietest of goodbyes. simon will love her for the rest of his life.

[hurrraaid]

Willing stop drawing default ghost in dumb text tops? No. No I will not. .

.

[codnasties]

p!link collection 8 👻🧼🧢🚬🪦🗡️🤠🦌🐺🦿🥷🏻🇷🇺(🌽 links)

includes: ghost, price, gaz, soap, graves, konig, rudy, makarov, nikolai, alex, keegan & alejandro

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

ghost 👻

ghost tends to be really quiet in bed, except for one scenario: when he's getting fucked

blue collar!simon is like a rabid dog when he gets home after a whole day of getting slutty pics

with a cock like ghost's there is no hidding boners, only sneaky wanks in the bathroom

one taste of anal and ghost ended up becoming obsessed

ghost and soap share, but it always leads to the seargeant eating cum out off your cunt

have you seen those thick fingers ghost has? that's one hell of a craving right there

unable to pull a partner, ghost gets busy with a fleshlight

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

price 🚬

price plays around too much, til' the point he ends up making you squirt in a parking lot

price likes his drinks straight from the source aka as drinking your squirt

not much to say, just more price breeding kink

take a seat on price's face and hump your cock on his chest at the same time

getting older and being retired, price uses a fleshlight to release some tension

price loves laying back and enjoying a good ol' blowy from you

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

gaz 🧢

cock too big, gaz has to fuck you with whatever your poor pussy can fit

gaz is a loud fucker. one that doesn't care that he's in public, at that

suck on gaz's cock please. slobber all over it as you take his tip

sundress season has gaz bending you over every surface of the house

gaz may love filling you up, but he loves watching his cum leak out of you even more

gaz is the kind to slip it back in, even if he's already cumming, can't let it go to waste

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

soap 🧼

if soap is desperate enough, the jeans stay on as he gets a blowy

soap is not a picky eater, the same way he eats pussy, he eats ass

soap is an standing sex fan, something about it just gets him going

needyness has soap fucking a fleshlight and making the most off it

ghost and soap share, but it always leads to the seargeant eating cum out off your cunt

soap doesn't have an office, so he fucks you in his captain's until your pussy is all creamy

more of soap and his thing for feet

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

graves 🪦

the handcuffs graves has are not just for show, he makes good use of them

if someone likes sending bulge videos every time he gets a boner it's graves

graves likes his fleshlight transparent and well lubed up

graves turns into such a needy whore when he gets pegged

graves understands toys are not competition, but he's mean about it

for graves is all about deepth. specially about beeing balls deep inside of you

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

konig 🗡

konig's a big lad with big needs. and that also applies to his cock

just konig being a pervert and making himself a home-made fleshlight

konig squirming away as you overstimulate him to hell and back

making konig watch himself in the mirror as he shoots thick ropes all over it

just konig making a mess all over your ass, back and cunt. that's it

konig will beg to have your whole weight on his face as he eats you out

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

nikolai 🇷🇺

if someone loves himself a good girl, that's nikolai. specially when you are sucking his dick

hot take, but nikolai for sure has gotten his cock jerker while flying an helicopter

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

rudy 🦌

rudy has some pretty skillful fingers and he makes sure to use them on you

i love how soft rudy can be, even when he's balls deep inside of you

as an ass man, rudy will stop halfway to appreciate the beauty of the butt

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

alex 🦿

alex loves anal and you have never tried it, what else is there to say? ;)

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

alejandro 🤠

an injury prevents alejandro from jerking off, but he's got the best nurse

alejandro loves himself a bit of a bush, somewhere to burry his nose as he eats you out

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

makarov 🐺

makaraov's fav actifity is making you sit on his lap and fingering you

while makarov likes having control, he likes even more the way you ride him

makarov likes how pliant you are, always willing to get his cock feed into your mouth

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

keegan 🥷🏻

stand over keegan, feed him that pussy as he jerks off

[dollsghost]

cant stop thinking abt having simon's full weight pressing you down against the mattress, his chest molded to your back....

he could be stroking you nice and slow and deep, making sure you feel every thrust against your gspot or he could be plowing into you so hard and fast that you can do nothing else but grunt out little gasps for air... he could have a hand fisted in your hair, the palm of his other around your throat or his arms could be banded around your body, just holding you while he uses you like his own sex toy, a pocket pussy come to life just for him... he could have his lips pressed to your ear whispering filth that should never be uttered in public and makes you question your stance on feminism or he could be silent save for the grunts he lets out whenever you clench down on him as he forces a third orgasm...

[veeegaaas]

[ethe-realfantasy]

hey! i was wondering if you could do a fem reader x ghost where like he is super sleepy after a mission and reader just lets him fall asleep on top of her on the couch or something like that ?

hey sunshine!! (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃ I'm sorry it took so long... I was really busy last week (シ_ _)シ

i hope you enjoy it!! <3333

────୨ৎ─────୨ৎ─────୨ৎ────

The apartment door opens, followed by the sound of his boots hitting the floor. You look up from the couch, where you're curled under a throw blanket with a bowl of snacks on your lap and a show playing quietly on the TV. You smile at him instantly.

Simon stands in the doorway, his shoulders sagging, his hair slightly damp from the rain outside and his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He looks like he barely made it through the door in one piece.

“Hey,” you say softly, setting the bowl aside and pushing the blanket down.

He doesn't answer. He simply gives you a tiny nod, his mouth twitching like he wants to smile but is too damn tired. Then, wordlessly, he crosses the room, dropping his bag halfway there, and flops down right on top of you.

“Simon!" you squeak, laughing as his full weight lands on you, knocking the breath from your lungs in the softest, most chaotic way. “You’re crushing me," you say, wiggling underneath him.

He groans into your shoulder. “That's better,” he mutters to himself with his eyes closed.

You giggle, squirming a little under him. “I can’t breathe.”

He lets out a little chuckle against your skin, deep and warm and a little muffled, his eyes still shut. “'m comfortable.” But he shifts slightly, just enough, so you can breathe again. He still doesn't roll off, though.

You shake your head, laughing as you try to shift him without much luck. “You're so heavy,” you squeeze out.

But once you stop wiggling and accept your fate as a human mattress, you settle in and let your fingers trail up and down his back. He smells like rain and travel and something warm and familiar. His breathing already started to slow down, steady and deep, one arm hooked around your waist like he needs you to stay exactly where you are.

You smile to yourself as you lean down and press a gentle kiss to the side of his head. Then another. And another. You can't help it. He is warm and soft and... him.

“Simon,” you whisper with a grin, kissing his temple again. “You come in here and just steamroll me?”

He doesn't answer. His breathing simply gets slower.

Still smiling, you trace your fingers up the back of his neck, scratching lightly at his scalp. He exhales in a trance and you reply by running your hand down his back in slow circles.

“Simon?” you whisper quietly, lips brushing his hairline.

Still nothing. You lean back just a little to peek at his face. His eyes are shut, his mouth slightly parted. He's completely out.

"You actually fell asleep on me?" you whisper with adoration in your voice, giggling now, as if he could hear you.

His only response is a deep, quiet exhale against your neck. One of his arms is draped limply around your waist, the other tucked somewhere between the two of you, like he just… shut down the second he got close enough to you. Like he only let himself relax the moment he finally reached you.

You soften all over again. Your hand keeps moving in slow strokes along his back, fingers splaying gently like you're memorizing the shape of him. Every now and then, you lean down and kiss his head, slower this time, more tender. You let him sleep on top of you, unable to disrupt his peaceful slumber. Especially when you know it's the first time in months he finally lets himself relax.

[pippynsworld]

can't get enough of biker!ghost

[superhoeva]

simon riley claiming that you're doin' it wrong after he finds you fucking yourself on a dildo twice as small as him. you don't even know how long he's been watching but it doesn't matter. he's standing at the foot of your bed and slipping the toy out of you before yanking you closer by the ankles faster than you can blink.

your gasp is interrupted by the way he nearly rips the zipper of his jeans and flings out his cock–slapping it hard against the palm of his other hand while letting a messy glob of spit sink from his lips, right down to where you're clenching around nothing.

don' even need that shit anyways, simon mumbles, spreading the wet with his fat tip before nudging himself inside you.

he fucks you, sharp and annoyed... yet his hand still drags to the back on your neck to tug you for a messy kiss. s'dumb... wastin' a pretty hole like this on some fuckin' silicone.

simon kisses you again. tongue and teeth knocking into yours. and still stuffing you so full that you can feel him reaching all the way to your stomach.

flexing inside you, simon grunts with a frown. biting into the scar on his lip with a peek down to at how wide you stretch at the base of his dick.

ju... jus' wait for me–fuck–next time, yeah? got all the cock you need, pretty... right here.

inspired (partially) by no. 1 on this prompt list! | © 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[byfawn]

simon gives you your first bath since adopting you and quickly realizes that he might be a little in over his head.

simon had seen you naked before—back in that cold, sterile lab, when he first found you curled up in the corner of a cage, trembling and bare. you were just a frightened little thing then, all wide eyes and shaky breaths, your tail tucked wrapped around you to protect you from the cold.

but this? this was different.

you were his now, his sweet little kitten and he was supposed to be giving you a bath like a good owner would. just a bath. nothing more.

the water was warm, steam curling in the air as he guided you into the tub. you went willingly, your ears twitching at the new sensation, your tail flicking water droplets onto the floor. he swallowed hard, his throat tight as he reached for the soap.

"gotta get you clean, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice rough and strained. his hands were steady but his pulse wasn’t. and the neither was the growing erection in his pants.

he started with your shoulders, working the lather over your skin, careful, methodical. you leaned into his touch, purring softly, nuzzling against his wrist like you always did when you wanted affection. he gritted his teeth.

then his hands slid lower, over the curve of your ribs, down to your waist. the water shifted, suds slipping away, revealing more of you than he’d let himself look at before. his fingers visibly twitched as your nipples pebbled—a natural reaction to his ministrations.

but it was when he urged you to sit up on the edge of the tub, his palm skimming over your stomach, that he saw it—your cunt, pink and soft, just a delicate little slit between your thighs. his cock throbbed in his pants, a sharp, aching pulse. fuck, he had felt like a monster.

you just blinked up at him, innocent, clueless, your tail curling around his arm as you purred.

you’d already been through so much—the lab, the tests, the way they’d treated you like an experiment instead of something alive, something precious. he’d promised himself he’d be better. that he’d protect you, give you the gentle life you deserved.

and yet here he was, his fingers lingering too long on your skin, his gaze dropping to the softness between your thighs like some kind of predator. disgust coiled in his stomach, but it did nothing to dull the heat in his blood.

you just purred, leaning into his touch, completely unaware of the war raging inside him. your tail flicked water onto his sleeve, and he exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus on washing you, not memorizing the way your breasts looked under the soapy water, not imagining how you’d taste, how you’d whimper if he...

his grip tightened on the soap.

he clenched his jaw. no. you were innocent. you didn’t even understand what he was thinking, what he wanted. you just knew his hands were warm, his voice was soft, and that was enough for you.

"good girl," he murmured, voice rough. he dragged the washcloth over your cunt, careful, too careful, like if he pressed too hard he’d break you—or worse, give in.

you chirped at him, nuzzling into his palm, and his resolve nearly shattered.

"almost done, kitten," he growled, forcing himself to look away.

you didn’t understand. you just nuzzled into his hand again, trusting, sweet.

he was so, so fucked.

[simonscumdump]

Simon and his habit of fucking you to sleep.

(Hear me out)

It was honestly accidental the first time, he’d gotten back from a deployment and whilst he was desperate to feel you…to be close to you and re-familiarise himself with the heat of your cunt…

He was also tired. Cant blame the man…

So the first time it happened, it was an accident. The slow, steady rock of his hips whilst his built frame was completely covering you was honestly enough to have you both nod off. His thick cock nestled in your cunt until you’d both woken up that morning…

And then after that…it happened a little too often.

He’d come back, strip off his gear and join you in bed. Getting settled behind you as his arms would wrap around your waist. Tugging you back into him with a tired and low hum of affection.

He’d lift your leg, just enough to slip into your cunt…he’d let out this sigh, almost relieved once the hot wet walls of your cunt wrap around him.

“Fuck…missed you.”

A calloused hand would grip your hip, keeping you completely pressed back into him as he’d slowly roll his hips back and forth. Gentle in the movement.

It’s that slow rhythm that would end up lulling you both to sleep, his arms wrapped around you, head in the crook of your neck.

But he’d always make up for it in the mornings.

It was also how he’d wake you up, his cock sinking in and out of your cunt gently at first…but when you let out that familiar moan as you start to wake up…he’ll move a little rougher. Holding your leg up properly so he can reach that sweet spot like always.

“S’good f’me…fuck…”

Neither of you would leave the bed until he’s made you cum at least two or three times to make up for it. But no matter what he’d be cleaning you up with his tongue each time.