#SIMON AS A DAD I CANT

[evilgwrl]

It would be the sweetest sight to come home to Simon cradled up in your daughter’s tiny bed, his massive frame curled up against her as he attempts to fit next to her, a book open on the floor littered with toys.

Now you’re debating whether or not to let them sleep, or gently wake up the giant of a man who will no doubt complain about back ache tomorrow if you don’t.

On the field, Ghost is a killing machine, trained efficiently to take out anyone who opposes a threat. But at home, with you, with your family, Ghost doesn’t exist. Just Simon or Dadda.

[vampykween]

Second Chances - we'll be alright

summary: your entire life changed the day Poppy Riley came into it, and all these years later you were still immensely grateful for how everything worked out. a/n: please please forgive me i know i haven't written part three yet but i swear it will come eventually. anyway enjoy this little glimpse into the future of this series! i promise this doesn't spoil the original timeline (second chances was always going to be a HEA) also this is barely edited I'm sorry oops! wc: 2.1K second chances masterlist

You remember what it was like being a teenager; you remember not wanting to hear anything your parents had to say, unfortunately, it never occurred to you what it would be like on the other side.

Poppy had come home furious, over what you’re not even sure about. She storms straight past you ignoring your ‘hello’ and stomps aggressively up the stairs rounding it all off by slamming her door. Your husband trails into the arms full of the groceries he was sent out to get, huffing loudly while dumping the bags onto the kitchen island.

“What’s going with the two of you today?” you question your husband while putting away the food for the week. Simon takes a deep, long breath and releases it slowly before responding, “She’s pissed at me because I caught her fuckin’ neckin’ some dodgy lad when I went to pick her up,” You can see it clear as day your husband is pissed – Poppy is fifteen years old, but sometimes he treats her like she’s still just a little girl. Suddenly you hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet barreling into the kitchen – your youngest, Iris, is beelining straight for her father.

“Hi daddy!” your toddler makes grabby hands at Simon, and he scoops her up immediately and smothers her with kisses. All these years later, and still seeing Simon fall into the role of loving father so easily turns your heart to mush.

 “Maybe let me go talk to her? I remember what it was like being fifteen, no girl wants her dad to talk to her about dating and boys.” Your husband sighs and pulls Iris tighter against his chest but nods reluctantly.

You knock softly on your teenager’s bedroom door - you’re hoping you can smooth the situation over – as much as Simon is upset about seeing his little girl growing up, he’s suffering even more knowing she’s upset at him.

“Go away!”

You disregard Poppy’s request, probably your first mistake, because you couldn't possibly fathom the conversation that would ensue.

You stick your head through the gap in the door, slowly pushing it all the way open. Making your way over to sit at the end of the bed, Poppy turns over and rolls her eyes at you. Okay, so that’s how this was going to be.

“Poppy, love, I just want to talk to you, your dad told me what happened earlier,” you try a gentle approach, mostly because you’re not even sure what you should say; you’re not mad at her, you just want her to be able to talk to you about these kinds of things.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she mumbles, then adds on “ya know you’re not even my real mum, I don’t want to talk to you about this.”

If your heart wasn’t pounding so ferociously in your ears, you would’ve been sure it stopped completely. Tears begin to well up in your eyes, the walls seem to be closing in on you and so in the most composed manner you can manage you bolt out of her room and to the primary bedroom.

Simon is finishing putting away laundry when he sees you shoot straight through the door and dive under the covers, sobbing loudly.

“Love, hey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

You can’t seem to get a coherent thought out as you choke around sobs. Simon rubs your back soothingly until you’ve calmed down enough to speak.

“She hates me Simon, I- I don’t know what I did wrong, but she hates me!”

“Sweetheart I’m sure she doesn’t hate you, aren’t you always telling me that she's a teenager and that I shouldn’t take everything she says so personally,” Simon says hoping to ease your fears and heartache.

“Well, maybe I was wrong. Baby, she looked me in my eyes and said that ‘I’m not her real mom and that she doesn’t want to talk to me about things.”

The fingers running through your hair cease movement, and he looks at you like you’ve grown two heads.

“She said what?! You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me, she can’t just say that to you.” Simon is seething, absolutely boiling over with anger. He loves his firstborn immensely - she’s his entire world, but sometimes she drove him up the fucking wall. It’s moments like these that make him wish he could turn back the clock, and shrink her back down into his baby girl - one that doesn't brush him off and snap at her mother and father all the time. On the short walk to her bedroom, Simon does his best to quell the frustration he has with her after making you cry. He doesn't care how upset he is with her, he never has and never will spew that anger onto her, or any of his girls. 

He knocks softly on Poppy’s door, although it’s performative really because he twists the knob and enters anyway. The teenage girl is balled up in a heap on her bed, back facing him, and if the situation was different he’d be laughing at how adorable she looked. He pauses his steps momentarily, seeing if she’ll tell him off too. When he’s met with continued silence, he strides over and parks himself on the edge of her bed. Simon takes in the sight of his daughter’s bedroom; there’s makeup littering her vanity, homework strewn across her desk, band posters and polaroids of her friends tacked up on the walls, and her bed holds a mountain of stuffed animals she’s accumulated over the years. Something akin to guilt stirs in him, maybe he was a little too hard on her. It’s not like one kiss makes her any different than the girl he knows she is. Poppy breaks him from his reverie when she sits up, still bundled in her blanket with tears in her eyes, and turns towards him.

“Are ya gonna sit there and stare at me all day or what?” Okay, maybe she was a little different than he remembered. She’s unfortunately caught his bad mouth and short temper. He brushes off her little quip and dives right into what he wants to say in the first place. 

“Ya want to be mad at me go ahead, but what you said to mum? That was cruel Poppy.” he serves her with a stern look and she knows she’s really in for it this time; no amount of puppy eyes would get her out of this. Poppy fidgets with the skin of her fingers, sighing loudly as she contemplates how to respond. She knows what she said was harsh, and if she could take it back she would. 

Sometimes she looks back on her life and is lucky her dad found someone who loved him and her wholly, but then sometimes she’s angry because why couldn't it have just been them two forever? Her dad was a lot more forgiving about things when she was his only little girl and now she’s got to be a good example for her two younger sisters thanks to you. The teenager doesn't even realize she’s crying until Simon is reaching across the bed to pull her into his arms, wiping at her tears like he always did when she was little. 

“I- I just wish i could do normal teenage things without you getting upset at me,” she choked out between cries. Her father’s heart breaks at her referring to him as ‘daddy’ because he couldn't remember the last time she did that, and it splits even further when he realizes he’s letting his fear of her growing up hinder their relationship. “You let Lily and Iris get away with so much, cause they’re little and I get it, but-” Poppy inhales shakily knowing her next words would cut him like a knife “-when it was just you, me, and mum you let me get away with things too.” 

The older man’s heart feels decimated. Has he been so much harder on Poppy recently? He’s embarrassed to admit he couldn't even recall because he’s been so busy wrangling toddlers all day. As much as he wants to tell her he doesn't want her snogging wannabe bad boys at school, he knows apologizing is the better course of action. 

“Petal, I know I was hard on you today, I can admit that. Do i like the idea of you kissing and dating and all that, absolutely fuckin’ not, but im sure you’ll do it anyway, so ill get over it.” Simon can see his daughter’s eyes light up at his words. “Aye I'm not saying come home with a boyfriend tomorrow, im saying im sorry, and i'll try to let you grow up even if i hate it.” The last word in Simon’s apology comes out airy as Poppy wraps her arms around him and squeezes tightly. 

“Thank you dad. I promise I won't do anything  crazy, at least not yet,” she teases him cheekily. He gives her a pointed look of ‘don't push it’ and plants a kiss on the top of her head. 

“I hate to ruin the good mood we’ve got, but you still need to apologize to your mum. She’s really torn up over what you said to her.” He hates that he’s dampening the mood, but as much as he loves his daughter, he’s not going to let her disrespect you. Poppy sighs sadly, untangles herself from her blankets, and makes way for your bedroom. When she turns back to gauge her father’s reaction, he motions for her to go on. 

Your head is pounding after the long cry session you’ve just finished having. You feel foolish for letting Poppy’s words get to you, she’s only a teenager after all. But having her pierce you right in your most sensitive spot hurt like hell. No matter how many years have passed, and how many hurdles you’ve jumped, there were always days when you remembered that you weren't Poppy’s biological mom. None of that made your family any less real, you knew that, but hearing her remind you of that truth was like a punch to the gut. You’re startled by the sound of the bedroom door creaking open, and your breath catches at the sight of your daughter peeking her head in. 

“Can I  come in please,” she questions with a slightly pleading tone. Poppy wasn't sure what she’d do if you said no.  It would be fair, but despite her words, every girl still needs their mom, chosen or not. You nod your head and motion for her to join you on the bed. Raising your arm, she slides into your side, head on your shoulder just like she used to always do growing up. Your heart clenched wistfully at the thought. You couldn't stay mad at her even if you tried, no matter how things came to be, Poppy would always be your little girl. After a pregnant moment of silence, she finally speaks in the quiet room. 

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier, that wasn’t kind of me. You always have and will be my real mum, no matter what. You dont think I’m a bad person do you?” Your eyes are shining with tears as you look down at the teenager, how did you manage to raise such a wonderful fifteen-year-old? When you were fifteen you spent every waking moment walking on eggshells around your mother trying with all your might to not misstep in her minefield.  Fifteen year old you, laid awake and cried when you realized you were just like your mother and you were doomed to always bite the hands that fed you, that loved you. But here Poppy was, cuddled up in your bed, tear-stained face apologizing because she hurt you, and now you’re crying too because if only you were held like this by your mother growing up. 

“My little petal, of course, I don't think you’re a bad person. Even the kindest of people lash out at people when they’re hurt. There are going to be days when you probably can't even stand the sight of my face, but please know I will love you endlessly even then.” Poppy buries her face deeper into the crook of your neck and hugs you tightly, you can feel her tears staining your shirt, but you couldn't care less as yours fall freely down your face. She mumbles a soft “i love you” and you chuckle faintly and press a kiss to the crown of her head. There was never going to be a time when you didn't love Poppy Riley with everything in you, not when meeting that little girl all those years ago changed the course of your entire life for the better.

taglist: @darkravenqueen98 @jupiternighties @lunamoonbby @happy-mushrooms @yyiikes @liliumbosniacum @fluffymaxsworld @rockcollector3000

[whateverdraws1008]

*Roach, bleeding dying all over the place*

Ghost: FUCK- C'MON ROACH- STAY WITH ME!! WHAT DO I DO- WHAT DO I DO!??

Roach: ..t-tell me a joke. <- *trying to make things lighter.*

Ghost: YOU- WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT YOU MANIAC--!!??

Roach: i-

Ghost: dont answer just keEP YOUR BLOODY BREATH!!

*Roach, a complete mess with blood all over his mouth and nose.*

Roach: o-oh i bet its bloody-

Ghost: SHUT IT!!

[backfliips]

every time i play the guitar i get a little wistful because my dad taught me everything i know about the guitar and i miss him (he lives far away)

[gutsfics]

wait shit hss appreciation week starts TODAY?????? aw shit aw fuck Simon my beautiful boy im so sorry

[villainvillain]

fionna and cake having a really underwhelming ending (glob knows if we get a season 2) was NOT on my expectations list at all like genuinely i was ready to be emotionally devastated and screaming endlessly for the next week but.. hm,,..

[zoskas]

christ the last time i watched adventure time fully was when i was like 14. doing the rewatch now that fionna and cake is out is mental i forgot almost half of this

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-seven —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.2k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex!!! SEX. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

It is difficult to tell who lifts the mask. You think you start it, then he finishes it with a shove up to his nose.  

Your mouth claims his, ivy to stone. His lips part for your tongue as your arms loop around his shoulders. His fingers dig in your scalp, sharp enough to draw a hiss, while his other arm yanks you closer by the waist, heat searing against your bare skin. It's not a kiss—too unruly for that. His tongue grazes your chin; you taste the edge of his nose. The world narrows to the harsh sound of your breathing, the scrape of your teeth, a tangible truth:

You want him, too. 

He pulls back with one great heave of breath just after the tear on your lip is reopened. A strand of pink-tinted saliva connects you. His eyes search your face, hesitation flickering in his gaze. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I clearly just did.”

His jaw tightens. “I need words. Tell me you understand what you—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, voice trembling with a mix of frustration and need. “Don’t act like I can’t make my own decisions. Like I can’t handle you.” Rising on your toes, you bite his lip, hard enough to draw a matching drop of blood. “I’ve handled you before—Simon."

A shudder wrenches his shoulders. Your words rip a growl from his throat, snapping the last of his restraint. His kiss devours you, raw and unforgiving, until everything else fades to red. Not blood, but something else, something you’ve kept hidden for longer than you care to admit. It burns in your chest—the terrifying realization that you might break if you don’t have him here and now.

His grip on your hair shifts to your thigh, lifting you with ease. Tree bark bites into your spine. You trail clumsy kisses down his jaw to the hollow below his ear, ankles locking around his waist, dragging up his shirt. The metal buckle of his belt presses where you ache, the friction drawing a sharp gasp. Even through the layers, he feels impossibly thick.

He forces your neck to the side, mouth sucking down your throat to your collarbone with urgent deliberation, as if he wants to memorize every inch but realizes neither of you possess the patience for it. He licks, then bites, the pain making your hips angle in upward seeking. Your reaction pulls a smirk from him. His teeth and tongue glide lower, and he hikes your damp bra up to expose your breasts.

"Fucking hell." A guttural exhale before hand and mouth devours them.

Thought evaporates as your chest turns sheen with spit. You thrash against the tree, nipple caught between his teeth. He teases it with a graze, then sinks in. Heat punches the pit of your stomach with a ferocity that makes you cry out. You claw at the back of his mask.

"I need...I need—more."

He groans, low, staving the bite mark with his tongue. This time when he rolls the other nipple between teeth, it is in combination with two fingers slipping under your underwear. The muscles in your thigh jerk. A rough finger grinds circles into your clit, and another glides through the wet seam of you. It is impossible not to fight for more. Delirious with greed, you cant your hips down to slip his middle finger inside. 

He takes the hint and works a second finger into you. Your legs tighten around him in unending tremors that must make keeping his arm between your bodies uncomfortable, his wrist straining to reach you. Arousal leaks steadily onto his hand as his fingers pump faster. You turn less vocal now that you're close, vision failing you, and he tongues at the shell of your ear with a growl.

"I'm not going to fuck you until you cum."

"I'm—"

Strong fingertips curl into the sensitive pad within you, coaxing an orgasm much stronger than the one you gave yourself. It beats through your blood in hot bursts, robbing you of the ability to keep your head up. You lean onto his shoulder, feeling it flex as he fucks his fingers once, twice, then three more times before drawing them out. Through the haze, you hear the drag of his tongue over them and then a soft wet release.

"You will give me more of that."

A flush consumes your face. Your lips part to speak, but you can't—

"What happened to my mouthy girl?" he taunts in a murmur.

His tone snaps the world into focus. "She's here."

"I thought she could handle me."

You lift your head to narrow your gaze at his, despising the tick in his brow. "You are insufferable."

"Ah. There she is. I was worried I lost her."

The striking awareness that you are almost naked, while he is fully clothed head-to-toe, suddenly irritates you. You curl your fingers around the fabric bunched by his ear.

"Take this off. I've already seen you. It's pointless now."

"You'll have to take it off yourself."

You’re about to move when he pins your wrist to the tree, then the other. A silent challenge. You squirm, but it only drags the belt across your sensitive cunt, making you hiss. You've been here before—restrained by him. But this time, his weakness is clear, a heavy, undeniable pressure pressing against you.

After wetting your lips, you nudge your nose against his and kiss the taste of yourself from his mouth with slow, ribbing strokes of your tongue. The change in pace makes him sigh into you. You give a teasing swirl of your hips, grinding into him, staggering his breath. When he moves again, pressing for relief at the juncture of your hip and thigh, you still your movements, leaving him hanging.

A growl vibrates in his chest and he squeezes your wrists. On his next attempt, you swiftly unlock your ankle and jab your knee into his ribs.

He flinches, but doesn't loosen his grip, laughing softly. "A valiant attempt," he mutters.

"Shut up," you mumble, breath huffing out of you.

"Was that your entire plan?"

"I'm not fucking you until it's off, you know."

"Make more of an effort, then."

Fine.

Your teeth catch on your lip and you offer another shift of your hips. "You are needy for this, too, Simon. Don't act like I am the only one." Your voice comes out hoarse, almost foreign. You move your hips in a steady rhythm, your lips finding the tender skin just above his collarbone. His throat bobs, a quick, instinctive response. "I bet I could make you cum, just like this. You won't even need to be inside me."

It is an experiment, really, but the thundering of his heart confirms your claim. With your panties bunched to the side, your arousal glides over him, staining his jeans. He matches your movements with firm presses at the base of his clothed-cock; he would be fucking you if it weren't for the layers in the way. You taste the pulsing vein beneath your tongue, swirling and nibbling, a smoldering heat blossoming in your stomach once more.

"I touched myself thinking about you," you whisper into his skin, ego swelling when his breath stills, then rushes out from his nose. "My fingers didn't feel nearly as good as yours." You purposely moan, almost a whine and impossibly, he feels harder. Swelling towards release. You nose the underside of his jaw, feeling the temperature of his skin inch higher. "You're going to cum soon, aren't you? I can tell. I haven't even taken off any of your clothes yet and you're going to cum. How does it feel to be weak for me?"

His jowls flex from your words and his hips buck with a mindlessness that makes you smile. The heat between you is obliterating, almost enough to crumble your vengeance. But when he digs his nails into your wrists with a slight tremble, ashen lashes fluttering, you interrupt the moment before he can finish.

You bite the skin where his throat meets his jaw and kick his ribs again. His eyes snap open, his hold faltering. He stumbles back, and you grapple his shoulders, forcing him to the ground. You fall on top of him, knees bracketing his hips, fingers moving swiftly to tear off the mask. You exhale a breath over his nose, lips twitching at the corners.

"Gotcha."

For a few seconds, you merely stare at each other, deer to hunter.

Face to face, truly, for the first time.

His face, flushed red, is even more handsome like this—rugged and scarred, bared at your mercy beneath you. It makes your heart falter over a beat. His hands drag down the notches of your spine before fiercely gripping your hips, never breaking eye contact. Because you’re paying such close attention, you catch it—a sweeping glint in his gaze. Admiration, maybe. Or just lust.

You swallow thickly and give a tug to his shirt.

He rips it over his head.

You finish yanking the damp bra off.

Your underwear is next.

When you're both bare, exposed and raw, jeans bunched awkwardly at his ankles, the game ends. Neither of you are willing to play anymore. His fingers dig into your hips as you grip his cock, heavy and slick with the evidence of the edge he was pulled from. You drag the fat head of him through your folds, just once to make him shudder, before lining him up with your hole and sinking down.

Pain flares. Either because it has been years since you've been stretched like this, or because he is just that thick. You hiss through your teeth and pause halfway down, scratching over the hard plane of his chest in search of relief. You feel him deep already, uncomfortably so, and his touch softens over your skin despite the veins sticking out in his neck.

"Take it slow."

"I can handle it."

"It's alright if you can't," his voice softens over the gravel in it.

"I can."

Stubbornly, you take another centimeter, then another, before slamming all the way down, the full length of him breaking through the last layer of resistance until you are fully seated. The press of his fingers into your ass is as rough as the exhale that follows. You feel him twitch within you, his balls heavy and tight, but he allows you the time to adjust, slowly rocking your hips until the discomfort teeters toward pleasure.

He is so big that the tip of him reaches a crevice between your inner wall and cervix. When your pace quickens, the pressure of his pubic bone on your clit makes your body quake with one fierce tremor. You fail to keep yourself upright, the jolt of it bringing your face to his neck. Strong arms tighten around you, hands pressing firmly against your shoulder blades, holding you anchored to his chest as his hips rise to drive him even deeper. He is in you and around you. All at once. Every inch of grey rot living in you is replaced with damning hunger for him. You swirl and grind and bite his neck, breaking capillaries. 

"That's it, yeah." The raw grit in his voice makes your muscles clench around the base of him. "Take what you need." 

He grips your ass firmly, supporting you as his upward thrusts meet your flesh with echoing smacks. You feel the curls of hair at the base of him, soaked with your arousal, each time you slam back down. When his firm, neatly corded muscles begin to quiver, his movements begin to lose their precision. He is trying to hold back from the ledge you left him on. His hand tangles in your hair, yanking you back from his neck, and his teeth sink into the tender skin below your ear as a distraction. His breaths come hot and quick, cooling the sweat slicking your skin. 

You feel like a conglomerate of broken pieces about to be shattered, every carefully stitched seam straining, ready to snap. Your eyes roll back. Your toes flex and curl. You are so close—

Without warning, and all too soon, he lifts you off. 

"Fuck—"

His cock bobs between your bodies, liquid heat frothing over your stomach in pulses. His eyes are screwed shut, lips parted to let out a noisy rush of air, all of the hardened lines on his face unwoven in the wake of pleasure. You hover over him, blades of grass indented into your knees, watching with silent fascination despite the frustrated fizzle of your own approaching orgasm. When his eyes reopen, they are glazed and unfocused, yet somehow he had more wherewithal to remember pulling out than you did.

Then, he flips you over with a heaving push, cock still hard. You are neatly caged by the sprawl of his muscle, reminded that he easily could've overtaken you before if he wanted to.

"I can go again." It sounds as if he has to dig the words out with great effort, still breathless. 

You reach between your bodies to keep his slippery cock at bay near your thigh. "We can't. It wouldn't be safe after you just—just came."

His lashes flutter in resignation, a firm nod as he dips his head to your collarbones. He rests it there for a moment, likely ignoring the ache in his cock that vies for more attention, and you stare down at the flexing brawn of his back, at the firm swell of his ass. Then he kisses your sternum, over your heart, and sucks his way down the soft curve of your abdomen, gentle, chapped lips against faded bruises.  

When he reaches the raw flesh between your thighs, he lifts your legs and urges your feet on his back. His nose nudges your clit, inhaling deeply the scent of where you'd just been joined, and your breath hitches in anticipation. 

He kisses you here, a curious circle of his tongue around your clit that mimics his finger, before sliding through the slippery seam. When you fist his hair and dig your heels into his shoulders, his gentleness ceases. He closes his entire mouth on you, working furiously to reignite the heat from your spine, which arches off the ground in desperation, driving your puffy cunt harder against the pad of muscle. You grind your hips in combination with pulling on his hair, keeping his tongue right where you need it. It strokes your hole, pushing in and out.

"That's so good, Ghost. So good. I'm—"

You cum hard on his tongue, free hand fisting the grass. It is less of a precipice that you fall off of, and more a crashing wave, like the one you nearly drowned in, but this time you let it sweep you, searing white through the backs of your eyelids. He keeps his tongue there to catch the leakage with an obscenely wet sound you barely hear over the ringing in your ears. By the time it fades, you feel wrecked, spit out on the shore, your mind blank. The wave recedes. 

You hear a soft grunt and then his forehead drops on your sticky belly. The tremor in his shoulders indicates his own release, which he emptied in the grass.

You lay together like this for minutes, recovering your breath.

Fingers against his scalp.

Staring at the sky.

It’s as if you’re drifting through a dream, aware only of the heavy thrum of your heartbeat and the measured breathing of the person nestled between your legs.

Finally, awareness seeps in as the sound of fluttering birds and the quiet ripples over the creak. 

The hum of life returns around you. You'd almost forgotten where you were or how you got here. How long has it been? Your fingers slacken in his hair as you gaze around, the silent trees your only witness, and the sun beginning to dip toward the horizon. The understanding sinks in that you are both absent, and returning together at dark would—

The thought is tucked away when strong arms lift you up, scooping under the crook of your knees.

He is able to walk steadily even when you aren't certain you could.

He carries the mess of your body to the water. The peaceful warmth of it converges over you, highlighting the soreness that you were able to ignore in the throes of it all. Wordlessly, and with a thoughtful crease between his brow, he holds you up with one arm while scrubbing your stomach with the other, rinsing off his essence. It is not an uncomfortable silence, just a thick one, only broken by little drips of water as he cleans you with more intent than you did the first time.

You try to piece together everything in your mind, but the thoughts slip through your fingers like the water. You don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling—a stark contrast to the clarity you found in the heat of him only minutes ago. His body has always been the more decipherable part of him, but now even the stiffness in his shoulders feels like a cipher you can’t crack.

When he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to your damp hair, it doesn’t feel affectionate, exactly. It’s not distant, either—just tender in a way you’re not sure how to interpret. The gnawing questions fill your brain: When was the last time he did this with someone? How many more times will you do it together? Not just once, he said. But what does that mean?

Why do you feel hesitant to ask, even though you were just brindled with confidence while riding his cock?

You try to wipe his own stomach but he brushes your fingers away and does it himself, nodding his chin toward your clothes. "Get dressed. You'll go first."

"Huh?"

"They think I am scouting up ahead right now. I'll be back later."

"Oh," you say, not able to conjure a meaningful response.

He raises an eyebrow at you but offers nothing else except a gentle thumbing over hair that sticks to your cheek. You follow his directions, returning to the grassy bank while the cool air prickles your wet skin. You feel his heavy stare as he watches you towel off, trying to ignore the obvious marks on your hips, stomach, ass, and collarbones. They taunt you with a blush to your cheeks. Luckily, when you slip on the oversized shirt, the majority of them are concealed, your hair finishing the job of covering your neck.

You've no idea what hour it could be when you return, feigning nonchalance, but the setting sun means Ghost won't be out there much longer. In his absence, you feel colder than the temperature truly is. The deep ache that ebbs and flows with each step proves him right. There is no going back after this. No—you will still be able to feel him, like a phantom, even when the soreness between your legs fades. What you are meant to do about that fact is something you can sort through later when you have the state of mind for it. 

Will you ever have the state of mind for it?

You push the voice away and keep your gaze lowered as you approach Nereida, returning the borrowed soaps. The others are gathered around the fire—Kyle eating, Blue and Ari laughing about something, while Price hunches over the map, finalizing tomorrow’s route.

"Was it relaxing?" she asks.

"Hm?"

You blink, bringing your gaze to her, and only now realizing that it is still rather droopy and blurred, the look in her eyes barely in focus as she tilts her head. "Your bath," she clarifies.

"Oh. Mhm." You nod, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, it was just what I needed. I'm actually, um, rather tired now. I think I will sleep early."

She drags her eyes over you, causing your weight to shift, before she returns the smile. "Sounds like a good idea. Long day tomorrow. You should eat first, though."

"Right," you concede, tongue to cheek.

Ghost returns in the midst of you shoveling beans into your mouth, knees tucked to your chest in front of the flames, and his silence as usual. He reports to Price about the clear motorway, his voice clinical, but you catch the subtle roughness beneath it—something no one else would notice, the only detectable trace of what you shared. What you told Nereida wasn't a lie, you feel robbed of energy, and can hardly muster the strength to tie your dried hair in two braids before tucking yourself in a sleeping bag, staring dazedly at the oncoming stars. 

[sarahisspeaking06]

hi

im sorry i was gone for so long

im really sorry for making you all worry about me. i dont know how im doing like...im not okay. im so exhausted. that night i saw something that wont leave and no matter how hard i try not tohink about it it just keeps coming back and i dont know what to do anymore

that was one of the worst nights of my life. i had a panic attack alone in that basement and i couldnt call for my mom. i just wanted someone to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay and what i saw was a dumb joke and i would be okay. i cried alone for nights. i wanted to call my mom or even my dad if hes still alive. i just wanted someone to be there

i thought writing about what i saw would make it worse. i thought if i never went back into the basement or i never came back here id focus on something else and put all this behind me. it didnt work. if i wasnt thinking about the cartoon, i thought about simon. part of me wanted to search fro him online, but i was scared of what i would find. he hasnt been here for me or mom anyways so whats the point?

nothing worked. nothing stopped these thoughts.

but maybe i shouldnt deal with this alone

im not sure if this is even making sense. i understand if you dont want to talk to me anymore. this has been so hard and im scared of whats going on but i jujst needed some place to talk about things. i cant keep this to myself anymore

[goatgoesmbe]

Ik ramadan is over but i just wanna say sth… (this is not a request just tryna get this out of my mind)

Imagine ur fasting AND cooking (much to the boys’ chagrin, but they don’t know how to cook so, they’re sorry, love.) and you have to taste the food to get the salt right. So you call them over to have a bite.

John thinks he’s the luckiest man on earth to taste your food out of YOUR hands, will give you an accurate response.

Gaz lets out a delighted groan and compliments the cooking, gives you a painfully detailed response. Helps you around the kitchen.

Simon doesn’t talk much, gives brief responses (if you could call his grunts that) but does the dishes and sets up the table to help you

Johnny is just a damn mutt that’ll do anything you want. You have to tell him to sit and get up/off the table, to chew and swallow <3

OMG YES ToT) to all of these

John would do the dad stance as he supervised your cooking, and would ask for a taste whenever you added one single ingredient, just to make sure it would turn out good, because well.. he'd want you to break your fast with good food. and of course he would get you anything you wanted (he cant cook), but he also knew you enjoyed cooking food for yourself more so he would help you out because he's a good man 🙂‍↕️ (all he did was being the taste tester)

Gaz, would def the most helpful. even if he's not cooking, he's the kind of person who can tell what ingredients are needed just from tasting a bit of any food. So him being your assistant(?) and tester would be really helpful, complimenting you for eyeballing the ingredients measurement and getting it right, giving you detailed feedback and honest input. But it could also get.. a bit stressful? like you're being watched by a pro chef, getting you a bit nervous with his watchful eyes. He'd notice and smile at your pout, maybe he'd be a bit mean and actually act like a mean chef because he enjoyed your reaction, or maybe he'd be nice and comfort you. both good

Simon, XD. YES, he'd definitely stand there like a cryptid. saying nothing and just watching as you hummed and did a little dance while you were cooking. Turning to him with a pretty smile, you lifted a spoon to his face. And he lifted his mask to taste it, he would respond with a simple grunt, shrug, nod, shake of his head, and that's it. not even a single word because all he could think was how the apron looked good on you, and would be even better if you're wearing just that with nothing else

Johnny would be like a puppy. idk why but he'd be annoying as much as he was endearing. standing so close to you and followed you around- you can't even walk a step without him moving along. but you couldn't be mad of course, not with him looking so cute- the solution to this is to tell him to do something like setting the table or to get some ingredients from the pantry so he could give you some space. the thing is, it wouldn't take him more than a few seconds

[lubrumalis]

ghost headcanons! (realistic)

tw: nsfw, spoilers, dead dove do not eat

a lot of these are based off of my personal understanding of him

part 2 —> character analysis of ghost

general:

didn’t go back to manchester after his family died, too many foul memories—a lot of friends will probably know him as a murderer (comic reference, ghost was accused of killing his family in the newspaper)

has a fit body. a lot of people like to hc him as big and bulky, i think otherwise! its actually a huge disadvantage to be bulky in size as a soldier (logistics while fighting yk). most SAS soldiers are trained for endurance and fitness, i think he has a moreso lean body

hes not cold and ruthless, wouldn’t say hes a big softie either.

VERYYYY punctual. always on time

will not abuse or rape anyone. this guys been through atrocities, he would never do it to someone else

won’t hire a prostitute, ever.

honestly, hes just another dude in the military. he loves dad jokes and bourbon😭

ghost doesn’t think hes mean or tries to be, he simply is intimidating because of his size and way of talking

he likes watching soccer in his free time

gets internally offended if someone thinks hes from london (anywhere but Manchester)

very dark humoured. tell him any dark joke and he wouldn’t care

loves tea

listens to older british bands, like the smiths

cannot understand modern slang at all. what does ‘iykyk’ and ‘rizzler’ mean???

texts like a typical millennial. uses ‘😂’ and ‘😜’ unironically. types with proper grammar and spelling with punctuation too, maybe an occasional LOL

also unironically likes posts about trust issues and being a sigma male. he doesn’t actually think hes one, he just relates to those quotes that are like: “being alone is better than with fakes” 😭😭😭😭

ghost probably hates other men more than misandrists 😕 i think its bc hes always fighting other men and dealing with the cruel things theyve done, so ghost subconsciously feels more on guard with men he doesnt know

has insomnia

doesn’t cry. ghost doesn’t remember the last time he cried.

isn’t rich rich, but has a ton of savings. he doesn’t have a family or spend a lot. so the money piles up.

relationship hcs:

first off, i dont think he’d realistically get into one anyway LMAO

s/o would have to the chasing, i dont think ghost is the kind to actively pursue someone

he has charisma, doesn’t feel like using it

hes very against the idea at first—his family got murdered because he was in the military, you think hes gonna let it happen again?

probably will not like someone working with him as a soldier

i think itd go two ways: a) you are a civilian who aggressively pursues the poor guy and he gives in, b) you work as a military nurse and gradually get to know him, c) you are a longtime close friend of his before he was in the military

i cant see him being fwb with anyone, only one night stands

hes not a toxic partner or super lovey dovey

ghost doesn’t entertain multiple women at once

itd most likely end up in a breakup where he fears for your safety:(((

BUT lets ignore that

tbh, i think he would probably be with someone very empathetic and kind to others. he doesn’t like people overly energetic, too soft, or someone that annoys him

persons gotta be independent and good with long distance

simon doesn’t care about age gaps, but probably wants someone at least in their late twenties

had a hard time opening up, eventually told you everything once he trusts you

another reason why i think he wants someone empathetic is because he has severe trust issues😃😃

last thing he’d care about is looks for long term relationships

the type of guy to disappear for 6 months and reappear to be like “remember im your husband???”🫡

doesn’t let you tell your friends about him—No hes not being uncommitted or toxic, but hes simply being cautious after what happened to his family

you can’t show anyone photos of him, his name, his occupation, NOTHHINGGG

so you fake a name for your bf who your friends think you’re lying about

definitely does not let you post on social media about him either.

installs security in your home, teaches you self defense, and gives you weapons. this guy can be paranoid

will never hit you or lay a hand on you

ghost genuinely thinks you saved him—his life was bleak and empty before you came in. subconsciously thinks of you as a savior

he buys you gifts, does chores for you, he really likes you :(

ghost actively tries to make his voice sound softer and friendlier when hes talking to you

doesnt understand playing mind games, things like the silent treatment or “im ok” when ur not ok thing. just tell him how you feel

doesn’t tell his team about your existence. you and his job are always going to be separate.

avoids talking about what he does in the military. ghost has killed and injured many and he doesn’t want you to see that side of him.

scary dog privileges for SURE

[bigassmoonchild]

night team here

can we request ghost with a daughter that is the mini verison of him like soap thinks shes gonna be sweet and nice and she bullies him worse than her father does

bonus points

price already knew ghosts daughter was a complete savage but soap annoyed him that morning and price decided the consequences of his actions was being brutally roasted

(daughter is gonna be leaning teens just bc i said so. also, thank you so much for the request!! love the night team 🫶🫶)

soap wasn’t supposed to know. this wasn’t something anyone was supposed to know, but simon was decently okay with price knowing. price knew to keep secrets, hell, price had his own.

but simon accidentally let it slip.

‘i’ve gotta get home, early morning,’ he’d told the 141 when they wanted to go out for drinks after a successful mission. they gave him odd looks (one of them was a knowing one, but he’d ignore price being offered to come watch a recital).

soap didn’t let it go, no he didn’t. ‘got the missus waiting back there?’ and simon was exhausted, it was a long mission and all he wanted was to sleep in his own house.

‘kids got a recital,’ he’d muttered and had walked away. what he didn’t expect was to find a huge amount of messages from soap the next morning. most consisted of the same things.

kid??

who’d have a child with you??

what’s the mother look like?

what’s the kids name?

son or daughter?

maybe i wanted to come watch too

i’m technically their uncle

and simon had to leave, collected you from your grandmother and took you to the recital. you were beautiful, the pride and joy of his life. someone he’d never thought he’d ever had, someone he never knew he could love more than anything.

it took months for simon to wear down enough ti even allow any of them to see a picture of you, let alone know your name.

‘beauty, that one is. you sure she came from you?’ simon shoved soap off the chair for that comment. soap continued to rave about being an ‘uncle’ and as much as simon didn’t want it, he had to tell you.

you looked at him weird when he admitted he’d spoken about you to the 141. you knew, generally, what he did but you didn’t get details.

‘ok and?’ you’d asked. ‘what’re they gonna do? it’s not like they’re gonna do something behind your back, not like price has said anything,’ and he worried. maybe he coddled you a little, but you were his girl.

and you’d agreed to meeting them, but told simon you didn’t want to know when. ‘i’ll be thinking about it too much,’ you told him.

simon finally dropped a few names for you, late one night when he’d finally relaxed with some whiskey (he didn’t mention the watered down taste).

‘what kinda name is soap? he drop it or something?’

it took some time before simon had grown any sort of comfortable letting anyone but price be around you. it wasn’t common that you stayed by price when simon was out on a mission, but the occasion happened when it was possibly a fatal one.

it was early morning when you’d sent a text to simon, he hadn’t meant to go to the compound at all that day but had made a lunch. it was a picture of the lunch, still sitting in the fridge with the caption ‘you forget something?’

and he’d groaned, mentioning to price in passing that he forgot his lunch at home. soap and gaz had been there, and a little smile came from soap.

‘just have the lass bring it ‘round, i’m sure she’s dying to meet her uncles,’ price gave a little grimace. ‘what? she’s probably a sweetheart, i cant imagine a girl like her would turn out like ghost,’

you’d relented to bring it around, especially after price messaged you about soap not being able to shut up about meeting you.

he’s pressing me for information. -john

if you bring the food, i’ll give your dad an extra day of leave. -john

please, i’m about to make him run. -john

you always laughed a little when he signed off after each text. it was his own little thing, and you secretly enjoyed having a fatherly figure text you more than three words.

when you got to the compound, you found price waiting outside for you and you waggled the bag of food at him. he let you in, guiding you through the halls to where simon and the others were.

‘try not to forget it, next time,’ you told simon. he gave you a small grunt, one that sounded like his ‘thank you’.

soap walked up to you, giving you a cheeky grin and swinging his arm around your shoulder. ‘how’s it been, lass?’ he asked you and you shook his arm off.

‘you know it’s not the 80’s anymore, right?’ he blinked at you. snorting softly with an eye roll, you sat down in the nearest chair. ‘mullets back in style, you know. might fit you better,’ you commented.

soap was left with his mouth open, gesturing faintly to you then to simon. ‘she can’t be like you,’ he nearly hissed.

‘don’t act so surprised, she said damn near the same thing to me,’ price lamented, thinking back on his first time meeting you.

‘you from the 1800’s? christ, i haven’t seen anyone willingly have that beard,’ you’d told him oh so long ago.

you looked around, leaning towards him. ‘who else am i supposed to be like? i’m pretty sure he’s my father,’ you hissed back.

all soap could do was blink. a little ghost? no, he couldn’t believe it. he saw simon give you a little fist bump, almost saw a few dollars being passed between you two.

simon pulled his mask off to eat and you looked at him closely. ‘you get a haircut?’ you asked, squinting your eyes suspiciously.

‘nope,’ he responded. ‘got ‘em all cut,’ and you snorted a short laugh. soap couldn’t do much but watch the interaction, realization slowly settling in.

‘that’s why you tell those shitty jokes?’ he announced. ‘you’re actually a father telling dad jokes,’

you gave a little smile and he could see the admiration in your eyes. god, you were just like your father but the confidence came off of you so easily.

‘yknow he came to my parents job show and tell once,’ you told everyone and simon stared at you. almost daring you to finish. ‘he didn’t take the mask off and had to leave, he scared too many of the kids,’

you spoke so fondly of him.

‘but he’s a prick, so he just left,’ simon lightly kicked your leg and you made a big show of it. you might be his kid, but you had your own personality in there.

and simon would be dead before anyone took that from you.

[mossygirl333]

Could I request Simon to be relaxing with his female s/o please?

AN: ofc you can!!! We love gentle relaxed Simon <3 (it's kinda short but hopefully it's what you wanted!)

Simon Riley x F!chubby!reader

Tw/Cw: some minor mentions of war and depression, mentions of parenting, slight reference to sex but nothing graphic <3

Simon has always been a stressed man. A pressured man. His childhood. His job. It was one thing after the other, shitty situations with barely any good to catch his breath.

A sinking black pit of oil that was always on the cusp of drowning him. Swallowing up his cries for help, it wasn't like anyone was there to help him.

Until...you?

He never thought he deserved someone like you. Oh perfect and delicate you. The complete opposite of everything he's known in his 34 years old life.

If he had to describe you with one word, it'd be soft. Soft. It's the word to encompass all of you, every single part of you. To your thick hips and squeezable fat, round eyes and plump lips. Dulcet voice and steady hands.

And oh how he begged to go home.

-

His weary feet finally crossed the threshold of your shared home. The smell of food filled his nose, thick and warm, saliva filling his mouth.

"Baby?" You squeak, rushing out of the kitchen and lighting up like a light bulb. Your hands squeezed into fists, fighting the urge to touch him. You knew how difficult it was to become Simon after being Ghost for so long. "Si? Baby?"

His board shoulders drop, stepping heavily through the hallway. He was trailing dirt into the carpet but he could vacuum it up later, he just needed his sweetheart.

You tug him down to your level, burying your face into his neck as his shaky hands come up to grasp at your thick waist. Melting into you, surrounded by your warmth.

"It's me...It's Simon. Your Simon." He could feel your sigh of relief, kissing his temple. Your lip gloss sticky against his skin. "Dinner smells good."

"I made some Yorkshire pudding-" He cuts you off with a long slow kiss, breathing heavily against you. Eyes heavy and closed, palms kneading into you.

"such a good cook." he mumbles against your lips. "Soaps been dying to try your food, I swear it gets on my nerves sometimes." He deepens it, cradling your plump rosy cheeks in his hands, feeling you smile.

"M'glad...You should probably take a shower. Change."

He grumbles when you pull away. A slight smirk tugging at his lips when you peck a kiss against his nose. "Shower with me?"

"Pervert."

"That I am."

-

He sighs, leading back into your hands. Working out the muscles in his back. "Feels s'good."

"God You're tight back here." You look up at his smirk and groan. "Shut your mouth Riley. Don't even say it."

"Wasn't gonna say anything." He murmurs, snickering under his breath. "Just a lot of things are tight when it comes to both our bodies."

You huff, smacking the back of his head. Earning a hardy belly laugh, a full toothy smile slathered on his face. Eyes shining and mischievous, he looks younger when he's laughing. More at peace. Less of that brooding vicious soldier that has more blood on his hands than the average man.

But he would never show you that. Never. You didn't deserve to know that side of him. He turns to you, feeling your fingers scrub into his blonde messy hair. Sudsing up his scalp. "I cant stand you." Your voice is playful, feeling his hands cup your ass.

"Then sit." He smiles again, a groan leaving your mouth as you press it against his again.

"Save the dad jokes for when you're a dad please." You murmur, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck.

"You'd be a good mama." He mumbles, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead.

"I know, I'm just so amazing."

"You are."

[rookiesbookies]

Pregnant brat reader here with a sfw req this time with the same cod men from before bc that was scrumptious

The men are in the nursery, cradling their newborn to soothe them. Reader walks behind them, kissing their cheek (or wherever she can reach) and she whispers “I just fell in love with you all over again.”

Can you tell I have severe baby fever atm

Oh its ok I get baby fever too. If I wasn’t still too young and trying to get a degree first, oh boy. I also get it every time I look at Neil Ellice’s face (Soap’s va/reference).

Lowkey you’re making me fall more in love with these boys, hope this is all you hoped for my loving anon.

To all my readers and anons- Keep requesting this account is my hobby LMAO

Price

Price is already softly crying but now you’ve made this man want to sob. He puts the baby down since it’s late, poor thing basically just got cleared to go home.

He kneels by the crib, finger still in the baby’s grasp as it sleeps and Price is just done for. He’s doing everything possible not to wake this baby. He’s so grateful he got this chance, and he’s not going to waste it.

Now Price is going to need soothing because his heart can’t take this moment. His hand is over his mouth to help him choke down sobs. Just you and him and now the kid he always dreamed of? He’s going to be the best dad and there’s nothing that can stop him.

Soap

It’s crazy how forgetting to put on a condom once can change your whole life.

He immediately plants a kiss back on your head, telling you to go get rest. He’s going to spend the first months of this baby’s life sleeping in the room with it. The faintest cry or struggle has him up. He’s already got it all planned.

Never going to make this life feel like an accident, no this child is an accomplishment of good sex and a wonderful choice to keep it. Maybe it wasn’t an accident after all, maybe it was meant to be.

He mumbles all kinds of thanks to the universe. He’s already named Simon and the rest of the 141 the godfathers, he couldn’t stop making mafia jokes. But now he has no jokes or witty comments, just love for his wife and his baby.

Ghost

Simon is scared shitless.

He lost his last family, he can’t lose this one too. He’s already updated the house’s security. But maybe he should upgrade it more. There’s so much more he can do, he can feel his heart rate rising.

He mumbled endless promises of safety. You have to remind him the live in the moment, that those are all things that he can do tomorrow.

Thats when he starts to get emotional. You can see it in how he squints before he pulled off his baklava.

This is one of two days that’s proven Simon Riley still exists somewhere in Ghost. This proves that Simon Riley didn’t die. This proves what Price told you when you married him, that Ghost was a fortress built to protect Simon.

Gaz

He’s been crying since the baby was born. It’s not sobs but to him this child is the ultimate testimony of your love. Of your marriage even. He still doesn’t believe it. His world now revolves around this baby.

He still doesn’t believe its his child. Sure it looks like him but would an angel like you truly grace him with this? After all the terrible things he’s done and seen in the midst of battle?

He plants a kiss right back, running his thumb over the cheek of the baby. He knows he has to put it to bed but can't he hold his kid a little longer?

He may just stay here, just for one night. Just with his kid. He has so many stories to tell. He has to introduce the baby to his team and his family.

He knows he has to wait, but he cant help it.

Konig

He still doesn’t believe it. His anxiety tells him it’s a trap set by the enemy, that he couldn’t be loved, that a woman wouldn’t want to have his offspring.

But that all melts away when he turns to see you. He’s holding a baby he was surprised your body could push out, he knows this child is his without a doubt because of its sheer size and weight.

He places fluttering kisses all over your face.

He mentions keeping the baby in your shared room, just so he can keep an eye on it he swears. Oh he promises it won’t disturb you he swears.

It wasn’t even an option to tell him no, he was already carrying the baby in on arm with a secure hold and the crib in another. He hasn’t taken his eyes off your baby for even a second and getting him to sleep will be another struggle.

Krueger

Sebastian isn’t crying, you’re crying. What do you mean there’s tears coming down his face? No, that's sweat, it’s really warm.

He never needed you to tell him you loved him at the start, but when you started to he realized his heart wasn’t made of stone after all.

Now he’s holding this little creature thats half you and half him and he’s just breaking down.

This is a second chance at life for him and he swears he’s going to do better than he started off with.

In your eyes, this murderer looks like an angel with the light seeping softly through the windows against him as he holds your sweet baby.

For the first time in a long time, he prays. He prays to not mess up and for protection for his family. Its soft, under his breath and you would barely hear it, but he prays.

Keegan

When the baby was born the whole team of ghosts showed up. It was a moment of pride.

He turns to kiss your lips right back as he walks over to the rocking chair. Oh he could get the baby a little mask and armor. Could be a mini ghost.

The team fell straight in love but none could love this baby more than Keegan.

And how he looks at you? Its like you hung the stars… which you did help him do, there’s lots of stars hanging from the nursery ceiling, but you gave him a baby. He would trade the sun for his little family, unafraid of turning nocturnal if it meant keeping this moment.

He mumbled about this meaning worth all the fighting. Promises to always come home falling from his mouth so easily.

Edit: im dropping this incase you havent seen it tol

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

[anonymouss4uthor]

ghost is your hot neighbor you've been waiting for...

once againnn if anyone knows how to make one of those cute banners of the pictures before the post, please let me know how to do that i cant figure it out!

cw; suggestive smut, age gap

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Since you were 13 years old, you have had a very very hot neighbor named Simon Riley.

You immediately had a huge crush on him, which your father blamed on puberty. However... this felt more than just hormones.

When you first talked to Simon at 13 years old, he was 30. You would pretend to be "hot" because your puberty fogged mind full heartedly believed he would make an exception for you.

Looking back now, that was weird as hell for you but, it's natural.

It was now your eighteenth birthday, the morning before school you run over to Simons house and knock excitedly. He answers the door, rubbing his eyes. He's shirtless with grey sweatpants on that leaves nothing to your imagination.

"Hey there birthday girl" He grumbles.

You smile big.

"I'm 18 now!" You exclaim.

"Indeed you are, princess." He huffs a laugh.

You grab his hands. He gets surprised, his eyes widen. He quickly pulls away and backs up. "What are you doing?" He asks.

"I was hoping we could-"

"Let me stop you right there. I've known you since you were 13, Y/N. Even if I said yes do you know how bad that would look?! Also, I'm 35 years old, darlin. I am 17 years older than you." He says firmly, trying to pierce it into your head.

"What does age matter? Im legal." You frown.

"Y/N. You're still in school which you should be leaving for right about now. Plus, you were 17 just yesterday." Simon huffs.

"But I'm the birthday girlll" You try to persuade him which he declines.

You go through your school day, bummed out. You tell your friends what happened and they agree with him, the age difference is pretty insane.

You don't care. How could you? Simon has been the man of your dreams for 5 years now. He's the eyes you fantasize about, his lips, his hands, him.

After school, you get dressed for the party you're throwing at your house with just a few close friends and family, you invited Simon and surprisingly he came. You tug him somewhere private.

"I'm sorry about this morning I just- I'm in love with you." You whisper with pleading eyes.

"Y/N..." he sighs softly. "This feels wrong." He murmurs.

"But its not! It's legal and- I wont tell anybody!" You beg.

He declines but, you can feel his resolve breaking. You give it up for today though.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Months pass and it's now summer time and you graduated school. You're playing around in your sprinklers in your tinee tiny bikini set shamelessly in your front yard.

You look to Simons lawn to see him washing his car, staring at you- at your body. He never has before, obviously. This is different, you're an adult now and you sure as hell look good as one.

You teasingly confront him from your yard, hollering over. "Creep!" you laugh. He aims his house at you, you squeal and he laughs.

The two of you play in the water together and you end up on the ground on top of him, grass sticking to your bare skin, your bikini leaving nothing to hide.

He blushes and you kiss him. He immediately sinks into it, grabbing your waist gently along with your jaw.

"Your dad will kill me." He murmurs, pulling away. "My parents aren't home." you quickly say.

You rush him inside, taking him to your bedroom. You take off your wet bikini.

"Fuck.. Y/N.." He whines pathetically, you love it.

He strips and hovers on top of you. You quickly tell him that you're a virgin and he pauses the kisses on your neck. He buries his nose into you.

"Forgotten what one feels like~" He coos. "Are you sure you want me to be your first?" He whispers. You nod.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Throughout the encounter, he was extremely gentle and careful and very attentive. You loved every second.

You two are now cuddling as he rubs your back.

"That wasn't that bad." You murmur, nuzzling into him.

"What do you mean?" He laughs.

"I heard my first time was supposed to feel like I'm getting ripped apart- It did feel uncomfortable at first but, never that bad." You murmur.

"That's because of the foreplay sweetheart." He chuckles. "Oh that makes sense..." You murmur.

He chuckles warmly.

He's finally yours...

[kittykattropicanna]

Okay new Simon Riley AU but i need everyone to stick TF with me here

Retired!Reddit!Simon anyone????? NO BC HEAR ME OUT I PROMISE

Imagine Retired!Simon. his served for decades, in that time he meets reader, gets married, had kids, ect, ect, ect.

After he retires, his completely lost and out of his element. he cant work anymore due to his chronic back pain from year of service and integrating back into society permanently turns out is a lot harder then he originally anticipated.

he starts getting really, really depressed. Days start blending into each other and his three sons start to notice their dads is doing it really tough.

SOOOO they decided to make a reddit account for him. they make him join a bunch on military sub-reddits, maybe askreddit and things alike just so he can have something to do that isn't watching the football all day

he actually turns our to really, really like it. he can post all about this crazy military carrier, maybe even a little about this childhood (which he feels comfortable with because its all anonymous) and maybe even shares a little about his wife (reader) and three boys.

i can imagine after a while he starts gaining A LOT of popularity because holy shit his stories are so interesting and his lived such a crazy and inspiring life.

it becomes his way to connect with people that aren't just his wife and kids and he starts getting so much support from other people it really starts to boost his mood again.

i also imagine people start asking for dating advice and stuff from him because his always boasting about reader on his reddit. he kinda becomes an internet dad in some way 😭😭😭😭 like people genuinely trust him with their LIVES and i'm imaging some of his response are so fucking funny 😭😭😭😭😭

Maybe take it a step further and his sons create a youtube channel for him that he can make videos about this interests such as guns, car repairs, motorbikes, ect and the internet EATS THAT UP AS WELL bc absolutely massive hot ex SAS DILF that is obsessed with his wife and kids wearing a skin tight black tshirt and a balaclava while talking about this interests 😭😭 everyone loves him sm

like imagine his boys showing him tiktok edits of him and poor Si is so confused bc why is he watching himself get thirst trapped over on some strange app he had never heard of before 😭😭😭😭😭😭 his like 50 leave him ALONEEEEE

if this goes forward i plan to write a big chuck of it in a reddit sort of format almost like you were scrolling through the app and seeing him post. Readers would be Si's wife, so even though you would be reading the text in the third person, every time Si would mention his wife, he would be referring to you if that makes sense???????

idk please tell me if this is a little to niche 😭😭😭😭😭 am i cooked or a creative genius???? ill let you decided