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godihatethiswebsite · 5 months ago

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Everything's Perfect

✽ Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!reader

You find yourself learning a painful lesson in futility when a possessive romance becomes too stifling

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

This small bit of madness was partially inspired by this post from @shotmrmiller. Thank you for your constant barrage of depraved juicy thoughts that feed us mere mortals!

Trigger warnings: stalking, unhealthy relationships, minor smut, pet play?

You’d planned it perfectly.

A couple months' careful preparation finally come to fruition as you shoved the last of your precious belongings in your oversized purse and headed towards the front door, ignoring the pang in your heart and the tears building behind bloodshot eyes as you cast your gaze one final time over the place you’d called home before departing the space forever.

You never thought you'd see the day you'd walk out on Simon Riley - simultaneously the best thing that ever happened to you and the unfortunate reason for your abrupt upheaval. The man you would have surrendered your entire being to…

…until the avid eagerness with which he wrapped your pliant form around his meaty fingers became far more predatory than it was enthralling.

At first you’d loved that about him; his borderline obsession granted you the freedom to be as clingy as you liked without overwhelming or smothering his own flames of passion. He let you express your need for him in ways that would’ve sent lesser men running for the hills. There was no judgement for the amount of affection you practically drowned him with - whether that be the hours long phone calls or back to back text messages. How you always felt the compulsory need to be physically attached even when the two of you were merely existing separately in each other’s presence.

How you craved the nights laying cock drunk tangled in soaked bed sheets, far too shattered and dumb from overlapping orgasms to do anything but take what he gave you, whimpering like a broken toy as his wide hips battered your abused and messy quim with still no end in sight. Even overstimulated and far past the point of exhaustion, you couldn’t slake the insatiable voracity to be pumped full over and over again.

You’d ignored his own flags too, viewing them in a positive light instead of the much more sinister undertones they held. How quickly he’d moved all your belongings into his flat. The possessive grip he held on you in the presence of others. The need to know where you were at all times and showing up unannounced on the rare instances you’d forgotten to text him.

He had you apologizing for it bent over the kitchen table when you got home that night, manicured nails adding to the already bountiful collection of claw marks scratched into the polished wood.

To you, all those things were just the little ways he showed how much he truly cared.

You would’ve kept on ignoring it if not for the worried looks your close friends gave you each time you showed up to a weekly get together covered in fresh marks and bruises from being well loved. It grew frustrating having to submit to their scrutinizing over and over again. Quite honestly it had you rethinking your affiliation with them over their refusal to just drop it already.

No, he hadn’t really choked you last night. ‘But think what would happen if he did. He might not know his own strength!’

Let me ask Simon if it’s ok for me to come that weekend. ‘You shouldn’t need his permission to live your own life!’

That was just a happy coincidence that he noticed Sarah’s car out front and decided to pop in the other day. ‘How can you not see he’s stalking you?!’

It was easier to disregard their warnings than to heed them. They didn’t get Simon like you did, hadn’t spent enough time in his orbit to understand the intimate connection that tethered you to his very existence. With him there was no pretend at moderation for normalcy’s sake. Just the unimpeded loyalty that went beyond the acceptable standards of polite society.

That was just us… wasn’t it?

For as much as you protested otherwise, slowly but surely your friends’ words chipped away at your head, speaking into a subconsciousness that had been long shoved to the back in favor of romance and happily ever afters. Situations were analyzed from every angle for a hint of foul play. Spoken words were picked apart letter by letter for ulterior meanings. His once soothing touch now resulted in goosebumps that had nothing to do with the dampness of your gusset.

You couldn’t deny the validity of some of their claims, the growing unease at the way he treated you. The curiousness of how he hinted to you about events that transpired that morning you hadn’t yet brought up. You hadn’t wanted to discover if that glint peeking out from behind the leaves of your fern on the top shelf of your bookcase was merely a trick of the light.

It was getting harder and harder to unblur the lines between devotion and obsession.

Friendly gatherings that used to be a time for unwinding and giggling over mimosas turned into laying out intricate battleplans for how best to escape him safely, keeping in mind his uncanny abilities as a soldier and the connections that came with it.

It would have to be done while he was deployed, when he was stuck out in the field with no way to follow. Cash only, no debit. A new phone number. Renting out a secluded place under a fake name. The girls would put a duffle bag together for you that they would keep locked away in one of their closets. Most of your stuff would have to be left behind, only grabbing and smuggling out whatever you could easily carry in your purse. Your friends would all pitch in to provide the rest.

That’s how you found yourself standing in the threshold of the home you once enjoyed together, precious memories ghosting through rooms pulling at emotions you weren’t allowed to feel anymore.

All that had to be in the past. Your future wasn’t his anymore.

After half a year of sharing your life with a man you had one day hoped you’d share a lifetime with, you sent him one last text of remorse for the unforeseen situation, wished him the best and begged for forgiveness with the closing line ‘don’t come looking’.

It killed you to lock the door behind you and walk away from it - from him - pathetically leaving your key under the mat and getting in the taxi parked out front which would take you to the first of many destinations.

You hadn’t been involved in the planning aspect of this part, the girls taking care of all arrangements to keep anything from potentially popping up in your browsing history. They didn’t know what types of programs he had access to so high up in the military - the kinds of connections he’d made that would give him full access to every millimeter of your life.

Were your electronics being hacked and monitored for suspicious activity? Was there a hidden tracking program running in the background on your phone? Cameras in your rooms invading your privacy?

There was an extreme amount of paranoia surrounding this whole endeavor. One false step and they could just be leading you right back into his awaiting and dangerous arms.

Part of you wasn’t entirely sure if that was such a bad thing. Even now, sitting on a train bound for the middle of nowhere, you didn’t really want to leave him.

It was a complex war between your head and your heart. For all his faults, Simon never made you feel inferior or worthless, a common complaint you had about past relationships filled with less than ideal treatment. He’d been supportive of your hobbies and dreams, not belittling of them. He didn’t blink at your weird quirks or have unexpected violent outbursts whenever you interrupted his private time. He took you out on dates and narrowed his eyes when you’d tried to bring your wallet with, taking exception to the notion of you paying before you explained you’d never not had to.

(‘just need a little fuckin’ to sort that habit right outta you’, he’d claimed afterwards with your knees pushed back to your ears and his girth pounding away at your insides)

But your friends said this was for the better. They had your best interests at heart, supporting you in your efforts to get as far away from London as you could to start anew, someplace far out in the open countryside where you had no family or connections to link back to you.

Two switched train lines, a crowded bus, and another cab ride later, you were finally holed up with your scarce belongings in a room half the size of your old apartment with three other roommates you didn’t know. It hadn’t taken long to unpack all your belongings, counting the money stashed away in a hidden envelope to see how much you had to get by with until you found yourself a proper job out here.

But hunting for that would start tomorrow. Tonight, you just wanted to sleep off the exhaustion after a full day’s worth of travel.

You ignored the overwhelming sense of loneliness curled up on a thin creaky mattress under a scratchy worn quilt, checking your new phone at the end of the night to read the various well wishes and best of luck’s from your friends, texting the group chat to let them know you’d made it safe and sound and would update them tomorrow morning. Just as you went to turn your phone off for the night, you noticed an unread message from an unknown number waiting in your inbox - odd, considering the girls had been the ones who bought it for you and put in all their contact info ahead of time. They should’ve been the only ones with access to this number.

‘Must just be spam’, you rationalized to yourself, moving your thumb to swipe it into trash… but hesitating. You didn’t know why you felt the need to click on it instead, a gnawing dread in your gut speaking against the denial in your brain.

You opened it.

The world came to a halt, stomach roiling with nausea as you whimpered in alarm, the hand holding your phone trembling as you read it over and over again, committing the words to memory. You shoved the phone under your pillow as if putting it out of sight would solve all your problems, yanking the covers up over your head and squeezing your eyes shut tight.

Sleep didn't come easy to you that night or any of the ones following - not as you were continuously haunted by the lingering shadow of the impossible message left for you by your now ex boyfriend.

‘I’ll see you in a month.’

What you thought was perfect at first glance was in fact dappled and moth ridden with substantial holes. What's more, you knew he knew it too.

The following month was spent in a state of constant terror, insecurity laced through your nervous system like a shot of fentanyl in your veins. Even from so far a distance Simon toyed with your fragile mind. Wanted you to fester in unknown anticipation, a stillness in the air that felt more like the deep breath before the plunge, the prelude to an eventual inevitability heralded by those six little words.

It invaded every aspect of your daily routine. Too paranoid of the foreboding message, you tried to leave your new abode as infrequently as possible, burning through your savings on first month's rent and utilities, the small percentage that went towards paying for groceries. Incorrectly assuming you’d have acquired new employment by now to cover your remaining expenses, you closed out the tabs for the job websites with a huff of anguished frustration, rough fingers combing through frazzled hair and faltering in the act of actually searching.

If you succeeded in landing a job then you'd have to subject yourself to a series of background checks, anonymity tossed out the window the moment you were added to an identifiable government database ripe for the picking. With that startling realization, everything you and the girls spent weeks trying your best to account for suddenly unravelled into a jumbled disaster of good intentions, second guessing your decisions made like a paltry amateur playing chess against a grandmaster.

Did you really think you could build a new identity in such a short amount of time, hiding in plain sight in a world under constant surveillance without the aid of black market assistance? Sooner or later you’d find yourself in a situation where you’d be forced to interact with society in a way that would put you on the radar and then what would you do? Hell, you couldn't avoid using a bank account or making online purchases forever, not in an age where technology was woven into the very fabric of our lives and required for just about everything.

You hadn't even made friends with the people you shared the modest sized dwellings with - so at odds with your naturally extroverted personality - for fear of showing up on someone’s social media page and making it even easier to be located. It drove you to isolationism, standing on the sidelines as you watched helplessly from behind an invisible wall as you slowly transformed into an anxiety ridden shell of the carefree spirit you'd been once upon a time.

As the days dragged onward, you grew more and more skittish, crossing off days on the calendar as if they were X's on a prison cell.

There had been no more messages, an ominous sign in and of itself. You knew Simon, knew what he could become - what he became after he walked in the door still dressed to kill from weeks spent bathing in gore, the remnants of decay wrapping around the edges and bleeding through the stark shell of his mask. He never turned that creature on you, but you could see it sometimes when he thought he'd tucked it away on a carefully controlled leash. Waiting for the next satisfying hunt.

That's what you were now. Prey. A fun little game for him to sink his teeth into, blissfully unaware of the impending danger until bloodied fangs shredded flesh and feasted away at your squishy entrails.

You’d wrongly assumed you were the type of clever rabbit to be tracked through thick mud and dense underbrush, something squirrelly and quick-witted who could easily outsmart the overestimating wolf’s salivating maw…

When in reality, you’d only ever been the kind of quarry he could just simply waltz out back and drag from her comfy caged-in bunny burrow of false security.

You didn't fight him when he showed up a month later as promised, bag already packed and a letter sitting on the kitchen island for your roommates explaining the sudden departure, taking up nervous vigilance on the front porch steps leading to the house like an obedient dog waiting for its master. You didn’t try to make a last ditch effort to escape as the familiar SUV turned the corner of your street to where he knew you’d been hiding all along.

Simon didn’t say anything as he pulled up to the curb and stepped out of the imposing black vehicle, the very picture of casual arrogance as he walked around the car and strolled up the pavement as if his name was written on the deed. Immediately shooting to your feet and slinging your duffle over your shoulder, you met him halfway down the drive so as not to upset him further, the unrelenting weight of his gravity drawing you back into his marrow and shackling you to his heart.

You shouldn't have felt instant relief to be once again shadowed in his towering presence; gone misty eyed when for the first time in weeks you'd craned your neck up to gaze upon those pooling brown irises leering down at you with a stone eyed look of condescension. The scarred hand on your cheek felt mocking, the soft cooing at your pitiful whimpers and quivering lower lip sending you back into the welcoming headspace that - despite the warning bells going off inside your mind - had missed the serenity that came with his unbridled toxic love.

One could only guess at the harsh punishments he'd enact for this, the further restrictions he'd place on your freedom, the biting sting of his belt tanning your backside with mottled discoloration.

But he was here now. Things would be alright again. He'd retake the mantle of caring for your person and make things easy for your simple addled brain.

Just a dumb little bunny who realized a little too late that she’d never actually left the wolf's den in the first place.

The warm tantalizing scent of savory Italian cuisine wafted out through the doorway that led to the kitchen beyond, mouthwatering and succulent as it floated to where you sat curled up on the couch, absentmindedly itching at the still inflamed skin at the nape of your neck. Simon would have to put more lotion on the site later after dinner, not wanting to reopen the recently healed over scab.

“Tracker botherin’ you?” he asked as he rounded the corner from the kitchen into the living room with two plates in hand, perking up at his presence and smiling as he placed one in front of you on the coffee table. The Stanley Cup Playoffs were tonight and he was allowing you to watch it with him after a string of good behavior. Even went out and bought you your favorite team’s jersey for the occasion.

You eagerly dug into the homemade pasta dish, moaning at the taste of cheesy alfredo on your tongue and speaking through a mouthful of buttery garlic bread hidden behind your palm. “A little. Can I keep the collar off, just for tonight?”

He hummed in consideration as he took up his spot on the couch next to you, tugging you to his side possessively and brushing your hair out of the way to examine the irritated flesh. He’d neglected to put your collar back on after your shower earlier, a little treat for the game tonight. “Keep bein’ good f’me and we’ll see.”

You beamed up at him, giving him a kiss on the cheek once you’d swallowed your food. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy wearing the item in question - you quite liked the one he picked out for you after bringing you back home a few weeks prior, the way it sparkled in the light and the meaning of ‘his’ ingrained in every stitch. It would just be easier to get to sleep without the soft lining on the inside rubbing up against and chaffing the still healing skin.

But Simon knew best. If the collar came back on then you would wear it happily without a squeak of complaint.

After all, everything was perfect now that you were back where you belonged.

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