tectinic

[blingblong55]

Sex is on fire- Simon "Ghost" Riley NSFW

Kinktober Day 14

Based on a request: I recently saw my husband in the yard working and fuck did he look so sexy. So now I can't help but imagine Ghost as my husband, working in the yard and there's a spontaneous fuck. He's hot and so is this idea ---- F!Reader, MDNI, 18+, smut, P-in-V, oral!sex, unprotected!sex, husband!ghost, wife!reader, exhibition? ----

A/N: we won't talk about the first time I posted this, got it? great, thanks <3

The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the overgrown garden, highlighting the faded stones of the path winding through it. He looks at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Hot, huh? Well, I aim to please," he says with a playful wink, trying to match your lighthearted tone.

He spots the sledgehammer leaning against the shed and picks it up, testing its weight in his hands. Then, with a growl of effort, he swings it at the nearest stone, cracking it neatly in half. Simon grunts with satisfaction, sweat already beading on his brow as he continues down the path, methodically demolishing each stone. His muscles flex with each swing, rippling beneath his shirt.

He pauses after a few minutes, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "This is actually... kind of fun," he admits with a grin. "Cathartic, like you said. Feels good to just let loose and destroy something." He looks at you, his eyes brighter than they were earlier. "Thanks for this. For knowing exactly what I needed, even when I didn't."

He steps closer, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before returning to the path, ready to continue his destructive work. You bite your lip as you keep your eyes on him, “Mm, fucking sexy… wow,” you smile and lean back, god, does he look so sexy. “You keep going until you’ve had enough, handsome face.”

Simon pauses mid-swing, glancing over at you with a raised eyebrow. A slow, heated grin spreads across his face at your words.

"Oh? Is that so?" he asks, his voice dropping an octave as he sets the sledgehammer aside and stalks towards you."Watching me work up a sweat gets you all hot and bothered, does it?"

He reaches you and leans close, his breath ghosting over your ear. "Maybe I should take a break and give you something else to bite those pretty lips of yours," he murmurs, nipping lightly at your earlobe. His hands come to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the heat of his skin through his clothes, the hard planes of his body.

"Or maybe," he continues, his voice a low rumble. "You want to join me? Help me work off some steam?" He rocks his hips against yours, letting you feel his growing arousal.

"I could put that tongue of yours to good use," he suggests with a wicked grin. "Keep me company while I finish tearing up this path." He pulls back just enough to look down at you, his eyes dark with desire. "What do you say, beautiful? Want to get your hands dirty with me?"

“I’m not picking up a sledgehammer, but I’ll happily get my mouth dirty." you wink. Simon's eyes darken with lust at your suggestive words. He grins wolfishly, his hands tightening on your hips.

"Mmm, now that's an offer I can't refuse," he purrs, his voice low and rough with desire. "Get on your knees for me, baby. Let's see how well you can use that pretty mouth of yours."

He guides you down to the ground, his strong hands supporting your back. Once you're kneeling before him, he steps back and starts to unbuckle his belt, his movements slow and deliberate.

"Remember, no biting unless I tell you to," he teases, his eyes locked with yours as he unzips his pants. "Unless you want to earn yourself a punishment later."

He tugs his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, his hard cock springing free. It juts out from his body, thick and throbbing, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. "Fuck, look at you," he groans, wrapping a hand around himself and giving a slow stroke. "On your knees for me, so eager to please. Such a good girl." He steps closer, his cock bobbing mere inches from your face. "Open wide, baby. Show me what that mouth can do."

“Fuck, you see… this is why I enjoy watching you,” you say before taking his cock into your mouth. You take his hand and place it on the back of your head. You look up and begin to bob your head, your eyes rolling back a bit, gagging but enjoying the thickness of his size.

Simon groans deeply as you take him into your mouth, his head falling back in pleasure. His hand comes to rest gently on the back of your head, holding you in place as you work. "Fuck, Y/N," he grunts, his hips rocking slightly to meet your bobbing motions. "Just like that, baby. Take it deep."

His cock pulses against your tongue, the taste of him filling your mouth. He's thick and hard, stretching your lips obscenely around his girth. You gag slightly as you force yourself down further, taking him into your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes but you don't pull away, determined to please him.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained with arousal. "Choke on it. Fuck, you look so good with your lips wrapped around me." He tightens his grip on your hair, guiding your movements. You relax your throat, letting him fuck your face, using your mouth for his pleasure. "Gonna... fuck... I'm gonna cum," he warns, his thrusts becoming erratic."Swallow it all, baby. Every fucking drop."

With a final, guttural moan, he releases, flooding your mouth with his hot seed. You swallow reflexively, milking him for all he's worth. "Fuck yes," he gasps, riding out the waves of his orgasm. "Such a good girl, taking it so well."

Finally, he pulls away, letting you catch your breath. You sit back on your heels, looking up at him with a satisfied smile, his cum glistening on your lips. Simon smirks down at you, his eyes hooded with satisfaction. He tucks himself back into his pants and zips up, then reaches down to pull you to your feet.

"Mmm, you're insatiable today," he chuckles, brushing a thumb over your cum-slicked lips. "Not that I'm complaining. I love seeing you like this - so hungry for me." He leans in and captures your mouth in a deep, filthy kiss, licking the taste of himself from your tongue. You moan into the kiss, your body pressing eagerly against his.

"Fuck, I need to finish this path," he pants when he finally breaks away. "But first, I think I need a little more motivation." His hands slide down to cup your ass, squeezing roughly.

"How about you strip down and bend over one of these garden benches for me?" he suggests, his eyes glinting with wicked promise. "Let me fuck you right here in the yard, where anyone could see what a dirty slut you are for your husband." He punctuates his words with a sharp smack to your rear, making you yelp.

"What do you say, baby? Want me to split you open on my cock while you watch me work? I bet you'd love that, wouldn't you?" You nod eagerly, "Oh... fuck yes, I want that, I want that so bad," you say with need. What more can a wife say? No? Her husband looks so fucking sexy when he does manual labour and asks to fuck her in their backyard and she is meant to say no? Fuck that shit.

Simon grins wickedly at your eager response. He gives your ass another hard smack before stepping back.

"Strip," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "And bend over that bench. I want to see that pretty pussy on display for me."

You waste no time obeying. Hastily shedding your clothes, you position yourself over the garden bench, your legs spread wide. The cool wood against your bare skin makes you shiver with anticipation.

Simon takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, his eyes roaming over your exposed body appreciatively. "Fuck, look at you," he groans, palming himself through his pants. "So perfect, so ready for me. I'm gonna ruin you, Y/N. Gonna fuck you so hard you forget your name."

He moves behind you, running his hands over your curves possessively. Then, without warning, he drives his cock into you with one hard thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

"Yes!" he hisses, gripping your hips tightly. "Take it, baby. Take every fucking inch." He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you relentlessly. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echo through the yard, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

"That's it, fucking take it," he growls, one hand coming up to fist in your hair, pulling your head back. "You love this, don't you? Love being used like a cheap whore by your husband." He angles his hips, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "Gonna fill this cunt up, pump you full of my cum. Everyone's gonna know who you belong to after this."

You moan, your back arches, “Oh… fuck… ah… ngh~” It's too fucking much but it is so fucking good.

Simon pounds into you harder, spurred on by your desperate moans. His fingers dig into your hips, leaving bruises in their wake. "That's it, baby," he pants, his voice strained with impending release. "Cum for me. Cum on my cock like the dirty little slut you are." He reaches around to rub your clit in rough circles, sending you careening over the edge. Your pussy clenches around him, milking his cock as you come undone.

"Fuck, Y/N!" he roars, slamming into you one last time before stilling, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his seed. "Take it, fucking take it all." He collapses against your back, both of you panting heavily in the aftermath. After a moment, he pulls out, watching with satisfaction as his cum drips down your thighs. "Look at the mess I made," he chuckles, swiping some on his fingers and bringing it to your lips. "Clean up your mess, baby. Taste what I gave you."

As you lick his fingers clean, he tucks himself away and zips up. Then he turns back to the broken path, picking up the sledgehammer once more. "Why don't you go inside and get cleaned up?" he suggests his voice already back to its usual gruff tone. "I'll finish up here and join you in a bit. Maybe we can go for round two in the shower, hm?"

He winks at you over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the debris, swinging the hammer with renewed vigour, his earlier tension seemingly melted away.

Tags:

@liyanahelena @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @frizzseaberries @frazie99 @idklols @katybaby00 @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @Macnches2 @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @pinkblossomsworld @lovelyvqer @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @born4biriyani @mychemichalimbalance @marshiely @iruzias @sleepyycat @noodlezz-bedo @trinthealternate @azkza @VampyTheGoth

[euno11a]

it is proven that majority of women can’t orgasm from intercourse alone. So imagine reader who can’t make herself cum, no matter how she touches her swollen little bud.

it’s becoming more annoying as you keep trying, different speeds, pressures, and angles, but nothing seems to work for you! It’s gotten to the point where you’ve quite frankly given up on even touching yourself. You’ve tried for so long, yet always get nothing.

so imagine telling Simon when he asks you, oh so kindly when on deployment, to touch yourself with him to make you both feel good. The silence over the phone when you say you can’t.

“What?”

“I just can’t. I’ve tried, but it just doesn’t work for me.”

“‘Ave ya-?”

“I’ve done everything, Simon! I can’t, okay?”

it was clear that this was something that you weren’t comfortable with talking about. It made you upset that you didn’t “function correctly” like other women. So the night Simon came home, he greeted you with a soft kiss. There wasn’t any harsh underlying emotion, just soft and sweet love. His large and calloused hands would cup your cheeks and look at your eyes, watching the slight confusion slip into your gaze.

now laying against his sturdier chest, looking at yourself in the mirror with him behind you, you knew what was happening. He gently pulled down your sleeping pants, taking his time to let his fingertips brush against every inch of your thighs, all the way down to your ankles. And soon enough, off came your panties too. He started by admiring the slight glistening of your slick right by your entrance, using his fingers to gently dip into the fluid that he loved. Dragging his fingers upwards, he brought his fingertips to the side of your clit, letting your slick be the lube for his fingers.

Simon looked at you through the mirror, keeping eye contact as his fingers pressed onto your clit. The gasp that left your lips was sudden, almost reaching down to grab his wrist, but stopping when he gave you a stern warning look. Everything felt different - his touch felt electrifying, while yours felt like watching paint dry. Why was it so different? Your eyes fluttered shut, head resting on his shoulder when he started speeding up his small circular motion. Your thighs spread a little more, shuddering when you felt a build up in your lower tummy. That burn you never felt unless you used a toy, the burn you got before you were clouded with euphoria; it was coming. You let out small squeaks and whimpers as your hips lifted and you came undone. Usually that’s when you’d stop, let your body just relax, but Simon kept a firm hand across your torso, using his leg to keep yours pinned down so he could still rub you till complete satisfaction.

once his movements slowed and he was panting along with you slightly, he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, looking at your eyes through the mirror again.

“I don’t care what time of day it is, if ye need t’cum, y’tell me and I’ll help, love. Alrigh’?”

you mustered a small nod, droopy eyes falling to the wet and sticky mess between your thighs, and the lovely hands that helped you along the way.

[skyrigel]

Simon who just can't say no to you.

It has been like this from the moment his eyes met yours, a very terrible Monday morning if he hadn't met you but now that you remembered, it's the most beautiful day of both of your lives.

“Is that seat taken ?” Simon looked up at the small morning roused and still sleep laden voice, you were as knackered as you sounded, probably runnin’ on black coffee and cuppa noodles.

“Yeah.” He wasn't even aware how quickly he said it, “Yes, ofcourse miss.”

He scooted his big thighs together, trying to make as much space as possible for you and as if some divine thought struck him, he looked up — cheeks tinting with red.

“Would ya’ like window ?”

“No, But thankyou for asking.” You answered, sitting next to him and making sure to leave some space because those legs were thick and definitely his big cock needed some room.

Fuck, look away —

“Ghost...” Another man climbed inside bus, his eyes trained on you and your partner who's apparently Ghost ?!?!

“Wot ?” He said roughly, his shoulders pressed against yours

“Nothin’ old man.” The other man smirked and sat next to a Grandma who knitted half a sweater.

“Your friend?” You asked.

“ A little...Simon.” He said, “Simon Riley.”

“Oh.” You smiled, feeling blush creep up your neck and cheeks.“I like Ghost better.” you would've booed if you weren't feeling so tingly and nervy.

“You would like Simon more.”

“I would like that.” You couldn't believe you were flirting on a Monday morning.

One month later

“Ghost...” John horribly snorted, sprawling on couch as Simon paid him no attention.

“Wot ?” He asked, giving you his pinky as you painted the last letter ‘Y’ over hot pink nail polish, completing your H-E-L-L-O K-I-T-T-Y nail art, every letter on each nail.

“Nothin’ old man.” John smirked as you clicked your tongue, beaming up at Simon.

“Done !” You blew air and flashed a grin as Simon brought his hand up to examine your work.

“Done Luvie.” He smiled, bumping your nose with ‘I’ on his nail.

And you also liked Simon better.

Grim Reaper! Simon

Masterlist

[dixonsgirl93]

You take out your little tin of Vaseline, taking a small amount on your finger and bringing it to your lips. You feel Simon Riley’s large presence walk up to you. He leans one hand against the wall. He’s standing so close you could almost see his pupils expand a little when you looked up into them.

Your heart racing, you hold his gaze and rub your finger over your lips. Dip into the tin, back onto your lips. You rub your lips together.

“Can I have some?” Ghost’s gruff voice rumbles from beneath his mask.

“You want lip balm?” You ask, somewhat incredulous. He didn’t seem like the type.

He merely nods, never talking his eyes off yours.

“Okay.” You say, the word sounding more like a question. He lifts his mask just above his mouth. You go to hand over the tin. His hand comes out but instead of taking the tin, they find your chin, gently gripping you and pulling you closer. His lips land on yours, firm but a lot gentler than you were expecting.

He pulls back, rubbing his lips together. You blush furiously.

“Thanks, love.” He mumbles, pulling his mask back down. He walks away then as if nothing just happened.

[stray-cat-with-internet-access]

Simon jerking off to an old video of yours

He scolded you when you decided to keep the video saved, gave you the cyber security talk and stuff, but he secretly copied it in an SD for his burner phone.

Now that he is miles away from you, surrounded by dirt and sweaty men in the mist of deployment, your video is the only thing that brings him joy.

Laying on the tiny bed, the little screen of his phone is the only light in his room. One of his legs is planted on the floor, making leverage to buck his hips in to his hand, currently wrapping around his leaky cock.

His eyes are focused in the phone, panting softly at the pleasure swirling in his gut, happy trail sticky with his need. The thought that he fucked you so good you decided to even recorded the whole thing for posterity make his pace quicken, finally milking his orgasm at the point of overstimulation, all body covered in sweat and his belly in cum.

Now don't get him wrong, he still is very serious about cyber security, is just that he is better at managing it than you, love.

Sorry if I had mistakes! English is not my first language and Im an insomniac Dividers are from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more Image edited by me Comments and reblogs are always appreciated ♡

[secretlovezz]

Casual intimacy with Simon "Ghost" Riley.

He loves to shower with you.

Hopping into a steamy shower together and washing each other's skin clean after you both get home from a tiring day at work. The feeling of you scrubbing shampoo through his freshly cut hair fingers softly grasping at the strands even after he tells you it's not necessary. Sometimes, he'll wrap his arms around your waist and squeeze as you wash your face. He'll kiss gently at your skin as droplets of water drip from your body to his lips and let his nose dig into the crook of your shoulder to inhale your clean scent.

He loves grocery shopping with you.

Getting to keep his large palm against the small of your back rubbing up and down every once in a while to show that he's with you. He likes to listen to your voice as you read down the list of things the two of you need and the way you point your finger and bossily tell him to fetch a certain item. He pushes the cart for you when it starts getting heavy with items even after you complain and tell him "You could do it yourself." He enjoys being strong for you, finds pride in being able to carry and hold all of the bags when the two of you get home from the shops.

Simon Riley really loves these seemingly little moments of intimacy with you.

[yawnderu]

Ex-husband Simon never truly goes away. 

Simon’s stomach twisted into a knot as he heard your muffled sobs, your warm tears seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt, holding onto him for dear life even if he’s the one responsible for your pain. 

“I hate you, Simon.” Empty words that still send an unfamiliar ache to his chest, his soul hurting for you. 

“I know, baby, I know.” He managed to croak out, his voice hoarse. The sight of the gold wedding band on his finger stabbed at something deep within him, reigniting the flicker of emotions he always tried to push aside for an amicable divorce. 

Ten years down the drain, your whole life reduced to nothing but ink and paper. Simon’s duty to the SAS and the 141 took up so much of his time, often only managing to be home for a few months out of the year. Missed holidays and celebrations, broken promises of trying to be more present. As understanding as you tried to be, everyone reaches their breaking point. 

“Give me some time, love. I’ll retire. Y’can get anythin’.” Perhaps it is selfish to ask you to wait, yet how is a broken man expected to give up on the only beacon of light he has amidst all the darkness and shadows? His highschool sweetheart, his beloved wife. 

“How long?” Your whispered question hit Simon like a blow to the gut, so much trust and fear held in only two simple words. He closed his eyes for a moment, his hands tightening around your waist as you still straddle him, nearly cuddling him up even if all you could do was cry. 

“After we scatter Johnny’s ashes. S’ gonna be a quick trip to Scotland, and then I’m all yours.” He paused for a moment, his rough fingers tracing over the band on his ring finger, his touch always gentle in your presence. Despite the ring being a constant reminder of your love and broken promises, it was always safely tucked under the thick material of his gloves. Simon’s way of keeping you with him, of having something that made him cling to his sanity no matter how much bloodshed those same hands spill. 

“Half a month.” He’s more explicit this time, his warm hand running up and down the length of your back, not daring to go lower despite how much his entire soul craves you. It’s a tender moment that gives him an inner sanctity, and he’s not looking into ruining it. 

His eyes flutter shut as your delicate arms encircle his shoulders, hugging his body closer to yours, the smell of tobacco invading your nose. Despite it all, you’re placing all your trust in Simon one last time.

[ragingbookdragon]

She huffs lightly when she hears the low growl of the familiar soldier in the room next door, followed by her nurse griping and trying to work with him. Entering behind, she lays a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Go on, Paula, I got him,” she says with a smile and Paula practically screams in relief as she leaves the exam room.

She gives him a fond smile. “Now, Lieutenant, what have I said about antagonizing my nurses?”

He scowls at her. “I don’t like ‘em.”

“I know but I still need you to be kind when they’re simply trying to do their jobs.”

“I don’t like anyone touchin’ me but you.” He’s still scowling behind his mask, holding his side where she can see the black material stained a darker color.

“Well aren’t I special,” she murmurs, closing the exam room door before walking over. “You know the drill.”

He lifts his sweatshirt wordlessly along with the t-shirt he’s got underneath and she sighs at the sight of a cut about four inches long riding up his ribs.

“Do I even want to know how?” She asks.

“Trainin’ with Soap,” he mutters. “‘e’s a slippery lit’le bastard when ‘e needs to be.”

She snorts and goes about pulling on a pair of latex gloves before she begins to clean his wound with antiseptic. He doesn’t make a sound though she knows it stings like a bitch and the only show of irritation from him is the way his muscle ripple beneath her touch.

“I thought I said not to get wounded anymore.”

“Didn’t listen,” he simply shrugs.

“If I had half a mind, I’d assume you did this on purpose so you could come see me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter you’self. I don’t like you that much.”

A laugh escapes her as she checks the depth, ultimately deciding on a few stitches for his wound. “Oh I know you like me plenty, Simon.”

Simon.

She only says his name in privacy when no one can hear them. He hates the way his chest feels funny, sternum scratchy with an itch he can’t get to.

“‘S Lieutenant,” he retorts.

“Of course, of course,” she hums. “My most sincerest apologies, Lieutenant Riley.”

He scowls again but that itch returns when she begins to stitch his wound carefully.

After a few minutes, she sets the clipped thread down and admires her handiwork. “All done, sweetheart,” she says with a gentle smile and wipes it carefully before putting a bandage on it. “Don’t get it wet and—”

“Keep it dry and clean,” he finishes. “I know.”

She laughs and pokes the nose to his mask. “Maybe one day you will learn.”

She watches as he redresses himself before standing, waving off the bottle of pills she hands to him.

“Don’t need ‘em.”

“It’s just some ibuprofen, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t need ‘em,” he repeats with a growl and she rolls her eyes.

“You are so stubborn for no reason,” she says and places her hands on her hips. “And after all the care I just gave you.”

He looks at her for a solid moment before he leans over and kisses her cheek through his mask. “Thank you, love,” he mutters. “For takin’ care of me.”

She goes uncharacteristically quiet, cheeks getting hot and he smirks at her.

“Ain’t got nothin’ to say? Cat got your tongue?”

She glares at him half-heartedly. “Get out of my clinic, Lieutenant.”

As he heads for the door, he pauses and looks at her. “It’s Simon, to you.” He says, and closes the door behind him.

[the-raindeer-king]

Imagine Simon's mom doesn't die with Tommy and Beth. Maybe she was out of town, or at a friend's house, and Roba's men were sloppy and missed her. Anyway, so it's just Simon and her now, and because he blames himself for what happened, he's pulled away from her.

He pays her rent, even if he wanted her to live in a nicer apartment complex. And he visits during her birthday and Mother's Day, and sometimes just randomly stops by. But he never stays very long, and he doesn't tell her a lot about his new life. It's a very one sided relationship, but she tries to make the best of it.

And then you move in next door, during one of Simon's deployments. You feel bad for the sweet lady that lives next to you. She never seems to have much company, and you take it upon yourself to befriend her, spending more time in her apartment than your own.

You learn about her ex husband, her sons, the tragedy, and most importantly, you learn about Simon. And you hate him. Mrs. Riley (she insists you call her Sarah) is such a lovely woman, and it's clear how much she cares about her living son, how hard she's trying to keep their relationship alive.

It's the second Mother's Day after you move in when you finally meet Simon. Your relationship with your own mother is complicated, so you've opted to spend the day with Mrs. Riley. You'd gotten her a small present, and had planned to spend the day drinking wine and watching historical romance movies.

You're thoroughly shocked when you knock on her door, and a man answers. Six feet, built like a brick house, but under his scowl, you recognize Sarah's eyes.

“You must be Simon.”

His scowl deepens, but before he can say anything, Mama Riley is pushing past him, pulling you into her apartment to fuss over you.

She apologizes for not telling you sooner, but your plans will have to be rescheduled. Simon's back early, and she can't waste a precious second.

You're understanding. You've listened to her worried rants, given her space to cry over how things have turned out. You know she loves spending time with her son, even if the visits are short and he doesn't talk much.

Simon doesn't miss the way you glare at him. There's a fury in your eyes, even as you cheerily wish his mother a happy mother's day. For a moment, he wonders if you're a spy. But that thought is quickly diminished, when you verbally eviscerate him at the door.

You're quiet, not wanting to upset his mom, but your anger is clear. It may not be your business, but Mama Riley is your friend, and you adore the older woman. And you cannot stand by while he treats her like this. She loves her son so much, and he needs to step up and try harder.

As you're chewing him out, Simon's already head over heels, planning your wedding as the seconds tick by.

(A/N: You can read this as a stand alone piece, but I did write 3 more drabbles (four in total!) for this! They're all on my blog under the tag mama riley au. Thank you for reading!)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

[simonrileysfavteacup]

Simon Riley whose insomnia is so bad that when you first start sharing a bed together, he gets a wink of sleep. Not that he gets more than that any other night but still…

You’d be lying next to him, fast asleep, curled up in his arms. He’s almost there. Almost asleep. So close…

And then you shift. And he’s wide awake again. 

Staring down at your sleeping body that shifted an inch closer to him. That took him out of his beauty sleep. 

Almost. 

He could be asleep and you’d shift around a little, he’d still wake up and look over at you. Eyes narrowed to see if you were awake. 

When he’s asleep and you get up to grab something, he jolts awake as if on the battlefield, ready to rip a head off. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Gonna go get a glass of water…and maybe some sleeping pills for you,” you tease, heading to the kitchen. 

But when he finally does get used to sharing a bed and his insomnia lessens, be ready for his loud loud loud ass snores.

[euno11a]

when you first started your relationship with Simon, I honestly believe that he will wait until you’re asleep to link your pinkies together. This man cannot fall asleep without you touching him. And then as the relationship grows, he can fall asleep before you because he feels safe, but he has to be squeezing your pudge.

another total side note, if he ever gets uncomfortable in gathering areas, he will move straight to your side and almost like a child pull on the end of your sleeve and look away. The smallest amount of touch is comforting to him. He needs his love.

[skyrigel]

Simon's the one to take words for what they are, not that you mind but sometimes it gets so freaking cute that you just wanna tackle the big muscular man and pull his cheeks and bump his nose and kiss him hard while calling him all those cute silky names.

So it happened like that, you were out of milk and cereal was already in your bowl, one look at Simon and he was getting his keys.

“Take care, love.” You called after him, returning to your milk-less bowl and colourful cereals.

Five minutes later your phone buzzed with your boyfriend's caller id, a smile crossed your face as you picked up.

“Hello...I reached safely baby.” He said, a breath, “ I took care.” and there was dead silence except a mother scolding her toddler nearby, No, put it down...Asher put. It. Down.

“Okay babe.” you closed your eyes, stomach getting giddy, this man was gonna be the death of you, just AHHHHHHHH!!!!

“Want anything else, Cupcake ?” You can already imagine him filling cart with all of your favourite snacks, him asking was jus' mere courtesy.

“ No, just milk...wait bring ice cream too and maybe some pasta for dinner.” You are gonna treat him so right, you thought, like he deserves and just he comes back home to you, you are gonna take real good care of him.

“Also Simon baby, take care of yourself for me, right ?”

“Right...I will.” and you know he's blushing.

Masterlist

[ohcaptains]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐲.

pairing. simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader.

synopsis. simon comes home. he's too tired to fuck you right. eventually, he manages to find the energy.

warnings. 18+ this is sexually explicit, do not read this or interact with my blog if you’re a minor. do not copy or use ai on my shit, i’ll find out. female receiving penetration, blonde simon lol, somnophilia, dry humping, pussy smacking, and crying during sex. i am not responsible for your media consumption.

an. :) life sucked so i found a new animated character to obsess over. please comment & reblog if u enjoyed !

When Simon comes back, he’s dog-tired.

As soon as his feet touch the welcome mat of your quaint little apartment, he feels all of his muscles relax – as if they’re unpinning themselves from his bones – and he has to give himself a pep talk to muster the energy to drag his hand up to ring the bell.

But he doesn’t have to, because you’re ripping the door open – shining like the sun – and pulling him into your body, rendering all 6,4 ft and 240 pounds of the super soldier to complete mush.

For five minutes, you don’t speak. Just hold him, as you gently rub the corner of his jaw, and brush your fingers through his dirty blonde hair. He clutches you to him.

His fat, paw-like hands hold your upper back, and you hold him with the same vigour. His body – wrapped in his black compression shirt and army pants – is rock solid.

It’s a weaving of muscles that have been tensed for the last two months. It’s going to take a minute for them all to soften, but like he always does when he’s been away, Simon lets out a deep and resolute sigh.

The breath warms your neck, causing it to tingle, and you grasp him tighter, your body waking up.

It’s been a long two months.

He manages to push your intertwined bodies through the doorway, using his boot to kick the door shut. His house smells like home -- funny how you can’t smell it until you’ve been gone a while.

Vanilla and a citrus fruit, mixed with the savoury scent of his favourite meal. He hums again, and you scratch the back of his head, sending shivers down his locked spine.

He knows the route to your bedroom like the back of his hand, and he maneuvers the pair of you inside.

The curtains are closed and the bed is made. You know him. You know him so well.

You let him push you back onto the bed – a blur of familiar limbs and hair – and he settles lower, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Immediately, you drag your legs up and cross them over the curve of his ass.

You’re all warm and soft and pliable. Dressed in a pair of simple cotton shorts and a vest top, he wants to grab fistfuls of you and remind himself of how you feel in his palms. Wants to drag his lips over your skin, bully his way between your legs and remind himself of how you taste.

Fuck, he wants you, in a carnal, almost primal sort of way, and you the same. He can smell it. A sweet but sweaty longing that melts from you and causes his senses to wake.

But he’s so God damn tired.

You know. Know this routine. Know that he has to settle back in.

In the meantime, you’ll just have to wait.

You fiddle with his hair. “There’s dinner if you want it,” you whisper into the dark bedroom, looping the strands between your fingers, committing the soft feel to memory.

Simon shuffles just an inch on top of you, but still, the slight movement of his clothes and hard, clenched body against yours makes you take your bottom lip between your teeth.

It’ll be chewed raw by the time he has enough energy to take you. He grunts something into your skin, and after a second, you gather it’s, tired.

His scent clouds you.

When Simon comes back, he always smells the same.

The soap at the barracks is pine scented – shampoo a strict lemon.

But there’s always a leftover grit to him. A hidden layer the soap can’t clean off, and it makes you delirious. Makes you flex your ass up – just an inch, a sweet, gentle inch that has you feeling the hard lines of his thighs and the metal of his zipper, and Simon’s breathing hitches.

You freeze. With your hips pushed tight against his, you stare at the ceiling, hoping that your worn-out soldier hasn’t felt you move.

Simon stays quiet. His breathing settles. You go to apologise, but Simon doesn’t grumble or make a sly comment. Listening closer to his breathing, you gather that he’s asleep.

Jesus, you think, that’s a record. Barely in the door and he’s asleep, he must be burnt out. Figuring that you won’t be able to crawl from under his weight, you decide it’s your bedtime too.

Sleep comes fast.

Hours later, you blearily blink awake. Not much has changed – the room is still dark, Simon is still heavy on top of you, yet now, you’re sticking to him with sweat.

He’s usually a human furnace, but this is different.

Your skin prickles, vibrating at a frequency that has nothing to do with heat. No, this is…you feel a pulsating between your thighs, and wiggle, feeling your slick coating your underwear.

Fuck, why are you so wet? You clench, and the resulting ache forces you to hiss and push your head back against the pillows. What did you dream about? Thinking back, you come up short. Then why--

Simon shuffles on top of you. It’s a slight movement, but it continues, and all at once, your heart clenches.

Holy fuck, he’s—

“Simon?” you whisper, and your boyfriend whines into your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes, the words wet and desperate. The puzzle pieces lock into place.

He knocks his hips into your crotch once more, and you gasp, clenching, eyes rolling back in pleasure. Simon’s apology comes out again, except this time, it’s christened with a “s-shit – fuck.”

Blinking at the ceiling, you huff and try and glance down, and in the dark, you just about manage to see the outline of his burly body grinding into yours.

You take stock of the situation.

Feel his fat palm around your hip, and squinting, see that he’s got your shorts pulled down around your thighs, and has the band of your underwear looped around his fingers.

Jesus Christ. You fall back into the pillows. “How long have you?” you whisper. “Five – fuck – minutes,” Simon grunts, continuing to roll his thick hips against you. His bulge knocks the edge of your throbbing clit, causing you to gasp again. There’s been no build-up to your want, it’s just there, humming electric, and spread tight over your thighs.

Simon meshes his wet mouth against your chest. He’s tugged your vest top down, too, and his lips close around the skin of your breast. Jesus. He was undressing you as you slept.

“Thought about fuckin’ you, but couldn’t get my pants down, so – shit -- tired. Jus’ woke up and you were just so fuckin’ soft. And wet, Christ, felt you through my trousers.”

Your whole body goes numb. “You were gonna fuck me as I slept?” you whisper, belly flipping. You’d told him – ages ago – that he could, but he hasn’t been here. You’d forgotten.

The image of him pulling your underwear down as you slept streaks across your mind. Imagine waking up with him inside of you, so full and wet and just on the precipice of coming.

Simon grunts. He tugs at the band of your underwear, “I’ll fuck you right, at some point. Just –”

In your delirious state, you manage to finish his sentence, “Tired, I know – I know baby.”

You kiss the crown of his head and whimper into his hair. “Just use me until you’re ready.”

Simon groans out deep and loud. It rumbles against your chest. Echoes through your heart, and you’re so turned on that you begin fidgeting.

You try and squirm away from the stifling ache of your pussy, but Simon’s built like a brick shithouse, so you can’t run from it, just gotta take it and take it and take it, until you can’t anymore, and you break.

You’re so fucked that you don’t even announce that you’re coming, but Simon knows, shit, and as your pussy clenches up tight, he growls low and hard, mumbling, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it, until his movements go sloppy, and his breathing goes laboured, and he’s coming into his pants and mewling your name.

When he finally does manage to get inside of you, he doesn’t last long. No, he pushes all the way to the hilt, and you tighten up.

“Stay” you gasp, clenching your pussy around his shaft, and Simon grunts deep and long into your throat.

“S-Stay there,” you moan, then, in case he didn’t hear you, “Stay,” you whisper, and push the ball of your palm into his thick, scarred shoulder. 

You were teetering on a knives edge.

You’ve come once since Simon was home, and your second orgasm of his return was right there.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Simon groans into the shallow of your throat, “Did we do enough prep?” 

“Yes,” you immediately whisper, not wanting him to pull out. 

He’s thick and pulsing inside of you, hard and heavy on top, and God, he kisses at your throat — soft and gentle. You try to swallow down the ball that has swelled in your throat, but tears prick at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill. 

No no no no, you think. Not now. Not now not now. You try to stifle the tears, but you unconsciously sniff, and despite Simon being perfectly still, he still manages to freeze.

“Sweetheart?”

You inhale, “Yeah?” 

Simon looks up; and seeing tears on your cheeks, his face falls, “Did I hurt you?”

You furiously wipe the tears away, shaking your head.

“M’just overwhelmed,” you whisper, and he presses his forehead against yours, going to kiss you, but the movement causes his hips to flex against you, nudging his cock, and you whine, immediately gripping onto the back of his dirty blonde locks. 

Simon drops his face into your chest and lets out a pained rasp, “Tightening around me, kid.” 

You unclench, “m’sorry.” 

“Gonna come quick.” 

“S’okay.” 

“I’ll fuck you right, just gotta…” he trails off and grabs fist fulls of your hips.

“Fuck,” he huffs wistfully, “This pussy. Missed this fucking pussy.”

You go dizzy with need. Shake your head, and bend to kiss him, tasting his wet and swollen lips. Gently, you knock your hips up into his, and when he lets out a surprised grumble, you flex your hips higher, trying to stuff his cock deeper, further – till you can see it pressing into your belly.

Catching onto your plan, Simon grunts and pushes your hips with his fat palms, pinning your ass to the mattress. 

“Stop,” he orders, and the demand goes straight to your cunt. Jesus. He hasn’t been very dominant since his return, and that little instruction has you chomping on the bit.

“Want you, Si.”

“One stroke and I’ll be fucked.” 

“Just gotta practice.” 

He chokes on a laugh, muttering, “Practice.” 

You try another tactic. Clench around his cock and pout, “Want you to come inside me.”

“Fuck,” Simon cuts. You curl your legs back his back and push your foot into the dense muscle of his ass, at the same time rocking your hips up. Simon lets you. Let’s you try and fuck yourself on his cock. With wet lips, you push your mouth into the shell of his ear, shakily uttering his name.

“Gonna fill me up, Si?”

“Fuckin’ filthy, you know that?”

Simon pulls back, and your heart stutters.

You think he’s going to pull out, until he uses your hips to pull you tight against his cock -- your ass nearly sitting on his thighs. His thick, scarred chest is puffed up.

Cheeks red, and he’s got that animal glint in his pretty eyes.

It knocks you for six.

“Where you want it?” he asks, and you’re confused, until he presses the heel of his palm into the middle of your tummy.

“Shoot my load here, huh?”

Your body goes numb. Eyes white out. It happens so suddenly that it scares you, and you’re a mixture of turned on and frightened, but the fear turns you on even more.

All you can do is blearily look up at him as he slides his paw to the other side of your tummy, “or shoot it here. Fuck it so deep that you can taste it.”

He pretends to think about it. Even hums, before he drags his palm up and stuffs his thumb into your mouth. “Or just directly here, huh?” He snarls a smile, “know you like it when your mouth is full.”

You suck at his thumb, and tighten your cunt around his cock, causing his mouth to open, and eyes to flutter, and just like that, you’ve won.

He comes in record time.

But Simon keeps his promises.

A couple of days later – on the seventh day he’s back -- he fucks you so good, that when you wake up the next morning, you get shy just thinking about it. 

Lay in bed, staring at the ceiling – your boyfriend fast asleep on your chest -- remembering the debauchery you’d gotten up to the night before. 

The pair of you are a little tipsy, drunk on beer and wine, but all it’s done is heighten your senses, and made you fully aware of your desires, so much so, that they pulsate behind your eyelids like a migraine.

Simons got you face down, ass up, and as he pushes you face first into the mattress, he presses his thumb against the tight, fluttering hole of your pussy.  

“Gonna let me inside, baby?”

You sink into your thighs and spread yourself wider for him, humming into your crossed arms. Simon watches your pussy spread further, and he can’t help himself, he has to slide his thumb deeper.

He presses, just barely pushing the tip of his thumb into your wet hole, and you gasp, trying to chase the feeling by inching back against his fat palm.  He laughs at you. “Look at your pussy sucking my thumb in, baby. Wish you could see what I’m seeing. So fuckin’ sexy.”

You hum, the words making you wetter – dripping over his thumb.

“Been dreaming of fucking you right, gonna take you whenever I want.”

“Okay,” you whisper, so delirious that you’re not sure what you’re agreeing to. Simon raises a brow,

“Yeah?” he asks, tone breathless. Thought he’d get some pushback on that one, but for a second, he forgot that you said the nastiest shit with his dick inside of you.

You nod into your crossed arms, and Simon laughs again, “Free use pussy,” he sounds, then lightly smacks your sodden folds, causing you to flinch, bucking forward. 

“Oh fuck,” you choke, eyes rolling back. Heat ricochets through your crotch and swamps your belly, before settling back in your aching pussy. Once you manage to collect yourself – and it takes a second -- you huff. “Bein’ mean.”

Simon snorts, grabs your hips, then rams the underside of his cock against your pussy, grinning so big that his scars stretch, “don’t know the half of it, babe.” 

You sob, real tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Your desire is visceral, enough for you to taste it on your tongue. Simon pulls back, and your slick coats the length of his dick, earning yourself another light smack to your cunt.

“Soakin’ me,” he grunts, and you sob into the sheets. “Please,” you whisper, then, please please please, and Simon hears your breathing hitch. 

This time, instead of checking up on you, he chuckles, “Crying again, baby?”

You sniff and wipe your eyes on your wrist, face heating.

“No,” you mumble, and Simon sighs.

He reads you like a book. Always has. Always will.

“Lying to me,” he grumbles, then he steers the uncut head of his cock between your folds, whispering, “Lie to me again, and I’ll give you something to cry about,” before bottoming out in one thrust.

[themotherofhorses]

simon riley x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language. soft smut. breeding kink.

On the continuation of my “Soft!Ghost” ideas: 

Imagine lovemaking with Simon. 

Simon has you—his pretty girl—tucked inside his bedroom, sandwiched between him and the mattress. Right in his arms, where you rightfully belong. 

(In his arms, you’re protected. Safe. Nothing could possibly ever harm you.)

Of course, the intensity of sex differs with his moods. On some days, he is a delicious mix of dominant and aggressive, claiming your body with a certain roughness that reflects how possessive he is over you. But, on other days, all Simon wants is to possess your heart and soul, in some desperate frenzy to stake his claim over them. 

You were made for Simon. In his eyes, that is the truth. How could it not be? Every inch of you—from the curve of your hipbones and the tanalizing way your bottom lip shines with a fresh layer of gloss to how your beautiful, doe eyes twinkle anytime he is near—is all his. You’re irresistible.

And when you lay beneath him, completely bare, ripe for the taking, whining out for his touch, what else could he possibly do than worship you? 

One arm keeps him steadily up, towering over you; the other cradles your soft cheek against his palm. His thumb strokes along your cheekbone. He’s gentle, smiling, even chuckling. “I’ve got you, baby,” he purrs in that deep, hoarse accent. “Shhh, darlin’. C’mon, lemme take care of ya.” 

“ Si…”

Your body stiffens as Simon gently slides himself into your pussy, until he’s buried balls deep; he lets out a breathless “fuck” as you tighten around his cock, followed by a low groan. “Perfect for me, aren’t ya?” He pauses, leaning to kiss you for a moment.

“That’s my good girl,” he mumbles against your lips, letting his tongue entangle with yours. “So fucking good for me.” 

His hips slap against yours at a slow, gentle pace—matching his thrusts. “C’mon, baby, fuck.” You whine in response, arching your back, your hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders while your pretty, teary eyes hold his gaze. 

“ Simon…! ” 

Simon chuckles, takes one of your hands in his, and flattens it against your lower stomach. “Feel that, love?” You gasp, nodding. There is an unmistakable bulge in your belly; you can feel it. “Aye, that’s me.” Your cunt takes him so unbelievably well; he cannot stop pistoning his cock in and out of you. 

God, he thinks, you were made for him.

You were fucking made for me. 

The only thing that could possibly be better than this is—

“Lemme make you a mum,” Simon suddenly says, groaning. “God, baby, need to make you one.” His fingers find your nipple, pinching it before rubbing it back and forth, causing you to squeal. “—make these pretty tits all swollen. You’d be so bloody gorgeous, love.” 

Simon wants a family, so fucking badly. He is beyond desperate for one  — ever since he looked into your eyes for the first time, and saw his future staring back. At the time, the feeling was confusing and disorienting….

…now, it all made sense.

“Yeah?” Mid-thrust, he kisses you again, swallowing your gasps and tiny whimpers as he splits you open on his cock. “You gonna let me make you a mum?” Another thrust. “C’mon, baby, use your words, my girl.” 

You nod, unable to muster up a response to your husband; instead, your mouth falls open—pretty, pink lips dropping into a perfect “o." “P-Please, Si…” your soft, little voice whines out, stirring up more heat in Simon. 

(He loves your voice. So bloody fucking much. You could ask him to raze the Earth to a burnt crisp, and he’d do it for you.) 

“Please what, baby?” 

The sensation of his massive cock overwhelms you. You fall slack as an orgasm rips through your body, robbing away all of your inhibitions; all you can do is let out another high-pitched moan, praying your body gives him the answer that your voice cannot. 

“Fuck — gonna breed you, baby. Gonna have my kid in you by the weekend.”

It’s a promise. His thrusts continue, in the exact same measure as before, not wanting to fuck you, but to make love to you. “You’re so bloody beautiful.” He’s gonna cum. Cum deep inside you; give you the family you deserve.

“Look at ya — bloody work of art.” 

Flushed cheeks; breasts sweaty and heaving with countless love marks scattered around the skin; your fingers card softly through his hair, pulling him closer to you. He’s a lucky bastard, indeed. 

“I love you."

Simon repeats those three words— “I love you. I love you. I love you.” —against your mouth, feeling his entire body tauten before he spills his cum inside you.

I love you. You saved me. You’re everything to me. 

You smile up at him, flushed all prettily, and he flashes a smile back, taking a moment to tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear. God, he fucking loves you.

“I love you,” he says again…and again…and again.

notes: my attempt at writing smut for the first time in months. if it sucks, it's cause im in my late luteal phase.

[romanticintheory]

Hello!!!! I was wondering if you could write an angst with Ghost/Simon where the reader was too clingy after having a bad day and he lashed out on her but he didn't think anything of it because the next day the reader was acting normal. He only noticed after a few weeks when reader became more distant and quiet. Feel free to ignore if it's too weird or you don't like it!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

this one is dedicated to all the ones who were hurt and never got that apology. hope this alleviates the pain.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader || masterlist || request rules

-there was no one specific reason as to why today turned out to be a bad day. it just was.

-from accidentally burning yourself trying to make breakfast after waking up late to having to deal with the most insufferable customers, it just wasn't your day today.

-but it was okay, because you had simon to return to when everything was said and done.

-the frown on your face immediately softens the moment you see him walk through the door to your shared home. as soon as he pulls his mask and boots off, you make your way toward him and engulf him in a tight hug.

-you are painfully (but understandably) unaware of the thin veil of his patience and the frustration that had been brewing within him in the past few hours. he half-heartedly returns the embrace.

-"how was your day, si?" you ask him gently.

-"fine," he responds shortly, hoping there isn't more to the conversation.

-even after you pull away from him, you trail behind him as he moves around the house. this wasn't irregular behavior from either of you. simon wasn't usually the most talkative person in the room, anyway, but he loved to hear your voice. that was one of the things he loved about the two of you together; you filled the space he couldn't.

-today, though, was different. he was pissed off at all different kinds of people. for some reason, couldn't bring himself to tell you that he was having a bad day and needed some space, especially because it was evident you were having a bad one yourself.

-so when he turned on his heel after listening to your rambles for as much as he could take and lashed out at you, he tried not to think about the unbearable amount of guilt seeping into his veins.

-"would you just stop clinging to me for five minutes? god, 's like i can't get away from you or your constant fucking talking!"

-you had heard stories, mostly from simon, about the kind of man he could be when pushed to his limit. mostly, it was of violent, physical acts when it came to work or protecting the ones he loved. other times, he would tell you about when he'd lash out at others just like he did to you, now, and he always told it to you with a quiet fear. there was an unspoken meaning to him telling you about the times he's acted out: i don't want to do the same to you. i don't want to hurt you.

-but here he was, towering over you with a coldness in his eyes and a dryness in his throat from the sheer volume of his words.

-averting your gaze from his, you let out a meek, "'m sorry," and watch as he slams the door in front of your face.

-when he slinks into bed next to your sleeping form later that night, ridden with shame and guilt, he misses the tear-stained face hidden from him. after his outburst, you felt like all of the energy in your body had been taken away from you and retreated to bed early. you cried on and off for hours.

-you always thought you had a clinging problem. it was an insecurity you carried with you starting from childhood. friends would become acquaintances and family would keep you at arms-length. after years of believing the issue was you, simon walked into your life and told you different.

-if you stopped talking because you thought he stopped listening and was uninterested, he'd always turn back to you and genuinely ask why you stopped talking. whenever you apologized for hugging him for too long or asking to spend time with him for the third time that week, he'd always tilt his head at you and say in that low, sincere voice, "but i love you?"

-for all those reasons, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt despite how much he hurt you. so, when he tries to bring it up the next morning, you do your best to brush it off. he was having a bad day. that was all. no need to make a fuss.

-"listen, love," he calls to you as you pop your piece of toast out of the toaster. "about last night-"

-completely disregarding his words, you look at the clock and stuff your phone into your pocket. "it's fine. honestly, simon," you tell him with the best smile you could muster. "i'm gonna be late. i'll see you tonight."

-you were so adamant on getting out as quick as possible that simon had no time to respond. he thought to himself that maybe he was making a bigger deal out of it than you. maybe there were no hard feelings and you were completely fine. after all, he was always overly worried for you, anyway.

-so, when you came home, he didn't mention it. it was as if last night didn't happen, and the two of you were perfectly fine. there were times where simon thought you were being a bit more restrained in your movements or words, but he tried to chalk it up to just him being overly paranoid. you said it was fine, so it was better not to push you on it, right?

-at first, you were doing really good at keeping yourself from overthinking the situation. however, as time went on and you paid more attention to how you acted around your boyfriend, you began to wonder if you were really that clingy.

-as the week progressed, your state of mind would deteriorate. what if it wasn't just a bad day? what if that was what he thought the entire time and was just waiting for the right moment to tell you? had he just been trying to cheer you up about your insecurities the entire time? and if he was, how much of this relationship was even real, then?

-the more you thought about it, the more distant you became. the last thing you wanted to do was make simon feel like he was being suffocated by you. you slowly stopped initiating physical affection with him, restricted talking about your day to a few sentences, and tried to answer simon's questions in one word when possible.

-he notices. of course he notices, it was like a stranger was living where you were supposed to be, and he missed it. he missed you.

-he asks you about your change when you're getting ready for bed, pulling the rest of your nightshirt over your head. despite being exhausted from work and looking like you were sitting out in the wind, he thought you never looked more ethereal than you did now.

-"(y/n)," he said.

-"hm?" you hummed to him, not turning toward his direction. you sat down on the edge of your side of the bed, turning off the lamp at the same time.

-your lack of emotional presence was starting to eat at him. he sat down next to you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight and forcing you to lean toward him.

-"you alright?"

-"yes. why?"

-"i dunno, you just seem..." his eyes tried to find yours, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. "quiet."

-it was then that you looked at him, and it was scary to simon because he couldn't make out the emotion in your expression. there was nothing he could read.

-"isn't that-" you had to pause to try and stabilize your wavering voice. "isn't that what you wanted?"

-there was a tension-filled silence that settled in the room, and for a second you were worried that what you said was somehow incredibly offensive.

-finally, he chokes out, "i'm sorry."

-again, you try to muster up a smile. "it's fine, i already told you. i should've known you wanted space."

-"no."

-"no?"

-"it was my fault," he explains. "how could you 'ave known? i didn't tell you i wasn't in the mood that day, and that's not even considering the way i talked to you. i shouldn't have- nothing excuses what i said to you."

-still, you were convinced you were to blame. "well, i have a history of being clingy, so," you were trying to come up with more excuses for him. for most of your life, you had decided that you were the issue. it couldn't be any other way, right?

-"i know. it's one of the things i love you for," he says quietly. "not to sound cheesy but it's what makes you you, and i don't want you to lose that jus' 'cause i'm still shitty at communication."

-you knew in some capacity he was right. there was no excuse for how he talked to you, but the next words you wanted to say evaded you.

-simon thought about talking some more. instead, he grasped your back with one hand and slid his other underneath your legs, repositioning you on his lap. it was like a silent plea from him, a way of proving that he wanted to be close to you just as much as you wanted to be close to him.

-"you're sure i'm not too clingy?" you ask tentatively.

-"positive," he reassures you, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb. "you wanna know something?"

-"what?"

-"if i wasn't so fucked up-"

-"you're not fucked up."

-"right." you never let him talk badly about himself. that was something he was still getting used to after all this time. being loved and learning to love himself. "well, if i didn't grow up the way i did and became the person i am, i'd probably be way clingier than you."

-"that's impossible," you deny, unconsciously letting yourself lean into his touch.

-"you don't know how much i want you. if my mind and body would let me, i'd be close to you all the time, showing you the attention you deserve."

-"you give me plenty."

-"agree to disagree," he stops with the circles and pulls you impossibly closer to his body. "but 'm trying. 'm trying to learn to let you love me and to not be afraid to love you. 'm sorry, love. i stopped trying that night, and i think it'll be the death of me."

-you let his words sink in, a thoughtful look on your face.

-"next time you'll tell me, right? what you're thinking?"

-"pinkie promise," he agrees, letting the hand under your legs slide out and raise his pinkie finger toward you.

-in return, you link your pinkie with his to seal the promise, and it feels as though the heavy tension in the air has cleared away.

-"i love you," he says, feeling bold from his previous admission.

-"i love you, too." there's that smile on your face. he never realized until now how he probably couldn't live without it.

-he kisses you on the lips, and for a moment the two of you just stay there in each other's arms, forgiving the past, healing the present, and dreaming of the future together.

[yawnderu]

As much as I adore him, being married to Simon is betting on a losing dog. 

It’s missed anniversaries and important dates, it’s him only being home a few months out of the year, it’s having to break down his walls every time someone close to him dies, it’s having the patience of a saint with little to no reward, it’s a rushed apology every single time; maybe with flowers if he manages to find the time, it’s vacation time cut early because he was called for an emergency deployment, it’s walking on eggshells to make sure you don’t trigger him, it’s providing him with constant reassurance that you’ll be safe despite being married to him, it’s giving him all you’ve got until there’s nothing left.