ghost loves doing little pussy inspections. catching you at random moments of the day and sitting you down on the first surface that he can. pulling your pants down or directy peeling your legs apart to get himself a good view of his favourite meal clad in some panties - if you are wearing any -.
if you are unlucky to be waring knickers, say goodbye to them because he's actually ripping them out. and once ghost got your cunt naked, he lowers until he's leveled with your pussy and uses tho of those thick fingers to spread you apart.
with the softest graze he touches your sensitive middle. lightly brushing your clit and touching your lips until your juices start coating his digits. and then he just plunges two of them into you without a second thought.
what started as some 'innocent' pussy inspection turned into his possesive ass wanting to make you squirt multiple times with just his fingers, until you drench his hand, forearm, face and even the floor. and then - because he isn't satisfied with just some fingering - fucks you, plunging his dick into you until you squirt all over his cock and lower abdomen, making everything sticky and messy.
the thing is, there are days when simon isn't content with doing that just once
SYPNOSIS .ᐟ you've always had a thing for hands, so when simon is cleaning his guns, thick fingers kissing cool metal, you can't help but squirm
★ INCLUDES 18+ NSFW, hand kink, fingering, dirty talk, guns, clit play, soft dom simon, embarrassed shy reader
⌗ A NOTE FROM IVY ⸝⸝ i was ovulating and i had to write a fic dedicated entirely to simon's hands
You’ve always had a thing for hands. Not just a preference—a thing. Something wired deep into your brain, something that made your breath hitch whenever you saw the right pair. Big hands, men’s hands, rough hands. The kind that could hold you steady or pin you down. You never fully understood it, but you knew it was there long before Simon.
Because Simon’s hands are every woman’s wet dream and then some. Large, broad palms with thick fingers, the kind that could wrap fully around your thigh (or throat) without even trying. Veins roped across the backs of them, like mapping out rivers, raised and prominent, leading your eyes along every bend and curve. Scars scattered like constellations across the rough skin—sharp ones, curved ones, faded white or pink. You knew each one intimately. You’d traced them slowly one night while lying in bed with him, curled against his chest, your fingers wandering curiously as he told you the story behind every mark.
He’d spoken in that low, quiet voice he saved for nights alone. The slice across his knuckles from a winter in Romania. The jagged scar between his thumb and forefinger from Lithuania—“that one hurt like a bitch’,” he’d admitted. And the tiny round burn mark on his palm from Slovakia, the one you always touched without thinking, because the raised texture fascinated you. He let you map him like he was letting you read something private. Something no one else gets access to.
But his fingers, God, his fucking fingers. Thick, strong, capable, calloused at the pads from years of holding weapons. Built for precision. Built for destruction. Built for control. He has immaculate command over his whole body, but his fingers are something else entirely. He manouvres them with intent. Purpose. Careless control, even. You’d seen him twirl pens idly while talking, flipping them between his knuckles with elegant ease. You’d caught him spinning a kitchen knife absentmindedly one night while waiting for water to boil—your heart had jumped to your throat as he’d stopped it perfectly between two fingers.
And those same fingers are wrapped around a gun now, which is exactly why you can't focus on the book in your lap.
Simon had decided this was the perfect time to clean his entire collection—something he found soothing. You know his rhythm well by now: remove the mag, clear the chamber, wipe each piece with methodical, careful precision. Slow. Thorough. Careful. He handles each gun like it were a lover, cleans them with a thoughtful care that makes you crave to have them on your skin touching you the same way.
And God, the veins in his forearms as he works, flexing and shifting beneath his skin with every movement, and it makes heat coil low in your belly. His nails are neatly trimmed, clean. He lets you paint them sometimes between deployments, like to leave with a small reminder of you, but right now they're plain.
He's cleaning his favourite gun—his Glock 17. Matte black, tailored for him, worn smooth in the exact places his fingers held it most. The one he calls Charlie. You were the only one he ever told that he named his guns. He’d looked a little sheepish admitting it, grumbling something about how it was stupid and how he didn’t want anyone (namely Soap) giving him shit for it, but “they take care of me, so I oughta take care of ’em,” Simon had finished with a shrug. Deceptively sweet for a man who could kill with his bare hands. Sweet enough to make your heart squeeze.
You swallow softly when he removes the mag of the glock. Then Simon presses two thick fingers inside the empty chamber. Your stomach flips, breath hitching.
“Alrigh’ there love?” Simon’s voice breaks you out of your stupor and your head whips up to find him already looking at you, head tilted slightly, an amused knowing gleam in his steel grey eyes that makes you flush pink.
“What—? Yeah, yeah fine, Si,” you mutter, swallowing, shifting casually, pretending your panties aren’t soaked through from watching your boyfriend handle his fucking guns. Seriously, were you gonna jump him when he decided to clean the kitchen knives next after dinner?
“You sure?” Simon asks, voice low, rough, carrying that manchurian drawl that makes your skin prickle with heat.
“Yes—Absolutely, definitely,” you babble, trying to focus back on your book but your eyes keep finding their way back to his hands, cleaning his Glock 17 carefully, fingers dragging over the barrel thoughtfully enough to make your cunt clench. Your cheeks go pink at the wicked, filthy thoughts that flood your mind of last night when he’d used those same fingers on you—rubbing over your clit, his mouth pressed to your throat, whispering dirty things into your ear. You swallow and shift on the sofa, trying to ignore the pulse of heat between your thighs, pretending you’re not remembering the weight of his fingers on your lips, the low muttered, “good girl,” when they parted, the way his fingers sat heavy on your tongue, making you suck on them and taste yourself on him like a little slut—
“You’re starin’ again,” Simon interjects into your daydream and you blink rapidly, realising you’ve been staring at his hands. You look up, feeling caught and embarrassed and a small smirk curls at the corner of his lips that makes your stomach twist.
“I didn’t—it wasn’t—“ you try stutter out an excuse but simon just shakes his head and lets out a low laugh. Your cunt clenches at the sound—low, rough, warm.
“Yeah, yeah, c’mere,” Simon mutters as he settles the gun on the coffee table, crooking two thick fingers at you. You gape at him, and he just arches a brow, the handsome devil.
You stumble up from your place on the sofa, walking over to him and he hums, eyes dragging over your bare thighs in short sleep shorts. You’re in one of his tees—grey, faded emblem of Taskforce 141 over the chest, hanging loose on your frame. He likes what he sees. A lot. You can tell because his tongue flicks out over his bottom lip—a tell you’ve picked up on.
“Good girl,” Simon murmurs as you stop in front of him, and you swear your knees nearly buckle.
He grips the backs of your thighs and pulls you forward until you’re standing between his legs. His hands are huge on your skin, warm and rough and grounding, sliding up, urging you closer until you’re right against him.
“Now,” he says softly, coaxing, “you wanna tell me exactly what you were lookin’ at?”
Your face burns. Your breath stutters. Simon waits. Patient, steady, unhurried, like he could sit there for hours pulling confessions from you. And that only makes it worse, how patient he is, how he knows how to unearth filthy thoughts from your lips.
“I— I don’t—” The words stick in your throat, your body fever-hot under his gaze. You swallow again, thighs trembling just a little.
Simon hums and it sends heat between your thighs, making you squirm in place. “Try that again.” His voice is low, coaxing. His fingers squeeze the backs of your thighs. He looks up at you from under his pale blond lashes. "And without lyin' this time."
Your heart skips a beat. "I was just—" You swallow. Simon waits, patient, calm, thumbs stroking over the backs of your knees in slow, steady strokes. "Your—" you flounder, cheeks pink, words tangled in your throat.
"My?" SImon prompts, arching a brow and you almost whimper.
"Your—" you swallow. "Your hands, Si," you whisper, voice breathy, need. He hums, low and pleased.
"Good girl," he murmurs and you do whimper then, soft and weak and he smirks at the sound. Then his hands slide up to your hips, then higher, smoothing over your waist before he pulls you gently into his lap. You fall into him with a soft gasp, his body solid beneath you, his hands immediately settling on your thighs like they belong there.
"You need my hands, sweetheart?" he murmurs as he strokes your thighs, drags the callouses of his hands over the soft smooth skin.
You nod, flushed and breathing uneven.
"Words, baby," Simon croons soft and your panties are soaked.
"Need them—" you whimper weakly, embarassed but too needy to stop the words tumbling out. "Please Si—I'm so fucking wet—" you whine.
Simon grins like a devil. And before you can think, he’s hooking his fingers in the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down, slow, deliberate, exposing the soft heat of you. You whimper—soft, helpless, desperate—and his hands are immediately on your inner thighs, spreading you open just enough. His fingers find your slick without even looking.
“Wet,” he murmurs, voice dropping into something molten. “All this… just from me cleanin’ my gun?”
You shudder, thighs shaking, embarrassment and arousal tangling thick in your stomach. He rubs slowly over your cunt, fingers dragging through your slick, pressing just enough to make you gasp. His thumb circles your clit lightly—teasing, not giving you what you need yet.
“Pretty thing,” Simon mutters, leaning in to breathe the words against your ear. “Look at you. Soaking my fingers already.”
You choke on a sound, hips trying to tilt toward him, but he holds you steady, teasing you with just the pads of his fingers.
Then Simon sinks a finger inside you. Slow. Deep. Deliberate. Your mouth falls open in a cry, your thighs trembling around his hand. He groans low in his chest at the sensation of you clenching around him.
“Fuck,” Simon murmurs, voice reverent. “So warm. So fuckin' soft," he breathes as he drags his finger in and out, and then a second sinks in with the first, and you cry out at the stretch. “You can take it,” Simon soothes, accent thick, breath steady as he pumps his fingers deeper, firmer.
"Look at you," he breathes as his eyes drag over you—your head rolled back, your chest heaving, your lips parted and falling open on breathless cries and moans. His fingers curl just right, dragging against that spot that makes your eyes roll back and he groans soft at the sight. “Hugging my fingers so fuckin' tight, like you don't want me to ever take 'em out."
You can’t form words. You’re gasping, head falling against his shoulder, tears pricking your lashes from how intense it feels. You squeeze around his fingers, whining, trembling.
"You want that, baby?" he breathes into your ear as he scissors you open, soft slick sounds filling the living room. "Hm? My fingers on you all the time?"
"Yes—Fuck—“ you whine and he huffs out a low laugh.
"Yeah alrigh' you can have that," Simon murmurs, low and fond as his thumb rolls over your clit to make you jerk and cry out against him as he fucks you open on his fingers. "They're all yours, yeah? Made for this pussy," he murmurs into your ear as you cry out, voice breaking needy on his name as he drags his fingers over your gspot.
"Cmon, lemme feel it," he breathes into your ear. "Lemme feel that pussy cum, soak my fingers baby, mark em as yours."
"Si—Simon—“ you cry out, voice breaking, eyes rolling back and cunt clenching tight around his fingers as you cum with a broken cry. Simon hums low at the feeling of your pussy pulsing through your orgasm, fingers moving, coaxing it out of you, thumb rubbing over your clit until it's swollen and puffy.
"Pretty girl," Simon murmurs as he skims a kiss to your hairline as you catch your breath, thighs trembling as he strokes his warm, large hands over them. "You like my hands that much?" he murmurs and you let out a soft embarrassed "Simon" and he huffs out a rough, soft laugh.
"Alrigh' alrigh' I won't tease," he mutters with a small grin as he tucks you under his chin, burying his nose in your hair, the soft, sweet, familiar smell of you making every inch of tension that's been wired into him bleed out slow and easy.
Simon Riley who needs you to be louder during sex.
You'd been together seven years when the accident happened, married for three.
You had rushed to the hospital when Price had called. And you sobbed into his chest out of pure relief when Simon had made it through surgery.
The issue? He'd lost a fair amount of hearing from the IED blast.
Simon did eventually get used to it, but he never quite got used to hearing aids. Preferring to rely on lip reading when someone was talking too quietly.
There was also the sex problem. Not that you two had bad sex. Hell, it was the best for the both of you, going at it multiple rounds at times.
No, it was the fact that while Simon loves how shy you can be, it makes it difficult for him to hear you during sex. The little whimpers and whines you would make, now silent movements of your mouth. It pissed him off to no end.
Simon then began to experiment. Would it be easier to just wear his hearing aids during sex? Of course not. The damn things were so uncomfortable, but making you come? As easy as breathing.
He would start with teasing you throughout the day. Until you were practically dry humping him on the couch. Then he'd edge you until your whines were just loud enough for him to hear; though it sounded as though you were underwater.
Finally, what made your resolve crumble in Simons hands, was when he practically folded you in half. Holding a vibrator he'd spat on to your clit. Overstimulating you until you'd finished on his cock six times.
And Simon loved it. God you were so loud and pretty for him, he could finally hear you perfectly, your screams of pleasure filling his mind like a hazed fog pillowing over mountains early in the morning. Your hips writhing desperately; in an attempt to escape the pleasure or move towards it, he didn't know. He didn't care.
He could finally hear his pretty little bird sing as he filled her to the brim.
i feel like forehead kisses are jamal's thing, nobody can change my mind
— boyfriend!jamal x forehead kisses
notes: oh i can definitely see it anon. in every mood. every room. every situation ;)
[a]. he kisses your forehead when you’re crying so hard you can’t even breathe properly.
your laptop’s half-closed. your textbooks are open in a mess. your eyes are red, your hands are shaking, and you’ve been staring at the same four sentences for over an hour. you’re muttering stuff like “i’m so stupid” and “i’m not gonna finish this” and “i’m gonna fail,” and your chest is rising way too fast, too much air coming in, not enough going out.
and he doesn’t say anything at first. just comes behind you on the couch, pulls your back into his chest, slides a hand over your heart to slow it down. you’re crying into his shirt, getting it all wet and blotchy, and he doesn’t flinch. doesn’t even breathe weird. just presses his lips to the centre of your forehead—right between your eyebrows, warm and lingering—and lets you sob it out.
“you’re smart, baby. you’re just tired. you’ve got this.”
kiss.
“i’m proud of you.”
kiss.
—
[b]. he kisses your forehead when he’s inside you.
slow strokes. deep ones. the kind that make your eyes roll back, make your toes curl against the sheets, make your brain feel like it’s slipping into a state of delirium. the kind that have you moaning without sound, lips parted but nothing coming out except shaky breaths.
he’s holding your leg up—one arm curled strong and steady beneath the bend of your knee, the other hand pressing into the mattress beside your waist to keep his balance. his hips move in a rhythm so perfect it’s almost cruel, and you can feel him in places you didn’t even know could ache as he whispers things like:
“you feel so good”
“my pretty girl”
“you were made for me”
and when you get close—when your back arches and your fingers dig into his bicep and your mouth drops open—he dips his head down. kisses your forehead as you come undone beneath him. like you’re holy. like you deserve to be worshipped.
—
[c]. he kisses your forehead in a rush out the door when he’s got twenty minutes to catch the team bus.
you’re sleepy, you’ve got your hoodie on, and you’re hugging him like he’s going off to war.
“i’ll be back thursday,” he says.
“play safe,” you mumble.
“you be safe,” he fires back, tugging your chin up, eyes soft.
he kisses you twice on the lips, and the forehead kiss follows. always.
then he’s gone, duffel on his shoulder, hoodie over his head, but your skin’s still warm where he touched it.
—
[d]. he kisses your forehead while you two babysit his baby cousin.
he’s on the floor, letting the baby crawl over his lap. you’re beside him with a bottle in one hand and a pacifier in the other. he’s laughing, glowing. he keeps calling you “mama” like a joke, but it doesn’t feel that funny when he says it with that smile.
he casually gives the baby a quick peck on her tiny nose. “one kiss for the baby…”
and then he leans into you, kisses your forehead. “… and one kiss for my baby.”
and then he turns back to the baby. keeps watching her play.
you go quiet for a second. your heart flutters like mad.
because he does it like he doesn’t even notice anymore. like it’s just something his body is forever programmed to do.
—
[e]. he kisses your forehead in the kitchen while you’re making pasta.
you’re barefoot, stirring sauce. the air smells like tomatoes and garlic and him.
he comes in looking for a water bottle. you hear the fridge open, the click of plastic.
then you feel him behind you.
a hand on your waist. a soft kiss to the top of your forehead.
and then he’s gone.
—
[f]. he kisses your forehead when you’re pissed off at him.
when you’re ranting. pacing. arms crossed. giving him hell for forgetting to text when he got home.
he lets you finish. doesn’t cut you off. just watches you with that look.
and when you finally pause, breathing hard, eyes glossy, he steps forward and holds your face in both hands.
“you’re right,” he says.
kiss.
“i’m sorry.”
kiss.
“it won’t happen again. promise.”
and somehow, the anger fades.
—
[g]. he kisses your forehead when you’re laughing so hard your stomach hurts.
you’re lying next to each other, scrolling tiktoks, laughing at his overbearing fans.
and mid-laugh—like right as your head falls back and your mouth opens wide—he dips in with a grin and kisses your forehead.
then your nose.
then your cheek.
just little things.
like he can’t help himself.
—
[h]. he kisses your forehead when he’s sleepy.
when he’s got one arm under the pillow, the other wrapped around your waist. you’re half on top of him, arm flung over his chest, your legs tangled.
and just before he dozes off, he tugs you closer and kisses your forehead.
because if that’s the first thing he did when he woke up, then trust that it’ll be the last thing he does before going to sleep.
it’s just… his thing.
forehead kisses: every day. every mood. every version of you.
cw- 18+ SMUT, meanie simon, mating press, rural log cabin, a bit toxic simon, manhandling, oral (reader receives), rough sex, intense sex, pudgy simon, light throat hold, bendy reader trope, husband simon, orgasm denial, married reader, reminder of wifely duties, age gap, feeding cake from hands.
synopsis: it’s simon’s special day—his birthday. he’s officially hit another age milestone and you can’t be happier for him. so why does he appear to be so upset on his birthday? is it because you forgot to give him his favorite treat that’s between your legs?
today is your husband’s birthday, and you couldn’t be happier for him. you knew that simon wasn’t big on celebrations in general, much less one for himself. so when he told you that all he wanted was you for his birthday, you thought you had the right idea. you booked a beautiful log cabin in rural northern europe on his card. you knew he wouldn’t want beaches or anything where there would be crowds or too much noise.
so you opted for a nice cabin for a little birthday getaway with simon, it was the safest choice.
upon arrival you hurriedly made preparations for just a small birthday celebration between the two of you. you got his favorite cake from a local bakery near the cabin, bought some candles, and ordered some take out for you two to munch on later.
so when you woke up the morning of simon’s birthday to see him with a frustrated expression—you didn’t know what to do. you two had slept comfortably in the cabin’s homey bedroom during the night. knowing that he wasn’t big on enjoying his birthday, you leaned over in the warm cotton sheets to press a soft kiss on his lips anyways.
“happy birthday simon! i love you”, you cheer happily as you kiss his soft lips a second time.
his lips break into a small crooked smile, “thank you baby, i love you too”, he says before yawning. he looked at you expectantly, and you didn’t know what he was trying to signal to you. ah! you got it, he must want his birthday cake in bed. you smile sweetly at him and give him a quick hug.
“oh! let me get the cake-“ you say quickly as you lept from underneath the sheets. your feet padding softly as you open the bedroom door.
“wai-“ simon calls out but you’re already gone.
you open the fridge door, pulling the cake you ordered from a local bakery in the area out. it was beautiful. a nice chocolate cake, covered in black sprinkles with white frosting that read— happy birthday to the best husband ever!
smiling, you placed the cake on the counter in the cabin’s kitchen. spinning around, you began to open drawers to try and find where the forks are kept.
“baby”, simon says in his gruff morning voice as he rounds the corner and finds you standing in the kitchen. he stood with an unquenchable smirk as he watched you quickly searching for utensils. you look over your shoulder quickly as you notice his attire. he was dressed comfortably in his soft blue pajama pants, shirtless, with only his dog togs around his neck.
“hold on, i’m getting forks and then i can sing you happy birthday”, you say cheerfully when you turn to move across the kitchen to open some more drawers. ‘what a strange kitchen set up?’ you thought to yourself while continuing your search.
softly, you feel simon’s hands rest on your hips as he presses his chest against your back.
allowing you to feel his hard cock against your lower back, “tha’ all you gonna do for me this mornin’?”, he asks as he pulls you back against him. making you abandon your hunt for the forks.
“uh”, you let out a noise of confusion.
‘what else was he expecting?’, you wondered to yourself. but when simon just hums, lowering his head to nudge yours to the side, baring your neck. he begins to place soft kisses along your jawline and downwards to your collarbone. rocking his hips into your ass he does so. it dawned on you then, what he was looking for.
“um- but don’t you want your cake first?”, you ask softly as you feel yourself getting turned on.
his hands move to rub across your tummy, pulling you back against him some more. “sure”, he huffs with a small bit of annoyance but does shuffle behind you towards the cake on the counter.
“i can’t find the forks”, you admit while looking over your shoulder to see his face. simon simply shrugs.
“feed it t’ me”, he requests with a husky tone.
“with my fingers?”, you ask shyly as you hold eye contact with him. simon simply runs his fingers down your back in a soft and slow motion. taking that as a yes, you slowly move your hand towards the cake. being careful not to mess up the area where the words are written. you dig your fingers into the side of the cake, and pull a piece of it off before turning around to face him.
simon gazed at the piece of cake in your hand with anticipation as he opened his mouth, showcasing his chipped teeth that he told you came from a fist fight during an op.
“i don’ bite baby”, he chuckled as he waited for your handful of cake.
you lift your hands and attempt to feed it to him by placing the cake in his mouth as directly as you can. simon accepts the piece, and chews it calmly while looking at your eyes. you could feel yourself growing wet from this interaction. his behavior was making you so turned on.
grabbing your wrist softly, simon’s holds your hand towards his mouth as he begins to lick and suck the frosting from the cake off of each of your fingers.
“mmh-“ he groans in satisfaction while licking the remnants off of you.
“ave anything else you wan’ me to taste for my special day?”, simon asks you while pressing you into the counter behind you. looking up at him, you nod your head softly. you reach for his hand, and lead him back to the bedroom. simon’s heart beats fast as he follows behind you in excitement.
“lay back” you say timidly which brings a smile to simon’s face, as he feels himself stiffen even more in pants.
“finally getting some breakfast”, he says pleased. he leans back on the back, lying flat on his back as he waits on you to give him the gift he’d been wanting all morning. its not that he didn’t appreciate the gestures you’ve made, because he does appreciate everything you’ve done for his birthday significantly. if you weren’t in his life he would’ve spent this year alone like usual. likely on base while avoiding everyone and keeping to himself.
but ever since you entered his life, he himself has grown spoiled—which he loves to teasingly call you. you’ve gotten him into booking vacations for a change and enjoying the sweet things in life. you being one of them.
but for his birthday, when he said all he wanted was you, he meant it. all he wants is a sex filled vacation with you. he didn’t need the cake, or the cabin, or any sort of celebration at all when he already married the best gift of all.
“c’mon baby, making me starve on ma’ birthday”, simon ushers you as he waits on his back. hoping his view of the ceiling will be swapped for a much wetter view soon.
you rub his thigh softly before you remove the night gown you wore to bed last night. “i’m coming” you reply as you climb onto the wood carved bed. lifting and saddling yourself around his wide hips and stomach. simon leans his head up, looking at you in lingerie that you brought for the trip.
“damn, you look so fucking sexy baby”, he says honestly as you feel his erection shift in his pants beneath.
“c’mere, wanna eat you” he says almost pleadingly. you shuffle upwards to his face as you rest your hips over his mouth. his eyes shutting beneath you in pleasure as he licks his tongue over the lace fabric of your panties. he opens his eyes again which lets you make eye contact with him. you see his pupils dilated as his gaze shifts from your panties to your eyes repeatedly.
“mmh—pull those panties t’ the side. don’ want any wrapping on my gift”, simon orders as he holds your hips just above his mouth. not fully letting you mount him yet.
“yes sir”, you reply as you reach your hand lower to pull your the crotch of your panties to the side. feeling the wetness of your panties as you do. baring your pussy lips to him as your little lace panties are hitched in the corner of your pelvis area. simon’s eyes greedily admire your wet pussy, his hot tongue reaching up to swipe a taste of your clit.
“fuck yes”, he breaths out.
tightening his hold on your hips, simon pulls you down on his mouth abruptly. your body struggling to gain stability as you grip onto the headboard of the canopy bed. “oou- simon!” you squeal out as you feel him hurriedly working to devour your pussy. his fat tongue spreading your wet lips and engulfing your clit. your hips shiver at his actions.
your fingernails rub against his scalp as you lightly rub your pussy on his tongue. his crooked nose nudging against your pussy also adds the pleasure.
simon laps at your clit, using his hot tongue to stimulate you. his tip of tongue travels downward to prod at your tight hole, signaling to you that he’s about to slide it inside of you. your back grows weak at this, you lean forward. using your arms to support your body on the mattress and above simon’s head. he pays no mind to you, going ahead and slipping his tongue into your pussy.
“b-baby.. fuck” you whimper as you begin breathing heavily.
simon feels your body become tense above him, he uses his strong arms to wrap about the area where your hips and thighs meet. holding you in a tight hold so you can’t run. using a heavy hand he slaps your right ass cheek harshly before pushing and pulling his tongue in and out of you repeatedly. the heat and stretch of his hot tongue making you cry out his name.
he pulls his tongue out slowly, making you think he’s finally finished. until, you feel him using his firm grip on your hips to begin rocking you on his tongue in controlled motions.
“uh-h my god, please”, you moan loudly.
your noises reverberating in the cabin bedroom as he continues rocking you. simon slaps your ass again, your cheek growing red from the abuse. you feel your stomach starting to tighten, a sign of your inevitable unraveling. sensing it, simon continues the same pace, only flicking his tongue more as he makes you grind.
your pussy tingles as you start cumming, your body going lax as you fall forward on the mattress. faceplanting into the pillows as your sensitive body quivers. simon carelessly keeps lapping at your pussy, receiving any and all liquid that comes out of you with greed. “love you”, he mutters into your pussy as he licks you clean. you breath raggedly as you gather your bearings. simon finally releases his hold on you, slowly easing your body off himself.
noting your tired form as you lay on your belly, simon raises an eyebrow in confusion. slapping your ass to get your attention, “oi—tha’ all you’ve got for me?”, he asks in a playfully tone as he starts rubbing your ass cheek.
you grumble into the sheets, your pussy pulsing viciously from the prior activities. “where’s my other gift?”, he asks while looking at you.
his hands traveling down to tug at the waistband of his pajama pants, pulling them down and revealing his hard cock.
“oi!” he barks out.
you look over your shoulder at your husband with a coy expression.
“s’not nap time yet baby, still got work to do here”, simon says with a plain expression. his hard cock standing and leaning against his pudgy stomach.
you look at his cock and then to his eyes. noticing the uncompromising look in his gaze as he stared you down. you rolled over onto your back, understanding the task at hand as you spread your legs slowly. baring your pussy as your knees were bent on either side of your body—ready for him. “m’ready”, you breathe out.
lowering his gaze to your pussy, simon couldn’t contain the hint of a smile creeping onto his lips. “a second present, y’shouldnt ave’ baby” he teases you before leaning over your clit.
bending down he places a wet and gentle kiss to your pussy lips. including his tongue in the kiss as he lightly sucks and kisses it. you wiggle in the bed at the stimulation, your clit just reviving itself from the previous orgasm he gave you. “si!” you moan in surprise when he stops suddenly. he simply chuckles before rising up, settling on his haunches as he looked down at your spread form.
“know what yer’ missing?”, he asks as he reaches down to stroke his heavy cock. hissing a bit when he rubs too close to his red leaky tip.
“no” you reply as you stare at his hand, not even bothering to make eye contact as you watch your husband stroking his cock.
“heh- need ya to grab yer ankles”, simon states as he waits on you to comply. your face wretches into shyness as you realize what you missed. your hands moving quickly to wrap around your ankles and keep your legs spread. simon nods his head in approval as he taps his tip against your hole.
“giving me a great birthday”, he says as he slips the mushroom head into your hole.
“making me feel appreciated y’know? showing ow’ much ya love n’ respect me”, he tone of his voice deepened as he focuses. his hard cock slipping further into your pussy as he rolls his hips deeper. your grip on your ankles tightened as you feel the pressure of him inside of you growing. you mouth goes agape at the feeling, your knees being pressed firmly into your sides as simon fills you up. the feeling of stuffed making your hips go tense.
“ah! happy birthday baby”, you whine as simon gets deeper in you, lowering himself in to the base. his balls getting wet from the contact.
“thank you” he replies as he rocks his hips into you, making sure you’re feeling the whole thing. leaning forward, simon goes belly to belly with you. his weight keeping your legs permanently pressed into the bed beneath. the pressure from him laying on you in almost a bear hug position, was intense. your eyes tearing up from the stretch as you feel everything. your thighs burning a bit from the weight, your lower stomach feeling his tip tapping away at your cervix repeatedly.
“luckiest man alive” he mutters in your ear as he fucks you into the mattress.
the sunlight from the cabin’s window barreling in to shine light on the two of you as simon continues plowing away at your insides. moving his hand, he places a light hold on your throat. not even attempting to choke you, just using it to hold you down into the bed. tears welled up in your eyes as this continued, throughly enjoying this moment.
he shifts his head from your warm neck to your lips, plopping the softest kiss on your lips while rocking his hips into you. you were starting to get overwhelmed, the weight of him, his cock being so deep in you, the kissing—you were going to cum fast.
“gonna cum” you moaned loudly.
it felt like the sound of your voice was just a small sound in the room in comparison to simon’s heavy breathing above you and the sound of wet plaps echoing. “mm, gonna cum for the birthday boy? gonna give me a treat?” he said to you with a smirk, clearly enjoying fucking you dumb. his grip on your throat tightened a bit, forcing a response from you.
“y-yes! i will” you squeal as you feel something in your lower stomach tighten.
your hips getting tense and the walls of your pussy squeezing simon to death. his head falls forward at the intensity of the squeezes, grumbling about you having the best pussy in the world and how much he loves you. your entire body shakes at your orgasm, your mouth gasping as you cum on his cock.
you couldn’t even form words, just loud moans ripping your throat uncontrollably as you came.
simon kept fucking you through it, the base of his cock getting covered in a ring of cum as he did. you felt a bit lightheaded at the end of it, you leaning back into the bed heavily as you tried to gain your bearings. “mmf-fucking love you” he huffed out as he chased his own orgasm. fucking into you as you lied limp on the bed. your hands having long abandoned your ankles as you felt him plowing into your soaked cunt.
he came in you with a stir, his hips moving so fast and then stilling abruptly as he leaned forward onto your chest and came his hot seed into your pussy.
leaning his head against the crook of your neck, you petted the back of his head tenderly as he slowly grinded his hips into you to force it all in you. his spine and muscles going lax as he finished. you two lied there for a second like that. just enjoying the post orgasm glow you scratched his scalp and he placed soft kisses on your neck.
Wanting a Divorce Gone Wrong | Possessive Husband Simon Ghost Riley
+18 cw: really mean Simon, a bit toxic, smut, rough sex, doggystyle, giving head, threats of taking life, creampie, manhandling, bit of bully Simon, compromises made
The relationship between you and your husband Simon Riley was rocky to say the least. Not much different then when you two began dating in truth. Just a whirlwind of emotional upheaval, intensity, and soul shocking sex. The tornado that is Simon Riley ended up being a ride you just couldn’t bear to be on anymore, not with things remaining the way they were.
Simon’s an incredible man, you’d gotten to know him in ways that most people he “knows” haven’t even brushed the surface of.
But the night’s are just cold, at first you thought it was just you. Maybe you’d grown more sensitive to chilly weather, so you’d turn up the heat and wear one of his left over hoodies in the rural farmhouse he’d bought for the two of you since the beginning of your marriage. However, you simply weren’t able to shake the feeling of coldness, and overall emptiness.
Over the past two years, Simon’s been deployed much more and for longer periods of times then before.
You knew it was apart of the marriage, you’d faced it when you two were just dating and you’d thought that you had the capacity to handle the lone-ness of a home where you are mostly the only person there. So yes, the house is cold. Colder than you felt it should be for a marital property. It was lonely, you loved Simon, and you loved being his. Just the thought of him made your body shiver in remembrance.
He’s truly ruined you for any other man.
Spoiled you beyond words, loved you more than himself, and owned your heart. But the loneliness of being so far from other humans—thanks to your life in rural area with him—was eating at you. Especially now when your husband hardly comes home, and when he does it’s for a few short weeks out of every year. Because he was being deployed somewhere, to do only God knows what, and for an unspecified amount of time.
You were thinking of filing for a divorce.
It breaks your heart to consider, the reality of the situation absolutely shatters you. You atleast decided to raise the idea to Simon when you see him again. You knew that this is the absolute last thing he’d ever expect or want to face when coming home from deployment. However you can’t keep swallowing your feelings. You haven’t seen him in 7 months at this point. He promised to call, video chat or at the very least text when he could. And he hasn’t, the most you’ll get is a quick check in message about once a week at ungodly hours.
His job has been eating away at your marriage for two years now.
You knew that any moment now he’d step through the door of the home you both made and cherished. Knowing the impending weight of the conversation to be held was nauseating as you sat on the couch.
You were very informally dressed for the inevitable conversation.
Sporting that one pair of tiny pajama shorts he loves on you—bought you a pair in every color—and wearing a comfortable top as you waited. Lying back against the arm of the soft cashmere couch as you stared at the muted tv screen. You wanted it to be silent, needed the extra opportunity to think.
Think of how to tell the man you love, that you couldn’t go on like this.
It would either make or break this marriage. As you fondled with your wedding ring and spun around your ring finger repetitively. It was time to find out.
You heard him before you saw him. Hearing the sound of keys jingling on the other side of the front door as you heard Simon push in his key and turn the lock. Hustling inside of the comfy and spotless farmhouse before locking the door behind himself. He hadn’t looked over at you yet, likely still trying to get comfortable as he leaned over to untie the laces on his combat boots.
You looked over the back of the couch, your mood on the more solemn side as you watched your husband. “Can feel ya eyes on me”, you hear him speak in that gruff tone he uses when he’s trying to decompress.
“Just looking”, you reply softly as you keep your eyes on him.
Simon’s dressed in loose black sweat pants, so it’s obvious he stopped by the base to clean up before coming home, and he wears a giant black zip up hoodie. Sporting his comfort mask, simply the skull balaclava without the hard plastic shell he wears with his other mask.
“Baby… need to talk to you”, you say as you watch him straighten up and look over at you. Clearly trying to decipher the seriousness of the conversation. He knows that you typically avoid confrontation like the plague, so he just stares. His pale blue eyes just leering at you as if he’ll see into your thoughts just by looking for long enough.
“Wha’s the matter?”, he asked in a serious tone as he still stood on the doormat with his eyebrows furrowed.
You never speak like this, especially not when he’s just come home. You hardly ever see eachother at this point, just a few weeks here and there throughout the year. It’s become insufferable, his job—which you know he loves and you admire him for doing—is absolutely crushing your marriage at this point.
You decide not to tarry, and just come out with it. One thing you love about Simon is his honesty, he may be blunt and sound a bit crass. But he’s fostered a great ability to be honest with eachother so far, and now you need to use it more than ever.
“I…..” you say while feeling a bit of anxiety as you looked over at your husband.
He stood frozen as he waited for your words, he didn’t know what to expect next. “C’mon, out with it”, he huffed without any hint of annoyance, just curiosity.
“Simon… I think we should divorce”. Your gaze flickers to the cashmere couch you seated upon when you say the words. Your eyes not being able to look at him as you expel such treasonous words from your lips.
Silence engulfs the room. Absolute stillness, as the silent moments past. The tension in the air makes it feel suffocating. You’re beginning to wish you’d unmuted the tv when you had the chance to atleast lighten the atmosphere. Simon simply stays still and just stared at you. His eyes squinting almost into a glare as his gaze focuses on you, unwavering. He doesn’t seem flabbergasted at least. Not overwhelmed with shock but rather he seems to be growing furious.
His hands balling up as he instantly reaches his hands up to the neck of his balaclava and itches at it.
“Ya want to leave me?”, he says when his gaze finally shifts to the floor before him. His tone hardened, as his eyebrows remained furrowed and his face wrecked with tension beneath the mask.
“I…”, you pause again.
Unable to find the right words to fix it. If it can be fixed still…
“Simon, I want to grow old with you. Like we always talked about. But I don’t think I can handle the way our marriage is going. You’re never here, ever. And it’s been two years of this, it’s unbearable”, you admit in a calm tone. Just keeping your gaze planted on Simon’s body. His biceps bulging beneath his hoodie as he stands still, clearly trying to process the information he’s faced with.
“Don’t want a divorce”, he says after a deep breath.
He finally steps away from the front door, moves toward you in the living room area as he moves to sit on the couch opposite to you. “I wanna save this, wanna fix it. You tellin’ me you think we’re beyond fixing?”, he says in an exasperated tone, clearly not responding well to the idea of divorce.
“Ya found some other bloke who’s putting these… these fucking ideas in your head?” He huffs with fervor. Tilting his head to the side slightly as he faces wretches into an expression of irritation.
“No! No Simon I haven’t met anyone. But you’re never home, it’s lonely here. And you never call, you don’t check in. How can you expect this to work?”, you respond. You’re tone edging on the cusp of resignation. He couldn’t actually believe that after seven months of radio silence he would just walk in through the door with no issues to resolve. You didn’t believe it. Simon simply clenched and unclenched his fist, standing behind the couch and looking down into your eyes.
“Not leaving me”, he asserted.
It didn’t sound like a question but more of a statement. A challenge even. You took a deep breath while staring up and into the hardened gaze of your husband. “Something has to change”, you say with seriousness. Because something does, you can’t allow yourself to live like this for another however many months.
“Giving me an ultimatum”, he says while reaching his hand forward to grip onto the couch. Knuckles growing bone white as he held it beneath his mammoth hand.
“No, I’m telling you what’s going on. I can’t do this anymore Simon. And I know you love your jo-“ you speak carefully as you try not to overwhelm him. Not wanting things to explode into an argument—which seems to be the direction you’re heading.
“I’ve been in the field longer then you’ve be alive, it’s all I know”, he reveals as he shoulders weigh down with a hint of melancholy. His vulnerability made you stand without thinking, hurriedly rounding the couch to stand before him and place a soft hand on his chest. “I know, but these missions Simon….I hoped after last year things would slow down. But you’ve hardly come home four times this year”, you say softly while rubbing his chest softly. Your smooth touch obviously relieving him as he releases a deep breath.
“Can’t divorce”, Simon says while reaching for the back of your neck with a mixture of gentleness and roughness.
Craning your neck to look at him in his eyes, he holds eye contact with you. It dawns on him that the time has come sooner than he thought it would, and it seemed this situation was signaling the end to his days in the field. When Simon married you he took it seriously. The little courthouse wedding you two had—practically just the marriage license signing with an officiant—had meant the world to him. It meant he wasn’t so lonely anymore.
His life had meaning, he had a reason to look forward to coming home. Not just coming home to a place, he was coming home to you. He wasn’t looking to change that any time soon.
When he’d bought this house for the two of you, he envisioned the rest of your lives so clearly. You being surrounded with your children, and him being the doting and loving husband and father he knew he could be, would be.
“You’re mine, my wife. No one else’s.”, Simon says almost more like he’s reminding himself then you.
“But Simon-”, you rebut softly.
He simply waves a hand in the air like he can just cancel whatever words you were about to spew. “No buts, you signed the paper. You told me forever. Are you a liar?” His face tightening as he stared at you. One rogue hand slipping behind you to grasp at your ass, squeezing it deliciously while pulling you closer to him.
You’re breath hitches at that question, making you look at him in surprise. “I’m not a liar Simon”, you say as you use your two hands to brace yourself against his chest as you get trapped in his hold.
“So stop trying t’ leave me, be a good wife and be devoted to yer husband”, he says whilst continuing to groping your ass softly in the little pajama shorts you’re wearing. You bit your lip at the motions, the feeling of his large hands on you after so long was making you grow wet in your panties. You missed him, but what about this issue? It needs a resolution. “Simon I can’t go on like this”, you huff as you look at him. Hoping he can see the seriousness in your gaze, and how much you want things to get better between you.
He sucks in a breath as he nods, “I know. Know ya wanna fix this too”, he assures you.
“I aven’t seen you in months, this is what I got to come home to?”, he shakes his head in dismay. Looking at you as if you were the one in the wrong here, making your husband come home to these issues. “But-“ you try to speak before Simon clicks his tongue. The silence in the living room reverberating the sound mercilessly.
“No buts, I heard ya. But are ya hearing me?”, Simon asks seriously as he reaches a hand up to remove his balaclava. Tossing it on the couch beside you both. You can finally see the entirety of his face. His features being fixed into a deathly scowl. The energy of him dominating the room and ultimately you. You nod your head at his question, making it known that you understand him as well.
“Ow’ are ya planning t’ fix it?”, he asks with sternness oozing from his tone.
“I’m gonna please you”, you say as your lips just move for you. Were you even hearing yourself? This was a serious situation, and instead of getting to a resolution like you should. You were submitting to lust.
Simon nods as he just stares at you, watching you bend to your knees like second nature. Getting on your knees before him and tugging at the waist of his sweatpants. “Gonna show me how much of a good wife ya are?”, he says with a tone of steel. His indifferent eyes never straying from yours as he watches you pulling his sweats down. Pulling his boxers down afterwards to be faced with his bright red and angry looking tip. Precum spilling from it as his cock faced you.
You could see how excited he was, as you used your hand to raise his cock towards his stomach. Taking your warm and wet tongue to lick the underside of his cock.
Your tongue trailing from his balls to the tip as you finally engulfed it in your mouth. Licking up the precum that oozed from the tip of his cock.
“Fuck baby”, he moaned as his released a breath from the pleasure.
You couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together. Surely both your panties and sleep shorts were soaked in the middle. “Mmf you sucking that dick like a champ” he encouraged you as you began to bob your head on the tip. Using your hand to stroke the rest as you worked your mouth down.
Simon’s mouth fell open in pleasure as he watched how you worked your wet and warm mouth down to the base of his cock. Your hands moving to grip his balls so you could stroke them while sucking his cock.
His chest rises and falls heavily as he watches you work. Reaching his hands up, he pulls his hoodie over his head and drops it to the floor beside you both. Repeating the same movement to remove his t-shirt.
“Eat that fucking dick”, he huffed out with furrowed eyebrows. the line between them deepening harshly as he watched you sucking him.
You swirled your tongue on the base of him to the best of your ability before pulling back to rub his tip on your tongue while looking up at him. Simon’s stomach twitched in pleasure as he tried to keep himself steady. His eyelids squinting as he watched you work him tirelessly. “You love this huh?” He asked you while watching you repeatedly suck from the tip to the base of his cock like you were planning to eat him.
He flexes his fingers that grip your hair as he pauses your movements to start slowly thrusting in your mouth instead.
Tears built in your eyes at this movement, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. “Mm-fuck, best fucking wifey”, he praises you as you take it. Placing your hands on his naked hips to steady yourself as he throat fucks you. Simon rolls his hips into your mouth repeatedly—similar to when you two have sex.
his chest rising and falling heavily as he felt his cock slip down your hot and wet throat. the sensation was so incredible it made it hard for him to stand.
You can’t help yourself. You’re hand trailing downwards towards your soaked pajama shorts to your clothed pussy. intending to place with yourself.
You were so turned on right now that it made your stomach twist. “Ah ah, don’t touch my pussy without me”, Simon pauses as he demands you remove your hand. You comply quickly as you look up at him.
“Tha’ what you been doing when I’m out on deployment? Been playing with my pussy without me?” Simon huffs as he watches you try to shake your hand with his cock still in your mouth. He rolls his eyes in annoyance as he pulls out of your mouth and watches you take a deep breath.
“You think that’s okay? Think you’re getting away with it?”, Simon asks seriously while looking at your kneeling form on the floor of the living room.
His cock standing hard as it glistens with the wetness of previously being in your mouth. “Take your clothes off”, he demands. You hurriedly work to comply with his request as you remove your top and shorts. “Good, now arch your back and show me my pussy. Been missing er” Simon orders.
You arch your back against the floor of the living room, pressing your face against the floor you mopped early today. Opening your thighs so he can see your wet pussy showing behind you.
Simon releases a groan of excitement, reaching a hand forward to cup your pussy. “Y’know how times I got fucking distracted on my missions thinking about this pussy?”, he slaps it which makes you squeal against the floor. Your hand gripping the floor softly to brace yourself. “Answer me”, he demands as he slaps your pussy again.
“No baby I don’t” you squeal as you lower yourself into a mean arch for him.
“Tha’s alright- gonna show you. Make you feel it”, he ensures with nerve wracking calmness. the cool palm of his hand cups you and squeezes your pulsing pussy. Simon groans as he grips his hard and sensitive length. The tip still an angry red shade as he rubs his tip up and down along the wet hot slit of your pussy.
“Fuck” he hisses.
“Hmph— an’ ya wanted me to give this perfect pussy up. Let ya dance off into the sunset with some bloke who wouldn’t know wha’ to do wit ya”, he huffs with a dry laugh after. As if he was in utter disbelief that you attempted to do something like that. Something so treacherous, so unfair. He lifts a heavy hand and smacks your ass with the weight of a ton of bricks. Your body shivering unconsciously as your ass cheek surely burns a bright red.
“Tha’ what you wanted to do?”, Simon asks in a gravelly tone. Clearly anticipating an answer.
“No baby, I didn’t. J-just wanted us to be together m-more” you stumbled over your words, your head turning to look over your shoulder at him as you spoke. Your body antsy with anticipation as the palms of your hands secrete sweat on the wood floor. Simon slaps your ass harshly as his eyebrows grow tense watching your ass ripple from the slap.
“Eyes forward”, he barks out. You lay the side of your cheek on the cold wood floor once more.
“Disrespectful lil thing, gonna knock some sense into ya” he mutters more to himself than you as he finally slides his thick length into your pussy. Your sweaty palms struggling to grip at the floor as you try to brace yourself for the entirety of him. Your pussy pulsing egregiously for a woman who just claimed to want a divorce from her husband.
“O-ouh, god please”, you cry out as Simon places a firm hand on your lower back, ensuring that you hold your arch.
Simon makes a grunt noise as he applies pressure to your back, not laying his weight on you too much. But just enough to give you no room to move. He continues his slow thrust into you, not stopping until you take all of him. His dick stretching your pussy wider as you haven’t seen him in months—haven’t had sex in months as a result.
You’re so incredibly wet that the whole living room is marred by the sound of your pussy’s wet squelching. Simon takes another hard slap at your ass making you moan out.
Finally you take him until the base, and it’s at that point that Simon starts giving you slow but hard strokes. “So rude ta’ me” he speaks in a clear tone, his eyes watching your pussy stretch to accommodate his strokes. “M’sorry baby, didn’t mean to”, you apologize in a squealing tone. One thing about the two of you, was that the sex was incredible. Unmatchable.
“M’sorry too” he admits as he continues a steady pace.
His apology being aimed towards his absence in the home, leaving you lonely wasn’t his intention. Deployments were picking up and Price seemed like he only had jobs that went on for months at a time. None of it’s an excuse to neglect his duties as a husband and he knows that. Knows that things need to change.
You register his apology as coherently as you can as he started to pick up the pace. Abandoning his soft and hard rhythm for simply hard strokes. Adopting that pace that he knows makes you weak everytime. Your slick was everywhere, embarrassingly so. His lower stomach and hips being wet from your pussy’s excitement. The freshly cleaned floor beneath you suffering a similar fate as you took his delicious pounding greedily. Your mouth slightly agape as you breath out of your mouth, your face tense with pleasure as moaned endlessly.
“Look at tha’, messy little pussy just keeps getting wetter n’ wetter. Feels like she missed me, did she?” he questions you as he continues his barbaric pace, shifting to lie over your back. The pressure of his chest over your back makes you moan out as he ducks his face into your neck.
Reaching a muscular arm up and over your shoulder to brace himself on the floor.
“M-mm yes! S-she did. We missed you baby. I love you” you cry out in ecstasy as you take his strokes. The base of his cock being wrapped in a ring of wetness and your mixed fluids. You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he lied so close to you. At your confession Simon uses his head to nudge you. Encouraging you to turn your face towards his. Simon places the most intoxicating kiss on your lips. His lips gliding seamlessly with your soft ones as he slips his tongue into your mouth.
You two engage in a soft tongue fight that makes you melt even further, your stomach getting butterflies as you feel closer to cumming. “Oh my god”, you whine into the kiss as you feel it.
You already knew it was going to be messy. “Gonna come for me? Gonna cum for your husband?”, Simon asks you softly as pulls his lips from yours. You nod feverishly as you moan out his name. Simon—knowing your body well—adjusts to place both hands on the floor over your shoulders. His forehead pressed to the back of your head as he fucks you hard. “O-ooo I’m gonna s-squirt!” You moan nastily as you take his rough pounding.
“Cum on me, make it yours baby. Show me how ya take this dick for your man”, Simon groans behind you as he feels your already tight walls growing even tighter as your pussy pulses.
Your release makes you shiver, your forehead falling flat on the floorboard as you feel Simon fucking you through it. Him continuing his strokes and making you take it as you came. “Mm, perfect wife”, he encourages as he feels the liquid spurting from you pussy around him. Simon lifts an arm, using it to turn your head to the side as he gets closer to his orgasm.
“Look in my eyes, yeah?”, he says rushed as he gets closer. His stomach going taut behind you as he stops thrusting.
Your eyes meeting his as he cums in you, his hips stiff as his body freezes. Simon moans out your name loudly as he feels your pussy still pulsing around him. Losing all of the tension in his body, Simon pulls out of you and lays flat on his back while pulling you to lie on top of him.
Silence ensues as you both lie peacefully on the floor. “Gonna ask for a paper pushing position” he says calmly as he breaths and rubs at your back.
You lie still as you hear his words.
“Are you sure?” You ask while growing sleepy—looks like you’ll be going for a quick nap on the floor.
“Not gonna lose you over this, you’re the most important thing t’ me”
cw. fluff, innuendo, cunnilingus, lovemaking, reader is a bit insufferable but she means well. SMUT
synopsis. price, simon and johnny with very naggy wives who show them love and care they've never experienced before
masterlist
john price
john is the typical gruff, stern guy who knows when to be serious, calm, or regulated, but around his wife, all he is is soft. he spends all day gritting his teeth during combat, pushing through with wounds the size of golf balls and scolding recruits when they fuck up, and so when he's on leave for a few days to see you, all he wants to do is relax, make love to you, eat your cooking, and maybe go fishing or do some home renovations. you, however, have a different plan. you're on his ass the second he gets home. not that he minds too much. you're too beautiful to be annoyed at.
he's sitting on the couch trying to eat a biscuit, and you gently pry it out of his hands mid bite. "john, did you take your omega-3s today?"
he signs, hand grazing your hip as you stand in front of him. "no, love. not today. but i used that nicotine patch you told me to use to help with the smokin'."
your eyes light up. "you're using them, darling?"
his heart thuds pridefully at your reaction, like it usually does when you call him darling in that dreamy little tone of voice.
"wore 'em everyday for ya, m'love," he murmurs, reaching for your hips so he can tug you gently to stand between his knees. "damn if i don't like a good smoke, but i like my woman's happiness a little more."
you giggle, nuzzling your nose into his hair, relishing in the pleasant, clean scent. "just a little?"
he laughs, bringing you into a sitting position on his knee. "a lot, love. y'said it's no good for m'lungs, and i wanna be around long enough to see our grandbabies. can't have that if 'm coughin' up ash everyday."
your lip wobbles. "oh john," you coo, lacing you arms around his neck tightly. you're so proud of him that you feel your eyes start to well up. you nuzzle your face into his neck to hide the way you're getting so emotional. you're so proud of him. "there there..." he bounces you in his lap a little to soothe you. "you're the sweetest lil' thing, aren't ya? takin' care of me so good. wouldn't know what to do without you."
you sniffle and snuggle into him so tight that you're nearly suffocating.
he tries to act like the fussing annoys him most times, but really, he relishes in it. he rarely smokes unless he's very stressed and isn't a heavy drinker. after all, you told him, "don't drink if you're looking for an escape from your problems, m'kay? 's what i'm here for."
his health's never been better.
what happens if he doesn't wanna be nagged one particular day?
he's been on edge all morning. one of the younger dogs knocked the sheep pen open early this morning and let half a dozen of them loose, and price has been running around like his head's on fire trying to corral them back inside and soothe the other distressed sheep. he just got back in all sweaty and stressed, drinking a large mug of coffee. then a second. third. on the fourth, you stepped in, suggesting that he might wanna slow down, and he snapped. "god's sake woman, d'you ever let up? i don't need a bloody nanny all the time. enough with the naggin' "
you shut up immediately, drawing your hand back with your brows scrunched.
slowly, you stop asking about his vitamins. stop shoveling extra greens on his plate. stop massaging rosemary oil into his hair at night. you stop. it's relieving for about fifteen minutes. then, he's disturbed. the silence brings him no peace whatsoever. he lasts until the evening of the same day, and he corners you while you're making dinner, hugging you from behind. "darlin'," he murmurs into your ear, mouthing at the lobe.
no answer. he huffs, dragging you against him and pressing soft, open mouthed kisses down your ear, along your jaw, to your throat, where he licks a broad stripe back up to your sweet spot. "c'mon darlin', 'm sorry. you know i get heated fast, hm?" his big hands travel along your body, his left now splaying on your breast, and the right squeezing your hip. "just had a terrible morning, nearly lost our sheep, had to run around like an idiot for an hour... 'n i lost my cool with you. 's not okay, i know."
"hate it when you raise your voice at me, john." you say softly, and his heart just about breaks. he didn't mean to, really. he loves when you're bossy with him. it shows you care and it's incredibly sexy. he'd just been very irate this particular morning. he's been with you years and hasn't complained seriously about the nagging ever, and he's not about to start now.
he squeezes your tit in his palm and kisses your cheek. "i know beautiful, i know. i love you s'much, hm? gonna make it up to you..."
he's on his knees behind you soon after, eating your pussy under your dress while you try to cook. his tongue laps at your soaked hole, causing his beard to get soaked with your juices. the thick hair scratches pleasantly against your folds while the spoon you're holding clatters onto the counter, your eyes fluttering shut and hands scrabbling forwards for something to hold - you settle on the heavy stand mixer ahead of you.
he's apologizing with a mouthful of your pussy, hands squeezing your ass and giving your thighs a little pinch any time you try to close 'em.
" 'm sorry. need you fussin', darling, alright? don't ever stop." your breath hilts each time his tongue drags upwards and flattens over your clit. his nose keeps nudging your ass because his big hands keep you spread wide for him.
you sway a little, thighs trembling with the overwhelming amount of pleasure he's inflicting on you, but all he does is grunt and pull you back against his face harder. "this what it takes t'get you talkin' to me again?" he rasps against your cunt. "fine, i'll eat this sweet fuckin’ pussy 'til you forgive me."
you gasp when he sucks on your clit and tips you forward so you're fully presented for him, tongue fucking in and out of your sloppy hole. the food you were tying to make is long forgotten at this point, but he doesn't care at all. all he wants to stuff his face with anyway is your sloppy cunt.
"john, mmh!" you cry out, thighs clamping around his head, but he smacks your ass hard and shoves your thighs wide once more.
"no, no, you'll take it," he grunts. "this is my apology, yeah? let me make it right an' show you how much i love your fussin'. "
you cream onto his face with a loud whine. grinding against his chin and into his mouth, and even then, he continues for a second round, mouthing at your folds and mumbling, "couple more, wife. apology's not done."
johnny "soap" mactavish
johnny's a firecracker and a wildcard. he lives on the edge and likes the unknown that comes with being reckless and unprepared. but when he met, dated, and then married you, he did have to learn to exert some degree of control over himself and his life, because damn you're a very meticulous, bossy little thing. not that he minds. having his woman fuss over him and baby him and give him extra special treatment all day, every day doesn't really feel punishing. your fussing is basically foreplay for him.
you'll tell him, "johnny, you're not going on a run with a level 6 UV outside with no sunscreen on. cmere so i can put it all on you."
"...whatever tha' means."
you frown. "johnny, you're not funny. a level 6 is dangerous. cancerous without protection."
he chuckles. "you just want an excuse to rub y'lil hands all over me, ain' that right?"
"johnny!"
you literally have to tackle him onto the living room floor sometimes to rub sunscreen on his face, because he keeps dodging you and laughing. squirming like a kid while you try to get his ears and nose. "you won't wanna shag me if i've got white goo all over m'cheeks, lass, 'm not havin' it."
"you'll thank me when you don't have skin cancer in twenty years," you huff, massaging the liquid into his cheeks while you straddle him. it's the only way he'll ever sit still anyway. his hands reach up to paw at your hips, and he tilts his head, smiling up at you.
"y'look s'cute on top o' me, don't ya?" he coos, giving your ass a playful slap. you roll you eyes and squeeze his cheek in retaliation, and he laughs and continues. "do y'love me more now that i've been properly slathered?" he teases, raising his brows as you finish rubbing in the last bit of cream.
you kiss his forehead. "only a little."
he smiles. "hm. maybe i should scald myself in the sun so you can love me up more."
"johnny."
"…right, right. responsible. m'havin' a growth arc for m'wife,"
"are you?"
"…no. but m'health has improved dramatically since y'started bullyin' me into slatherin' my skin twice a day."
you lean in so your lips brush his "that's cause i want you around forever, dummy."
johnny smiles softer at your words, tugging you down so your forehead rests on his and his beefy arms wrap around you. "i know," he hums, kissing your lips softly. " 'm not goin' anywhere, bonnie. not if i can help it."
what happens if he doesn't wanna be nagged one particular day?
he'd got home only yesterday from being deployed for several weeks. he hadn't seen his loving wife in ages, and the distance didn't do to well on him mentally. he's really not in the mood for fussing. he just needs to eat, fill you up with his cum a few times tonight, and go to bed.
you, however, had been nagging him the minute he came home. needing a breather, he offered to go grab groceries and run errands, hoping that the little break would help him cool off so he didn't snap at you. he's never raised his voice at you, and he doesn't plan on it today.
but when he got back with a dark bottle of bourbon...
"baby? did you only offer to go so you could buy that nonsense? i told you i hate when you drink-"
he interrupts you. "for fuck's sake, can I breathe without you hoverin'? you're not my mum."
you glare at him. not the sweet glare when you're admiring him, or the shy one, or the deadpan one when he does something dumb and you pretend to be mad at him, the angry wife one. oh, he is not a big fan of this look.
weirdly, though, instead of telling him how rude that was and that he knows you're just trying to look out for him, you turn and walk away in an eerie, icy silence. fuck, this isn't good. "bonnie, c'mon. i didnae mean that. c'mere,"
you swat his hand away lightly, deciding you won't be "mothering" him anymore. and so in the following days, you don't tell him to put on sunscreen. you don't pout when he only sleeps four hours. you barely touch him or look at him.
he tries to charm you at first, knowing how much of a sucker you are for his flirting and pretty words, but it doesn't work this time. you don't bite or get on his case or boss him in the way that makes him hard as hell. no shoving his chest when he gets too close or mewling "johnny please," when he teases you. none of it.
you've been eerily polite, and it's driving him mental. on the second day of this, he tries to nuzzle into your neck while you're folding laundry, whispering, "miss you s'much baby, 'm gonna make it up to you properly tonight."
you pull away and hand him rolled up socks. "drawer." he watches you for a moment, hands slack by his sides, socks limp in his grip.
you're distant. johnny's not good with distance from you. the next day, he's extremely restless, wandering around you like a lost puppy in only a pair of sweats sitting low on his hips, hoping you'll come put that greasy spf you always fuss about all over him. he even lies out on the balcony chair for a full twenty minutes in the sun just to bait you, but you give him nothing. you do spare him a glance periodically through the glass door, but you say nothing. he ends up with a sunburn on his chest and the bridge of his nose.
that night, when you dont wiggle into his chest like normal or ask if he had a vitamin after he ate dinner, he turns to his side to face you, needing to put an end to your stonewalling. "bon."
you hum. he can't tell if it's acknowledgement or just the sound you make when you're falling asleep.
"c'mon," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you into his chest. "i wasn't nice to you, i know that. didn' mean to be a dick. just been so stressed 'n on edge 'n i spoke outta turn."
while you're deciding whether or not to believe him, he gets closer, forehead nudging yours. "i'll pour the bourbon down the sink tomorrow," he says quietly. "swear it."
your fingers toy with the hem of his sleep shirt. it's the first time in days you've touched him without pushing him away. "you can drink if you want to." you murmur, twisting the fabric in your hands. " 'm sorry if i'm being overbearing."
"y'not, baby." he kisses your cheek. "just wanna do whatever makes you happy. you're the boss, aren't you?"
you wake up the next morning with his head between your legs, slow and steady, taking his time kissing down your body, from your tummy, to your hip, down to your inner thigh, and then your tender core.
his big palms wrap around the backs of your thighs and pull them over his shoulders, locking you in place while his mouth sucks and works at your pussy. he's so focused that he's making pleased little groans, crotch rutting absentmindedly against the mattress. he's grateful to have you back in his arms and your pussy, dripping and sweet as nectar, accessible to him once more, but he needs to make you cum to really feel forgiven.
he's slow and paced, kissing on you like he's starved. the slow drag of his tongue through your folds and the way his lips close over your clit and suck just softly enough to make your thighs tremble is euphoric, and you find yourself blanking on why you were mad at him to begin with.
his arms are wrapped around your thighs so firm you can barely move. and every time you try to squirm, he groans low and pulls you right back down, nose buried, face flushed and mouth messy. you can feel his beard brushing you, scratchy and warm, and your fingers automatically slide into his hair. "that's it, baby," he mumbles between pussy kisses. "lemme say sorry proper."
you whimper, back arching when he flattens his tongue against your clit and gives it a slow, firm swirl. he just groans again with enjoyment when you close your thighs around his head. he loves being smothered. he doesn't even care if he breathes, as long as you're happy and in love with him. when your pleasure crests and you cum on his face, he licks at your folds firmer, dragging that orgasm out of you. he keeps his mouth on you, gentler now. just soft licks and little kisses, tongue soothing over your puffy folds while his big hands rub slow circles into your thighs.
he doesn't stop until your hand in his hair goes limp. you sigh, letting him kiss back up your body to give you a little break before he goes back for more. he rests on your chest, nuzzling into your flesh gently. "you're forgiven, johnny." you huff, a little tired.
he grins, mouth still wet, eyes gleaming with relief. "thank fuck. boss me all you want, love. swear it gets me hard, anyway."
simon "ghost" riley
simon riley is commanding. he’s the most domineering presence in any room he walks in. makes the greatest of men lower their gaze when he approaches. he's taken down large enemy groups all on his own, has killed men with his bare hands, and… he comes home to you telling him "you can't eat that, baby. it's got monosodium glutamate in it. that makes you sick, remember?" and listens every time.
"…right," he'll say after a pause. "forgot abou' that. what d’you want me to eat then?"
he'd drop the bag of crisps he picked up on his way home with the god forsaken MSG in it the second you mentioned it and would nod. "mm. wouldn' wan' to spoil my dinner anyway, right love?" while gently taking you into his arms and pressing his lips to yours.
you're not controlling, either. the fussing is very particular. typically just a soft, offhand reminder from the only person in the world who really knows and prioritizes him before anything else. you love him so much and this is part of the way you show it. how could he complain?
you know everything about him, which is huge, considering he is a man of few words and is dreadful at being vulnerable. you know what wrecks his stomach, what gives him headaches, how he gets irritable and loopy when he doesn't sleep at least six hours in the night. you know his favorite clothing fabric and how he just wants to hold you when he's upset.
your voice is so warm and quietly certain that he has to listen every time. once you advise him not to do something, everything in him short circuits. his brute force logic disappears. because you say no, or "you shouldn't si, take this instead," and it's a done deal.
you don't even realize what it does to him, how something as simple as your concern twists itself into a soft knot in his stomach, how it makes him ache, not because you're bossing him, but because you're taking car and watching over him in a way no one else does.
he often glares at you and raises a brow ever so slightly at the way you, a tiny thing with big, expressive eyes and pouty lips just told a tank of a man what to do and expected him to listen.
he does though. listens to your bossy ass every time. and for all his stoicism, the man melts under your fussing.
he's in the shower with you brought that annoying cleanser you insist he needs to use every night and wash it off after thirty seconds because he's got sensitive skin.
"love. this shit's greasy."
"it's hydrating, si. good for your skin. protects the barrier."
"don't wan' hydrating."
you rub into his cheekbones anyway while his eyes are locked on you and his breath comes out slow and heavy. you're standing between his legs in the steam, having him lower his head slightly so you can reach your hands into his short hair once you've finished with the cleanser. you're squinting up at him, so serious as you massage something into his scalp like you're not both bare, soaked, and pressed up against each other.
simon has both massive hands holding your waist while he backs you into a corner of the shower, letting you fuss about exfoliants and scalp health with your tits smushed against his body and your eyes fixed on his face and not his cock nudging against your body, aching and swollen from the sight of you. he's trying to focus but he's so distracted by your body, the way you smell, and how soft you are in his hands.
you tilt your head up, rub a little cream into his hair, mumbling, "gotta keep your scalp health up to par, si", and he loses it.
simon grabs your face in both hands and pushes his mouth against yours, catching you off guard. you squeak into his mouth, and he groans and takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, water pouring down both of you, beard scratchy on your chin.
"god," he mutters hoarsely between kisses, "you fuss over me like I’m your bloody housepet."
you let out another noise in his mouth, not knowing if that means he hates it or not, but he nips your lower lip, trails his lips along your jaw and up to your ear. " 's a good thing, love. don't pout."
you moan softly, tilting your head to give him more access to your neck and jaw. the reassurance felt great, and you find yourself melting into his touch.
" 'm gonna fuck you," he mutters, voice cracked with need, hand already sliding down your back to grip your ass. "righ' now. can't take it anymore." you look up through your lashes, lashes wet, lip caught in your teeth.
"but you still have conditioner in," you stare up at him coyly.
"finish after. s'not like 'm goin' anywhere."
what happens if he doesn't wanna be nagged one particular day?
simon didn't mean to snap at you. the harsh tone came out by itself. it's just that he's so tired and sore, joints in his body stiff with exhaustion. all he needs is a breather for five minutes, but you're there by the kitchen counter when he gets home. "hi baby! why don't you start with some of the stir fry i made! dunno if drinking black tea on an empty stomach is the best idea."
normally, he'd melt for your nagging and let you tug the tea bag and mug out of his hands and shove a plate of the lunch you made and a cup of water in his hands instead, and then kiss you stupid for giving a shit, but today, he bristles.
"jesus christ, can i just eat what i want for once?" his voice comes out sharp and cold in a tone he's never used on you before.
you blink, lips parting as you stand frozen in place with the wooden spoon you were using to cook laying limply in your hand. your mouth opens and then closes, and you give him a faint little nod and turn away.
he immediately notices your silence. you're never silent like this, so when you give him a faint little nod and walk off, he knows he screwed up bad. he stews on his stupidity for hours, up until you're laying in bed beside him and not once have you reminded him to put on that charcoal mask you always insist "draws out toxins."
you're just sitting beside him. not even sulking, just indifferent. you know what you're doing, of course. and it's working. he stares at the ceiling for a while, grinding his molars, heart pounding in his chest. he clears his throat in hopes of getting your attention and fails.
"not g'na remind me about the mask tonight?"
you flip a page. "no. thought you didn't want to be nagged."
he winces.
"didn’ mean it like that, sweetheart."
"right." you're still not looking at him or touching him.
he can't survive without your fussing much longer. he doesn't have your eyes on him or your little giggles or your hands all over him and sweet night routines and it's making him crazy.
he sits up and breathes in deeply, before reaching for you quietly. you glance over with confusion just as he peels your book out of your hands. "what are you..?"
he's already tugging you across the bed, laying you down on the bed before peeling off your clothes. "simon! wh-what are you doing?" you glare up at him with confusion, squirming under him as he shimmies your panties down your legs and tossing it to the floor.
"apologizin' to m'wife."
he scoops you up and places you on his face with no warning, your pussy lined up with his mouth. he holds you there, palms spread over your ass, fingers sinking into your soft flesh, before diving in.
he groans like a starved man the second he licks into you. his tongue is slow at first, sliding between your folds, and lapping at your soft, juicy pussy. you're still half mad but you can't stop the way your head tips back as he sucks your clit into his mouth and holds it there. you squeal, bucking your hips to try and get away from the overwhelming amount of pleasure, but he doesn't let up, tilting you hips up a little so he can slip his tongue into your soaked hole.
he tongues your entrance and licks you open messily, making you squirm into his mouth. you pull at his hair and try to lift yourself off, whining. "s-simon... s'too much..!"
he slaps your ass. "you don't get to leave me like that, love. won't let you be mad at me."
One thing that makes me go feral is when in the middle of fucking, one person gets overstimulated and tries to crawl and squirm away from the overstimulation, and the other person drags them back by the hips like "Where do you think you're going?" 😩 which of the guys do you think is most likely to do this?
(Can you tell I'm ovulating... 🫣)
ALL
cw: daddy kink adjacent stuff for Nik, as per usual. Just a hint of aggression, and marking dubcon just in case
Gaz is literally so sweet about it. Like you’re a little kitten about to walk off the edge of a table and he’s just redirecting you. “No, no, love— this way,” he coos as he puts his hand beneath your hips to cup you and pull you back.
Soap is about to lose his mind, it’s so hot to him— “Ah’m just givin’ it tae ye so good, huh, bonnie? Cannae take it anymore? Too bad,” he tuts, his fingers sunken into your soft flesh as he pins your kicking legs and tugs hard.
Ghost reacts with some real aggression. He’s not mad at you— he’s mad at the idea. The concept of you being separated from him. He’s bruising and yanking your body, manhandling you under his weight. “Don’t fuckin’ run from me, birdie— don’ wanna know what’ll happen if’m pulled outta this cunt—“
Price can’t help but smile. Such a sensitive little thing. “If you’re already in this state— doesn’t bode well for the rest of your night, darl’— cause I ain’t near finished with you.” He’s prepared to wait upon you like you’re his ailing, bedridden queen suffering from the consumption tomorrow, cause you’ll have about as much energy left when he’s done.
König is holding you too tight to let you even begin to squirm away— he can just feel the tense and strain of your muscles against his hands. It makes him kiss you as deep as he can manage— he just thinks it’s so cute, like you’re a little moth with wings beating against his cupped palms.
Nikolai laughs. He laughs at you. You’re just so silly— thinking papochka will show you mercy. He’s not a merciful man, malýshka. He’d best remind you of that— not that you’ll ever really learn. He wouldn’t want you to, really. He likes playing this little game with you. It’s like ballroom dancing to him— very romantic and sweet.
Jobe was usually not the planning type. It was Jude who was always in charge of vacations. So when Jobe pinged him to say he was planning a weekend getaway, just for the two of them, in the tiny window between international break & Club World Cup, it should have been a sign to Jude that something was up. Especially when the getaway was in Montana. But he was just too delighted to notice anything.
He was flying straight from England camp and Jobe was going to meet him there. But when Jude reached the resort & their villa, it was empty.
He was confused. Jobe was supposed to have reached already & had pinged Jude 5 times for his ETA since he landed. He looked around aimlessly, reaching for his phone to call his little brother.
‘Looking for someone?’
Hearing that voice, Jude froze, then spun around faster than the speed of light.
It couldn’t be. Surely his mind was playing tricks on him. It wasn’t new. In the last year, he had done many double takes, half-bewildered, when someone looked or sounded even remotely like her. Sometimes in the crowd during matches. Sometimes on the street. In the hope that maybe she was giving him a surprise.
But she was supposed to be in India right now. He spoke to her just a few hours ago. Then how could she be standing in front of him, looking like a dream? What sorcery was this?
‘Is it really you?’
Ananya was leaning against the door-frame, in a pose she thought was sexy. She rolled her eyes, holding the pose.
‘No. This is an AI generated clone, in your favourite jeans and the top you happened to send to your girlfriend on Valentine’s day.’
He burst into a classic Jude smile, opening his arms. She ran and jumped into them with practiced ease, knowing he’ll catch her, which he did. A standing version of their koala hug.
Both moved at the same time for a soft slow kiss, zoning out the world, letting the togetherness sink into their bones. This was the longest they had been apart, almost 3 months.
The kiss quickly turned into a hot make-out. She only realised he had carried her into the bedroom when her back hit the mattress, and she felt his weight on top of her.
‘Umm….Jobe is waiting for us. He’s..’
‘Later.’
‘But I told him you’re here and…’
‘LATER.’
He cupped her boobs with force to shut her up for good measure, moving swiftly to undress her.
She looked at him all doe-eyed, pulling his face up from her chest.
‘But…baby I’m down. Happened a few days sooner this time. Sorry.’
She almost laughed at the shock & sheer desolation on his face. Like a kicked puppy. Then couldn’t hold on any more & started giggling. Jude was surprised, then secretly pleased to see his deviousness had rubbed off on her. But she was still a novice; he was a master of this game.
‘Feeling proud, yeah? Someone needs some disciplining.’
Next second, she was flipped around & her face hit the pillow. He pulled down her jeans & underwear in record time, baring her bottom fully. Then spanked her left butt-cheek.
She yelped a little, biting the pillow.
‘Don’t you dare keep that from me.’
He went for the right one this time, harder. The resulting loud gasp was to his satisfaction.
‘Good girl.’
That hit her deep between her legs, making her mewl. But she didn’t have to wait much longer. Jude was on her, spreading her legs, lifting her butt to his desired angle with a pillow underneath, and impatiently sliding in.
She moaned, and he groaned at the sensation, loudly.
Jude paused half-way in & leaned over her fully, bringing his face next to hers, his breathy accented voice giving her goosebumps.
‘So fucking tight, like our first time all over again. Not using what I got you?’
Despite his weight pressing her hard into the mattress, she somehow managed to shake her head in a no.
‘Why?’
When she was quiet, he pushed an arm underneath her, finding that spot at the apex of her thighs, rubbing circles, drawing sultry sighs from her.
‘Answer me.’
‘I…uh…don’t..umm…like anything…..else…inside…’
That turned him on more than 50 bottles of viagra ever could.
‘Just me, yeah?’
She managed a weak nod and he sped up his fingers at her clit, readying her quickly, then pushed rest of the way in, giving her a second to adjust.
She found her wrists pinned to her side, as he licked the side of her face, keeping his strokes strong & steady, filling her completely. This is what she had missed dearly - not just the physical act of sex but this feeling of being thoroughly consumed by him - his passion, his strength and his whole being.
As they were both about to peak, Jude flipped her again & locked their lips together in a fiery kiss, wanting to see her fall apart, rendering her breathless, while his hands grabbed their favourite plaything, rubbing & pinching the tips. She screamed his name into his mouth as she came, the mind-blowing sensation driving him over the edge soon.
While he plopped over her, all content & boneless, face buried in his favourite playthings, she slowly caressed his back & arms, noticing how bigger & buffer he had gotten even in the last few months. The lean boy she had met 1.5 years ago had grown into a big, strong, muscular man, who was still growing. He felt heavier too, especially when he wasn’t balancing his weight on top of her, like in his current blissed out state. She was tempted to point it out to him but she knew he’d turn the compliment into a dirty territory. So she stayed quiet, just enjoying his bulging muscles under her palm.
‘Dove?’
The said boy rested his chin on her, looking at her with wide eyes, a picture of sweet fragile innocence, a toddler look, radically different from how he was just mins ago. It was this side of him which was more lethal & pants-dropping than all his sexy charm & domination. Thankfully, he didn’t know that yet.
‘Yeah.’
‘How?’
She smiled & proceeded to share the elaborate plan her & Jobe came up with - as an early birthday gift for Jude. How Roma, his parents & some members of his team were all active participants in bringing this plan to fruition. Jude was surprised he didn’t see it coming. But the result was so beautiful & lying in his arms right now that he didn’t give it much thought.
They cuddled peacefully while catching up, neither willing to break the embrace. 30 mins later, Ananya finally remembered Jobe again.
‘We should go say hi to your brother.’
‘Naah told him we’re busy.’
‘JUDE.’
‘What? He’ll live.’
‘But it’s rude. This was his plan.’
‘Urghhh stop trying to make me a better person.’
‘It’s a full time job.’
‘FINE. We’ll meet him for lunch. Not done with you yet.’
She tried to get it across to him to not leave any marks since she’d only gotten summer clothes and she wanted to fully enjoy the lake-side resort. But her fiend of a boyfriend got her to lose coherence in the way he knew best and she had to leave her hair open afterward.
An hour later, they finally strolled over to Jobe’s room. Ananya wondered why he had picked one opposite their villa, while the one next door seemed to be available. Jude simply laughed, shaking his head in amusement and she got her response. It horrified her to think if he had ever heard them before but Jude distracted her out of it.
Instead of thanking his little brother like a normal person with a handshake or a hug, Jude put Jobe in a headlock the moment he saw him. And the brothers giggled through how Jobe had pulled one over Jude now. Ananya watched from afar, too used to this dynamic now, which actually permeated from their Dad. Denise had told her secretly to not comment on their behaviour, it only encouraged them. The best way was to ignore, and she did just that.
After their show ended, Ananya & Jobe shared a warm hug as she congratulated him on the big move to Dortmund. It had all transpired so quickly. She remembered being on a conference call with both of them just a few weeks ago, when Jobe told her about the potential offer. She had sensed some hesitation on Jobe’s part, which he was not voicing out loud. The brothers, while similar in many ways (uncannily so) were different in personalities. Jude wore his heart on his sleeve (more so with his inner circle) but Jobe was more reserved, more in his head, a bit like Ananya. His close friends were Jude’s close friends. He wasn’t as flamboyant or expressive as Jude.
So Ananya had called him separately after the con-call and he opened up about his reservations on being compared to his brother if he makes the move. Ananya just heard him out - understanding why it would be tough for him to share this with his family, especially his brother. Jude constantly felt guilty for the undue pressure on Jobe because of him; Jobe didn’t want to add to that feeling or give out the impression that he resented his big brother in any way. It was a sensitive thing; she knew that.
But all said & done, it was a fantastic opportunity at a massive club - he didn’t know when he would get such a chance next. She saw the same passion in Jobe then that she often saw in Jude - of wanting to make a name for himself & his family, quickly. Jobe knew that despite all the obvious reasons to not go, he just couldn’t pass on this opportunity and had to deal with it head on. And he did just that, despite a small corner of his heart telling him not to. Plus his parents & brother were convinced this was the right way for him, and he trusted them blindly.
The lunch conversation was very football heavy. After this weekend, both brothers were to head to their CWC training camps. She could see Jobe was excited about playing in the big league now, and she was super proud of him.
‘So Ananya, would you come for one of my matches too?’
She had never seen Jobe play & they had often talked about doing it soon. She was going to be there at some of Jude’s matches, the ones on the weekend, since her first year of MBA was over and her internship was not as heavy so she could travel now on the weekends.
‘You could come with Mum & Dad, they’ll travel between both our matches.’
Jobe added helpfully. Ananya looked at Jude, who kept his head down, eating quietly, not reacting at all. He had told her that his training & meetings would get done by late afternoon, the team would have evenings free on non match-days so on the weekends they’d spend the time together. That was the plan. Roma & Chris were also going to be there for one match. Chris wasn’t a football fan but he wasn’t given much choice in the matter. She knew Jude would want her to stick to that plan but one day won’t hurt, right? She wanted to see Jobe play too.
‘Sure I’ll ask Denise & figure something.’
The younger Bellingham gave her a heart-warming smile while the older one pretended to be nonchalant.
‘So if it’s Madrid vs Dortmund who would you support?’
‘Don’t push it.’
Jude chose that moment to look up & speak up, before she could say anything. She would have said the exact same thing though.
‘You remember who you’re talking to right?’
She didn’t just mean Jude’s girlfriend, she meant the life-long die-hard Madridista that she was.
Both brothers smiled at the response, and Jobe raised his hands playfully in surrender.
‘Yeah she’s not even gonna support me if I ever play for another club, I’m pretty sure.’
Ananya swirled around to face Jude.
‘Why would you play for another club?’
‘I said if - hypothetically.’
‘But why would that thought cross your mind, even hypothetically?’
Jude looked at his brother in mock exasperation.
‘See what I have to live with?’
Jobe just laughed at the scene in front of him, wisely choosing to stay out of it.
‘Yeah, who’s asking you to?’
‘Oi, come here dolliee.’
He half-wrestled her into his lap, locking her legs, despite her significant physical protests, and nuzzled his face into her neck till she finally broke into giggles.
‘And I’m the youngest here?’
‘Oh shut it.’
Both said to Jobe at the same time, in the same tone, then looked at each other & laughed again.
‘Jeez you’re turning into each other. Can’t deal with another Jude.’
Jude stuck his tongue out at Jobe, while Ananya just smiled, stroking his cheek with her thumb, finding even that silliness cute.
‘It happens. Speaking of, what’s happening with you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Tell that to your face.’
Jobe shared a look with his brother, asking if he had blabbered to her, which his brother denied, and seemed genuine enough.
‘It's….complicated.’
‘Pls tell me that’s not the same code that THIS one used to have.’
She gave a dirty side-eye to Jude, still sitting in his lap while he caressed her knee, then swiftly turned her attention back to Jobe.
‘Oh…yeah no…there is someone I like, I think…but with everything going on, don’t know if it’s the right time to start anything. Like, I’ve just moved countries and this massive club, massive fans, new language….’
‘There’s never a perfect time.’
‘Jude also agrees with me.’
‘Wait you’re taking advice from him? He’s still a massive work in progress.’
‘Fair.’
‘HEYYY.’
Jude protested, half-annoyed at not being given credit for how far he had come. Even more annoyed at how his protest was swiftly ignored by both.
‘Sooo tell me more about her. What’s her name?’
‘Isabel.’
‘Cute. Hope she’s not like the ones your brother dated…’
‘Not DATED. Told you a million times.’
Ananya rolled her eyes loudly. Him and his technicalities. Would he rather she said slept with? Maybe yeah - that’s more up his alley.
‘…surrounded himself with, coz then I’ll judge you. HARD.’
Jobe chuckled, half nervously.
‘Nah, you’ll like her, I think.’
‘Thank god.’
‘AGAIN, I’M RIGHT HERE!!!’
His agitation made his girlfriend turn her attention back to him, while he huffed and bounced his foot on the floor. Throwing a proper fit.
Jobe went to answer a call and Ananya leaned in to peck his cheek & whisper in his ear.
‘Wanna take me back to ours?’
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
‘WHY? Thought you’d wanna hang with your BEST MATE all day.’
‘Naah I wanna head back. And I may have a new bikini that I could model for you.’
That caught his attention.
‘Can’t wear outdoors. Just with you.’
‘Tell me more.’
‘Victoria secret. Animal print. Basically a thong.’
‘Ya let’s go.’
An eventful jacuzzi session later (where she did wear the new bikini, briefly), both settled down for a nap. Jude had this habit of cracking the AC up in summers so he could use a heavy blanket. Seeing her emerge from the washroom, he lifted the blanket & she snuggled next to him, her head curved into his neck, her arm & leg over him. Jude pulled her closer, relishing the feeling.
‘Your hair’s smelling different.’
‘New conditioner.’
‘I see. How’s the internship going?’
‘Good. It’s a hedge fund so we mostly work during market hours only, which is different from investment banking. Don’t think I like trading desks as much though, just did it for a new experience. Or maybe long-only strategies or buy-out strategies are a better fit for me.’
‘I understood about 3% of that.’
She smiled & kissed his jaw lovingly. Then proceeded to explain it to him in the context of acquisition of certain football clubs like United, and how that was an example of capital allocation strategies. That took his understanding up to 20%, which she figured was good enough.
‘Sometimes I forget how smart you are.’
She preened under his praise, but when his hand tried sneaking up her back, under her tank top, she quickly batted it away.
‘Behave.’
‘What? Just admiring my sexy girlfriend.’
‘Later, I’m sleepy.’
‘Wore you out, didn't I?’
‘Hmmm.’
She muttered, already half drifting off to sleep under his comforting scent.
‘Dove?’
‘Ummm?’
‘Who’s Alex?’
Her eyes flew open. Sleep was long forgotten. Why did he ask that? How could he possibly know?
‘My reporting manager at my internship. Why?’
She raised herself on her elbow. Trying to read his face.
‘You said his name differently while talking about your colleagues just now.’
‘I don’t think…’
‘I can tell. You know I can tell.’
She settled back on his chest again, not wanting to meet those piercing eyes.
‘Did he hit on you?’
She took a deep breath, collecting herself.
‘No.’
Ananya would have told him if he did. That was their agreement.
Jude didn’t say anything, letting her speak next, when she was ready. And it took her a beat.
‘It’s nothing. I….I think I might have a little crush on him.’
She said in a low voice, like she was confessing to a violent crime. Fully expecting a backlash from him. But he was silent. Which unsettled her more. She hugged him tightly, spilling her guts into his chest. Stuff that she shouldn’t really be saying, even that came out too. No filter.
‘He’s just very polite. Helped me get comfortable at work. Super smart. Harvard grad. Kinda cute. Easygoing. Everyone likes him. A thorough gentle…’
‘…Gentleman?’
Yeah, Jude knew her type. It wasn’t very different from that leech back in Madrid. Jude wasn’t really her type, far from it rather, which he also knew very well.
‘…Exactly. And then after a few days I felt a little giddy when he smiled at me. So then I was like WTF is this? I called Roma and she said it's nothing. That I’m overthinking this. Which maybe I am. Coz I do do that, you know? Then I got assigned on the same team as him and I wondered if he did that knowingly? And I didn’t wanna feel that way, I swear. It was all so fricken confusing, I hate it…so so badly. And I felt so guilty, I feel so guilty. Coz I’m the one who gives such big lectures on moral compass and now do I even have a leg to stand on? Like what’s this even supposed to mean? And all this while I was thinking what to get you for your birthday, and I was talking to you everyday, but still this was happening? Felt so shitty….feel so shitty. I’m a horrible person, right? RIGHT? And then Jobe came up with this birthday surprise trip for you and I jumped on it. Cut my India trip by a few days because I NEEDED you. NEEDED to see you, hold you, be with you to end this madness. So yeah, that’s another reason why I came here. And here I am ruining your birthday weekend by telling you all this. When this is the first time we have been together in ages. God I’m so so sorry Jude! It’s ok if you hate me I deserve it.’
She ranted in one breath, trying to crawl under his skin so not to face him. Or face herself. That’s how far she had fallen in her own eyes. A hypocrite basically.
The Jude from earlier would have reacted very differently here. Would have turned this into a proper showdown by now. Like when he had heard about the Arjun proposal. It nearly ended them even before they properly began.
Yes he was shocked. Coz he thought she was perfect. Flawless. Never erring. Always right.
But no one could be that, right? That’s what she always said. World didn’t work that way. What he did know was she was as close to those traits as was humanly possible.
So he tried to break it down in his head. Yes he was hurt. Badly. But, for a change, he had to be the responsible one here to navigate the treacherous mess they were in right now.
‘Look at me.’
That was the last thing she wanted to do. But he moved them so she was now lying on the same pillow as him, on her side, looking at his hurt face. Which he was trying to mask, which made her feel even shittier.
‘I’m gonna ask you something, and I need a yes/no answer.’
She nodded, bracing herself.
‘Have you thought about him kissing you?’
She shook her head rapidly in a no.
‘Touching you? Fucking you?’
An even more vigorous shake of the head. She knew how gut-wrenching it would be for him to say that about her & someone else, and the guilt made her wanna puke.
‘Never?’
‘No, I swear Jude. Since I met you I….I haven’t….no one else.’
He believed her. Every word. His girl did’t lie about these things.
‘So you’re killing yourself like this over an infatuation?’
‘No, you don’t understand. You’re not hearing me. It’s worse. Emotional straying is worse. When your heart is full with love you don’t have any place for these thoughts. About someone else. It doesn’t happen. It’s never happened with me before. Not with you and not with my….ex. What if this means something? What if….’
‘Shhhhhhh, don’t go there baby, it’s not that.’
‘But what if it is Jude? What if this is the universe telling us….that…that….’
And that’s when her tears spilled out.
‘Dove no don’t…’
‘I can’t help it pls, pls just let me….’
So he did. He let her sob into his neck, keeping her close, swaying her in his hold.
‘I’m a horrible person, Jude.’
‘You’re not, stop saying that.’
‘Why aren’t you mad at me?’
‘I tried, but I can’t.’
‘You should hate me.’
‘Not capable of it.’
When her sobs subsided and only little sniffles remained, he cupped her cheeks and looked into those beautiful glassy eyes.
‘Listen to me, ok? God knows I’ve done much worse many times before, but you understood me. Gave me a chance. Stood by me. Loved me. Now I don’t now why this…..instance happened. Maybe coz we’ve been apart for so long. Maybe because he’s the kinda guy you thought you’d end up with. And I know you’d keep coming across such twats, I can’t help it. But I also know us being together couldn’t have happened without some stars aligning up there so they’ll look out for us, yeah? Not just that, we’ve worked BLOODY HARD to make it work this past year. Maybe this is a data point that we need to do more. Cut down these long gaps. Find a way, and we will.’
Last year had been hard. They had only met a few times, too few for their liking. The distance & hectic schedules got in the way. Once Jude had flown in for a quick weekend surprise, after Carlo gave him 2 days off coz he was moping too much, but Ananya got mad at him for slacking like that, as did his Mum. Even FaceTiming got tricky on more than a few occasions due to the time difference.
‘We’ve done the hard part. First year was always going to be tougher but we made it. You said second year schedule is not as hectic for you, so I can fly you in more. We got this, baby. I know it.’
He finished his thought with a long, deep kiss, lifting a weight from her chest. A weight that otherwise would have crushed her, and them.
Slowly, she moved her hand to his cheek, stroking it tenderly with the back of her fingers.
‘When did you get so mature?’
‘Had to work on it to keep up with you. It’s a full time job you see.’
He flashed her a classic Jude grin. She smiled, in between her sniffles, and he gave her another quick peck.
‘I don’t deserve you.’
‘WRONG. It’s ME who’s never deserved you. Everyone says that - my family, my friends, my teammates, my GUT. But I love you. Always loved you. And I know you think love doesn’t solve everything & life gets in the way blah blah blah. But Dove, there’s a reason we keep running to each other. In good times & bad times. That’s how I know we’ll be fine.’
She burst into tears again, alarming him.
‘Heyyyy what happened I thought…’
‘No these are happy tears. When did you get so romantic, so deep?’
‘That’s not fair. I was always romantic.’
‘With actions. Now you’re beating me on words? What’s happening?’
‘Not just a pretty face, you see.’
‘But a VERY pretty face nonetheless.’
She moved closer and peppered butterfly kisses all over his face, punctuating them with ‘I love you’.
‘Love you too, my Dove. More than you’ll ever know.’
‘I think I know now.’
More lazy kisses ensued, as they lay entangled with each other.
‘Anyone else I should know about?’
‘Nope.’
‘What about that dickhead who kept chasing you around campus?’
‘We only had two common classes last semester. And he never ‘chased’ me.’
‘Yeah right. And that Prof?’
‘Oh please. Profs generally like me. Coz of my grades. And it’s a disgusting thing to ask btw.’
‘Is it now? You didn’t find it disgusting when we did that role play.’
She tried to push his smirking face away with her palm, as memories of that night trickled in, but he was too strong for her.
‘Such an obedient, pliant girl you were, in that tight uniform, remember?’
‘ENOUGH about me. What about YOU? Anything you wanna tell me?’
‘You already know everything.’
He had gotten into a habit of giving her timely heads-up, say when an interviewer was too friendly or when a fan got too close. He had learnt from experience she took that a lot better coming from him, instead of seeing photos show up in her feed.
‘Nothing interesting in Ibiza?’
‘Again, you know everything.’
‘Hmmm.’
Soon, the emotional exhaustion took over & they fell asleep, glued to each other. Only waking up when Jobe banged at the door later that evening, asking if they were dead or kidnapped, coz they hadn’t answered their phones in ages.
Dinner was an interesting affair. The trio chucked the lake-side plan, deciding to eat indoors and watch a movie later. Ananya was appalled to hear the brothers hadn’t seen Baby’s Day Out and vetoed their idea of a random action movie to watch what she declared an evergreen classic.
While they teased her to say they weren’t 5, they actually quite enjoyed the movie. More than they admitted.
Ananya was still feeling particularly affectionate towards her boyfriend though, after the deep chat a few hours earlier. Half a bottle of wine in her system gave her the liquid courage she needed. The brothers couldn’t drink much because of the camp day after but that didn’t stop her. Not one bit.
She surprised both Bellinghams by voluntarily climbing into Jude’s lap and half-feeling him up throughout the movie. Jude welcomed the role reversal, participating actively in the love fest, while Jobe sat there wondering what the hell happened here.
‘So my brother HAS rubbed off on you. CLEARLY.’
Jude was about to say something snarky but Ananya beat him to it.
‘Oh he’s done a lot more than just rubbing.’
Jude guffawed loudly, proud of his girl, while Jobe gagged on his Mojito. He looked at Ananya as kind of an older sister he never had. Jude being perverted was normal but her shape-shifting was too much for him to stomach.
‘Yeah I’m out of here.’
‘Call Isabel. Then we can double date.’
She yelled after him but he ran so fast he was already in the courtyard by then.
The love-fest continued later that night, quite late into the night.
Next morning, Jude woke up to her blissed-out sleeping face. He watched her quietly, then adjusted the blanket around her naked form when he saw some goosebumps on her arm, adjusted the AC, kissed her forehead & left the room quietly to let her get some much needed rest.
Ananya woke up an hour later, stretching lazily, feeling the soreness in her limbs. She found him in the living room, doing push-ups, wearing just his gym shorts.
He saw her bare legs first, then slowly titled his head up to find her in his shirt. Just his shirt. Barely buttoned. Messy hair tied up in a loose bun, groggy face, but she was up to something, he could tell.
She strolled towards him innocently, then slowly laid on top of him, pecking the back of his neck. His muscly, sweaty neck. While he laid flat on the floor, waiting for her to settle.
‘Better exercise this way, no?’
She whispered in his ear, sending a jolt of current through his body. The girl was on fire, an absolute live wire right now. And he was loving every second of it.
‘C’mon, show me how strong you are.’
She whispered again, while dragging her lips over his bare shoulders, hitting all the right buttons.
‘Fuckin’ hell.’
He cursed under his breath, but was up to the task, balancing himself on his arms again, while listening to her giggles on his back.
After 10 odd pushups, he stopped abruptly.
‘You know what, I have a better idea.’
Before she could react, she was pulled down on the floor, landing on her back, right under him. He tapped her butt and she spread her legs on cue to let him settle in between. His hands went on either side of her, and he resumed the pushups, punctuating each one with a kiss on different parts of her face.
Ananya was convinced she was having a minor stroke in that moment. Watching him from this close, all focused, sweaty, muscles ripping, veins popping, broad shoulders straining with each push, abs glistening. And that face. That goddamn face. Chiselled by God. The effect it still had on her needed to be studied. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. She just looked, stared, ogled rather, drowning in his surreal sexiness.
Jude was revelling in her absolute devastation, it was rare to see her this turned on. So he made the most of it.
‘Need something, princess?’
She vaguely noticed his lips moving but couldn’t register a word. Lost in the pounding of her heart and clenching of her lady parts.
The touch of his hand broke her out of her trance. She found her (his) shirt fully unbuttoned, pushed to the sides, leaving her almost bare under him. He slid down, resumed his push-ups, kissing her torso now, paying special attention to his favourite playthings. But he didn’t stop there, moving further down to her belly button. She moaned & her back arched in response, but he pushed her down, moving further below, chasing the warm heat between her legs. She tried to close them but he was right in between, pulling them apart, in no mood to let his prize slip away.
He lapped at his prize, and she let out a broken scream, on the brink of insanity. He kept her there, looking up from between her thighs.
‘And here I was….trying to be a good boy…letting you get some rest this morning…but look at you…..all randy for me.’
‘Who..uh…said I wanted…a good boy?’
He crawled up her body, shoving his tongue in her mouth for a sloppy yet demanding kiss.
‘Don’t you?’
The under current in his voice made the fog lift from her brain a tad bit, and she opened her eyes to gaze into his waiting ones.
‘I just want YOU. All shades of you.’
Given how his lips spread into a wide smile, she could tell it was exactly what he wanted to hear. And it was the truth. Gospel truth.
He kissed her again, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, surrendering to him. Jude lifted her bridal style, carrying her to the shower, bathing her slowly (she did the same to him), letting the hot water soothe her aching muscles. Then he moved them to the bath tub, sneaked in a quickie, then let her nearly pass out over him from how relaxing the bath salts felt.
They were too blissed out. Too comfortable. Too much in love. And neither would have moved if they didn’t have the day out on the boat planned with Jobe.
Ananya took her time to get ready, putting on a nice deep-blue swimsuit & a white kaftan, letting her hair flow. She tried all of Jude’s shades to see which one suited her look the best, while her boyfriend gave expert opinion from the side.
The setting was perfect. A serene, quiet lake, in the middle of mountains, perfect moderate weather. She didn’t even crib about why they splurged on a fancy, big yacht when it was just the three of them.
The food was lovely, as was the water. She wasn’t a great swimmer so she stuck to Jude’s side, and he always kept her within reach.
‘At least no sharks here, yeah?’
She looked at Jude, who was barely controlling his laughter. Jobe couldn’t hold on though.
‘Go ahead. Mock me. But those things show up anywhere in the open sea.’
‘Yeah. In Jaws.’
‘Not JUST in Jaws. There are videos all over the internet. Even at sea shores. But be my guest and become shark food. See if I care.’
They laughed some more and she hit them with a floater.
Later, out of nowhere, the brothers got into an argument on who’s a better swimmer. So they decided to race from the jet ski to where Ananya was sitting, on the edge of the boat. Jude won that, by a whisker, and Jobe blamed the current for it.
Jude & Ananya retired to the deck, sprawling on the loungers, while Jobe continued with some water sports.
‘That one’s a fish.’
‘Clearly.’
Jude pulled her lounger right next to his, while she tried to apply more sun-screen on him, despite his loud protests. She won eventually, commenting how careless and tanned he already was, and how he still had to play a month in scorching heat.
‘All set to join the team tomorrow? No break sucks though.’
‘Yeah, but looking forward to it honestly.’
‘I’m sure. New coach, new set-up, would be fun.’
When he didn’t say anything, she held his cheek and turned it to face her.
‘Last year was an aberration. Forget about it.’
‘Easier said than done.’
‘I know. But it was the end of a cycle, which can be hard. You know that better than me.’
‘It WAS hard.’
‘I know babe.’
‘There were days when I didn’t want to speak to anyone. Didn’t want to get out of bed. Never happened before.’
‘Understandable. I’ve always said this - your first year was extra-ordinary. Beyond any plausible expectations. So the second year hit harder. Coz of the impossible expectations you set, not just for others but in your own head too.’
‘We were shit. DOGSHIT. On so many days.’
‘Don’t disagree at all.’
Jude always liked the tough love she gave him on all football related stuff. She didn’t sugarcoat her astute opinions at all, which was a fresh change in his world.
‘I was horrendous too, wasn’t I?’
‘On some days, yes. I couldn’t recognise you. But the shifts you put in while playing out of position mostly, with that abhorrent shoulder brace, on top of the team clearly not clicking & lacking reinforcements, all that’s not on you. Like you aren’t scot-free in this but it’s mostly on the board, coach and some other players. You weren’t the biggest problem, nowhere close to it.’
He played with the fabric of her kaftan, lost in the nightmare that was last year.
‘Felt like my good luck charm went away.’
‘Oh baby, I’m always with you. Look at me. My gut says this is a new beginning, fresh ideas, fresh system. It will work, and I know you can feel it too.’
‘Yeah, I do.’
‘See, now go with an open mind. We’re Real Madrid after all. No force in the world can keep us down for long.’
‘Seriously, you should meet Perez. He’d love you. Probably hire you in the PR team or something.’
‘He’d be lucky to have me.’
‘Oh, a 100%.’
‘Looking forward to playing with your ‘bestie’, aren’t you?’
He was, but something in her tone piqued his curiosity.
‘Am I missing something here? Don’t you….like him?’
‘He’s a good player. And your ‘bestie’ after all.’
‘But?’
‘But…just….don’t overdo your bromance, y’know?’
That made him even more curious. She had never said that about Vini or Cama or Brahim or anyone else in the team before. In fact, she found it cute, he knew that. Surely there was a nuance here he hadn’t caught on yet.
‘When you’re there on one of the weekends for CWC, we could hang together. You’d like Estelle, I think.’
‘Yeah, she seems fine. The others are so….you know..’
He did know. Coz Ananya had not held back on her opinion on some of the other WAGs, at all. In one party, she was about to lose it on one of them, when Jude swiftly pulled her away.
‘Yeah, like, why can’t they get a life of their own? Especially the girlfriends. It’s either ‘let’s do a TikTok’ or ‘let’s talk about make-up’ or ‘where did you get this dress from’ or ‘let’s hit the gym’ or ‘let’s go shopping’ or ‘look what my guy bought for me.’ It’s soooo dull. And STUPID actually. Zero brain cells. All cut from the same cloth. Can’t handle them, sorry.’
‘Isn’t that a bit…harsh? And judgemental?’
‘Sorry. I have very low tolerance for uselessness combined with dumbness combined with lack of self respect. Deadly combination. Don’t expect me to be pally with this lot, never gonna happen.’
‘Fine. But you did like some of them.’
‘I did. Toni and Luka’s wives, so nice & classy. You hear me? Classy. That’s something these girls can learn from. Mina is nice too. Love that family actually.’
‘Yeah, coz they are hardcore Madridistas?’
‘Always a plus in my book.’
‘Fine. But give Estelle a chance, yeah? Trent says you’ll hit it off with her.’
‘Oh Trent says that? Must be right then.’
If it wasn’t clear before, now Jude was convinced something was up. He made a mental note to dig into it later, and she also decided to change the subject.
‘When’s the surgery set?’
‘Figuring out the date but soon after CWC.’
‘FINALLY.’
She had been begging him to get it done for over a year now.
‘I was thinking, I could stay here, with you, during recovery.’
Her face lit up at that, which warmed his heart.
‘Really? But what about the club? Won’t they want you there, with the medical staff?’
‘The first two months will just be rest. The rehab starts after that, with the medical team. So yeah I can be here for that.’
She threw her arms around him, already giddy with joy. Jude pulled her on his lounger, settling her on his side.
‘I can’t wait, seriously.’
‘Yeah, would be like an early honeymoon.’
‘Excuse me? Someone (she poked his chest) needs to rest in this period. And follow doctor’s orders to the T. No exertion. I won’t let you stray an inch.’
Jude believed that fully. She was a tough taskmaster when it came to these things. Just like his Mum.
‘Oh I will rest. But we’ll still have the honeymoon. For a change, SOMEONE (he poked her shoulder) will have to do all the work, instead of me.’
‘You’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you?’
He shrugged, but the shit-eating grin gave it away.
‘In fact, the honeymoon starts now. Great setting, don’t you think?’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’
‘Why do you think I picked this bigger boat, with a proper bedroom downstairs?’
‘You are OUT of your fricken MIND.’
‘What you wanna do it here? Fresh air’s good I don’t mind.’
‘We’re not ANIMALS. The answer is no.’
‘Really? I thought you’d wanna make it up to me after the heavy stuff yesterday. Guess I was wrong.’
She stared at him dumbfounded. Gobsmacked about the fact he’d use THAT for THIS. Oh she was so wrong for feeling so shit, when he just wanted to use it as a card for sex. For satisfying his kink of public / semi public places. Just when she gave him SOSO much credit for his growth yesterday.
‘What happened to the maturity?’
‘It comes and goes. Not steady.’
‘Clearly.’
Why was she surprised? He was a guy after all. A horny, idiotic, soon to be 22 yr old guy.
‘Now c’mon. Jobe will be back soon. I don’t mind but you….’
‘STOP TALKING. Oh you’re so insufferable.’
She stood up & walked back to the cabin, stomping her feet. He followed right behind her.
‘Wait, is that a yes?’
He was pretty sure it was, after the card he played. And even if it wasn’t, he knew how to change it to a yes. THAT was his superpower.
And suddenly, those few months away from football post his surgery didn’t feel so bad after-all!
2025 has been tough on Jude fandom, for many reasons. I didn't feel like writing for a long long time, but something clicked here & I enjoyed this one. Hopefully, the coming year is better for us, and for him :)
Your thighs on either side of his enormous ones, so you're spread wide open. Your hands hold onto his shoulders for support as you move up and down, whimpering.
His hands hold your ass, guiding your movements, helping you when your strength fails you and your body starts to weaken.
“I know, baby, I know. It ain't easy, but you're doing so well f'r me,” he says, leaning in to kiss your neck just below your ear.
His cock is deep in you, the angle making you feel fuller and allowing him to hit all those spots that have you seeing stars. You can feel him filling you up almost to the womb.
You end up bouncing on him weakly, whimpering as your thighs burn from the effort.
Simon laughs lowly, a thick, deep sound. One of his hands moves from your ass to push your top down, freeing your breasts so he can watch them bounce with each of your movements.
“Such pretty tits, darlin'. Would look even prettier covered in hickeys,” he grumbles, leaning down to suckle and kiss at your breasts.
You mewl. It's all too much. The feeling of him inside you, his hands on your ass, his mouth on your tits, his lower abdomen pressing against your clit...
You whimper, almost sobbing from how overwhelming it all is, and Simon sighs gently.
“You need me to take over, baby? Need me to do it for you?”
When you nod, he chuckles.
“Mhm. 's okay, darlin'. Just hold on tight.”
---
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simon becomes an absolute dog when he sees you in his shirt.
cw: possessive simon, sex on carpet (ouch), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink (?).
simon is a good roommate. he’s organized, clean, pays rent on time, and minds his own space. the only thing is—roommate is hot. stupidly hot. you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend and he’s never once brought back a girl let alone mentioned one. you figured your little crush on him would pass like all the other (it does not). you start dropping hints that you find him attractive. like wearing your tightest tops, brushing your ass against him while reaching for a cup, even leaving one of your lacy thongs to mix in with his laundry. he never bites the bait. you start to think that maybe he just doesn’t find you attractive or even worse he finds you creepy. so you tuck your schoolgirl crush away into the cavity of your chest.
you close the washer with your hip, cradling your laundry basket back to your room. you hear the familiar turn of your front door lock letting you know simon is home from his morning gym session.
you pad into the living room to ask simon if he needed any clothes washed. simons back is turned from you when he begins to slip off his trainers, dropping his gym at the foot of the door.
“need any clothes washed? i’m starting a load up right now.” you ask eyeing the movement of back muscle underneath his compression shirt.
he finally turns to you and starts to respond “nah don’t think-“ before he snaps his mouth shut when he sees what you’re wearing. “that mine?” his voice gruff, it’s his army issued shirt that is long enough to cover your shorts. a deep green color that frays at the hem and has his last name in bold at the back of it. you notice he’s staring at the worn fabric waiting for an answer.
you look down, “oh yeah. sorry was doing laundry found this in hamper. my clothes are in the wash. hope that’s okay?” you sound apologetic like you just did something unforgivable. jesus christ what were you thinking wearing his shirt without asking. you shift trying to ease your embarrassment.
he’s on you in three short strides. making a noise between a growl and snarl. you don’t know how or when you both ended up on the living room floor. frankly, it’s the last thing on your fucking mind now that you’re on your knees cheek pressing into the shag carpet. you can feel the heat of his stare between your legs. you get a glimpse of your shorts and panties strewn across the floor leaving you in his shirt. you wait with bated breath for him to touch you. you wiggle your hips in a silent plead to get him to do something, anything…everything.
he gives the flesh of your ass a heavy smack that has you clenching around nothing. “be good now.” is all you hear before the sting leaves an angry red mark that you know is gonna leave you wincing for the next week. simon smooths a hand over the back of your (his) shirt making a noise in the back of his throat.
you hear shuffling behind you before you feel the head of him catch on to your opening making your mouth gape like a fish out of water. he groans at the contact, kneading the fat of your hips, before he presses in painfully slow with a hiss. you whimper into the carpet, fists balling, feeling hot all over. your cunt pulses trying to make room for him inside your womb.
“i know. i know, pretty girl. almost there.” simon bites back a hiss when you clench at his words. you think you might die like this. laid out on ugly apartment carpet trying to take simon’s cock. you could cry with relief when you feel simon’s balls meet your clit letting you know he’s all the way in. simon lets out a guttural sound bordering on animalistic at the sight of you speared open on his cock, last name across your back, absolutely crying for it.
he fists the bottom of the shirt to keep you still and eases his hips back just to sink back in slowly. the pressure in your navel hurts so good it’s starting to make you dizzy. simon sets a pace that has you trying to cant your hips back to meet his thrusts. he lays a heavy palm in the middle of your back, just under the boldened ‘RILEY’, keeping you pinned giving you no choice but to take what he gives you.
“prettiest fuckin girl i ever seen. gonna give this cunt the proper treatment she deserves, yeah?” he bends his left leg, somehow sliding in deeper. there’s no doubt that you can feel him in your lungs. “s’deep simon.” you slur, reaching a hand back to weakly press against his stomach. he chuckles at the act taking both wrists into one of his hands pressing them at the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch. you sob at the change in angle. your nipples being rubbed raw by the friction of his thrusts.
“needed this real bad, huh? don’t worry baby. i’ll make sure you don’t go without it again. wearing those tiny tops think i didn’t notice.” his voice rough and deep behind you. “uh huh.” you reply without a second thought, you don’t even care that you’ve been drooling into the carpet or that you’ve been caught. simon gives a deep chuckle at how pliant you’ve become just from some good dick.
he knows your close by the increasing volume of your sounds. he never lets up his pace determined to give you his all. “where?” he asks in a quick breathe. you take a few seconds to register his words. “huh?” you manage to squeak out. “where do you want me, pretty thing?” he says in an almost pained voice. the gears turn in your head before you speak up “inside. want it inside. m’clean. pill.” resorting to short clipped words. you beg, as if you have to, simon thinks.
your orgasm comes hard and fast leaving you sobbing out garbled version of please and simon. simon is not far behind burying himself as deep as your bodies will allow and comes inside with a pinched “oh fuck.” he pulls out with a pop and watches his spend leak down your slit leaving a small puddle on the floor that he knows he’ll have to scrub out later.
simon pats your backside affectionately. “don’t think we’ll be doing any laundry today” he says with a grin that makes you giggle. “yeah, don’t think so.”
Okay but I think it would be so fun for the roles to be flipped for once. A man flirts with out possessive reader and simon absolutely loses it. Tells her she belongs to him, maybe leaves a big ole lovebite on her neck. Ugh I need him
Alright, this one’s for all of you who wanted Simon to be just as possessive as the reader. I didn’t hold back here, did I? Hope this hits the spot! Let me know your thoughts in the comments, ly byee!
You were just going through the aisles, minding your own business, when it happened. You barely noticed at first, just some guy hanging around, trying to offer you help with a box of cereal. You smiled politely, not thinking much of it, but when you glanced over at Simon to tell him something, you saw his jaw tighten, his grip on the cart getting a little too hard. He didn’t say anything, but you knew that look. You’d seen it before, but never directed at you.
You didn’t really care when the guy leaned a little too close, standing too near you while you picked out what you needed. You knew Simon was behind you, just a few steps away, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching, his eyes boring into the back of your head. The guy didn’t know it, but he was already in the danger zone.
The worst part? The guy was talking to you like he owned the place. Smiling too much, leaning into your space, trying to keep the conversation going like you were the one who wanted it. You saw Simon shift, his eyes narrowing, and you didn’t need to be looking directly at him to know that his patience was running out.
When you caught his eye again, he didn’t look mad, not exactly. He looked… frustrated. Frustrated in a way that you didn’t quite understand, at least not yet. You hadn’t ever been on the receiving end of Simon’s jealousy before, but you were starting to get it now. He didn’t want to share you, not even a little, and it made him uncomfortable in a way you hadn’t expected.
Before you could say anything, Simon was there. He didn’t make a scene, didn’t grab the guy by the collar or push him away. He didn’t even address him directly. All he did was slide his hand around your waist, pulling you just a little closer, just enough for the guy to see the way Simon looked at you, possessive and silent, his presence like a barrier.
But the guy didn’t get it. He tried to keep talking to you, but Simon wasn’t having it. Not once did he raise his voice; not once did he look at the guy. He simply turned his head and said one word, flat and cold: “Mine.”
You weren’t even sure if the guy heard him or not, but you saw his expression falter, a little unsure now. He stepped back, hands raised like he was trying to say ‘hey, no harm done,’ but the damage had already been done in Simon’s mind. That was the first time you realized just how much Simon hated the idea of anyone even thinking they had the right to get too close to you.
As the guy walked away, Simon didn’t let go of you. He just kept you right there, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body against yours. His voice was low, just for you, but you heard every word. “Don’t know why I have to share you with the world,” he muttered, almost to himself, like he was angry at the universe itself. “They get the privilege of seeing you, but they won’t ever touch what’s mine.”
The words made you pause for a second, something heavy settling in your chest. “You’re not mad at me,” you said, almost a question. You were used to being the one who got possessive, who got territorial, but now… it was Simon. And it was different.
“No,” he muttered, his voice low, but there was no mistaking the possessiveness behind it. “I’m not pissed at you.” He sounded almost… conflicted, like he was trying to get across something without making it seem like a big deal, but his anger was still there, simmering. “It’s just… I fucking hate the way everyone else gets to see you. I hate that I can’t keep you all to myself.”
Your heart raced, a little thrill running through you at the thought of Simon—normally so in control—suddenly feeling like he had to fight for you. You liked it. You liked that he couldn’t hide it, that this was the first time you’d ever seen Simon struggle with the fact that other people even noticed you. You could feel it in the way he kept you close, his hand tight around your waist, like he didn’t want to let go.
He wasn’t done, though. His voice came again, this time with a rough edge to it. “Every time someone thinks they can get too close to you, it just makes me want to remind them that you’re mine. And when I see you talking to someone like that…” He trailed off, his lips curling into a snarl. “I fucking lose it.”
You were too busy soaking it all in to answer at first, too caught up in the way his words made you feel. You weren’t used to him like this, so out of control, and you had to admit that part of you thrived on it. You were always the one getting possessive, but now, for the first time, it was his turn.
The tension between you both was thick, so thick you almost didn’t notice when he started pulling you toward the exit. You only realized what was happening when you were outside, the cool air biting at your skin, and Simon was already pushing you up against the side of the building, eyes wild with that possessive hunger you’d seen a hundred times before.
“Simon,” you breathed, but he wasn’t listening. He was too busy claiming you, lips crashing into yours, hands rough on your neck. He pulled you close, body pressed tight against yours, and you could feel all the anger in his kiss.
He didn’t stop kissing you and didn’t stop his hands from roaming your body. He was marking you, claiming you in a way that sent shivers down your spine. When he pulled back just enough to drag his teeth across your neck, you bit back a gasp, and that’s when he spoke again, voice low and dangerous.
“You think anyone else could ever have you like I do?” His voice was rough, filled with jealousy, but there was a dark satisfaction in it, too. He kissed you again, rougher this time, like he was trying to erase every trace of anyone else from your skin. “You’re not theirs to want. You’re mine in ways no one will ever understand.”
The words struck something deep inside of you. You could feel the weight of them, the truth in them, and your chest tightened as he pulled you even closer, his body pressing hard against yours.
His hands roamed down your body again, finding that spot where your skin seemed to burn just for him. "No one will ever touch you the way I do. No one will ever make you feel like this. They can’t. They won’t."
You let out a shaky breath, your hands tightening in his hoodie as your body pressed against his even harder. "Simon, you—"
He cut you off with another deep kiss, his lips fierce and demanding. “You’re not just mine,” he murmured against your mouth, his breath ragged, “You belong to me. In every way that matters. And no one will ever be allowed to take that from me.”
His grip on you tightened, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, forcing your face upwards to meet his gaze. “Every time someone thinks they can just walk up to you, I’m going to remind them,” he snarled, his voice a dark promise. “You’re mine. And I’ll make damn sure no one gets the chance to look at you, touch you, or speak to you like that again. They’ll all learn the hard way that you don’t belong to anyone but me.”
Your heart raced, blood rushing in your ears. This wasn’t just possessiveness anymore—it was something deeper, darker. And for the first time, you felt the intensity of Simon’s own jealousy, something you hadn’t fully experienced before.
“Simon,” you whispered, trying to catch your breath, “I’m yours, you don’t have to—”
“No,” he growled, cutting you off, “I don’t have to do anything. But I will. And every single person who dares think they can come close to you will be reminded exactly who the hell you belong to.” He kissed you again, his lips pressing hard against yours, claiming you, his hands tight on your hips, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t get enough.
When he finally pulled away, his breath was shallow, and his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them. His fingers were tracing the line of your jaw as if he wanted to memorize every detail of your face. “I don’t share, sweetheart,” he whispered. “And you’re not going anywhere.”
Your chest tightened with desire, the intensity of his words sinking into you. The way he spoke—like he was ready to fight for you, to own you in the most raw, primal way—made your heart race. You gripped him tighter, breathless with how much you wanted him.
"Fuck," you whispered, your voice heavy with understanding, "now I get it... why you get hard every time I show my possessive side." You smirked, feeling that rush of heat at the back of your neck. "You're just as insane as me, aren't you?"
Simon’s gaze darkened even more, if that was even possible. His lips curled into a grin, predatory and wild, his grip tightening on you. “You’re damn right I am.” He leaned in close, his voice a harsh whisper against your ear. “And that’s why no one else will ever have you like this. Not now, not ever.”
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