Simon didn't want to have a big, beautiful wedding. His ideal celebration would be to go to the courthouse and sign the papers, maybe go to the pub or party with your friends in your backyard.
You, on the other hand, already had a whole day planned out. From the colors of the napkins to the floral arrangement, you handled it all carefully. You never got mad, just quietly adjusted anything that didn't fit into your vision. You'd politely decline a bakery when they didn't have the exact decoration you wanted for your cake and found another one as quickly as possible.
One night while you and Simon were sitting in bed, you gasped, sitting upright. You shoved your phone into Simon's face.
"Look!" you exclaimed.
"I can't see if you hold the phone so close to my face," Simon grumbled.
When you held it further away, he saw the page you were on. A wedding painter.
Simon thought it was annoying. A random woman who didn't even know you trying to capture not only your physical appearance but also your energy. It was silly, the person lingering in the background and studying, watching, listening, painting, spying.
When Simon saw the painting though, he nearly cried. The colors were as vibrant as he remembered them and the painter was in love with you too, apparently. It looked like you, so much was obvious, but it also felt like you in a way he thought only he could see. Smile on your face, warm and kind, and your face glowing.
No thoughts just reader being so reluctant to take ghost home...
You've been kinda-maybe-dating for nearly a month now. It's about time you take him to your apartment, you can tell after the third time he asks "where are we going tonight, love?" That he's dissapointed when you say his.
"Do you not trust me?" He finally huffs one day, half-curled into your side while some match neither of you care about plays on screen.
It's not because you don't like him. You care more about ghost than you have any reason to. You're terrified of rejection, but your own fear is hurting both of you anyways. "It's....i trust you, simon."
"Then what, love?" Simon rolls to prop up on his elbows and really look at you.
"It's...i..." you bite the inside of you mouth, twist around your anxiety and spit it out "I still have stuffed animals on my bed!"
Silence. You brace for the mocking laughter that you always hear.
Feeling ghost slip off the bed hurts more than you want to admit. You blink up at the ceiling and try not to cry. It's fine. He can think you're stupid and childish, you don't care, you still love him andâ
"Here. Open your eyes." You do. Plastic, black beaded eyes stare back. Cupped in scarred hands is a small cat plushie, body sagging from beans, fur a little dulled. Well-loved. You look past it to stare at ghost, stunned.
"This is Mr. Kitty." He tells you. Gently, ghost scoots right back to your side and sits the plushie in your hands "I've had him for...years. he means a lot to me."
Oh. You try to imagine ghost, this giant of a man curled in bed with the tiny kitty plush next to his face.
"...I have a cat plushie." You tell him, belatedly fishing your phone out and trying to ignore the tightness in your throat at such easy acceptance.
You spend the rest of the night looking at photos of your plushie collection with ghost. He likes the cats the best, has strong opinions about sanrio characters, and insists on seeing them soon.
You find you don't really mind the thought of that.
fvck, sorry, i canât stop thinking about it đŠˇ
The Breathless First
simon ghost riley x female reader / anal sex / first time for reader / 18+
You're nervous, the thin cotton of your nightshirt twisted between trembling fingers.
The bathroom door swings open and Simon emerges, a cloud of steam following him into the bedroom. Heâs towel-drying his hair, water droplets trailing down the defined planes of his chest and following the inked paths of his tattoos before disappearing into the waistband of his loose sweatpants. The clean, masculine scent and that something uniquely Simon fills the room, making your stomach clench with anticipation.
"Eyes on me, love," he says, catching your gaze in the mirror. He tosses the towel aside, his movements fluid. When he turns to face you fully, the obvious bulge straining against his sweatpants makes your breath catch. "Something's got you all worked up tonight."
He crosses to the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sits beside you. His hand comes to rest on your thigh, thumb stroking slow circles through the fabric of your shirt.
"Spit it out," he says, his voice dropping to that low register. "What dirty thought's been running through that pretty head of yours?"
You swallow hard, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "I... I was thinking about us. About... what we do." Your fingers tighten around the hem of your shirt.
Simon's hand slides higher, fingers brushing the edge of your panties. "What exactly, baby? You know you can tell me anything."
Taking a shaky breath, you force yourself to meet his dark eyes. "Iâve never... no one's ever... I've never done anal before. But I've thought about it. A lot. And I want to... with you. Only you."
The surprise in his eyes quickly gives way to something darker, more intense. His hand moves to cup your jaw, thumb stroking your lower lip. "Is that what's been making you so squirmy? My girl wanting her tight little arse played with?"
You nod, unable to speak, your heart racing at the directness of his words.
"Fuck," he breathes, his voice dropping an octave. He shifts on the bed, and you see his cock thicken against the fabric of his sweatpants. "You've been holding out on me, love. All this time I've been fucking your sweet cunt, wondering what it would feel like to stretch out that other hole." His other hand slides around your waist, pulling you flush against him so you can feel the hard length of him pressing against your hip.
"Gonna make it good for you, princess," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "Gonna take my time opening you up, get you so wet and ready you'll be begging for my cock. But first... Let me get a proper look at what's been tempting me."
A few nights later, youâre laid out before him, vulnerable and exposed. Face down on the mattress, knees spread, with your ass arched high, a position you'd once been too self-conscious to even consider. But Simon was obsessed, his hands constantly finding their way to you, muttering about how perfect you were, how he could spend hours worshiping every inch.
Tonight, heâs doing exactly that. His tongue is buried in your dripping cunt, swirling around your clit in maddening circles. But his focus drifts higher, toward that place you've only ever shown him in your most vulnerable moments.
"Simon," you gasp when you feel his tongue circling your tightest hole.
"Relax, love," he murmurs against your skin, the vibrations making you shiver. "Gonna take care of you. Been dying to taste this pretty little arse."
His tongue presses more firmly, teasing your rim, and you can't help the whimper that escapes your lips. The sensation is intense, and his hands knead your flesh, thumbs spreading you wider.
He alternates between your pussy and your ass until you're a trembling mess. When he finally pulls back, you feel the cool air against your wet skin.
"Need to prepare you first," he says, reaching for the lube. "Don't want to hurt my girl, though I know this tight little hole is gonna feel like heaven."
The first touch of his lubed finger makes you tense instinctively. "Relax for me," Simon coaxes, his free hand stroking your lower back. "Breathe out when I press in. I've got you. so fucking beautiful. Can't believe you were ever shy."
You exhale as his thick finger slowly breaches you. The stretch is intense, a burning sensation that makes you gasp. "Si-Simon..."
"I know, love. Just give it a minute." He waits, completely still inside you until you adjust. "That's it. Fucking taking my finger so well."
He works a second finger in, then a third. His fingers scissor inside you, gradually preparing your body. All the while, his other hand continues its soothing strokes, his deep voice murmuring words of encouragement.
The thought of himâthis lieutenant of yours who had surely been with others this way beforeâruining you, claiming you, sends a fresh gush of arousal from your cunt, soaking the sheets. Youâve imagined it so many times. The jealousy should be crippling, but instead it just makes you wetter, makes you want to be the one he claims so thoroughly.
"Touch yourself," he commands softly, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Want to feel your ass clench around my cock while you fall apart for me."
Your hand shakes as you reach between your legs, fingers finding your clit. You circle it, matching the rhythm of Simon's fingers.
His filthy words push you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with unexpected intensity. You cry out into the pillow, your body clamping down on his fingers as pleasure radiates outward.
"Good girl," Simon praises, withdrawing his fingers. "Now you're ready, aren't you?"
You nod, breathless. Simon moves behind you, the sound of his sweatpants hitting the floor making your heart race. You feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and you instinctively tense.
"We'll go slow, but I promise you'll love it, princess.â
You do as he says, feeling the incredible stretch as he enters you. Heâs much thicker than his fingers, and the burn returns, more intense. But Simon is patient, pausing after the head is inside, giving you time to adjust while his thumbs massage your lower back.
âFuck, SiâŚâ
"Doing so well for me, love."
He pushes in further, inch by excruciating inch, until he's fully seated. The fullness is overwhelmingâstrange and intenseâbut as he begins to move, the burn gives way to a deep, satisfying pressure.
"Simon, it feels... different," you manage to say, your hands clutching the sheets.
"Good different?" he asks, his rhythm steady.
"Yeah," you gasp. "Really good. Different, but... fuck, so good."
Simon groans, his control fraying. "Thank fuck," he mutters, his grip tightening as he begins to thrust with more purpose.
His pace quickens. You can feel the tension in his thighs as he fights the urge to pound into you. He leans forward, blanketing your back with his chest, and reaches beneath you. His fingers find yours, intertwining in a gesture so tender it almost brings tears to your eyes.
"You feel incredible," he groans against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "So fucking perfect, taking me like this. My brave girl."
His words send shivers down your spine, and your inner walls clench around him. One of his hands releases yours to slide between your thighs, finding your clit with practiced ease.
"Want you to come with me," he murmurs, circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. "Can you do that for me, princess? Come while I'm buried in your arse?"
The dual stimulation is your undoing. Your orgasm builds, coiling deep in your belly before spreading outward. You cry out his name, your body arching back against him.
"Simon... oh god, Simon," you gasp. "Please... please cum in me. Fill my ass with your cum."
The plea breaks his control. With a guttural groan, Simon drives into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he releases. His cock pulses, hot jets of cum filling you so completely you can feel it deep in your belly. The sensation triggers another wave of pleasure, prolonging your orgasm as you milk him dry.
"Fucking hell," he pants against your neck.
He stays inside you as you both catch your breath, his weight a comforting presence. His hand continues to stroke your hair, his lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. When he finally withdraws, you feel his release begin to leak out of you.
Simon notices, reaching for a tissue. "Nothing to be embarrassed about, love," he murmurs, gently cleaning you. "Just means I claimed you properly. Every inch of you is mine now."
He gathers you into his arms, pulling you against his chest. His heartbeat thuds against your ear as his fingers trace patterns on your back.
"You okay?" he asks after a moment.
You nod against his chest, a contented sigh escaping your lips. "More than okay. That was... so good, Si."
Simon presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Never been with anyone like you," he admits quietly. "Trust me with everything, even this. Thank you, love."
You tilt your head up to kiss him, a slow, deep kiss that conveys everything. When you pull back, his eyes are soft, vulnerable in a way few ever see.
"Always," you promise, and you know you mean it.
He helps you clean up, his touches gentle and reverent. When you're both settled back in bed, he pulls you against his chest, your head resting on his tattooed bicep.
As you drift off to sleep, you can't help but think that some first times are worth the waitâespecially when they're with someone who treats every inch of you like it's sacred.
The man was currently lying next to you and, as much as you usually loved that, it was summer now. The air itself was already too hot and moist to sleep comfortably, your pajamas abandoned in the back of the closet and even your blanket was from your body.
But with him next to you, you felt suffocated. His breath hitting your face and the heat of his heavy body traveling from him to you was too much to handle.
Still, Simon only hummed and wrapped his arm around you.
"No, Simon! I'm sweating my ass off!"
He chuckled, took his arm off of you and scooted away a bit. "Alright, you heat-intolerant."
simon is a dinosaur when it comes to technology, which makes having a high-maintenance, drop-dead gorgeous bimbo for a girlfriend a daily test of his patience. he belongs in the dirt, handling mechanical parts and heavy artillery, not squinting at a glowing smartphone screen with his reading glasses on. but you? you live on your phone, constantly sending him updates, and he is absolutely obsessed with every single one of them.
right now, heâs sitting on his cot in the middle of a dusty base, staring at his phone like itâs an unexploded mortar. he had been trying to open a basic encrypted file from command, but his massive, scarred thumb hit the wrong notification bar entirely. instead of military data, a message from you pops up.
attached is a picture.
simonâs breath hitches, his jaw locking instantly behind his mask. itâs a mirror selfie you took in your bathroom back home. youâre wearing a tiny, lacy matching set, your long manicured nails gripping the pink phone case, your hair perfectly done, and your lips glossed to perfection. you look incredibly soft, completely plush, and your body is curved beautifully in the frame. you left a little text caption at the bottom: missing my big soldier boy, come stretch me out soon pretty please? xx
his heart hammers violently against his ribs. his thick fingers hover over the screen, suddenly terrified of deleting it by accident. he tries to zoom in to see the details of your pretty face, but his heavy, calloused skin taps the screen too hard, causing the photo to completely disappear and the phone to lock.
âfucking hell,â he growls into the empty room, a dark, dangerous edge to his deep voice.
he panics for a solid ten seconds, aggressively tapping the glass with a heavy thumb until the lock screen finally prompts his passcode. his knuckles are white, his breathing ragged as he maneuvers back to the messaging app. when your gorgeous picture fills the screen again, a low, guttural groan rips from his throat. the sheer contrast between his rugged, violent surroundings and your bright, hyper feminine, pampered energy makes his blood run completely hot.
he canât even figure out how to type a proper response without hitting three letters at once. his large fingers clumsily tap out: miserable without you. don't delete this.
the ache in his trousers is heavy and immediate, throbbing fiercely against his tactical pants. he stares at the photo for another long minute, tracing the line of your soft waist with his thumb against the glass, wishing more than anything that his hands were on your bare skin instead.
adjusting his weight on the cot, he slides a hand down to grip himself through his trousers, his white-knuckled grip tight as he imagines returning home to his sweet, spoiled girl. <3
simon ghost riley who i just know is a massive hugger. the oaf doesn't really know how else to react, he's far from good at emotions and he only finds himself able to comfort you through physical touch. if you're crying, he'll give you a gentle hug, one that wraps around your waist as he gently pulls you to him and gives you a soft kiss to the crown of your head. happy? he'll pick you up and swing you around because he loves to hear your little giddy laughs that accompanies it. content and he'll come up behind you and rest his chin against your shoulder, bulky arms crossing against your waist. you suppose it isn't the worst thing in the world to have a hugger boyfriend!
Š BITTERSWEETLYBLUE. do not copy, translate, edit my work then claim it as your own, attempt to plagarise or repost it on any other website nor feed into AI. you will be blocked.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Disgustingly loving sex (sorry). Soft dom!Simon Talks You Through Itâ˘ď¸ Creampie. Brief mention of Readerâs insecurities w sex
Note: Iâm on Instagram now (kinda), come say hi :-)
Word count: 2.1k
It wasnât like you hadnât tried before.
Youâd had your fair share of lovers and experienced more than a good deal of fun. With everyone in the past, climax came the same way, every single time: clitoral stimulation, and clitoral stimulation alone.
By this point in your life, you suspected your g-spot was probably just a figment of your imagination, no more real than Atlantis, Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.
That was, until, you met your boyfriend, Simon.
And things had only been official for a week.
You and him had fooled around a handful of timesâmade love, as he called it, and kissed and cuddled and occasionally dry-humped until the two of you were both panting, groaning messesâbut all of this was new. Simon was still learning you, as you were him.
He finished between your tits. You came on his tongue. He fingered you to the point of tears, and you learned how to touch his sac just right to get him to blow his load in seconds. On this night in particular, you were fucking missionary, and holding hands while you did.
Lovesick puppies, Price would say. Neither one of you seemed able to unglue your lips or unlace your fingers or keep your hips from colliding again and again and again in frantic search of the otherâs furthest depths. You were perfectly wrapped up, with no desire to move
Except, you needed to reach down between your bodies to actually get off. That was a minor detail.
You didnât think the man above you would mind if you moved your touch from his, but then that grip tightened the second you tried pulling away.
âKeep it there, lovie. Like holding you like this,â he said.
You enjoyed it, too. It was intimate, and sweet, and with your hands pinned on either side of you, locked securely in his, you felt safe. You just couldnât finish.
âBut IâŚI need to come,â you whispered against him. You rolled your hips and felt his cock twitch inside you.
Simon grunted, then swallowed. Nodded slowly.
âYeah. Iâll get you there. Feel this?â
He slid deeper for emphasis.
You didnât.
You rarely did, or at least not in the way you figured you were supposed to get when something pressed there.
âI thinkâŚsort of, yeah,â you hedged your answer.
Donât bruise his ego, donât hurt his feelings.
This is all on me, Si, I promise itâs not you.
Cutting in over your thoughts, Simon moved swiftly. Took your hips in his big, strong hands, lifted up, and plunged his cock to the hilt. The girth of him was enough to knock the air out of your lungs, and you felt your walls stretch, sting, and weep sweet liquid warmth around that intrusion. You moaned.
âBetter?â The manâs question was simple.
Before you could answer it, he was sliding a pillow underneath your backside. Sawing his long, thick, leaking cock in and out of you, he reached a new spot.
You made a face, feeling good from that butâŚstrange.
Simon snatched your hands up again and planted them beside your head on the mattress. He thrusted steadily. He peppered kisses all over your face and your neck while the bed frame squeaked in time, and you had to dig your heels into his ass to ground yourself.
âTalk to me, baby. Canât make it better if you donât.â
âIâI know, I just canâtââ
At the same time, Simon tilted your hips slightly once more, and the tip of his cock kissed something soft and wet and dizzyingly pleasurable inside your body. A loud, embarrassing cry slipped out between your lips.
You wanted to clap a hand over your mouth, hating the way youâd just sounded, but your fingers were stuck to his. Simon grinned down at you, toothy and approving.
âCanât do what, now, darlinâ?â
The warm, bulbous head of his cock had found its mark, and he just kept prodding that spot, like it entertained him to do it. The fingers laced between your own constricted their grip even more, and Simon leaned down to kiss you while his cock carved a mind-numbing path. In between kisses, he praised you.
âThatâs my girl. Sheâs likinâ it now, isnât she?â
But still, somehow, it just wasnât quite enough.
Maybe youâd never found that place after all.
This was where most men gave upâafter a few good minutes of fucking when their balls had gotten to be as swollen as stones and their bodies were aching for release, more often than not, theyâd go off chasing their own high. That was when you usually started rubbing your clit, or waited for your partner to finish so they could get you off with their tongue or something.
You hated to feel like a burden, and you really despised the thought of being the reason your sweet Simon couldnât get to orgasm. So you squirmed again.
Straining to reach down, to try and touch yourself, you whimpered, âSi, please, it justâit takes me too longââ
âGood thing weâve got all night,â Simon replied bluntly.
Then, once again, he twisted your bodies like you were as soft and malleable as putty in his hands, and this time, he hitched one of your legs around his hip, high.
With one slow-rolling thrust and an audibly squelching sound, Simonâs cock stretched your hole to maximum capacity, and then a little more. Your juices leaked down his shaft, aiding the slide, and he stabbed in a few shallow strokes. Probing. Testing the waters, as if he were trying to find something hidden inside you.
You sucked in a breath. Simonâs gaze slid to yours.
âLetâs find that precious spot, lovie. Easy, now.â
Gently coaxing your body open, he drove a slow, measured pace. He split your cunt like it was the easiest thing in the world, delving within your wet, velvety heat to tease every contour and crevice of your pussy. His tip leaked precome. His balls glistened in your arousal and landed with the gentlest plap, plap, plaps while he explored your insides with his member.
It really was as simple as that, nothing more and nothing less than poking around. Having patience.
âS-Si,â you stammered, nose wrinkling slightly.
âWhatâsâat, baby? Got something to tell me?â
Like a teacher, almost, he pressed for more.
Like his cock was showing you something new about your body but he needed your help to tell him just how and where to find it, Simon took care to be kind. He smoothed a hand over the crown of your head and then cradled the back of it, one massive set of fingers splayed out against your skull and engulfing it wholly.
He still held onto your other hand tight.
Your cunt pulsed. Ached. Fluttered around him.
Stuffed to the brim, you had only to feel, and murmur:
âHigher.â
âHigher?â
âUm, to theâŚto the left.â
Simon tilted his hips left.
Yes.
That was just it. So close.
AlmostâŚ
Or, maybeâŚ
âMaybe it justâŚisnât there,â you huffed out, deflating. âKnow youâre trying so hard, baby, but I think I canâtââ
Then Simon hit the same spot as before, only higher.
Just like youâd told him: to the left, and thenâŚ
âOh, fuck,â you cursed. âOh, fuckfuckfuck.â
The grin above you stretched even wider.
âThere, lovie?â Simon goaded you on.
âRight there.â You nodded furiously.
A wave of pleasure swept through your limbs, from your core down to the soles of your feet. Your toes curled, and you squeaked, feeling Simonâs cock graze that soft, spongy, sensitive placeâexcept heâd pushed in deeper. The sensation made your eyes roll back.
âLittle dove doesnât mind my pokinâ after all, huh?â Simonâs words were a tease, but you heard a strain in them, too. The second you were caught in the throes of real pleasure, your cunt mustâve clamped like a vice.
âKeepâŚkeep pokinâ, Si,â you choked out. âI like it.â
Your lover kept at itâpoking from the inside.
The routine almost felt like losing your virginity all over again, together. Simon cradled your head, told you how good you were doing, how sweet you were for him, and you whimpered under his hold. Squirmed and clung to him for dear life, then kissed him feverishly.
Simonâs mouth was hard and hungry, his thrusts deep. His cock throbbed within the wet, clenching confines of your pussy, and he seemed to be going wild at the feeling. With the idea that he was driving you wild, too.
You realized as much when he whispered it to you.
âCould lose my bloody mind when youâre like thisââ Another sharp, labored breath. Another shudder passing through his body when your insides squeezed. ââso why didnât you talk? Ask for what you needed?â
Your voice was small. âDidnât wanna be a bother.â
Your eyes were locked with Simonâs, and in his irises, you caught a shade of concern. It flared, hot as anything, then mixed with disbelief. Disappointment.
âDonât be angry, Si, Iââ you started, hurried.
ââMânot.â Simon blinked. But he gritted his teeth, and he withdrew his cock until the head was bumping and teasing between your folds, then he shook his head. âItâs those fuckinâ pricks who should be sorry, yeah?â
The ones that youâd been with before.
You wanted to protest, insist that you were at least partly to blame, but you never got the opportunity.
Simon was back inside you in a blink.
Hitting that same spot again, and again, and again.
He grinned, the tic of a muscle in his jaw telling you that he was less amused this time around, but proud.
Vindicated.
âWell. Itâs not like theyâre ever gettinâ a chance in between these pretty legs again, are they, lovie?â
You nodded in agreement.
You smiled back at him, only to have that gentle curve falter a little when you felt Simonâs thrusts accelerate.
âOnly thing thatâs gonna touch this spot otherân my cock is my seed, splatterinâ all over your walls, right?â
When he gave a playful nip to your lower lip and squeezed your hand tighter, you knew that he meant it. The man had plunged so deep inside you that his pubic bone was now grinding against your skin, and the rest of him was buried. His balls, all full and warm and heavy with his release, rested firmly in your cleft.
And the steady, measured strokes of his cock landed with near-surgical precision on the G-spot youâd convinced yourself up until tonight didnât exist.
Simon beamed. You were overcome with ecstasy.
âThis it, lovie? This spot right âere?â he cooed.
His cock bobbed against that gummy and indescribably dizzying place, causing your last moan to morph into something more akin to a shriek.
You nodded your head: âY-Yes. Yes.â
âFeel good when I hit it?â
âFucking perfect, Si.â
You sighed when the man bottomed out for what felt like the millionth time, and the pleasure never waned. He felt just as good now as he did when he first got in.
âYeah? Gonna come on my cock then, pretty girl?â
âYeah. Iâmâ Iâm so close.â
âGo on then, love.â
And, shortly, you did.
Maybe three, four, five more stabs of his cock to your most precious, intimate place and you were unraveling beneath him, stars bursting in your line of vision. It seemed dramatic to say, but that was really what it came toâyour mouth hanging open, eyes wide, gaze peering into Simonâs while he fucked you through the most intense orgasm of your life. You clung to him, and your walls spasmed again and again and again, milking the manâs release in the next few seconds. Simon shuddered and grit his teeth as he unloaded a thick, gooey load inside, dousing that spongy, body-numbing spot and then some. The two of you moaned in unison.
Your body was boneless, your head a hazy mess.
It took several seconds for your conscious mind to come back online fully, and when it did, Simon was leaning in again and planting kisses along your face.
âThatâs my girl,â he murmured, breath fanning hot across your skin. âMy perfect girl. You did so good.â
You smiled and caught his mouth for a proper kiss.
âThank you,â you murmured against him.
Then Simon squeezed your handâthe one heâd been holding this entire time. He lifted it gently, like he was afraid too rough of a movement might split you in two.
He turned your wrist and kissed the back of your hand, eyes locked on yours and expression soft while he did.
âWhy is she here again?â you muttered under your breath as the influencer clomped through the mud in tactical boots cleaner than your mess kit.
âFor PR,â Soap whispered, like it was classified intel. âAnd because someone hates us.â
The influencerâTiffany or Tiff or whateverâgave Ghost another lingering look like he was a shirtless firefighter in a calendar. âGhosty, can you show me how to hold the big scary gun again? Pretty please?â she cooed, doing something horrifying with her eyelashes.
Ghost didnât look up from checking his gear. âNo.
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. She turned her death glare on you like you'd just stolen her ring light.
During drills, she "accidentally" pushed a duffel into your path. You tripped, took a dirt dive, and landed face-first in gravel. âOopsies,â she said, not sorry at all.
Price barked at you in front of the squad. Ghost glanced your way, jaw tight. You grunted and kept walking. Youâd live. Probably.
It wasnât until the field op that things got serious. A misfired flare caused a small explosion, splitting the team. You and Ghost ended up holed in an abandoned barn with limited comms and nightfall closing in.
âYou alright?â he asked, checking your shoulder where shrapnel grazed.
âIâll live. You?â
âBetter now that sheâs not here,â he muttered.
You chuckled, the sound low and tired. âYou know she sees me as a rival?â
âFigured. She stares at you like she wants to murder you with a glittery bayonet.â
A silence hung between you, thicker than smoke. Thenâ
Ghost reached out, his gloved fingers surprisingly gentle as they hooked under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. The harsh shadows of the barn softened around him, and for a second, the chaos outside completely faded.
With his free hand, he reached up and slowly pulled the edge of his mask up just past his lips. Before you could even register the rare sight, he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth, tasting faintly of mint and rain, sending a sharp jolt of electricity straight down your spine.
He lingered there for a heartbeat, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, wiping away a streak of dirt. "I've been wanting to do that since you took that dive earlier," he murmured, his voice a low, rough purr right against your ear. "You look devastating when you're angry."
You could feel your heart hammering against your ribs, your breath catching in your throat as you wrapped a hand around his wrist, pulling him just a fraction closer. "Is that a confession, Lieutenant?"
"Itâs a promise," he breathed, his hand shifting to cup the back of your neck, you could feel the heat radiating off him. "When we get back to base, I'm showing you exactly what you mean to me. Understood?"
Before anything else could be said, the door burst open. Tiffanie stood there, red-faced and holding her phone.
âI demand to be extracted! This lighting is heinous, and nobody told me thereâd be spiders!â
Ghost pinched the bridge of his nose.
âMaâam, calm downââ you tried.
âI knew youâd sabotage me! Youâre just jealous!â
And thatâs when she grabbed your vest.
You sighed, pulled out your taser, and shot her square in the thigh.
She collapsed like a diva in a soap opera.
Ghost looked down at her twitching body. â..You didnât even hesitate.â
âSheâs lucky I didnât set her eyelashes on fire.â
Ghost stared at you, then nodded. âIâll back your report.â
You shrugged. âSelf-defence.â
Then you looked back up at the team who flooded in right at the moment, spoke deadpan. "You saw Nothing".
The squad looked anywhere but at them as the sky suddenly was a lot more interesting. "Must have been the wind.", they said in unison.
And you really thought Simon would be a little mean during sex. He had to be a sadist after everything heâs been through.
So, when heâs between your parted thighs, youâre shocked when he speaks to you so softly. Quietly begging in your ear, cock pressed to the hilt, for you to be good for him.
And everytime you let out a whine, fingers tightening at his shoulders because heâs massive and you feel like youâre splitting in two with every thrust; he shushes you. âYou can take it. Yesâyes you can.â
And when you clench tighter around him because the cadence of his voice licks warmth in your core, he smiles. âThere you go, baby. Just like that.â
How to take it apart and put it back together. How to turn it inside out and then right side out again. Pulling your trigger with a calloused finger.
He touches you with care, but not like heâs afraid youâll break. No, thatâs not how you touch a gun.
You touch a gun like itâs something with the power to take. Something with the power to destroy. To kill.
God knows you could kill him, wake up and realize you deserve more than he could offer. You could blow up in his face and leave him bleeding out on the floor.
He worships you with the same precision he uses to clean his gun, careful strokes with delicate touches. Just like a weapon, sometimes you need different things from him. A gentle hold and little aiming. Rough hands and a steady prop against his shoulder. Sometimes his entire body is behind every movement, thighs wide for support even when his back starts to ache with effort
Simon fucks you like a bullet.
He tears himself apart, or at least he would if you asked him too. Slowly losing his sharp edges with every ricochet as he bounces around you.
He fucks into your cunt as if you pulled a trigger, letting himself go in whatever direction you ask. Hard, slow, fast, teasing, nights when you make him do that thing with his hips.
You go at it like animals most nights, pulling that raw want out of the holster and flicking off any safetyâs that get in your way.
Thereâs no bullet proof vest or gun case that can hide him from the most dangerous weapon of all.
How to take it apart and put it back together. How to turn it inside out and then right side out again. Pulling your trigger with a calloused finger.
He touches you with care, but not like heâs afraid youâll break. No, thatâs not how you touch a gun.
You touch a gun like itâs something with the power to take. Something with the power to destroy. To kill.
God knows you could kill him, wake up and realize you deserve more than he could offer. You could blow up in his face and leave him bleeding out on the floor.
He worships you with the same precision he uses to clean his gun, careful strokes with delicate touches. Just like a weapon, sometimes you need different things from him. A gentle hold and little aiming. Rough hands and a steady prop against his shoulder. Sometimes his entire body is behind every movement, thighs wide for support even when his back starts to ache with effort
Simon fucks you like a bullet.
He tears himself apart, or at least he would if you asked him too. Slowly losing his sharp edges with every ricochet as he bounces around you.
He fucks into your cunt as if you pulled a trigger, letting himself go in whatever direction you ask. Hard, slow, fast, teasing, nights when you make him do that thing with his hips.
You go at it like animals most nights, pulling that raw want out of the holster and flicking off any safetyâs that get in your way.
Thereâs no bullet proof vest or gun case that can hide him from the most dangerous weapon of all.
SIMON "GHOST" RILEY having an unhinged wife would be the best bloody thing in the world.
The weather is radiant, the sun is high in the sky, the wind is slight and pleasantly chilly. Price, Kyle and Johnny are standing near the grill when Simon, as the man of the house, grills the meat.
"Think sausages're good." He says.
"I'd rather have yours." You respond instantly.
The easiness with which you said that, as if it was a rare occurrence, makes Kyle pause while taking a sip of beer. Johnny looks mortified. Price thinks he misheard.
