Arguing with your husband ends in make up sex.
Cw: dirty talk. Condescending Simon. Soft dom Simon. Reader's a little subby in this. Bit of foreplay and fingering. P in V. Bit of breeding. No protection cus they're married in this.
Consensual because consent is hot.
The fight still clings to the air like smoke. The words you’d thrown at him echo back in your skull.
"Im tired of having this conversation."
Things you didn’t mean but couldn’t swallow at the time. And Simon, who usually swallows everything, who keeps his temper buried deep under layers of silence and patience, had gone quiet in a way that cut deeper than shouting ever could.
Hours later, that quiet still stretches between you. You’re curled on the bed, facing away, but you can feel him moving behind you, the weight of his stare on your back. Then the mattress dips, the heat of his body at your spine, and before you can think of pushing him off, his arms are around you, iron and tender all at once.
“You don’t get to do that to me,” he rasps into your hair, his breath warm, his chest heavy against your back. “You don’t get to shut me out, lovie. Not you.”
Your pulse stutters. You want to turn, to say you didn’t mean it, but his hands are already on your thighs, dragging them apart with deliberate patience. His knee slides between yours, his chest locking you against him. You end up sitting in his lap, back pressed to his solid chest, legs spread open and helpless.
“I'm not leaving,” he whispers, and the ache beneath his words slices through you. “We're not stopping. Ever.”
His hand skims down your stomach, and then his palm is cupping your cunt, hot and heavy. You shiver. He doesn’t stroke, not yet. Just holds you there, making you squirm in the circle of his arms.
“I'm yours,” he says softly, almost to himself. His fingers lift and land with a gentle slap against your pussy. You gasp, the sting biting into you before the warmth spreads. “..this is how I remind you.”
The sound is filthy, obscene in the quiet of the bedroom. You can already feel how wet you are against his fingers, slick smearing across your skin with every tap. Your breath hitches when he does it again, a little harder, his mouth brushing your ear.
Your voice is thin, trembling. “One.”
His lips press against your neck in reward. Another slap follows, the sting sharper this time.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, one big hand slipping under your shirt to cup your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it hardens. The sweet touch clashes with the rough one, dizzying you.
He keeps going, slow and steady, his cock stiffening against your ass with every whimper he pulls from you. Each slap makes you jolt, thighs twitching, but his legs keep you spread wide. His hand on your breast alternates between kneading and pinching, his mouth trailing kisses and bites down the side of your throat.
By the time you reach seven, your voice breaks on the count. You’re dripping down his hand, the wet sound of his fingers smacking your pussy growing louder.
“Can’t even keep track now, can you?” he hums, amused and cruel and tender all at once. “Then we’ll start over.”
“No...please,” you beg, squirming.
“Shhh,” he croons, kissing your cheek as his palm smacks down again. “You’ll take it. You’ll learn. You’ll be good for me.”
You’re shaking by the time he finally relents, fingers sliding through the mess he’s made of you. His touch turns softer, circling your clit, dipping into your folds, then pulling back to slap again just to make you gasp. He toys with you until you’re writhing in his lap, breasts swollen from his rough hands, neck covered in his marks.
“Look at you,” he growls, grinding his cock against you from behind. “Told me to get out, and now you’re dripping all over my fingers. Must not have meant it, hm?”
“Yes,” you whisper, shame and need tangling.
“Yes what?” His voice sharpens, his fingers pausing just shy of your clit.
“Didn't mean it,” you gasp.
His groan rumbles against your back. “That’s my good girl.”
Two fingers press inside you suddenly, filling you deep. Your cry breaks the air, your walls clenching hard around him. He curls them, finding that spot that makes your thighs twitch helplessly, his thumb rolling over your clit in ruthless circles.
“You’ll come like this first,” he mutters against your ear, his voice low and rough. “Stuffed full of my fingers, sittin’ on my lap, cryin’ for me. Then I’ll fuck you.”
Your hips buck, but he holds you down with one massive hand across your chest, pinning you to him. His other hand works mercilessly between your thighs until the coil snaps. You shatter, clamping around him, soaking his fingers, sobbing his name as he coaxes every drop out of you.
“Good girl,” he soothes, slowing his hand, kissing your temple as you tremble. “But we're not done.”
You barely catch your breath before he shifts you forward, tugging his sweats down. His cock presses hot and heavy against your ass, smearing precum along your skin as he drags it up and down your slit.
“Feel that?” he growls, catching your jaw and turning your face to his. His mouth brushes yours, rough and tender. “That's all fuckin' yours. Gonna stretch you open and remind you who you belong with.”
The blunt head nudges at your entrance, and then he’s easing you down onto him, inch by inch. The stretch burns, makes your eyes flutter shut, but he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your temple, murmuring soft nothings even as he fills you to the hilt.
When he bottoms out, you’re shaking. He keeps you there, cock buried deep, hands on your breasts, squeezing, tugging at your nipples until you whimper.
“Fuck,” he groans, grinding once, making you cry out. “So tight, sweetheart. Gripping me like you’ll never let go.”
Then he moves. Slow thrusts at first, dragging out, pushing back in, every stroke deliberate. His cock splits you wide, the fullness overwhelming, his pace unhurried and merciless. You moan with every roll of his hips, your head falling back against his shoulder.
“That’s it,” he whispers, kissing your throat between words. “Take me deep. Take all of me.”
The sound of wet flesh fills the room, your pussy squelching around him, slick dripping onto his thighs. He presses a hand low on your belly, making you feel how deep he is, his cock hitting places that make your vision blur.
“You love this, don’t you?” His voice cracks as he thrusts harder, deeper. “Love when I ruin you slow.”
“Yes,” you choke out, hips trembling with the force of his thrusts.
“Yes what?” His teeth scrape your neck.
“Yes, I love when you ruin me.”
He groans raggedly, his pace quickening just enough to push you closer to the edge. His fingers circle your clit again, the pressure brutal in its precision. You’re a mess in his lap, moaning, begging, unable to do anything but take it.
“Come on then,” he pants against your ear. “Come on my cock, lovie. Show me you remember.”
The orgasm hits hard and fast, ripping through you like fire. You convulse, clamping down around him, soaking him, screaming his name. He fucks you through it, relentless, his groans breaking against your skin as your walls squeeze him tight.
“Fuck..” he growls, his rhythm faltering. “Gonna fill you up. Take it, sweetheart. Take every drop.”
With a final thrust, he buries himself deep, spilling inside you with a guttural moan. His arms crush you to his chest as he comes, his cock twitching in your still-spasming cunt, heat flooding you.
For a long moment, the room is nothing but ragged breaths and pounding hearts. Then his voice softens, raw and tender, his lips brushing your hairline.
“There’s my girl,” he murmurs.
He doesn’t let go, not right away. He keeps you in his lap, cock still buried inside, rocking you gently as if to soothe you from the storm he’s just dragged you through. His fingers stroke your hair, his mouth presses small, reverent kisses to your temple.
“You’re all I’ve got,” he admits quietly, vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache. “Don’t ever shut me out again. Can’t take it. Not from you.”
Your throat tightens. You twist just enough to kiss him, slow and deep, the kind that says more than any apology could. He kisses you back with everything he has, his hand cradling your face like you might vanish.
When he finally eases you down onto the sheets, covering your body with his, you know the punishment was never about cruelty. It was love, fierce and desperate. A reminder, carved into your body and soul, that you belong to him, and he to you.
