Masterlist
MDNI 18+
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(I don't have many posts at the moment but I'm starting this now before it gets to be a pain in the ass to file all together later)
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RMH

@theartofmadeline
will byers stan first human second

shark vs the universe

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Not today Justin

tannertan36

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JBB: An Artblog!

Discoholic 🪩
ojovivo
almost home
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PR's Tumblrdome

⁂
dirt enthusiast
noise dept.
Game of Thrones Daily

#extradirty

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@rambar
Masterlist
MDNI 18+
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(I don't have many posts at the moment but I'm starting this now before it gets to be a pain in the ass to file all together later)
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—Simon 'Ghost' Riley
synopsis: You move to the countryside looking for peace, space, and a life that finally feels like your own. Instead, you find routine, watchful silence, and a neighbor who's always there before you ask.
Wc: 15.8k
CW: fem!reader, artist!reader, butcher!simon, lowkey stalker!simon if you rily squint, kinda mean!simon ( he calls you stupid but in a sexy way), slight slow burn, mention of blood, praise, rough sex, fem! masturbation, mention of breeding, unprotected sex, choking, throat-fucking, spit play, spanking, cunnilingus, analingus, brief mention phlegm, brief aftercare.
a/n: this is a reupload bc the og got labeled and i refuse to be silenced so if you read this already no you didn’t🫵🏼. Jk ily<3
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
── .✦ The devil's in the details
A life that felt like your own.
It's all you've wanted for as long as you can remember.
Growing up meant learning the rules of the real world far too early—waking up every morning just to drag yourself to a grueling job, putting up with nagging customers and insufferable bosses who never seemed to respect boundaries.
Work. Pay the bills. Tend to responsibilities.
It disturbed your soul in a way you couldn't explain to anyone else—this idea that life was just endurance, not living.
Yet you always looked ahead. You never confined yourself to the standard everyone else seemed content with—and that refusal was why you were never taken as seriously as you wanted to be.
You learned early that dreaming meant working harder than everyone else.
Deaf!Simon Riley and the vibrations of your voice (18+)
Simon Riley has been deaf for the past few years of his life due to sudden acoustic trauma from explosions and gunfire. He never had a problem with it, in fact, he never really talked or listened to people in general when he was able to hear. The tinnitus still rings out in his head, still makes him press his pillow against his ears at night, but at least he didn’t have to listen to anything else.
It wasn’t until you came along that he wished he could hear again, but something about the simple intimacy of feeling your voice rather than hearing it made him feel like this is how it was always meant to be for him.
He liked the fact that you would still speak to him as he reads your lips, that you didn’t shy away when he would occasionally reach up to touch your cheek just to feel the vibrations of your voice. Of course, you accommodated him as well, learning how to articulate your words better for lip reading, how to use sign language, but when he would ask you to speak about anything and everything you always did.
You never fail to make his world feel loud in a space that was so consumingly quiet before.
And when it came to sex, it was never anything short of passionate. It was a different kind of intimacy you had never experienced before him.
simon ‘ghost’ riley is the only one who will stick up for price’s beloved secretary, pt.3
(part one, part two)
The burns healed well, and quickly.
A few red marks, sensitive to the touch for only a few days, then it disappeared thankfully.
However, what hasn’t disappeared, is the growing tension between yourself and the one and only Simon Riley.
I mean of course things are going to be awkward since he saw you sat in your bra—
But this feels more personal than just ‘awkwardness’.
Youve even caught him staring a few times.
It always starts the same way, that feeling of being looked at, then when you turn to face him, his gaze is immediately averted and he pretends nothing happened.
You thought it would’ve been a one time thing.. or just something that lingered for a week or two.
But no,
It’s now been a whole month of small talk and awkward interactions at the coffee station.
And it’s always Simon making a comment telling you not to get it spilled on your shirt again.
Which you can’t help but laugh at, even when it gets repetitive.
It stays this way until one night..
It’s late, very late.
You decided to put in some overtime, because of course Price chose to suddenly dump a bunch of files on your desk for you to sort through—
Due fucking tomorrow.
And you’re already exhausted from a whole day of meetings with Laswell and making sure he doesn’t mess anything up.
It also turns out that on this same day, Simon was staying too.
You’re in the middle of reading, the silence in the office feels eerily comforting at this time.
But it’s interrupted by the thuds of heavy footsteps, you don’t even have to look up to know who it is.
Simon stops right in front of your desk, hands low on his hips. And his crotch right in your eye line.
Before he notices how flustered you are, your eyes dart up to meet his through the mask.
“Price has you doin’ even more work?”
His voice is hoarse, likely from yelling at recruits all day. But god is it hot..
You give him a polite smile and nod, grabbing another piece of paper from the pile as you begin to speak—
“Yeah.. I don’t know how long I’ll be here for”
Simon smirks as you roll your eyes, he knows this is the last thing you want to do on a Friday evening.
All his does his hum back, and begins to turn around to walk away.
Classic Simon.
He always does this, leaves the moment he knows you want more.
Normally you just let him leave, you’re not a chaser, right..?
Well, guess things have changed tonight. Because for some reason you find yourself calling his name before standing up from your seat.
He looks back over his shoulder,
“Do you mind helping me? There’s.. quite a lot.” You look down at the pile to try and emphasise your point.
Simon pauses for one moment, even surprised himself. But what kind of man is he if he says no to a woman who needs help?
And not just any woman— it’s you.
“mhm, sure luv”
You try to ignore the pet names, but the sudden feeling between your thighs reminds you just how much Simon affects you.
About an hour later, the files had finally been done.
At first it was quiet, sort of awkward with the underlying tension.
But now, the conversation is thankfully beginning to set off—
“.. and then I heard Soap telling Gaz about what happened in the break room last month.. yknow the coffee thing?”
Yes.. you’re rambling. But Simon doesn’t mind, not one bit.
He nods along to make sure you know he’s listening, now leaning back in his seat with arms folded loosely.
“hm… ye’ i wouldn’t forget that”
“Well anyway, then Soap began to whisper about it. I think he realised I could literally hear them clear as day.. and then Gaz started to smirk and agree with whatever was going on.”
You take a bit of a breath and continue,
“So basically, Soap thinks that there’s something going on between us.” You don’t realise how blunt that sounds until the words leave your mouth.
Simon just shrugs nonchalantly, and you’re shocked by what he says next..
“Well, he’s not exactly wrong hm?”
You genuinely have no response, which causes him to smirk once more.
When you’ve gathered your thoughts, Simon speaks before you can.
“Unless I’ve been overthinkin’ it.”
You immediately shake your head, probably too eagerly.
“No.. no, I mean. I just didn’t know that you thought it was like that.”
“Why wouldnt I?”
“Well.. you’re a bit well known for not having feelings..”
Now that causes a gruff chuckle to leave him, much to your surprise.
“I s’pose yur right.”
It’s silent after that. Not anything bad, not at all.
It’s a comfortable silence, like a break for both of you to think how to word whatever’s coming next.
“So.. what is it that you’ve been feeling exactly?” Your curiosity gets the better of you, you need to know whether he’s thinking of this in the same way that you are..
“Well, all I know is that I struggle not ta think bout you bent over this desk righ’ now.”
The wetness in your panties is even shocking you now, you don’t know what to say..
Simon is never usually this bold, but you can’t help but love it—
“I.. wow”
Next thing you know, you’re sat on top of your desk, Price’s files scattered and forgotten about, with Simon’s lips on yours.
He stands between your open legs, causing your skirt to ride up much higher then you would usually allow—
One of Simon’s large gloved hands rests at the back of you head, helping you tilt it up to meet him.
The kiss starts off slow, but you gain confidence rather quickly.
Your arms rest on his broad shoulders, and your tongue makes its way to his.
Simon’s other hand moves down your waist to quickly scoop under your ass and lift you up.
You’re taken by surprise, and as you let out a quick high pitched noise; your legs automatically wrap around his torso.
You wish that you could see his full face, but you understand his boundaries and are grateful that he’s even trusted you enough to lift it to just below his nose.
And luckily, that gives you enough space to plant long kisses along his sharp jawline and neck.
Specifically his pulse point.
His hand begins to creep underneath your blouse—
Just against your lower back and it causes an involuntary shiver.
“this alrigh’?” he mumbles quickly, and you hum in approval.
The tent in his cargos is also undeniable now, and you both know it.
But nobody wants to break apart long enough to say anything about it.
Suddenly one of the doors to the office bursts open.. but none of you are paying enough attention to hear it.
Well, Simon does. But he doesn’t want to stop.
Then a loud cough is finally what captures your attention.
You pull back and look over Simon’s shoulder to see, Captain Price.
“What happened to those files I gave to you, y/n?”
His tone is extremely authoritative, and you instantly know you’re both fucked.
always thinking about simon settled between your legs, your thighs loosely hung around his hips as he fucks you so nice and slow all while he’s smoking a cigarette.
he only removes it from his chapped lips when he leans down, smoke circling the two of you like a halo when he kisses you.
your moans are drowned out, silenced by the taste of tobacco.
when he pulls away, the cigarette gets place right back where i was before, nestled between his top and bottom lip. his hips begin the slow pace he had set before, hands possessively settled on your hips.
Three guard dogs might’ve been overkill.
Simon Riley’s never thought that before—until they’re barreling down his driveway, barking up a storm at you. A pretty thing in the neighborhood, pushing a stroller.
He follows after his stubborn German Shepherds, gruffly ordering them to heel. They won’t hurt you, of course, but you don’t know that. He braces himself for the screams when he rounds the mailbox. A terrified mother and her child, chased by three trained-to-kill dogs and a masked man—
Laughter stops him in his tracks.
Cap, Kilo, and Mac are planted on their asses, tails wagging, tongues hanging out. Your toddler’s giggling so hard she’s nearly tippin’ out of her seat as she yanks on Mac’s ear, earning a face full of slobber for it.
And you—you’re bent over, one hand holding Cap’s paw, the other scratching behind Kilo’s ears.
“Cute pups,” you say.
Cute...what?
You look up at him, past his mask and into his eyes. He freezes. But you just smile.
“You military?”
He ends up not replying, because the setting sun catches in your eyes and his brain is temporarily short-circuited. You’re not deterred, however, your chin tilting to the gun holstered at his hip.
“My husband was, too.” Your gaze drops to the paw in your hand. “He did an op down in Coal Ridge last year.”
You don’t have to say anything else. Everyone knows what went down in the ridge.
Ghost tries to find something—anything—to say. Condolences would be a start. But nothing he thinks of is good enough, or sounds right in his head. So he just stands there, looming over you, watching you pet his assassin dogs.
And then—it hits him in the chest like a bullet.
You’re all alone in that house at the end of the street with your little girl.
Something rears its head under his ribs. A protective urge so strong it’s almost staggering.
“Well,” you sigh, straightening and offering him a playful, cute little salute. “Have a good one.” Your eyes flick to the insignia on his sleeve. “Lieutenant.”
As you stroll away into the setting sun, Simon watches you go, and the ‘cute pups’ whine at his feet as you leave.
And suddenly, three guard dogs don't seem like enough after all.
He might just have to become one himself.
always thinking about simon settled between your legs, your thighs loosely hung around his hips as he fucks you so nice and slow all while he’s smoking a cigarette.
he only removes it from his chapped lips when he leans down, smoke circling the two of you like a halo when he kisses you.
your moans are drowned out, silenced by the taste of tobacco.
when he pulls away, the cigarette gets place right back where i was before, nestled between his top and bottom lip. his hips begin the slow pace he had set before, hands possessively settled on your hips.
simon riley who grunts every time you shift on the bed. its late at night and you cant seem to get comfy. he lets out an annoyed huff and throws an arm over your waist. "stop moving, dove." he mumbles into your shoulder. he pulls you against his chest and gently squishes your tummy with his big hand. it never fails to amaze you how quickly you can fall asleep in his arms.
No thoughts just ghost who has zero clue how good he is in bed...
He crowds you against his bed, either unaware or uncaring of just how much strength he's slinging around. Ghost envelops you in his presence, breath hot over your skin, hips thrusting into you with a "does it feel good? Like this, right? Like this?"
Every desperate question is accompanied by a thrust right against that sweet spot inside you. He'd already spent so long stretching you open, terrified to hurt you, that all your nerves feel alight with sensation. The slick slide of his cock in and out of you leaves you breathless and clutching at the sheets.
"What? Am I doing it wrong? C'mon, love, work with me–" he groans, head tucked into your shoulder, using one large hand to push your hips into a different angle that makes your mind melt.
"Shit– si– ahh!" You try to tell him yes yes it's so good so fucking good, but all that comes out is little stuttering gasps.
"Mhhh you feel so good– christ, love– is it good? Am I doing good?" Ghost licks against your neck, almost on instinct, brows knit together because you're still not saying anything!
Your whole body draws tight, orgasm crashing over you when ghost changes tactics to grind as deeply as he can into you for a second before thrusting again. Ghost genuinely yelps, arms buckling and catching himself only a second before he crushed you, riding it out with you as he warmth floods your stomach.
"Mmhh– sorry– sorry– I know I should've waited–" ghost whines and....keeps thrusting–
"It's okay, I can keep going, yeah?" He nuzzles against you apologetic. Ghost doesn't realize you've already cum, too caught up in his own mind and not recognizing what it feels like.
He keeps thrusting, driving you both into overstimulation. You can't manage to get a word out, not between the way he saws into you with each sob, and the kisses he presses to your lips frantically.
You either have to wait for ghost to realize or to tire himself out...and...well...he's an SAS operative for a reason. You might be here all night.
Screaming and creaming
for @motzglorp I hope this is cathartic
yell at some men for being stupid <3 :]
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
You know those days where everything just goes a little wrong?
Like the coffee spilling on your pants when you pour yourself a cup, or the shoelace that continuously comes undone no matter how tight you tie it, even the pen running out of ink on the last sentence.
Yeah, today actually wasn't like that at all.
You weren't in a bad mood, the day flew by smooth as butter and everything seemed to go right for you.
And then your team happened.
Gaz misplaced some paperwork that was needed in an hour.
Soap somehow damaged weaponry and burned the skin on his hand down at the firing range and needs you to fill out a report while he goes to medical.
Price called for a meeting, but a miscommunication meant everyone ended up in different briefing rooms or offices. He left it up to you to go get the team into the right room.
The computer you were using to send files to the team got a sudden system error and IT spent so long fixing it that you missed your lunch break. Turns out one of the boys messed around with the software before you used it and didn't properly reset it. You think you know exactly who it was.
And Ghost- well, he was fine, mostly. But it was the poorly timed joke from him that caused it all to snap.
You were briefing with the men, going over the events of a past operation which had gone awry when an explosive device detonated and killed and wounded several men, both enemies and allies. The 141's next deployment was to surveil a facility that was rumoured to house the target that was thought to have been KIA. At some point during the briefing, you had said, "We know where the target would have ideally gone immediately after the explosion."
Ghost mumbled out a half-assed, "Everywhere."
That was it. The last straw.
Before any of the men knew what had happened, the coffee mug was on the floor, dark liquid staining the carpet, knocked over from the slam of your hand on the table. You’re yelling so loud there’s a ringing in their ears. Each sentence from your mouth was getting louder and louder, more anger and passion behind it the longer you go on.
These four men, the large and deadly beasts they are, sat silent and wide-eyed as they got their asses chewed out like toddlers.
You were over it, you were tired of bullshit and the wrangling and the fixing and the messing around. You loved these boys dearly but they were grown, and they needed to start acting like it. At least, that's the point you were trying to get into their heads as some passerbys in the hallway stopped to watch the special forces unit getting schooled.
With some undignified apologies and a run to grab you a new coffee, the team lets you carry on with the meeting. And if they seemed a little rushed to gear up and load onto the plane for the mission, you certainly didn't mind.
Ok but have you thought about Gaz being a huuuuuge cat person
Like they flock to him, they love him and he loves them.
He respects their boundaries and lets them make the first move to come sit on his lap and he will have them purring with one little scratch on the chin.
He likes dogs, sure, he enjoys a good game of fetch, but when a tiny fluffball kitten curls up snuggling in his arm right between his bicep and his peck, suddenly he no longer needs to get up and do anything else for the foreseeable future.
And if he owned a cat(s) himself he would go ALL OUT
Like his walls are covered in tunnels and shelves and walkways for the cat to run up and down on, and he has a billion toys in every room, and he only buys the best food on the market. He would ask his 60 year old neighbor Eleanor to watch his baby when he’s deployed because she has a nice quiet, calm home and she owned cats before and she’s the only one the cat will tolerate. Only the best for his child.
Soap is the type of man to be seduced by a beautiful voice, I just know it. Music is one of the ways to his heart. When finds a pretty bird who sings at the bar a few nights a week, he makes the decision that her songs are just meant for his ears alone, and he lets himself be serenaded by this siren on the regular.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
John MacTavish was not an alcoholic.
However, he found himself to be a regular, as of late, at the dingy, humid bar called the Owl's Nest. There was nothing exceptional about this bar– in fact, it was quite awful; the undusted and half-empty shelves lining the wall, bulbs so close to burning out that the lights may as well be turned off, and the smell of decades of smoke and sticky alcohol that had seeped into the splintered wood.
Only about four other patrons are in the bar at the maximum, at least on the nights Johnny has been there. It’s a dark building sitting about a mile off the main road that takes him to the base he is stationed on. There really isn’t much around other than a small town of about ten thousand people, along with an old dam and reservoir that hasn’t been more than half full for twenty-odd years. Safe to say this place isn’t a dream vacation spot.
“What’s your poison?” The bartender asked him when he sat down that fateful night. It was pouring rain. He didn’t really want to go out in that weather but something pulled him into that bar, whether it was the call of a strong whiskey to sit nicely in his hand or the headache that was brewing on base if he didn’t get some new scenery.
He watched the fifty year old man polish a glass as he eyes Johnny up and down.
“Wha’ever kills me tha fastest”
“Double scotch, then.”
Price is the first to notice it.
Ghost is not what the captain would call a gentle man. Everything about him carries weight. His presence, his stare, his skills, his callsign, his reputation. But most of all, his voice. Price has heard Ghost in all sorts of situations, from enemy interrogations to dropping some of the most driest sarcasm to ever grace his comms.
Ghost's voice, like the rest of him, is rough. Like the sound comes from mortar-blasted boulders grinding against each other in his chest and not vocal chords. When Ghost speaks, everything sounds like an ultimatum.
But that's what happens in the military. Show him a man surrounded by other soldiers that doesn't develop some obnoxiously loud, deep vocal affect and Price will eat his hat.
Which is why, when you, the new medic transfer on base, are tasked with administering this year's flu jabs he notices it almost immediately.
"Sleeve up, please, Lieutenant," you tell him. Ghost is sat in the little plastic chair in front of you with his arm fully exposed before you finish.
"Busy day, yeah?" Price nearly chokes when Ghost asks you that.
It wasn't just the fact that he was making conversation, but it was the sound of him. If Price wasn't looking directly at him when he said it, he would have thought there was someone hidden behind his Lt.
But no. It was him, speaking without prompt to you in a tone of voice that Price didn't even think the man was physically capable of.
The boulders in his chest are silent. His voice having moved from them up to some higher register. Like the years of chain smoking and yelling over weapons fire is an inconvenience for once. Ghost even clears his throat when you turn away from him for a moment. Subdued. Soft.
Ghost. Soft. Hell has frozen over.
"It always is," you reply oblivious to the anomaly in front of you, a little smile on your face as you swipe Ghost's bicep with a little disinfectant wipe.
Price watches how Ghost never takes his eyes off of you as you do your work with the same fascination as watching a dog wearing pants walk on its hind legs.
It quickly becomes apparent that this is not an isolated case.
One morning some time later has Ghost walking with him to his office going over upcoming itineraries. Both of them have their minds on the looming, still unconfirmed, deployment. When you turn the corner into the hallway with a stack of files in your hand, Price swears he sees the lights brighten a little bit just from how Ghost perks up.
"Mornin', ma'am." And all of the sudden his hardened veteran, skull mask wearing, second in command is gone and replaced by two meters of tender puppy-dog eyes and velvety voice. He's pretty sure if Ghost had a tail it'd be wagging.
"Good morning, Lieutenant. How many times do I have to tell you you don't have to call me that?"
"At least one more," Ghost all but purrs.
Price feels like he's witnessing something that should be behind an age verification.
You roll your eyes and pat his shoulder as you pass, disappearing down the hallway without a glance behind you. If you did, you would've seen how Ghost's head turned to watch you go.
The other time occurred when you weren't even around to hear it.
It was classified as a training incident only because of its proximity to the grounds. Very little surprises Price anymore, so he didn't bat an eye when he saw a soldier drive up in a humvee, get out, and then just dumbly watch the vehicle creep backwards, gaining speed until it crashed into a nearby prefab.
The car was fine, of course, but those inside the prefab when it made contact weren't so lucky, especially anyone in the falling radius of the shelves and full crates held inside. It was nothing short of a miracle that no one got flattened.
The soldier responsible was getting torn a new one while someone else called for medical support, just to make sure no one was dying or anything. The worst Price could see from here was some bumps and bruises, someone holding a hand to their bleeding head.
"What is it now?" Price asked as he stepped up beside Ghost who lingered from a distance.
"Bloody idiot kept it in neutral, not park," Ghost tells him, arms crossed. "Didn't use the—" The moment you pop into view, medic bag in tow, Ghost's voice shifts like a switch had been flipped and all of the sudden that rolling thunder tone is gone like it was never there to begin with, "—parking brake. Hopefully it won't be a mistake made twice."
Price registers the words in his subconscious, but most of his attention is still on the fact that you had Ghost switching up mid sentence. And you weren't even within earshot. Just the fact that you were in his eyesight had Ghost lowering his voice, lightening his pitch.
He watches you flit around, grabbing the bleeding person and setting them down to start cleaning them up. All of his attention on you. Price is pretty sure that an ant wouldn't be able to crawl within 50 feet of you without Ghost knowing.
Part of Price wants to nip this in the bud, take Ghost aside and tell him to drop it. All of them know what being in this task force means. Having a distraction like this has a higher chance of being a hindrance than a benefit. If there ever comes a time where any of the 141 are in a situation where his sacrifice is non-negotiable, there cannot be hesitation. All of them know this.
But when the captain looks over at Ghost, he doesn't think about sacrifice. He doesn't see a muzzled war dog whose leash is held in Price's firm grip.
For the first time in a long time, Price recalls a young man with dark brown eyes that had seen too much too young, hair so blond it’s almost white, and the strongest sense of loyalty he's ever seen in a fellow soldier.
Price would never describe Ghost as a gentle man. Never a sweet man. But he starts to think that maybe Simon is.
Where Crosshairs Meet
୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧
The wind carved through the abandoned industrial district like a blade.
Cold. Bitter. The kind of cold that didn’t just brush against your skin but wormed its way deeper—through fabric, through gloves, through bone—until your fingers felt stiff and your breath fogged the inside of your scarf.
The city had once been a port hub. You could still see the bones of it if you looked hard enough.
Rusting cranes loomed like skeletons against the night sky. Empty rail lines disappeared into crumbling warehouses. Floodlights flickered over rows of abandoned shipping containers that had been left to rot where they sat years ago.
No one maintained this place anymore.
Which made it perfect.
oh my god guys
it's really just-
John and Kate
Plus Eight
This is so uncasually funny
Voice in the dark.
୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧
The first time he calls you bird, it isn’t planned.
It slips out low and rough over comms, threaded between gunfire and static.
“Got eyes on the east stairwell—two hostiles,” you murmur, voice steady despite the chaos crackling through your headset. Your fingers move fast across the keyboard, pulling feeds from three separate cameras, stitching angles together in your mind like a map only you can see. “Third one lagging behind, limping. Might be wounded.”
A beat.
Then, in your ear—gravel and smoke and something almost amused.
“Christ… you see everything, don’t you, bird?”
The line goes quiet again, but the name sticks.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙃𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙧
Simon Riley x Female OC
The maid of honor and groom's best man met briefly at Mactavish's wedding and now she's all he think's about.
tags/cw: nsfw 18+, explicit sexual content, sexual tension, dirty thoughts & dirty talk, cigarette play, unprotected sex, pet names, slow burn.
He was over it, already tapping the bottom of his cigarette box against his palm as he walked over to the entrance of the reception.
He didn't really give anyone much more than a grunt all day, this wasn't his scene. A wedding and Simon, yeah no.
He hated these types of things, people only really had big weddings with huge cakes, a stupid dolphin ice sculpture because they wanted to prove their love was stable and worthy.
It was complete bullshit.
But. He couldn't lie seeing his friend get married to the love of his life even if that's the exact words he called Simon approximately three years ago, drunk on his couch, was nice.
If he wanted to go marry this woman and throw away money on a wedding when you can truly save it up for a nice vacation then he could go be Simons guest. Simon would just judge from where he stood.
He let out a breath of the cigarette between his lips, a hint of the tabaco left on his tongue. He turned his head to the side.
Simons eyes glanced over the reception as John danced with his bride, the only others I knew watched from the sidelines. Kyle, Alejandro, Rudy, and Price.
He put out his cigarette, thinking that maybe he should join them, maybe he should watch his friends first dance with his wife.
As he tried to make it over, there was no spot he could stand without his sight being covered. he groaned, his eyes glancing over to any possible places to where he could stand and see.
Then he saw it, it was a balcony that sat at the perfect angle. He walked over to the building before quickly making it up to the balcony.
It was hotter up here, he grunted to himself as he tried to fix his tie, he watched as John dipped and kissed his bride the people who watched and stood around them both gave them a warm round of applause.
Simon would have too but his tie made it hard to.
He grunted, he dropped the box of cigarettes in his hand, "Bloody fuckin' tie..." Simon grumbled.
"Need help?"
He stopped in place, he turned to put a face to the voice he'd never heard before. Simon met eyes with the woman. He knew her, she was the maid of honor, the brides best friend.
Simon cleared his throat, "I got it. I just—" He pulled more on the knot of his tie, "One sec." Simon nodded.
She giggled, but not like she was laughing at him, but like she was enjoying watching Simon struggle. Kind of rude for a woman whose makeup was slowly melting off in the blazing Italian sun.
She took a step to me, "May I?" She asked. Simon gave her a look before his hands came to his sides, giving up and letting her try.
She quickly loosened his tie, softly patting the spot when she was done.
She took a step back. Simon cleared my throat, he turned leaning against the railing of the balcony.
She cleared her throat, it took him a second before he turned his head to her and noticed her hand out to him, Simon was so focused on her eyes he almost didn't notice the box of cigarettes in her hand, Simons cigarettes.
He sighed, "Thanks." He pursed his lips, he grabbed the box out her hand, his fingertips brushing against her palm.
He grabbed a cigarette and put the rest of the box in his suit jackets pocket.
Simon placed the cigarette between his lips, inhaling then exhaling the dark grey smoke.
She started to speak, Simon wasn't up for conversation but he wasn't a complete asshole.
"So you're the...uh, grooms best man?" She spoke, sounding...in a way angelic to one's ears.
Simon took the cigarette out from between his lips, he nodded, "Yeah. You're the maid of honor 'm guessing?" Simon asked but more so stated.
She gave a small chuckle, "Yeah, I am." She said to him, they weren't looking at one another but watching the reception below themselves.
The space between them could fit another person.
"Yeah...never thought Soap would've settled down already." Simon spoke through his thick British accent.
She inhaled a breath before speaking, "I knew from the start. I always saw how he looked at Hannah." She nodded.
He gave a slight chuckle, he knew exactly how John was. "Johnny's been obsessed over the idea of having a family since the day I met that guy." He nodded. He took another breath from my cigarette.
Simon glanced over to her, seeing her hand swat away the slight smoke coming her away, he turned, tossing the cigarette on the ground, he put his foot over it.
Simon turned back to her, "Sorry, I didn't even think to ask if you were 'right with that." She shook her head, looking at the man. "It's okay." She spoke with the same tone from earlier.
Soft and angel like.
He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the sound of John's voice coming from the entrance of the balcony.
"Oi! There you two are." He said to them both, his speech slightly slurred. He was probably many drinks deep and neither wouldn't blame him.
Simon turned around to face him, noting how the maid of honor didn't turn with him but instead lean against the railing like he was doing previously.
John stumbled over to the two, a smile plastered on his face as he leaned on Simon for support, "You two look cozy out here." He teased, clearly not noticing Simon's already annoyed face from the fact that he did interrupt Simon.
Simon rolled his eyes, giving him a helping hand. "We were just getting a breath of fresh air." Simon corrected him.
He looked to the woman behind Simon over his shoulder before he looked to Simon.
His smile grew, "You should come dance with me." He nodded.
Simon shook his head, fuck no. "I don't dance and I'm pretty sure you are aware of that." Simon spoke.
"Don't tempt me with a good time." She said behind Simon. "We'll be there in a bit." She told John in a promising tone before he nodded and turned, leaving them both alone on the balcony again.
Simon let out a breath, he turned to her, "Hey, maybe you didn't hear me but, I don't dance." He shook his head.
She gave him a smile, "Everybody dances." She spoke, she grabbed his wrist and led him to the dance floor where pretty much everyone else was.
He laughed with her as they danced, they'd go from his hands on her hips and her arms draped over his shoulders to her jumping up and down and Simon watching, laughing at her.
He was out of breath by the end of it. Simon shook his head as he swallowed. Trying to speak over the speakers.
"Hey! Let's get a drink!" He said to her, trying to point to the bar with his hand.
She watched him, she shook her head. "No thanks. I'm not thirsty." She nodded to Simon.
He sighed at her words.
Simon put a hand on her shoulder, he brought his mouth to her ear before speaking to her.
"I'm thirsty. We've been dancing for a straight hour." Simon spoke to her. He straightened, watching her face for any reaction.
Simon watched as she built a response she waved him down and he came down, his ear to her mouth.
"You want me to come with you?" She asked. Simon went down to her ear.
"N-No. I'm just...uh forget it." He was aggravated, the music was too loud, people's sweaty arms kept rubbing against him, everyone was yelling and bumping into him.
He turned, moving through the crowd of people to get to the bar.
He didn't drag her with him.
Once Simon got to the bar he ordered himself a cup of cold water with no ice.
He leaned his back against the bar watching the dance floor being filled with life.
Simon looked around to try and spot her but he couldn't.
"Okay friend's and fam, please clear the dance floor for the bouquet toss!" The bride announced on the DJ's microphone.
The crowd soon began to gather on the sides of the dance floor, Simon was already at a good spot where he could see everything so he didn't have to move.
There she was.
She was shaking her head at the bride as she dragged her to the other group of bridesmaids for the bouquet toss.
Simon watched as she started to look for something maybe someone.
Hannah, the bride. Took a step away from the ladies, turning her back to them she held up her white rose bouquet.
She raised it in the air.
Then threw it.
Simon's eyes followed the bouquet as it landed in someone's hands. He didn't hear no fighting over it, bummer. That would have been the best part of his night.
It hit him.
She caught it. Simons eyes stayed on her, the only people to congratulate her was the bridesmaids, John, and Hannah.
His brows furrowed slightly.
No boyfriend to come celebrate with her? No "Im already married"?
He tilted his head, bringing the glass of water to his bottom lip.
Simon turned, facing the bar now.
Simon watched ahead of him as they all soon filled his view of sight.
The maid of honor, the bridesmaids, and the bride. All together taking rounds of shots to celebrate once again but this time over poison in a cup.
Simon couldn't help but think good for them.
"So who's going to be the lucky guy?"
"Luna, have you got your eye on anyone?"
"There's plenty of single men here..?"
He listened as the bridesmaids nicked and poked at her all night.
The only useful thing he got out of it was her name. He hadn't asked for her name all night and now he got it. Sucks she didn't get his, not that it mattered. It didn't matter to me. It didn't.
Luna.
Simon ended the night leaving the wedding silently. The party was going well but he was in need of some well deserved rest, he left the party while everyone started crowding the bar, getting their "last drinks of the night."
Which was a fat lie, as he left he could hear the words, "One more." Being yelled throughout the reception, yeah no thanks.
The morning after John and Hannah insisted that Simon joined them both for breakfast, "Your best man duties aren't over." John had told him over the phone when he called.
Simon tried to seem annoyed but who would to free breakfast.
Once Simon made it to the hotel lobby he caught up with the two newlyweds. John tried to convince Simon to stay with them on their honeymoon.
"I swear It's fine. Please I don't want to interrupt you two." Simon shook his head as the three walked towards where breakfast would be.
"Please, I'm not renting out a fucking beach house just to use one room." John nudged Simon, pleading.
Simon glanced to Johnny, "Jesus-you can't take a no, can you?" John responded with a smirk before nudging his mate, "I'll take that as a yes." He winked.
Simon shook his head, watching John leave his side and walk alongside his wife.
As they made their way to a booth, she was there, who invited her?
Simon sat next to Luna, Hannah and John across from the two, "You two look like you're getting along well." Hannah spoke with a smile looking at the two.
Simon's brow furrowed. They hadn't even said anything to each other. "We met briefly yesterday." Luna spoke. Simon nodded in agreement. not adding to her already truthful words.
John stood to grab utensils, Hannah left to the bathroom, cleaning her hands.
Simon cleared his throat, he glanced over at Luna. "Wanted to congratulate you." He muttered. Luna looked to him.
Her brows furrowed, "On-?" Simon responded realizing he gave zero context, "The bouquet toss. Isn't it a thing to congratulate over...?" He spoke softer.
Luna smiled, "Yeah, for sure. Thanks."
Simon nodded in relief. "Who's the lucky guy?" He asked her, Luna shook her head, "I'm single." She responded quick,
"Oh." Simon swallowed, "Sorry." He nodded, "Ah, no worries. Being single in todays day n age is a privilege.' She smiled, chuckling like her own words made her laugh.
Simon laughed lowly with her, soon enough the two others joined back, the four ate peacefully.
"Luns, you should join us on our honeymoon." Hannah spoke after she swallowed her egg whites. Luna looked at her best friend like she was crazy.
"No? I don't really want to be there when you two are making my niece or nephew." She swallowed a gulp of water.
Simon hid a laugh with a bite of bread.
John gestured to Simon, "He's going."
Luna looked at Simon, Simon met her eyes, "He chose for me." He corrected, Luna huffed looking back to Hannah, "Fine."
John and Hannah shared a look. Hiding their smiles with food.
The ride there was silent well at least in Luna and Simon's car. The soft sound of Simons engine and music softly humming in the background.
He drove, one hand on the steering wheel the other on the console.
"You 'an change the song if you'd like." He spoke up, Luna looked up from her phone Simons phone in his hand as he handed it to her Spotify already open.
"Anything you hate hearing?" Luna asked as she clicked the search bar. Simon chuckled, "I asked you to pick."
Luna shrugged, "Your car, your music." Simon glanced at her quickly before looking back to the empty road. The car far ahead of them John and Hannah.
"I asked for your music, not mine." He spoke. Luna smiled softly before clicking play on The Morning - The Weeknd.
The ride went by quick, Simon was a good driver slowing to stops with ease or taking turns without even adjusting in his seat.
They got to the beach house, "Fuck, this is huge." Luna mumbled under her breath as she took in the large house ahead of them, the soft sound of waves crashing against the shore could be heard already from this far.
"Watch your mouth young lady." Simon spoke as he picked up both their luggage out his trunk, Luna closed it by the button and followed him, "I can hold my own bag." Luna reached out for her bags.
"I got it." He spoke, leaving no room for argument.
She didn't even ask for him to carry her stuff.
As hours slipped by the group slowly settled in the house, Luna and Hannah outside. Luna helping Hannah take pictures for her instagram.
Johnny and Simon inside, sharing a beer as they cooked. Steaks in the oven. The smell of seasoned meat wafted through the air.
"So...you and Luna, hm?" John hummed as he started peeling potatoes. Simon chuckled softly.
"Fuckin hell, that's why you brought us here. To play bachelor?" Simon watched the man.
John shamelessly half-nodded, he set down a potato. "C'mon Si, How long has it been since your last relationship?" John looked at Simon.
Simon finished his glass of corona, "Unimportant." He exhaled as he swallowed. John huffed when he didn't get the answer he wanted. "She seems like a good girl." John shrugged.
Simon cringed at those words. "Stop talking." Simon spoke as he moved, grabbing both their empty bottles and tossing them.
Johnny chuckled softly, "Just try it. Worst that can happen is she rejects you. Or...you find out she has a boyfriend." John shrugged.
"She's single." Simon straightened, clearing his throat seeming how that sounded, "We talked a bit." Simon moved to the fridge. Grabbing two beers.
He slid one to John and kept the other for himself. Opening it with his hand as he watch Johnny use a bottle opener.
It was probably at least one in the morning, Simon couldn't sleep. His head spinning, why did all thoughts have to come when you had to sleep?
Simon tossed the sheets off of him, he swung his legs over to the side of the bed. His head hurt.
Simon stood pulling up his sweatpants that hung low on his hips. He didn't bother to put a shirt on, nobody would be awake at this time. Right?
Simon slipped out his room, the door in front of his closed. Luna's room. Directly across from his. The sudden thought of entering her room to watch her sleep creeped up into his mind. He scoffed at himself before moving to the kitchen.
He stopped when his eyes locked onto the body he knew well from, watching it across rooms, Luna.
The fridge and freezer were both open, she stood in them exhaling deeply. "Are you..." He started.
Luna jumped at his voice, "Simon. Jeez, you scared me." She said, a hand coming to her chest as she met his eyes across the room.
Her eyes slowly trailed down his torso. "Okay..." He muttered to himself. "You should close those." Simon spoke, moving into the kitchen, pretending he didn't just feel her eyes tracing over every dip in his torso.
Luna didn't say anything as she watched Simons back, his muscles flexing as he grabbed a ibuprofen, opening it as he swallowed two easily.
He poured himself a glass of water, cold. "So why were you basking in the fridge?" Simon turned to look at her as he sipped water from the cup.
Luna swallowed, "I wasn't basking, I have no ac." She leaned back against the counter, Simon nodded.
"Didn't plan on asking for help?" He swallowed. "It's late." Luna crossed her arms over her chest, still embarrassed from being caught in such a stupid position.
"Sleep in my room." He gestured down the hall with the glass in his hand. Luna furrowed her brows. "Wow, take me to dinner first."
Simon smirked, "C'mon. You can have the bed." He was already moving towards the hall. Luna grunted before reluctantly following behind him.
Simon held the door open with a hand letting her in first. "Don't get awkward now." Simon hummed, closing the door behind her.
Simon moved, setting his cup down. His back to her. The soft sounds of a lighter flicking on and off filled the room, Simon lit a cigarette exhaling deeply before he turned, his eyes brushing over her. "Bed's all yours." He gestured to it.
Simon moved outside to the balcony connected to the room. Smoking his cigarette away from her.
Luna sighed deeply, how could she have gotten in this predicament.
Luna slowly sat herself in the middle of the bed, her back against the headboard. "Simon?" She called out to the air.
Slowly Simon came back in the room, exhaling smoke before he entered. "Princess." He answered.
Luna sat up slightly, the pet name making something sting in the pit of her stomach.
"Where are you sleeping?" She asked, Simon walked to the end of the bed. The cigarette twirling between his fingers like he was itching for a hit.
"Floor." He answered. She didn't know what it was, maybe him being shirtless, the fact that he saved her from a heat stroke, the delicious steaks he cooked the house earlier, or maybe the cigarette smoke making her dizzy.
But the way he kept looking at her had been making her heart beat, since they shared a dance on their friends wedding night.
"You're starin'" Simon huffed, Luna blinked, "Sorry. Don't...don't sleep on the floor. Sleep here with me." She said her eyes locked on his.
"Have you been drinking?" He asked her, Luna exhaled, she crawled to the end of the bed right in front of him. She took the cigarette from his fingers and placed it between her lips. Inhaling deeply before exhaling in his face.
He didn't flinch like it wasn't the first time smoke had been blown in his face.
Simons jaw clenched, his pec jerked slightly. "What are you doing, missy?" He questioned her as he leaned in closer.
Luna slowly pushed the end of the cigarette into his skin, Simon didn't flinch or stop her. He just watched her face as she burned him.
"You don't know what your asking for." Simon took the cigarette from her tiny hand, tossing it into the ash tray nearby.
"I'm well aware what I'm asking for." Luna met his eyes, her eyes flickering down to his lips then back up.
Simon exhaled, which sounded more like a growl. He reached out to her jaw pulling her lips to kiss them aggressively, like he was hungry.
Luna groaned softly in the kiss. Simon’s hand gripped under her thighs bringing her back onto the bed. “Simon, hurry up.” She moaned into his mouth.
He huffed, “Patience baby, I’m gonna take my time with you.” He growled lowly.
Simon’s fingers disappeared under her shirt, his hand cupped her breast, “No bra? You were asking for this, hm?” Simon hummed.
Luna moaned softly throwing her head back, she gripped his shoulders to keep her grounded. “Fuck. Quit teasing me Simon.” She muttered out.
Simon smirked slightly at her plea. He leaned back on his knees looking at her, “Fuck…” he muttered.
Luna bit her bottom lip she looked up at him, “What?” She asked, Simon chuckled softly. “Sweet girl, think you might’ve gotten too excited he said. “You’re soaked.”
Luna gasped she bent forward to check for herself and sure enough there was a wet patch through her shorts. Simon chuckled softly, he moved her hand.
“Don’t hide from me.” He said his fingers moving to hook onto her shorts, pulling them and her panties off in one go. He tossed them somewhere off the bed, Luna closed her thighs.
Simon looked into her eyes, “What did I just say?” Luna tilted her head, “Your still dressed, unfair.” Simon chuckled softly. He moved off the bed to take off his sweatpants leaving his boxers on. Luna opened her mouth to protest but Simon cut her off.
“Nope. You haven’t earned dick privilege yet.” He spoke, he dived back between her legs, forcing them open easily. His breath brushed over her already slick core. She shivered “Fuck.” She muttered.
Simon shook his head in disbelief, “That’s it? You’ll come if I breathe hard enough.” He stated, Luna scoffed. “No! I—nngrh” Simon cut her off with his tongue diving into her flaps.
Luna groaned biting back her moans, Simon sucked harder against her bud. “Mmm, lemme hear you.” He hummed against her slit.
Luna gasped for air under him, “Fuck! Oh—my god.” She moaned, her hands digging into the sheets under them both.
“Cmon pretty girl, give it to me.” Simon growled on her clit. He looked up at her as he sucker with passion.
Luna’s mouth hung open as he ate her like the last meal on earth, his tongue flicking at her bud.
Luna whined, “Simon—oh Si-“ She moaned. Simon bit softly at her flap, that did it. Simon watch as she tried to make words. “C-Coming.” She announced.
Simon watched as she got right to the edge before he pulled away from her, catching his breath softly. Luna gasped she sat up, “You asshole! Why’d you stop I was about to come?” Luna sighed.
Simon licked his lips, “I want you to cum on my dick.” He huffed out aggressively.
Lunas brows furrowed “W-“ She couldn’t even get the word out before Simon pinned her, her knees to her chest as he kicked off his boxers.
His cock sprung out between the two. He didn’t waste time on prepping her. He shoved himself into her, he was pent up.
Luna gasped her head hitting the headboard, “Fuck!” She yelped. Simon waited for a moment before moving, he slid out till his tip almost fell out her beauty.
He slammed back into her, doing it consistently, “Si-nggrh—please.” She babbled. Cock drunk.
Simon continued his rampage, “Use your words, baby.” He panted. His hands digging into the back of her knees as he watched his dick disappear and reappear on loop.
“I’m gonna come!” She gasped, Simon slowed. “Wait for me, doll.” He ordered. He slowly built back up the pace.
He reached up, gripping her left breast, rolling the bud between his fingers. Luna whined, she was overstimulated.
“Take it like a good girl and stop whining.” He panted, his eyes flickered to hers. Watching her face as she held herself back.
Another whine slipped, “That’s whining, I thought we talked about that.” Simon dug himself into her.
“Simon please!” She choked out. Simon whimpered, “Fuck princess.” He muttered.
Simon nodded, “Give it to me, baby.” He nodded as she came, her soft walls pulsing on his cock. Simon soon oozed into her, filling her to the brim.
Simon panted, pulling himself out of her.
He met her eyes, lying next to her as he panted softly. “Sorry.” He swallowed staring at her boy next to him.
Luna smiled, “That was perfect.” She kissed him.
Ahhhhh first tumblr fanfic and immediately getting into smut I love that for me. This was actually taken from my Wattpad where the entire story originates in that ver its in Simons pov anyways ty for reading!!