just a lil sketch of a sleepy guy :3 i feel im always drawn to the sleepy ideas, am i that tired all the time? yes, yes i am. Whos to blame for that? me, only me.
Fabric resting just right above the curve of your cheeks, reveals just a little of the mouth-watering skin he wants to sink his teeth into.
He thinks he mightâve been able to control himself, climb into bed next to you, and pull you in his arms instead of defiling you. Sleep the urge away and take you in the morning when youâre proper awake. That would be the right thing to do, let his sweet girl get the rest you deserve.
Itâs not his fault, really, not when youâre also wearing his shirt, makes something possessive curl in his chest at the âRILEYâ printed in bold on your back.
Youâre too tempting for your own good; how is he supposed to let you sleep when youâve gone and done such a thing?
He runs a calloused hand up your calf, spreading your pretty legs just a smidge more so he can crawl his way between them. The jostling doesnât wake you, never does, but when his fingers brush against the backs of your thighs, spreading his touch wide over your skin you make a sleepy noise, not quite awake yet.
When his hands find claim to your ass, kneading the supple flesh, he has to physically stifle a groan as he watches the fat give away under his touch. Another noise comes from above him, his greedy hands pulling you closer and closer to clouded consciousness.
You feel it, heâs sure, a slight tickling on the backs of your thighs that doesnât quite make sense yet, not when youâre still in the tight confines of sleepâs grasps, wound in a thick fog. Must be even more confusing when his thumb dips lower, smears against your cloth covered cunt.
That makes another noise slip past your lips, a little more coherent this time, leisured strokes waking you enough that you shift slightly, fingers tightening in the sheets under you.
âSimon?â
He doesnât say anything, just presses his thumb a little firmer against your cunt. You buck into the touch, a small patch of the gray fabric staining darker, your arousal seeping through the shorts even through your sleep-fuddled mind. You rustle your cheek against your pillow, blinking bleary-eyed down at him, lids still heavy, drowsy and dazed.
Youâre so docile, sleep still weighing your limbs down, that you let him slip your shorts and underwear down your legs without a fight. Your pretty cunt bare to him, drenched and clenching around nothing as he returns home between your thighs again. Eager to be stuffed even when sleep borders your irises.
When his fingers nudge along your wet folds, the noise you make is so pretty, that it makes his cock throb painfully in his boxers.
He finds his fingers in your half asleep cunt more times than not when he comes home late. He canât help himself, not when youâre so pliant and soft, handing your obedience over to him, and letting him bend you as he pleases. Let him take his time without complaint, work you nice and stretched while you just lay there and take it. Lazily rutting your hips in the sheets, too tired to do anything, but enjoy the stretch.
âSimon?â You whimper again.
âYeah, baby,â He finally hums, âJusâ relax fâme, yeah? Jusâ wanna play with her for a bit.â
Iâd like to think Simonâs girl is so shy. Simon was never much of a talker so go figure he dates a girl who is shy.
She talks to him in private and they have a wonderful connection. However, when theyâre around anyone else sheâs just shy.
Drinks with team? Sheâs wallowing into Simonâs side with blushed cheeks avoiding soaps million questions.
At the restaurant and they got her order wrong? Donât worry, Simonâs got this.
Need to make a phone call? Just write it down love, heâs got it.
But in bed? âLet me hear you loveâ âwhat was that? You want me to stop?â And that is the last thing you want. âCome on lovie; canât hear youââTell me what you wantâ
Simon never wouldâve guessed you might be into inviting someone to the bedroom. But of course youâre still so shy. So when Simonâs holding you to his chest and Johnâs inside you, Simonâs whispering in your ear. âTell him what you wantâ and suddenly youâre mouth is just a stream of words
need me a simon that can't help that he's cruelly blunt and honest with a sweetheart that isn't so much a crybaby but sensitive so when she first tries to make him some tea in the morning he just stares at it and blurts out that he doesn't want to drink that (it smells sour with a mild bite, how? it's just black tea???) and now he's gotta go into damage control because he's not good with tears god luvie please don't cry
Simon with acne, and his balaclava only inflaming the skin.
It's so accidentally when you saw his face bare, and he expected some laugh, or nagging, or even a sneer. But you didn't give any off handed remark or say anything, you just left wordlessly â and it's even worse because Simon thought that you thought he's ugly.
Just next day Simon happened to find a box with homemade face mask which smelled heavily of cinnamon and honey, and a small tube with many iupac names all at once.
There was a note as well in your handwriting sticked over the box lid, â20 minutes then tube, for good skin Mr. handsome Rileyâ
And that's how Simon was found looking for a ring next week.
fwb!simon, reader catches feelings- NO. FWB!SIMON BUT SIMON CATCHES FEELINGS.
it's quite simple.
simon comes home from a mission, he's restless, twitching, pacing, can't figure out what to do with his hands.
so what does he do? he knocks on your door, waiting anxiously until you open it and he's scooping you up, hauling you across the hall and into his basically empty apartment, and fucking you into the mattress for the night.
and you're just so good at taking itâwhatever he gives you and whenever he gives it. you cry, whine, beg and plead for his cock in all the ways you know howâuntil you go blue in the faceâand simon fucking revels in it. he's all harsh words and degrading names, calling you a filthy slut, his cocksleeve, a fucking cumdumpâyou name it, he's probably said it.
it's perfect, until it's not.
he's spent months fucking you stupid, night after night. he fucks you even when he's not restless. he fucks you when he's bored, when he's lonely. especially when he's lonely.
simon riley's a gridlocked man. hardly anything ever gets past him, but it didn't take many rendezvous between your thighs for him to forget that.
his mask would come fully offânot just above his lipsâand you'd still kiss him breathless, still scream his name until your throat went hoarse. you weren't afraid of everything underneath. if anything, you liked it.
It's not like the both of you frequently exchanged actual conversations, but he could tell by the way you dripped and soaked his sheets even more than you ever had.
after that, he even began to gather enough courtesy to let you get some rest after he fucks you, letting you stay wrapped in his sheets for whatever sliver of the night was left.
you never pushed, and that's what he liked most about you. you always went by his terms because you never really cared as long as you got fucked six ways from sunday.
so, you always left when he woke without a problem. that was the arrangement and you were more than fine with getting a good fuck only a few steps away from your own home.
then even you began to notice the shift.
simon could never fuck you badly, per se. but he began to fuck you more softly. tenderly, as if he was suddenly aware that humans shouldn't be bent in half as long he's had you pinned underneath him in the past. he'll rock his hips into you with similar fervor, but he'd caress you, rather than grab at you. hold your forehead to his, rather than choke you with his thick hands.
then came the praise. god, it's like fucking a completely different man. from one week to the next, you're no longer a slut or a hole, you're pretty girl and angel. it makes your head spin. you try to pinpoint the change and why it happened, but you can't. somehow, you cum twice as hard now.
it all came to an ugly head when he spent the better part of 2 hours between your thighs, moaning and groaning as if you were doing him a service.
now, you weren't going to complain, but love just wasn't in the cards for you right now, and the looks simon was giving you from where he lapped at your cunt were filled with adoration, like he was waiting for you to tell him how good he was doing.
hell, you could see a phantom tail wagging each time his eyes met your own. and after a session that felt more like making love than an explosion of pure lust, you could feel his eyes lingering on you as you slipped your panties back on.
"what?" you hum, not wanting to face him in fear you'd see that godforsaken look in his eyes again.
and you were right, because he's staring at you like he's about to drop to one knee. "nothin'."
you toss your shirt back over your head and steel yourself as you turn to face him.
"simon," you start and he's already hanging on your words, "what's going on with you lately? i don't mean to sound rude butâ"
this is it, he thinks. it has to be now, or nothing will change. he's not a religious man, but if he's ever prayed to god for anything, it's for this to become something real.
"'m in love with ya."
one blink, then two. two to three, three to four. you stare at him as you try to piece together what he's saying.
"simon, i don't think you understandâ"
"âi do. i do understand and i want ya, bad. so bad, i can't even stop thinkin' bout ya, sweetheart. even when y'not 'ere im thinkin' about ya. everything about y'is perfect, and i don't think i can function without y'with me."
this is the most emotion you've ever seen out of simon and it rocks you to your core. if you didn't know betterâand if the lighting wasn't so dimâyou'd think he was tearing up.
"had to get it in, couldn't wait around!" - s.r. x reader
ĘÉË ŕźâĄ âď˝ĄË who is it? simon "ghost" riley x you
ĘÉË ŕźâĄ âď˝ĄË what is it? enemies always fuck better, right? you hate him, or so you thought...
ĘÉË ŕźâĄ âď˝ĄË cws: unprotected p in v, angry simon turned soft, huge d!ck, knife play kinda? ass play, heavy make out. word count: 2.4k
<3
"what the fuck was that about?"
you stomped into an empty, abandoned conference room and stood at the end of a long table, with one masked man sitting at the other end. your arms crossed themselves across your chest, and you popped a hip out to the side as you waited for his answer.
simon motherfucking riley was your arch nemesis. someone you didn't trust, never agreed with, and certainly never wanted to work with. but the world isn't fair. it keeps spinning even when you despise someone, and captain price couldn't care less about your feelings towards simon when it came to the thousands of lives you were saving every mission.
usually, if you're in a group, you don't dare speak to simon this way. you only nod your head at his commands and walk away, hoping that he's receiving the millions of telepathic "fuck you's" you put out somewhere into the universe. but now, you're alone, and there is no better time than the present to tell your lieutenant off.
"if you need to blow some steam, i suggest going for a few boxing rounds w' soap. he's always looking for-" he paused whatever ministrations he was writing on a file and looked up at you slowly, "an easy opponent."
you huff and smirk out of pure anger as you briskly round the table, making your way over to him. "I'm not here to fucking play around, lieutenant, I'm here to let you know I'm pissed because you gave everybody else an assignment overseas next month except for me." you paused and let his eyes meet yours as your strong volume turned into a whisper. "I've worked just as hard, if not fucking harder than the rest of these task force fuckers, and we both know I'd be a good shot out there."
when it comes to you giving your superior a piece of your mind, simon usually submits completely. he never fires back, to everyone else's surprise, and he always allows you to use him, so to speak, to yell at him and get everything out of your system before entering the world again.
but not today.
simon slowly stood up from his chair, keeping eye contact with you as he expanded to almost double your size in every factor possible.
the seconds felt like years as his eyes bore down into yours. your heart rate was doubling every time one of you blinked, and you had to tense every single muscle in your body just to remain stagnant in position. the silence was deafening, and as the seconds passed, you remembered everything you've seen this man do, every corpse he's thrown to the side like a piece of garbage in his way, every knife rusted and wasted because it's been buried deep in the jaw of his enemies, and the eyes that have seen all of this from the first person perspective, are staring right into your-
SLAM.
simons hand comes down onto the wooden table with the force of 10 men, it sounds like, and you couldn't do anything but jump. you flinch. you fucking flinch and it feels like you're waving a white flag.
His gloved fingers reach out to your chin and tug you by the jaw, forcing your face inches away from his, "I have fuckin' had it with your attitude. you can act like a bitch all you fucking want to price, to gaz, and I sure as fuck don't care about how you treat soap. but to me," he squeezes your chin to reinstate your obedience before drifting his hand to rest on your neck, "to me, you either respect me or don't say shit at all. so get used to swallowing your words around here from now on, cause there won't be anywhere else for them to fucking go but down your own throat."
coincidentally, you do swallow. hard and slow, and simons eyes watch and feel your neck bobbing as you begin to shake just slightly under his pressure. as he squeezes, a small squeak releases itself from your lips and you mentally kick yourself for it, knowing that's just what he wants. because once you let yourself go to the stormy waters that is simon riley, you'll never be the same again. he'll make sure of it.
"you say yes sir." his low voice whispered into the empty room, your face somewhere even closer than before, every minute that passes you move an inch. you still can't open your mouth, you're suffering from shell shock and there's no mercy to be found in the eyes of your shooter.
simon pulls out a blade from his thigh holster and presses it to your side, "say. it. now." he yells even louder. you feel the sharp sting of the metal start to break through the cotton of your shirt and tease your skin. a tear breaks free from your eyes, and you are completely gone. you're done for. absolutely dead in every sense but the physical.
"yes sir." you whisper, finally freeing yourself from some kind of paralysis. you feel the blade crash onto the table, as well as the sweet release of your neck from his hand. an extra wave of oxygen that you didn't know you were missing flowed though you in small gasps.
simon said nothing as he walked straight past you, out of the door, slamming it behind him. he left you, his knife, and a part of your soul, there in that room.
ĘÉË ŕźâĄ â･Ë
it had been a few days since simon had blown any ounce of relationship between the two of you into ash and dust, and you can't tell if the looks simon gives you now are filled with rage or just empty. empty meanings, empty promises, because he just doesn't care. but ever since he's made it clear with you that he is not to be messed with, you've unfortunately want him more.
simon riley is a fucking apex predator, and in the past, you've just been standing there, petting him, taunting him, and expecting nothing to happen. well now, you not only expect it, you fucking want it. you dream about all the things he could do to you. but all the things he hasn't said just prove that he couldn't care less.
that night, the only news channel your small tv offers called for rain, a lot of it, mixed with thunderstorms and lightning. as you dry your hair off with a towel, you walk to your window and look outside. your stomach churns at the sight of the angry clouds heading your way. you absolutely despise thunderstorms, and you prefer for a long night because there is no way you would be getting any sleep.
"fuck." you whisper to yourself as it starts to drizzle.
you try to ignore it as you kick off your slippers and get under your soft covers, pulling your duvet all the way up to your ears to try to mute the sound. it was now raining harder, and occasional sparks of electricity lit up your room from the sky, so you tossed and turn all night until you finally fell asleep.
it wasn't until hours later that a large boom of thunder shook you awake. you sat up immediately in a panic, gasping for air and looking around you as if you were expecting anything, something to explain the sound. tears started rolling down your face not only in fear, but in frustration also. you were so upset and so tired. you needed something, someone. just to tell you it was going to be okay. you slipped out of bed with a shaky hand clutching a necklace around your neck as you opened the door of your room and walked out.
the cold air of the hallway caused your skin to raise up into goosebumps and your nipples to pebble through your thin tank top, and even as you crossed your arms over yourself, it wasn't enough.
you headed straight for a door right down the hall. one with a name on the wood that you never thought you would go to in need in a million years. but you didn't know what to do.
your small knuckles rapped on the door, right underneath a nameplate.
simon "ghost" riley
you hear heavy footsteps and several locks unfastening before the door swings open.
a maskless man appears, with no shirt, and a large hand rubbing the side of his face. he was no doubt asleep before this. his eyes squinted as he leaned against the doorframe, trying to adjust to the light. your jaw hung slightly agape at the sight of him, so human. so disgustingly human who's done such non-humane things.
his eyes swept over your face as he noticed the tear stained cheeks, reddened from lack of sleep and continued down your body, down your full teardrop breasts, across your bare stomach, your sweatpants that hung loosely off your hips, and no words were spoken as he grabbed you by both forearms and drug you inside his room.
you gasped as he moved you backwards towards his bed, his much larger and comfier bed, and you no longer had any reason to stop him as he drug you under the covers with him. you couldn't believe him as he snuck in close to you, silently, as if it were normal.
it wasnât until you felt an arm come up to rest upon your hip, and the floodgates opened. you couldnât stop tears from rolling down your eyes. you were so confused, so scared, so fucking tired. small whimpers and gasps of breath continued.
âshhh.â came from simonâs mouth as he pulled you closer and softly squeezed your hip.
âyou hate meâ you whispered back, sobbing louder.
âhm-mm, no.â
âyes, you fucking hate me and youâve just pulled me into your bed,â you start whining louder as your hands reach up to cover your face.
simonâs eyes slowly opened to look into yours before swatting your ass ,âquit crying n' go to sleep.â
you only responded with smaller, shorter intakes of breath and sniffles.
âyâhear me?â he patted your ass where he had slapped it before.
you nodded and whispered, âyes sir.â
a growl tore threw simonâs mouth as he looked up at the bedroom ceiling before throwing his forearm over his eyes, âfuckinâ hell.â
this time itâs you who reaches out, as you place a small palm on his bicep. he flinches at the touch before sighing,
âcâmere puppy.â
you slowly crawl on top of simon, placing both hands on his arms before allowing your head to fall between his neck and shoulder. a warmth slithered through you as you relaxed into him, and as his hand slowly caressed and squeezed the fat of your ass, the warmth exceeded just below your navel.
you made the mistake of squirming, and he noticed.
he clicked his tongue against his teeth while pulling you closer, âstay still.â
âi-iâm trying to get comfortable-"
"well stop." he interrupted, "just relax."
the wind outside howled, as simon's breath and yours intertwined through the space between you. and just like the storms outside, simon was the most unexpected thing to ever exist. he was trying hard to not scare you off, to be gentle, even though every thing in him contradicts that. but you know better. you know that he is gentle somewhere behind that mask.
you squirmed again, "simon I just don't know what to do." you leaned up to look at him. and there it was, the look that he only gave you, the small and desperate iris' just begging for some kind of affection. even without much light, you could still see him grasping at the frays for you. seconds of intense eye contact went by for simon broke the silence,
"just kiss m'then."
you gasped, sitting back a centimeter, but then nodded. and leaned into his touch. into him.
the kiss was soft and delicate, your lips and his just barely overlapping as you took in his woodsy smell, pine and maple, but that was all it took to pull a groan from simon.
more, more, is all he thought as he grabbed you by the hips and prodded his tongue against your lips. you smiled at the action, and without hesitation, opened up for him completely.
it was nothing but violent, raw, and urgent, the way simon kissed you. you moaned into his mouth as he smacked the fat of your ass, "all it took," he mumbled, "all it took was a little tongue for you to shut the fuck up."
you whined at the loss of contact as simon struggled to pull your pants down, but it disintegrated as he swiped a finger between your thighs, "fuck." simon whispered at the wetness pooling from your sex. "how many times have I yelled at you and gotten you wet?" he said, as he flipped you both around so you were now in your back, head smushing the soft pillow.
you groaned as he discarded his sweatpants and boxers, leaving his cock to spring out against his stomach. "how many times, baby?" he asked again, "you think about me hurting you when you play with this pretty pussy?" his index reached out to circle your clit a few times.
you couldn't help it, your body was betraying you in real time as your walls fluttered around nothing. "yes, yes I think about it, I think about you all the time simon." your babbles spilled out of you like water, and simon was lapping it up.
he chuckled, "don't even n'to prep you, you're a fuckin' faucet, sweetheart." his lengthy cock, with precut oozing out of the tip, was begging to be inside you, begging to fill you up. as he grabbed his length and positioned himself to your weeping hole, he looked you in the eyes, "y'want this?"
your eyes met his and for a second, you felt some sort of fire igniting deep within you, why was he even asking? why did it feel like the monster he is was softening for you?
you grabbed his hip and thrusted yourself, notching the tip of him inside your walls. "yes, I fucking want this, simon."
he chuckled as he watched him disappear inside you, inch by inch, every fucking centimeter felt like a year lived without you. he needed to make up for it, because the one woman that he couldn't stand just happened to be the woman he couldn't live without.
something about simon or price picking the sleazy, feral party girl as their future wifey. they want to tame you from jäger shots and late nights in sweaty clubs to formula and packing lunches
late nights are now spent cuddled up to your husband, your head on his shoulder as he taps away on his laptop. youâve come a long way from the night you first met, letting him bend you over in the menâs toilet of some dive bar
had no intention of pulling out and knew exactly what he was doing when you came to him a week later, teary eyes and positive pregnancy tests wrapped up in your bag. slipâs an engagement ring on your finger that night because a baby needs a family, love
your first morning together was spent hungover, greasy takeout shared in their messy bedroom. small, humbly decorated flat thatâs cozy enough for two was soon swapped for a big four-bedroom in the english midlands
now your husband awakes to their uniform ironed and hanging on the wardrobe door, steaming hot coffee already on the bedside table. kids all dressed for school and lined up at the âcreate-your-own-pancakeâ spread you made for breakfast. lunches all packed with sweet notes and drawn hearts
your husband gets a nudie polaroid in his lunch because old habits die hard for you <3
Simon would be every bit of a man his father never ever was.
Silent, angry, impatient, nonchalant ?
That's not him. He'll never be that.
He's pulling out your chair, listening to you talk for hours, even the most mundane things which surpassed over his head.
He's taking yours and his plate, washing them because what ? It hardly ever takes a minute.
He sits next to you, watching the program you like so much. Football can come later, or never, what does it matter against the way you giggles and smack his thigh ?
He comes home with flowers, or ice cream tub, or whatever that you ask for, and don't even ask for. He knows.
He's a man of action, if the shelf is too small to cater all your books then the man would be sweating in the shed cutting wood planks and making you the most brilliant shelf, because he would rather die a million times then ever tell you something like, âread less, womanâ
He meets your family, loves them in his own way, it's okay if he personally doesn't light up the room with his pun or taking cue, but the simple gesture of fixing your mother's old car, and oiling the hinges of door, wordlessly, is everything.
Ignoring children ? No. He picks up the crying child and coddles them so, while you are busy with your own work, or just napping. He shows them the plants and sky and moving clouds, tells them how you are so precious and beautiful and the best person in the whole world.
He's not his father, and seeing your eyes twinkling at him is an everyday reminder.
When Simon kissed you goodbye and watched you excitedly rush to your friendâs car, he already knew that at some point that evening, heâd get a call from a fairly drunk you. What he didnât expect though, was for that call to come from inside the police station.
âSimon? Simon, can you hear-,â your drunken giggles interrupted you. âme?â Little did you know that when he heard the typical âThis is a call from xy police station. Do you accept the call?â, he had already put on his shoes and collected his car keys, rushing out of the house and to his truck.
âI can hear you love.â Your still joyful demeanor reassured him, but he still worried. âAre you okay? What happened?â In the background, he could hear the voices of you girlfriends, who sounded just as smashed as you. Another one of your giggles sounded through the phone, as you lowered your voice, trying to whisper, but it was pretty obvious that you were still loud enough to be heard. âI think-,â this time it was a hiccup that interrupted you. â-I think I did something bad.â Usually, Simonâs mind would immediately go to worst-case scenario, but you still sounded happy, so he managed to stay calm. Instead of panicking, he started the car and put you on speaker, pulling out of the driveway to make his way to the police station.
âIâll be there in five, pretty. Can you wait for me?â You sighed happily, and he could almost picture you leaning against the wall and twirling your hair. âOh Si, Iâd wait forever for you.â He chuckled, and signed off with a quick âI love youâ, before hanging up. Three minutes later, he walked into the brightly lit building and up to the front desk, seeing a familiar cop. As soon as Matt saw Simon, he just chuckled.
âAssumed she was yours. Kept talking about her big, scary boyfriend.â Simon chuckled as he shook his mate's hand. âHow bad is it?â Matt shrugged and grabbed some keys leading Simon to the cells. âJust some public disturbance.â Simon nodded. âCharges?â âNah. Mainly picked them up to keep them from getting into real trouble.â
The moment you saw Simon walking toward you, you squealed and thrust your arms through the bars. âSiiiiiiimooooon!â The blonde could only roll his eyes with a smile as he watched you, impatiently waiting for Matt to open the door, before you rushed into your boyfriendâs arms. He pulled you in tightly, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. After a moment, you glanced up at him, a pout on your lips.
âWhatâs got you pouting, pretty?â You turned and glared at Matt. âHe took my tequila.â Matt raised his hands with a grin, shrugging before waving you two to follow him. âWell, we got more tequila at home.â Again you squealed, overjoyed that your drunken evening wasnât over just yet, but when Matt turned to look at Simon with a raised eyebrow, the blonde just mouthed back âwaterâ. The cop nodded with a grin, handing you a form, which you quickly signed before he handed over your personal items and bid you a good night.
As soon as you left the building, you rushed out ahead, leading to Simon quickly catching up and wrapping an arm tightly around your waist. He stirred you to his truck and quickly buckled you in, before jumping in the driverâs seat and pulling away.
âSoâŚwhat did you do?â He swatted at your hand as you tried to turn up the volume of the radio. You pouted again, before sitting up straight, raising your hand and grinning at him. âI plead the fifth!â Simon chuckled, glancing at you, before focusing back on the road. âYouâre in Britain, love. There ainât no fifth.â Immediately, you slouched back down, glaring at the road. âWell, thatâs bullshit.â
Before you knew it, Simon pulled into the driveway and helped you out of the car before gently leading you inside. You immediately tried to rush to the alcohol cabinet, but before you could, Simon pushed you to the bedroom. âBut my tequilaaaa.â He pushed you until you sat down on the bed. âYou change into your pjs and Iâll get you some tequila, okay?â You grinned and nodded, and Simon left the room, quickly filling a glass with water. On his way back, he picked up a bucket and some pain meds, planning to leave them on your nightstand.
But when he entered the bedroom again, he found you, half changed, and asleep. Still smiling, he sighed before putting everything down on your side of the bed. As gently as he could, he quickly changed you and wiped off your makeup, making sure you were as comfortable as possible, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. âSleep tight, love.â
A/N: Definitely did not write this while listening to "Plead the fifth" by Cooper Alan. I love that song.
so iâm disgustingly depressed so letâs bring low self esteem reader back
john who plucks out the lonely girl in the corner of the pub, abandoned by all of her mates to get chatted up by the blokes inside. someone has to stay by the table and look after the coats and bags
and he could tell she was an insecure wreck just from looking at her, constantly fidgeting and pretending to busy yourself at the empty table. picking up your phone, scrolling for two seconds and then putting it back down. rinse, repeat, etc
but god, you were gonna be a challenge. good thing heâs always up for one. always happy to take in another lonely stray
she doesnât make eye contact with him, ever. nor does she ever reach to touch him. in fact, she apologises whenever she accidentally brushes him. looks embarrassed every time she gives some lame response to his smooth line
and the second one of your friends comes back to the table, you move away. as if youâre some warm-up act before the main performance. and that just wonât do one bit
you watch him as he follows your friend to the bar, chatting to her before making his way back with two drinks but instead of cozying up to her the way you expect him to, he slides the drink in front of you and makes himself comfortable in the tight booth. leaving you trapped between his musky scent and peeling wallpaper decorating the wall,
âthere yâgo, pretty. carry on tellinâ me about yourselfâŚâ
and for once, you actually hold his gaze for a few seconds, stunned. before inevitably shrinking back into yourself, slowly reaching for the glass like he might be pulling some kind of joke on you
he knows heâs got his work cut out for him with you, but he also knows that if he digs a little deeper, heâll hit diamond
Simon had always known he was possessive, but this⌠this was something new. It all started during a rambling, half-drunk conversation with Soap, the kind theyâd both forget by morningâexcept for one comment that had lodged itself in Simonâs mind like a splinter.
âLass canât forget you if sheâs knocked up with your baby,â Soap had muttered with a lopsided grin, slurring just enough to make Simon dismiss it at first.
At first.
Simon knew youâd never forget him, no matter how long he was deployed. He trusted you, loved you in ways he couldnât always put into words. But once the thought was planted, he couldnât forget it. Maybe deep down it was the fear youâd leave or just the desire to know that you were fully his, round with his child, but whatever it was, when he got notified of an upcoming assignment, he knew he was gonna damn well try.
Which is how you ended up here now, pressed into the mattress beneath him, his broad chest blanketing your back as his lips dragged heatedly along your neck. He reaches around, pulling your body up enough for you to stabilise yourself as he roughly palms your breasts, tweaking your nipples between his fingers as he continues to rut against you.
He's been at it for hours, fucking you with a relentless intensity, determined to fill you with every drop of his cum before he leaves. Youâve lost count at this point, never knowing he could go for so many repeated rounds but you certainly know it now as you feel his cum run down your thighs, the squelching noise every time he fucks back into you, a combination of your arousal and how many loads heâs given you so far tonight.
"Fuuck-" he groans, his voice low and gravelly with desire. "Gonna knock you up so good. Gonna make sure you're round with my baby by the time I get back."
He pulls out, his cock sliding from your well-fucked holeÂ
He stares down at your pussy, mesmerised by the sight of it dripping with his cum. He leans down, his face mere inches from it as his heated breath ghosts your folds. He watches, transfixed, as another thick spurt of his previous load oozes out of you.
"Fucking hell," he mutters, his breath hot against your skin. "Look at that. Look at what you do to me."
He reaches out, his fingers gently parting your swollen lips to get a better look. He teases your entrance, circling it slowly before scooping up some of the cum that's leaking out and guiding it back in with his middle and ring finger.
He pushes his fingers deeper, scissoring them to work his own cum back inside you. He wants to make sure every last drop takes.
"Gonna plug you up-" he growls, his voice rough with lust. "Keep you nice and full of me.â
He withdraws them, glistening with the thick, pearly fluid before bringing them up to your mouth, pressing his fingers against your lips.
"Go on-" he purrs as he slowly pushes his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck them clean. You can taste the saltiness of his cum mixed with the musky scent of your arousal. It's a heady combination that makes your head spin.
"Good girl," he praises, his voice rough with approval. "Such a good girl for me."
He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, only to bring them back down to your pussy. He circles your clit with them, the slickness of his cum providing the perfect lubrication before he gestures for you to roll onto your back.
He straightens back up as he slides the head of his aching cock through your folds, nudging the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts that do nothing to satisfy the ache inside you.
"Yânot going anywhere," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with emotion. "Not after this- fuck -youâre not leaving meâŚYou canâtââ
You could hear the subtle desperation in his words, a fear that you'd abandon him. He needed to know that you would be here, waiting for him, even when he was deployed.
He kisses desperately, trying to put every fiber of his being into this kiss, hoping to portray even a fraction of the strong love he felt for you. His hips start to move again, his cock sliding into you with a groan. He sets a slow, deep pace, each thrust deliberate and purposeful as he works himself in and out of you.
"Fuck, I love you," he grunts, the words torn from him. "Love you so fucking muchâŚYou're my everything, I swear Iâll never let you down-"
He wraps his arms around you, holding you as close as possible, fingers digging into your flesh as he impales you on his thick cock over and over again.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his forehead pressed against yours. "So fucking tight and wet for me. Always so ready for my cock, god youâre perfect-."
He adjusts his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts so that he's hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. Your back arches off the bed as your nails rake down his back and you moan wantonly.
"That's it, baby," he coaxes, his voice husky with desire. "Gonna' fill you up so good. Gotta make sure it takes before I leave-
His hips piston faster, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. He's getting close, you can tell by the way his muscles tense, the way his breath comes in short, sharp gasps.
"Gonna cum," he grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Shit- fuck-â
He buries himself to the hilt, incoherent mutterings rolling off his tongue as his cock pulses, filling you with another thick load. He bites down on your shoulder to muffle his groans as you feel it, hot and heavy, painting your insides white. He collapses on top of you, all his weight heavy upon you, though you don't mind at all, arms wrapping tightly about him.
He stays buried inside of you, his now softening cock still buried deep within you. He rests his forehead against yours as his breath comes in short pants, trying to catch his breath.
"I meant what I said, you knowâŚgonna' make you mine in every way possible," he murmurs, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he lifts some of his weight off of you. "Want you to have my baby- And when I come back, I'm gonna marry you because Iâm completely yours and I want you to be fully mine, officially."
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reblogsăcomments are greatly appreciated <3
Š ghostsanctity â do not copy or translate any of my works
Sitting with your back to Simonâs chest as you watch a movie. Heâs always handsy so you pay him no mind. Until both of his hands find his way to your tits. Just squeezing, pulling, and twisting. His full attention to the movie until heâs pulled away by your squirms and moaning.
âSiâŚâ
âShh baby, trying to watch.â
It becomes too much and you remove his hands so you can watch the movie too. Until one of his hands finds it way under the waistband of your shorts. Heâs just absentmindedly playing with your clit. Rubbing smooth circlesâŚ
Youâre getting so horny. You just canât take it and you snap.
âStop! If youâre not going to do anything, just stop!â
His attention is now all on you with a shocked look on his face. He moves too quick for you to protest as one hand removes your shorts all together and then both hands rest on the inside of your thighs holding you wide open.
âMmm. You can be frustrated. But is yelling how we communicate?â
You shake your head and yelp as a sharp smack lands right on your already soaked pussy.
âIs that how we communicate?â
âNoâŚâ
You voice comes out so weak compared to your previous outburst.
âIâm trying to watch a movie, lovie. So youâre going to sit here while I watch my movie. And anytime you disrupt me with a sound or squirming, you know what to expect.â
You simply nod and squeeze his arm tight with one hand. Eveything is going great⌠until one hand finds your tits and the other finds your clit. Heâs just touching you so softly, giving you no pleasure. You let out a small frustrated sigh and are quickly met with another slap to your pussy.
âShhhâŚâ
Itâs almost humiliating how casual this is for him while youâre absolutely soaked and frustrated beyond measure. How he can still be engrossed in the movie and you can focus on anything but his touch.
This continues for what feels like hours. His absentminded touch, your disgruntled displeasure, his harsh spank to your already swollen clit⌠the cycle repeats⌠the whole movieâŚ
The parasites in my brain and gnawing at this enclosure with this
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