pancake-stray-doggo
Messy Sideblog™
**!!NOT SPOILER-FREE!!**
just your resident problematic she/her with a deep love for bad things. call me pancake or pan. i interact w my main @/evisnotok
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Azure Chapter 2: Change OUT TONIGHT AT 8:30 EST!!
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older bf simon the type to ask, “how do you want me, love?” when you two finally fuck :’(
he’s so careful and gentle, leashing his own desires because there is a certain satisfaction in having you tip into your orgasm first before he reaches his own. it’s so dizzying, having you order him around and him giving you what you asked but twice the intensity, twice the pleasure. he has you crying in his arms, your words warbled with your gasps, and he holds you throughout because—“like this, sweetheart? is this what you wanted?”
you sob your yesses and your i love yous and your i need mores, and simon gives and gives because god you’re just too precious
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cant get more fascist police state than snipers on rooftops overlooking peaceful protests.
this is what democracy looks like.
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Being a camgirl comes with its fair share of ups and downs, but you never expected one of the downs to be one of your unboxings from a fan going horribly wrong during a live stream—the proof of it still buzzing between your thighs beyond your finger's reach.
A rush of embarrassment comes with knocking on your roommate’s bedroom door and asking him for help because you’re nearing the brink of overstimulation and can’t think straight enough to get the words out. It’s worse when he stands there and says nothing—all imposing with two tattooed arms crossed over his chest—while you try to get through a sentence without moaning.
Simon looks at you with a cocked brow and something akin to amusement as he watches you squirm in his doorway.
Then he finally says, “Get on the bed,” in a steady and low voice, opening his bedroom door wider.
You fidget under his scrutinizing gaze as you settle back against his pillows, biting back whimpers with a too-hot face and sweat dripping down your back.
Him settling a knee on the bed makes you jump, “Let’s take a look, love.”
Simon crawls up the bed, forcing your knees open, and you’re suddenly very aware of how broad and big he looks, towering over you—every part of you laid bare for him to see. A large hand presses right below your belly button, jostling the toy inside you, and this time, you can’t hold back the squeal that rips from your chest.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, voice imperceptibly deeper, his lips twitching like he’s trying to hold back a smile. “Okay, you’re going to feel a slight stretch.”
You bite your lip. “A-alright—”
Slight doesn’t even come close to the fingers sliding into you, spearing your sensitive walls open and pressing into a spot where you’ve never been able to reach with startling precision. You remind yourself that he has to do this, that he’s just being…friendly, or whatever makes the lines less blurred.
None of this stops the fact your lower stomach burns with the promise of another orgasm when his fingers brush against the egg vibrator before accidentally pressing it deeper inside.
“Ah, there it is.”
At the sight of your scrunched nose, he asks if it hurts. You shake your head; eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to hold back the stinging pleasure racing up your spine. “N-no,” you whimper.
“Relax, okay?”
Simon doesn’t comment on how you’re implying that it feels good. So good, you think, his thumb just barely touching your clit as he twists his hand to try a different angle. Then he pushes down on your belly again, and his long fingers finally grip the vibrator.
“Oh!” you moan at the feel of it dragging down your front wall, your fingers gripping the sheets.
He has to tell you to relax again, his voice cracking, but you hardly hear it over your heart beating loudly in your ears. His fingers drag the toy out slowly, almost too slow that you can feel it bumping against every slippery ridge inside you.
“Ah, sorry,” he says when you twitch—unapologetic—using his thumb to rub soothing circles into your stomach. “You’re so wet. I need to make sure I don’t lose it again.”
You nod, cunt clenching down at his words.
And then Simon’s fingers curl up: your thighs start quivering, breath caught in your throat, and your jaw locks up until your orgasm ripples through you. It’s unending, the strongest one yet, and just when you think it’s over, you feel the press of his palm against your clit.
“W-wait! Simon,” you moan, pushing at his hand. “No more, I‘m sensitive!”
He gets you to fall over the edge one more time before finally slipping the vibrator out of you, letting it hum softly on the bed, and your exhausted body sinks into the mattress once again. Simon gathers you into his lap, rocking you back and forth.
You swallow lungfuls of air against his chest, head still spinning and walls spasming from the aftershocks.
He murmurs in your ear about how good you are, kisses your temple, and rubs your sides, and it’s… enlightening. Moments pass before you finally return to yourself, and when he pulls back, his brows furrow at your pout.
“All good?”
You shake your head and go with honesty. “I didn’t think you’d cuddle me afterward.”
He smiles, thumb flicking your bottom lip. “You wanted me to fuck you?”
Your mouth falls open. “N-no—”
Then he leans down, lips brushing against your ear: “Don’t worry, love. Good girls get fucked hard.”
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The best part about having a boyfriend in the military was having him home with you again after a long mission.
Simon was panting softly over you and his broad shoulders blocked your view, pumping in and out of you slowly to let you both savour the moment. You quiet whimpers and gasps echoed through the room as your legs remained wrapped around his waist and hands pawing at his back. When his movements stopped, his head dropping to your shoulder, you had to stop and focus on what was happening.
you thought that he had finished - if he did, that was okay! But it was just quicker than usual. “Simon? Honey, did you cum? It’s okay if you did, I can just-..”
your words were cut off when he shook his head against your shoulder. Your hands went into his hair and gently scratched at his scalp, pressing gentle kisses to his cheek. Inside, you could feel his cock soften slowly, his body still on yours as he kept his head on your shoulder.
“M’sorry, lovie…” his soft words echoed through the room as he went to try and continue his previous actions. Your hand went to grasp his, shaking your head as you wrapped your arms around him to hold him closer.
“Shhh…don’t worry, Si. Okay? Let’s just cuddle, yeah? We don’t have to have sex.” Your words were comforting, allowing him to relax completely with you. His body was pressed against yours as you kept scratching his scalp.
who needs sex when you have a big bear to cuddle?
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There’s nothing I want more than a rugby player - I’ve been a rugby girl since the day I was born
But I think I just want Simon as a rugby player because my brother plays in a opens team and half of them are a) too young for me or b) super fucking sexist
where i’m from, everybody either is, was, or will be a rugby player- no in between.
the concept of older bf!simon joining a premier 1 men senior rugby club? you have to sedate me.
tight jersey, tiny shorts, his teammates gripping his thighs to lift him for a line out, watching him flatten another player as he tackles them into the grass?
id actually go crazy on it 🤪
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There’s nothing I want more than a rugby player - I’ve been a rugby girl since the day I was born
But I think I just want Simon as a rugby player because my brother plays in a opens team and half of them are a) too young for me or b) super fucking sexist
where i’m from, everybody either is, was, or will be a rugby player- no in between.
the concept of older bf!simon joining a premier 1 men senior rugby club? you have to sedate me.
tight jersey, tiny shorts, his teammates gripping his thighs to lift him for a line out, watching him flatten another player as he tackles them into the grass?
id actually go crazy on it 🤪
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Olderbf!Simon going feral seeing his surname on you on the back of a shirt makes me weak in the knees
the concept of it actually makes me unwell-
for simon, there’s something entirely possessive about seeing his surname stretched across your shoulders.
when you wear it to his games, when you wear it around the house. he gets visions of grandeur, a world where you do have his last name.
(that comes next)
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TEXAS RED CHAPTER 2 OUT TONIGHT AT 8:30 EST!!
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fanfiction writers when a character is remotely non-human
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your older bf!simon of local-football-club-fame who just plays for fuckabouts on the weekends but can’t deny that seeing ‘RILEY’ stretched across your shoulders when he hits it from the back was the main selling point
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Has piss kink already been discussed for older!bf Simon? Would he be into it? 🫣🫣🫣
it’s been toyed with- it WILL come to life 🫶🏼
he’s into in a way that would kill a nun, he has this one recurring fantasy where he’s tugging off in the bathtub as you stand over him pissing right on it and it’s his go to if he needs a quick bust
(the first time you jokingly ask to hold it while he takes a slash his heart nearly stops)
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I know for sure he'd suprise her w a tattoo of her name on his fucking tits and the reader would become so primal and horny she'd be riding him to the heavens
he gets my name tatted there? dude IM cumming on HIS tits fr 🫶🏼
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under no circumstances did your simon want anyone from work knowing you existed.
far as the 141 (or anyone vaguely military) were concerned, simon was single.
when johnny tried to play matchmaker, he just assumed simon was guarded. when gaz harped on about this girl from his gym, he just assumed she wasn’t his type.
the boys lived with illusions of simon returning to an empty, sterile, sad excuse for a home. hardly a home, probably a shoebox of an apartment with the bare basics of furniture.
maybe a rhythmic drip of a faucet to keep him company.
never even an inkling of an idea that he might be coming home to you.
you who kept the home clean, but lived in- warm and loved in. soft things at every corner, soft bed you both slept in, soft couch for him to hold you on. doesn’t smell sterile, smells nice, smells like-
well, you.
it wasn’t shame, embarrassment- if he could, he’d tell any poor sod who’d listen just how much he adored you.
simon thought himself the luckiest fucker alive for even knowing you, let alone loving you. he’d die a thousand lonely times if he did anything to lose you.
safety.
“this job doesn’t lend itself to lovers” price’s voice had rung loud in his head.
he knew his captain was right, he trusted his word more than he trusted his own mind. but his captain hadn’t met you yet.
he hadn’t seen that look you could give him, fluttering lashes and a hazy smile. he hadn’t felt the way you held him, when the days were long and his actions were unforgivable.
he didn’t know that you’d forgive every terrible thing simon had ever done, without a second thought.
you weren’t just a lover, you were the start and end of it all. his big bang.
nobody was ever supposed to know you existed.
simon had been so careful, so fucking careful- he’d suffered days and nights keeping your existence secret. it still wasn’t enough.
it wasn’t johnny’s fault, he didn’t blame johnny but that was one person who knew you in the greater context of “ghost.”
one too many.
“d’ya know L.T’s got a pretty thing at home?”
gaz had laughed, laying another card on the table as he did it.
“and who’d that be? her majesty the queen?”
price even snorted a chuckle out his nose, surveying the hand he was sure to play.
“wouldn’t give me a name, all he’d give me w’sweetheart”
“simon’s got a sweetheart named sweetheart? yeah, and i’ve got a chance at beating the captain”
sweetheart.
security measure two, when the first fails. no names, an alias that was easy to remember. no slip ups.
thankfully, everyone thought johnny had been chatting shit (as he often did) and didn’t care to push further.
but rumours only grow.
simon felt like he was living his life checking around corners. he was used to it at work, but when he was home he was meant to be free.
he couldn’t breathe knowing you could be compromised- that there was a chance he could lose you when he feels like he only just found you.
and when you were finally compromised? hell hath no fury.
there was only one option, they wouldn’t stop hunting you. they knew you were the only thing simon was scared to lose. to him, there was no other way.
price’s hands might’ve shook as he placed the folded flag in your hands, royal blue and silken. returning his mask to its rightful home, skull plate staring back at you.
where his eyes should be.
“if there is anything we can do”
all you could do was a blank stare right through him- show no emotion, show no fear. simon’s words were banging around your head.
that unmistakable feeling of eyes on your back as you retreated, carrying what was left of “ghost” back to your home. to your bed, military corners still tucked perfectly.
gently laying the flag to rest, running the mask through your fingers. what could a ghost really feel like?
bringing it to your lips, pressing a sweet kiss to its centre- where you usually might, before you’d send him off to fight for his country, always assuming he’d come home.
he’d been so careful, it wasn’t enough, everything had changed.
he had to change.
he let you pull the mask over his face, tracing the shape of the skull under a gentle finger tip. standing on your toes to press a kiss-
right between the eyes.
“something isn’t right, he kept this secret damn near the whole time we knew him- he dies and suddenly it all falls in our laps?”
gaz and johnny tailing price as he tore through the base, your file tucked under his arm. thin wee thing that it was, barely enough to piece together an idea.
might as well be chasing ghosts.
“simon sacrificed his life to keep that one safe, why the fuck would he let the details out? when he’s not alive to protect-“
the door was nearly off its hinges with the three men bursting through, putting the fear right through the wee thing at the desk.
“where are simon riley’s ashes?”
“oh, i’m sorry- they’ve already been claimed”
“who? by who?”
whilst the poor girl was gingerly sliding the record towards price, johnny was letting himself into the back room. a space that’d once contained simon’s urn, empty spare the twisted plastic full of fine grey dust.
“cap’n, you’re gonna’ want t’see this”
gaz was nearly vaulting the counter, snatching the ashes out of johnny’s trembling hand.
men with precision aim reduced to a murmur.
“who the fuck did we cremate?”
both men looking to their captain for- for what? help? a fucking clue as to what they’ve really got themselves into?
no use.
price was running a finger down the log book, settling on the name “simon ‘ghost’ riley.” signed out within the hour, only thing left being some poor fucker’s ashes and a set of initials.
signed out by S.H
S.H
sweetheart.
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How does olderbf! Simon feel about period sex? I wanna be turned into a raspberry cream pie if yknow what I mean like would be fulfill those wishes
loves it- doesn’t give a shit about blood (if anything it makes him even harder seeing his cock pull out red) and if it’s helping to ease cramps, man’s all about an added bonus
there’s nothing about you he finds “gross” or anything of the sort, he wants you any chance he gets so he’s all over it
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Does Simon's girl have any tattoos? If she doesn't would he take her for her first one? Ever entertain the idea of matching one's?
only if simon’s girl wants tattoos 🫶🏼
100% he’d be right there with you, probably isn’t a fan of watching you in pain (he does have to adjust himself if you groan through gritted teeth)
if you get a tattoo, he’s getting a smaller version of it added into his sleeve- doesn’t matter what it is
it could be a little bug or the fkn strawberry shortcake for all he cares, it’s going right under a skull in greyscale so he can keep you on him at all times
(also firmly in the ‘simon has a tattoo of you’ camp- it’s probably somewhere only he can see like his thigh or his ribs but if someone else sees it in the showers or whatever he’s just smiling and running his thumb over your likeness)
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