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swordsandholly · 2 days

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Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

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ch1n1tahwrites · 3 days

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Husband!Simon

i think i have a problem yall :) :(

Husband!Simon who would fix all the things in the house, even if he didn't know how to do it because "Why do i nee' someon' in my house fuckin' aroun''

Husband!Simon who would walk around the house shirtless

Husband!Simon who had a whole plan to ask you to marry him, but you found the ring in his underwear drawer (smh)

Husband!Simon who either way, still proposed to you in front of the ferris wheel, like your mother had told him was your dream.

Husband!Simon who if you already had kids, would always make breakfast for them

Husband!Simon who would turn the A/C up to 67 degrees so you would cuddle next to him

Husband!Simon who would have a breeding kink

"Cmon darlin' let me cum in that beautiful womb"

you whine and buck your hips at his remark

"Oh yeah hun you woul' like it huh?"

Husband!Simon who would watch you do your makeup outside the bathroom its gonna get ruined later anyways

Husband!Simon who would spoil you. tax season, oh baby they're done already. Pandora bracelet? oh its coming in two weeks. A baby? oh he'll happily deliver :)

Husband!Simon who would leave marks all over your body, he just couldn't have people not knowing you were his, what was he supposed to do, its totally not like you have a 24K diamond on that ring finger....

Husband!Simon who would love you will all of his heart, in sickness and in health and definetly in that pussy.... :3

yall i need help....... :3 ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE ON MY PAGE I APPRECIATE IT SO MUCH, ISTG I DIDNT EVEN REALIZE I WAS BLOWING UP UNTIL I CHECKED MY LIKES AND FOLLOWERS IN SCHOOL THANK YOU SLUTSSSS

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dante-mightdie · 3 days

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c/w: fem!reader, d/s dynamics, smut, overstimulation, spanking, crying, fingering, mention of poly!141

hello what do you think of poly!141 with d/s elements? price and simon being the dominant figures and you, johnny and gaz being the subs

because I really enjoy thinking of how differently simon and price would handle punishments. especially if you’ve been acting bratty or grumpy

price will pull you into his lap, asking why his sweet girl is making such a mean face :( he knows you’re his good girl and that something must be on your mind. he’ll whisper soft things in your ear whilst his fingers fuck in and out of your pussy, making you cum so many times until you’re a tired, pliant puddle in his lap

but simon pulls you over his lap in a second. hands pinned behind your back, face shoved into the sofa cushions and your ass raised in the air. doesn’t waste anytime in raising his hand and swatting your ass repeatedly. ignoring your squeals and cries as he bruises your ass. calling you a nasty little brat who’s forgotten her place, telling you he’ll fix that mean look on your face

he’ll make you count the spanks until all you can’t even speak, the only thing leaving your mouth is quiet sobs. all the frustrations that had been piling up, causing you to act out, just leave your body in wracking sobs. only then does simon pull you into his lap, pushing your face into his neck and let you cry it all out. his warm hand rubbing up and down your back in soothing circles

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simonzmama · 18 hours

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‘magin sweet virgin simon finally hittin it.

your legs sit hiked up on the thick muscles sittin’ atop his hipbones, his fingers digging deep into the sheets, practically twisting em off the mattress as he breathes out lowly.

his hips press forward further, his cock burning n stomach rolling into taut knots that have his nails digging holes into your pretty pink sheets.

you drag your hands up his chest slowly watching as the muscles pull tight n his hips stutter. his eyes flicker up to yours, skin breakin out in a mess of tender of goosebumps. “breathe, baby. you’re goin’ red on me, si.”

he laughs lowly, throat thick as he bottoms out. his thighs press against the back of yours, neck rolling as he tries his absolute best to contain the way his orgasm shivers down his spine.

“oh my… fuck,” he groans, teeth takin ahold of his tongue to silence the multitude of noises rising up his throat. his eyes flutter to a shut slowly as he tries to get the image of your sweet body outta his mind, or the fact that your cunt is suckin’ n holdin’ him there so tightly.

his head drops into the crook of your neck as he slowly pulls back, teeth nippin at your soft skin as your head arches back. his teeth bare in a soft hiss, jaw ticking against your chin. you drag your nails down his back gently, a pretty moan spilling free off your lips at the soft drag of his thick cock against your warm, silky walls.

n that’s what does it for him, the sound of that melodic whine. it plays n plays in his mind on repeat until he’s suddenly forcing himself back into you, hips a shaky stuttery mess.

n the groan, the drawn out whimper that tumbles off his lips is cruel. his teeth sink down into your skin as his hips ground forward, desperately attempting to fuck his seed into you. his eyes roll and his fingers grasp at the soft hair lining the nape of your neck.

“simon?” you murmur softly feeling his thick, hot release fill you full. “lemme look at you, wanna see that pretty face.”

zamnnnn. dis sounded better in my head 🤦‍♀️✌️

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metallictastinglifesupportliquid · 1 day

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Soap: Wow, you're so brave! You didn't even hesitate to throw yourself in danger! Y/N: That's because I have no regard for my own personal safety. You can ask Simon Ghost: I have never been more stressed in my entire life

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konigsblog · 3 days

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adding onto this post

photo credit: @ave661

synopsis: sucking your lieutenant off, a gun pressed against the back of your head encouraging you to do your best.

tw/cw: gun play, teasing, blowjob, bondage, fear play. MDNI 18+

It almost feels as if all eyes are on you, like you're performing in front of thousands of people, desperate to perform as well as you possibly can. Although there aren't hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people watching you. Instead, it's your lieutenant, and he has the muzzle of his pistol on the crown of your skull.

You're sitting on your knees against the dirty concrete floor, your wrists tied behind your back, restraining you and holding you down. You're bound to the floor to act as a fleshlight and a sex doll for Simon, the perverted and debauched man that gazes down at you, the intense eye contact almost threatening. You sit between Simon's muscular thighs, gazing up at him with desperation visible in your glossy yes. You crave his validation, his compliments, and his praise, but right now you're left petrified, perhaps even mortified. The gun is fully loaded, which leaves you shaken up, attempting to act as obedient as possible. Your job is to obey his every command and do whatever he pleases, to please your superiors.

Your eyes are wide and full of horror when he hits the barrel of the gun against your head teasingly. You'd be lying if you said the thrill and anticipation didn't leave your panties soaked. Your thighs are glistening, coated in the sticky, pearly shine of your sweet arousal. Simon doesn't react; he doesn't let out a sound, not even a grumble, forcing you to do even better and push yourself further, attempting to make the man come. Through frustration and concern, you quicken your pace, bobbing your head up and down his lengthy, leaning cock with your eyes glistening up at him, the ache between your thighs intensifying yet being ignored and neglected.

Simon cups your jaw gently, almost too softly and tenderly considering his aggressiveness and frustration towards you prior, feeling almost like a façade. His other gloved hand holds the pistol, a low and guttural chuckle emitting from him, getting off to the power, control, and authority he has over his little recruit. He gazes down at you, watching your eyes flicker away, the intimidation leaving you uncomfortable and horrified. You can taste his bitter, salty cum on your tongue, and it lingers. the taste—something you're unfamiliar with. Such a docile, careful thing below Simon, naïve for falling into this trap.

You try your hardest not to let him down, not to gag or heave or whine. You maintain eye contact with him through pitiful and muffled weeps, zealous and eager to follow along with whatever he says. You will agree; it doesn't matter what he says, you'll do whatever it takes to please the pervert.

You're riddled with anxiety and fear, causing your stomach to churn, tears rolling down your cheeks, and your bottom lip quivering despite being wrapped around his veiny, girthy shaft. Simon cocks his head to the side, and you can sense and feel his cruel and corrupted grin from behind the balaclava that only intensifies his terrifying persona, getting off to a sickening form of pleasure that causes his tip to weep orbs of his white arousal, creamy beads rolling down his shaft. He can practically smell your fear, with your pussy drooling and leaving your panties ruined from your sweet, delicious fluids.

Such an obedient, scared little thing beneath him, shaking pathetically whenever he rubs the gun against your cheek teasingly, encouraging you to do better, to act your best for him, and to not fall behind or lack effort.

Just sit pretty and obey, love.

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 2 days

Note

Hello, this is 🦈 anon ◉⁠‿⁠◉. Um.. if you still open request, please can i have TF 141 together x F! Reader who has high (possibly extreme) pain tolerance that whenever reader's injured, she almost doesn't react or show she's in pain. When TF 141 found this new information, they couldn't be not worried because what do you mean you don't feel anything while bleeding heavily, sweetheart?

TLDR: "Ayo yer bleeding?!", "Uh, um..yeah, should I scream?"

hello 🦈 anon!!! nice to see you again :D ty for the request!! I hope u would like this one since I think it was sweet :) have a nice day/night!

word count: 2.3k

ship: TF141*F!Reader

tw: pet names (love etc.)

The first time they found out was on a mission.

The explosion made you fly and hit hard on the wall, you could hear Soap yelling at you.

“Yer okay, lassie?!” You brushed away the dust, Soap running over and checking on you, blue eyes full of concern.

“Yeah, alright.” Standing up from the wreckage, you simply responded to him. Though Soap doubted if you were truly fine under that big impact, but your face didn’t express thoughts other than focusing on the mission, so he just nodded and signaled to keep going.

The rest of the mission succeeded without any incidents. Price, Ghost, and Gaz are already waiting at the exfil place. Through the smoke and deafening sound of the helo, they saw you and Soap walking towards them.

“Y’all okay?” Hadn’t gotten close to the helicopter, Gaz already run towards you two, relief was obvious on his face when he didn’t see any injuries by a quick scan, but then Ghost came over too.

“Wait, your shoulder.” He pointed at your shoulder, leading everyone’s gaze to land on it, including yourself.

“oh... looks like it’s dislocated.” You evaluated.

“What do you mean ‘oh’?! don’t you feel any pain?!” Soap yelled at your words. His hands try to inspect your shoulder, but afraid to trigger the pain.

“I don’t think it’s a big deal, just...”

You put your hand on the shoulder, and with a loud CRACK, which made Gaz jump and Soap gaped, even Ghost’s eyes widened at your sudden motion.

“I think it’s fixed now.” You looked around at your teammates, confusion clouded your mind “Ummm... is there any problem?”

“You...” Ghost stuttered, but he regained his composure fast. “doesn’t that hurt?”

“Well, I don’t know what you mean, LT.” You shrugged, “But actually, I feel a little bit dizzy...”

Just at the moment you finished your sentence, the dizziness became more severe, and your vision started growing blurry...

“Oi! Call the medic!” Catching your slumped body, Ghost yelled at the sergeants, but the last thing you hear is Soap reassuring you and Gaz calling for help.

So quiet... Where am I?

You thought as you slowly opened your eyes, what came in your eyes first was the stainless white ceiling, and a low voice coming from aside.

“you awake, sergeant?”

Turning your head, your eyes met with the man’s ocean-like ones, who sitting on the chair beside and holding some papers.

“Captain.” The whisper slipped out when you recognized him

“I guess you don’t know you were seriously injured, love.”

“What happened?”

“The explosion.” Price leaned closer to the bed now “The impact caused your bone fractured and slowly internal bleeding. We have no idea how you were able to walk to the exfil and looked like nothing happened.”

“I didn’t feel any pain, so I assumed I was okay.” you avoided his attention when Price raised his eyebrows. You knew he was worried and it kind of made you guilty.

“since I was young I rarely feel pain, so...” staring at the catheter of your IV drip, you mumbled quietly.

Price didn’t reply, he just stared at the paper written with your injuries and health state.

The room fell into silence for a while, before you open your mouth again.

“Sorry, Captain...” You murmured, still don’t dare to look at him.

The man let out a long sigh, you snapped your head up when you felt your hands were covered by Price’s.

It’s warm, soothing, calming down your still hazy but full of thoughts mind.

“You should be sorry, dear.” He rubbed your hand in a repeated rhythm. “You make us worried. Me, and the boys...” he pointed his chin at the bedside desk, and you finally notice the flowers and your favorite snacks are placed on it.

“We’ll keep an eye on you every time the mission is complete, since you can’t feel pain, this is not a request, it’ s a command, got it, soldier?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” The composed grin eventually appeared on his face, and you smiled too when he ruffled your hair.

“Sleepy?” His comforting voice rings against your ears when you let out a big yawn.

“mmhmm.”

“Then sleep, Gaz will be here when you wake up.”

Price watched your eyelids struggle to stay open but failed, little snores leaving you when you fell drifted into dreams again.

What you didn’t know is he brushed off the hair on your face and placed a tender kiss on your serene face.

Weeks after, to your happiness, you could go back to your own quarter and start hitting the training room for some simple practice.

Except there was someone who insisted on following you every time when you went to the training room, even if you tried to sneak into the room, he was always there as if he knew your plan.

“Soap.” You sighed at the man sitting on the bench spotting you.

“Aye, lassie?”

“I’m okay, really.”

“I don’t trust ye anymore. I should check it mahself.”

You understood why he was acting like this. Price told you Soap had been blaming himself for not finding that you were injured in that mission until your body gave up due to blood loss.

“I’m just doing some easy weightlifting now, I won’t pass out just because of this okay?”

You concentrated on his figure as he strode to your side. You chuckled when he still looked at you with doubtful eyes.

“How ‘bout you spar with me? Go easy on me though, the doctor said I still haven’t recovered fully.”

“You sure yer okay?”

“You’re like my mother now, Soapy.”

“Aye, 'cause we got a naughty kid in our team.” He laughed. “If I think you should stop, then ye stop, aye?”

“Yes, mama.”

You both burst into laughter and stepped on the training mat. Soap really went easy with his attack, unlike the usual training with the tension as if you two were about to devour each other.

“Oh!” When Soap swung out a punch, you abruptly lowered your body, and with a swipe of your leg, Soap fell onto the mat, followed by you sitting on him and securing his hands.

“Checkmate...? Soap.” You smirk at the man lying under you.

“Won’t complain if I was lost to you, but.” he huffed out a laugh, but your world spun the next second, and you met your gaze with the man now on top of you, his eyes glinting with mischievous.

“It’s a tie now, bonnie.” He flashed out a dazzling smile at you.

“Okay okay, it’s a tie now.”

A lazy grin spread along your lips when you poke at his chest.

“How about we go get some lunch together, handsome?

“Aye, ma'am.”

“The bones and the wound have healed very well, can say you are the most well-behaved patient in your team.”

The doctor smiled at you, and you turned to shoot a glimpse at Gaz, only to find his face written with embarrassment.

“What did he do last time you treat him, doctor?”

“oh, I forbid him to go training, but he still went and tore his knuckles, so he came back and stitched them again, making me call Captain Price to scold him.”

“Sorry, he’s a dumbass.”

“All of you guys are stubborn, sometimes I really want to tie you to the bed.” The doctor grinned “Well, since you’re fully recovered, you can go back to train and go on missions. Remember to be careful next time, don’t come back too soon, okay?”

“I will, Thank you, doc.”

Returning the smile, you and Gaz stepped out of the infirmary.

“I can’t wait to have you back next mission, need ya to bear Soap’s nonsense and Lt.’s bad jokes with me.” Walking beside you, Gaz sounded excited, and it’s hard not to be affected by his warmth.

“Need a helper to deal with those troublemakers?”

“That’s one reason.” He chuckled “Actually...”

“We all missed you.”

You halted to a stop when his words flowed into your ears with a bit of sadness.

Now face to face with him, you were able to see the concern on his face.

“You didn’t know when you just passed out without any warning, I felt like my heart almost shattered.”

It was close to midnight, so no one was nearby, and his words were gentle yet distinct, echoing softly in your mind.

“Not just, me, Ghost, Soap, Captain... we all are scared, you know?”

“We thought we lost you.”

You opened your mouth, mind still processing, managing to find a word, but nothing came out except an apology.

“Sorry, Kyle...”

The dusk light showered you two in an awkward peace, but it didn’t affect the sentiment Gaz conveyed to you.

“Just be careful, okay? You should tell us that you can barely feel pain, so we can help you check out, alright?”

“Okay.”

Giving your hands a little squeeze, Gaz accompanied you back to your quarter.

“We’re more than a team, more than family, we’ll always watch your back, just like you always do.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Tilting your head, your lips curled mildly. “Goodnight, Gaz.”

The honey-like smile inched towards you until you felt his soft lips pressed a kiss on your cheek.

“Goodnight, lovie.”

Your first mission after months ended smoothly. You were glad that you didn’t become rusty after the long rest, seemed like the practice and training with Soap and Gaz were worth it.

Soap and Gaz were chatting loudly, while Price sat in front and was checking details regarding the mission. You listened to the boys bantering, sometimes quipped back when their target turned to you, but you could feel someone observing you, and you tried to ignore the chill sending through your spine.

Because you knew it was Ghost, sitting just across you and scanning you like a robot.

You silently wished to arrive at the base faster, so you could ask him what was wrong or if you had done something incorrectly.

Under his scrutinizing gaze, you let out a sigh of relief when you jump off the helo. Got rid of the gear and placing them back in their place, you straightly head back to your quarter, craving some hot shower to wash off the soreness and dirt.

On your way back to the quarter, you could hear footsteps following you, almost imperceptibly, but you noticed and immediately went to a stop.

“LT.?”

Your LT. loomed just right behind you, seeming not surprised that you were aware of him, or maybe that was just what he was planning.

He hummed at your recognition but didn’t stop his steps, until he was side by side with you.

“I’m just about to ask you, did I do something wrong? You kept staring at me when we were heading back.”

“You did it pretty well.”

“Then why did you...?”

“You’ll know when you get into your room.”

He placed his right hand on the small of your back, ushering you to your room, and you just obliged, letting him lead you.

Closing the door behind you and Ghost, you turned around to face the man now with his balaclava on.

“So what’s the issue?”

“Clothes, off.” The command came out from him unexpectedly.

“What—“

“I said clothes, off.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, what the fuck does he want? you thought while kicking off your cargo pants and tossing your shirt on the chair, leaving only the sports bra and underwear with you.

“What now?”

Ghost didn’t form a word as his eyes traveled from your head, slowly through every inch of your body, under his meticulous search, you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

“turn around.” You did as he told, and now you were unable to see him, anxiety crawling to your mind until he finally stood up.

His calloused hands touched your shoulder, circling you to face him.

“Can you tell me what you’re doing now?” You asked when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Checking.”

“If I’m injured?”

“yeah.”

“Oh god” You poke his pec with a frown “you all are overreacting. I’m okay, really. Don’t you guys trust me?”

“We trust your ability, but not your ability to tolerate pain.”

“I’m fi—“

“We can’t lose you.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Ghost was looking into your eyes. He might be good at concealing his emotions, but they said, a person’s eyes can’t lie.

and all you see is sorrow, love, consideration.

All the retorts were swallowed back when his eyes conveyed how important you were to him — to them. You studied the man towering over you, tracing his scars and wrinkles in your mind.

“Thank you, Ghost.” You pulled him into a hug, which he didn’t back off, instead melting in your arms, head burying in the crook of your neck. “I will be careful, okay? I will tell you if I got hit and not sure if I was injured.”

He nodded while staying in your embrace, and you just patted his head.

“Now, I need to shower” Pulling back, a smile bloomed on your face “See you tomorrow, LT.”

“Don’t oversleep again, sergeant.” He scoffed, but petted you before letting you go to shower.

When you came out, with relaxed muscles and fresh clothes, you jumped onto your bed, but something on your desk caught your attention.

Picking it up, you shook your head in disbelief.

“Fuck you, Ghost, I already brushed my teeth.”

grumbling to yourself, you still opened the snack—your favorite one— and gave it a huge bite, while snickering at the paper placed under the snack.

‘Goodnight, luv. (remember to brush your bloody teeth again.)’ — Ghost

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deunmiu-dessie-sideblog · 2 days

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why 's simon so big? i mean, he's all height, muscles, and sassy, dark attitude. but he's also ur sweet, thoughtful, and silent boyfriend. and it makes me feral, cause he literally towers over u, wrapping u in thick arms and breathing u in. cause let's be honest, the smell of ur perfume/cologne makes him dizzy and warm :( and havin' u buried within his arms, while u whisper sweet nothings and talk about ur day literally soothes every ache 'n his body. i promise u he misses ur scent when he isnt home and sprays somethin' of his with ur perfume/cologne to take with him, just so he can have a small piece of u. anyways my love for this gruff, blunt man runs deep. ˙◠˙

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chaosandmarigolds · 2 days

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(slowly sets random sting ray plushie I got for my birthday down) Brain-rot. so I present Dad!Simon and Ollie at the aquarium

Simon! Who was currently two weeks deep into babysitting oliver and it being the middle of summer almost everywhere and everything had been exhausted

"Library time with Miss Rue?"

Ollie frowns from his ice cream,- which you would murder simon for if you found out which is why they were both sworn to secrecy, "MIss Rue is jus reeed-ing Peter Bunny again. No want."

"No want." Simon echoed slowly, leaning against the kitchen counter as he tried to think.

"Big mall?" "No..."

"The zipline park?" (A normal park with a little kid zipline)

"No."

"The animals?"

"Nope. Momma said we stinky after animal."

Simon nods again, the local farmer's markets would normally have a little petting zoo- so that had also become a staple. "She did- rightoo laddie. Okay...okay, let Mister Riley think for a minute."

Ollie nods to his babysitters words and takes another hefty bite of the ice cream, "We could....we could see fish? We see fish."

"Fish?"

"We go fish, in-in big pool."

Simon who spent ten finding which aquarium within a fifty mile radius had the best reviews because if he is...might as well make it memorable

Simon who made sure Ollie wore is water proof shoes because...well he just knew the kid was going to jump into the little kiddie water pad the aquarium had

Simon who packed a towel and change of clothes for that exact reason too

Simon who so has baby shark stuck in his head

Simon who once the tickets are purchased is already trying to trick the tyke down, basically playing marco polo

Simon who held up Ollie without a second thought to see the Jelly fish, telling him how he was once stung while he was down in Japan, smiling to the childs laughter

Simon who spends the extra fifteen dollars so Ollie could feed the stingrays, keeping an arm looped around him to keep him stable

Simon who of course notices the looks he's getting from the group of moms, he ignores them though

Simon who tried to politely turn down the one who came up to him, nice woman, seemed kind- yet...she wasn't...you

Simon who had to get more firm and did lie when she wouldn't get the message-

"Listen lady- I could kill ya without even blinking 'n you are really testin my patience so ho' bout you leave me 'n my son alone before i get annoyed?" Just how he assumed it would've gone down the woman became flustered and excused herself, meanwhile, Ollie was still being held in the air to look at the catfish.

Ollie looks to Simon as he then lets out a sigh and adjusts his grip on the boy, "Ister Riley?"

"Yeah, lad?"

"Mommy said killing people isn't nice."

Simon clears this throat, "Mum is real smart like that."

Simon who gets Ollie a plushie and teehsirt

Simon who feels really proud of himself when Ollie is fast asleep for the entire car ride home

(annnnyway thats it<333 any feedback and all that jazz means the world to me!!)

#simon riley imagine #simon riley fanfic #cod x you #simon riley x reader #cod fluff #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #coco's chaos <3 #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2 #dad!ghost #dad simon riley #dad!simon riley #xfem!reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #coco’s pre k universe! <3

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cntloup · 2 days

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one-night stand You can't resist Simon's unintentional charm mention of trauma, thoughts of getting killed

Your friends notice your gaze occasionally drifting onto something afar as you try to engage in their conversation.

There's a tall burly figure standing by the bar, holding a glass of bourbon while his elbow rests on the counter.

There's something subtly alluring about him, exuding masculinity and gruffness.

And there’s a hint of pain in his eyes, a heavy weight on his shoulders, you come to notice as your gaze lingers on him through the night.

And you feel each one of the scars adorning his face and hands has a story behind it.

He has a story, you think to yourself.

He has noticed the set of eyes on him long before he decides to finally give you some attention.

He just didn’t think much of it before since he deemed you harmless, used to the gazes and glares of strangers.

And finally his eyes meet yours, profound stare burning through your soul, his intense glare melting you as the bright shining sun, but you can’t bring yourself to look away.

And you find yourself gravitating more and more towards him as you take each step in his direction as if enchanted by a siren’s song.

Until you’re inches away from him, your eyes locked onto each other, neither of you daring to look away as if you do, the other person will disappear.

You both feel the captivating pull, the igniting flames between you and you both feel like you have found what you were looking for all your lives.

His hand comes up to softly caress your cheek and he leans in until his lips are beside your ear, “Your place or mine, love?” he murmurs, voice low and dark, sending a wave of shivers down your body and making the aching heat between your legs almost unbearable.

“Whichever’s closer.” you breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper like he has knocked the air out of your lungs by his mere presence.

And you find yourself on his bed, mewling and whimpering under his bulky weight as he rolls his hips into yours, reaching far deep inside you like you could never even imagine, like no other man could ever reach.

He tenderly kisses your body, your skin so delicate and soft under his rough hands and scarred lips.

Your mind is lost in a euphoric haze as he treads the line of fucking and making love, balancing the contradicting notions like no other man ever could.

He fucks you like no other man ever could, the sweet ache lingering on your body and in your mind the day after, long after you have left.

And his mind is encompassed by you, his senses captivated by your allure, beauty and grace.

He reaches out again. He found the piece of paper with your number on it on the pillow the day after. He simply can’t stay away from you anymore.

He spent a long time struggling with himself, wrestling with the thoughts of getting closer to you,

knowing fully well how the people who get close to him end up and the thought of you ending up with a bullet in your head like the rest of his family replay in his mind,

the doubt in his heart that whether or not he will be a good partner at all gnaw at him constantly.

He knows that he’s no good for you, you deserve far better than him.

But he knows you want him too, the ghost of your tender touch and fiery kiss still present on his skin, etched onto his soul.

And he's been the only thing occupying your mind all this time, utterly enamored by him.

And your heart nearly skips a beat as your phone rings with an unknown number, hoping that it’s him.

new series?👀

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bi-writes · 2 days

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it took the end of the world to bring you to where you were supposed to be. (18+, 5.5k words) ghost (+ johnny) x fem!reader (apocalypse au -> dark content ahead)

you know it is luck that you are still alive. in times of anarchy, it isn't the soft and weak hearts that remain. only the unfeeling stay alive. the ones that are willing to do what others are not. the lot that know what isolation feels like. the ones familiar with survival and everything that comes with the wounds it leaves behind.

the loneliness. the paranoia. the heat of hunger and the impossible itch of thirst, on top of the fact that running for your life is second nature to you now.

if it wasn't the sick and dead lurking in the shadows, it was the live ones that would take you. and you have seen what they can do, and you have watched what the opportunities of the unbecoming have given them, and you vow that you will kill yourself with your own dull army knife than let yourself succumb to that kind of death.

you'd rather be eaten alive by the things that don't understand than the ones that do, because they don't know any better, and the others do, and they know what they are doing isn't human, but they don't care.

whether they eat for survival, for pleasure, for power, it is becoming more and more difficult to discern between the sick and the healthy, and in that in-between, you've decided to be on your own.

you know the loneliness will eat at you from the inside. but you are comforted by the fact that you are not being eaten from the outside.

you sleep in the trees tonight. you climb, high enough to be out of sight, and then you use the rope in your pack to anchor yourself to the trunk. as soon as your head falls back, you fall asleep. you have been walking for days now, you think, and with nothing in your belly except for a few scavenged snacks, sleep comes easy.

when you wake up in the morning, you feel the crisp edge of the sky against your face, and you know it will rain soon.

if there is a god above, they will wash you away with it. you hope, at least. you don't know if this is how you imagined noah's ark--the cleansing of the earth, a flood great enough to wipe it of what they deem ugly and unimaginable and irredeemable. and god must be a man, because only a man would unleash something like this that comes with consequences he never intended--the fact that it didn't fucking work. in his effort to eradicate the fucked up pieces of shit he supposedly created by his own hand, he unleashed them.

he set them free.

and like a man, instead of fixing his fucking mistakes, he turns a blind eye. he forgets. he allows it to manifest, and now that it is out of control, he will blame the sins of what he's done on someone else, someone like you. the innocent. the unknowing. the small and the weak, the ones who he said would inherit the earth, where is he now that there is nothing to inherit? how come he's allowed to go back on his promises, and i'm not? what have i done so wrong that this is the lifetime you gave me?

you don't know why you care. you don't know why you've survived and why you keep trying to. you don't know what drives you forward, but there must be something. there has to be something waiting for you, because you don't think your life can fall any lower than this.

but fuck, there are other plans for you.

there's no one to hear you scream. they cut the branch, unravel the rope, and one of them has gotten ahold of your legs, and they're dragging you. you cry, you scream, you thrash, but all your clawing hands do is leave sporadic trails in the dirt. they laugh, you think, but you cannot hear them over the blood that rushes in your ears.

your nails are raw when they flip you over onto your back. they bleed from how you scratched to be let go, and you don't know why you fight this, but you just have this voice inside you that screams that this can't be how this ends. this can't be the way you go--this isn't the what you deserve, this isn't fair--

you vow to leave your mark. when they come closer, you don't let them come easy. you claw at their faces, rip out chunks of their hair, and when another comes close, you use your teeth, biting off chunks of their flesh, tasting blood, because i won't make it easy for you, i won't go silently, i'll leave you worse than you leave me, i'll take you with me if i fucking have to.

and when it stops, you sob. suddenly everything is still, and there are no hands on you anymore, and all you can see through the blood in your eyes is the sky above you, and how it is early morning, and there's a flock of birds passing by overhead. they fly peacefully. they have no idea what they're observing--the struggle of being alive, the humanity of your will to live, the defiance of dying at their hands, they have no idea that they are witnessing the death and rebirth of something fragile, something so delicate.

you sit up on your hands shakily, and you swallow hard as you look around. to your horror, your savior is a man.

bodies surround you. there's blood staining the dead leaves along the forest ground, trickling from sickening wounds in heads. in one hand, the man in front of you holds a dirty stone, large and jagged, and the sharp edge of it is darkened with red and drips on the tips of his boots. he has wild blue eyes, and while his hair is grown out, it is carefully cut along the sides. his dark hair falls in effortless curls along his forehead and at the base of his neck, and when he meets your eyes, he smiles, wickedly.

he wields other methods of killing people, but he chose a fucking rock. and you think he must be crazy.

you shake, and you find your balance, crawling back on your hands to get away from him, but you're only able to crawl a few feet before your back hits an imposing wall.

you gasp, jerking to the side, and you bow your head to cry when there is another man behind you. this one towers, broad and big, and he wears a sickening skull mask that shadows any human part of him. he might not even be human--maybe he's as dead as everyone else.

you hiss when your hair is pulled. crouching at your level now, the one that wears a real face stares down at you, still smiling. he's chuckling now, licking his lips, and you lean forward and spit at him. it lands on his cheek, a mess of saliva and blood, but his eyes seem to only sparkle. his smile widens.

"what do we have 'ere, LT?" he snickers, and you gather the saliva in your mouth and spit it at his feet this time. there's more of a mess of cartilage and blood and spit, but instead of disgusting him, he just grins up at the ghost behind you. "with a will ta live. ever seen anythin' like it?"

"she's dead fuckin' weight." even his voice has you shaking, low and gravelly, and you hold back a whine when you're let go of. the scottish one is yanked backwards by the scruff of his hair by his superior, who bends to growl in his ear. "she'll only hold us back. dunno why y'even had to intervene, she'll not make another fuckin' day."

"fuck you," you snap, wiping at your face with a trembling hand. you wipe at the tears under your eyes, coughing, and you stare back up at him. with the sun in his face, you can see his eyes. they are dark, and they are unforgiving.

he is one of the ones who is free. he is one of the ones that god intended to kill, and yet here he stands, stronger than ever. and even though you know he's a murderer, an undeserving, broken inside and scarred on the outside, he'll outlive you because he thrives in the anarchy of what is left behind, and you are consumed by it all.

"let's go, johnny," he spits, and you close your eyes. you don't know why you were spared your life. you don't know why luck has been on your side, you don't know why men are what punish you and save you, but you cannot escape them. they send you to slaughter, and then they pick you out of the pen, and you wish you had more control.

you want to be more than this. you want to be more than whatever it is you're made of. you are not meant to be here, you're not meant to be alive, but you are, and fuck, you're so tired of it.

johnny belongs to him. it's obvious, in the way that he lets that man pull on him and order him around, even if they are adorned in military fatigues. you imagine there is no authority anymore, but he listens to that beast anyway, because he's getting up onto his feet, letting it guide him away from you.

if you want to live, you'll have to tame that beast.

"i-i can be useful," you say softly. your eyes are wet and big, and you look up at them as they stand over you. johnny turns his head, looking at his handler, who tilts his head to the side and glares at you. he does not believe you, at least that's what it feels like, but you look right into his eyes and take a deep breath. "you'll just kill me if i'm not. w-what do you have to lose?"

the hum he lets out isn't an agreement, but he doesn't say no either. so when he turns to walk away, you stand, brush your bloodied jeans off, and you follow them. johnny trails, putting you between them. you're pretty, but he doesn't trust you yet, but you're also aware of the eyes you feel on you from behind. when you catch him staring at your ass, he doesn't pretend to look anywhere. he simply giggles.

they are a unit. they can speak without words. johnny tells you his handler's name is ghost. his lieutenant, a man of many talents, and you refrain from rolling your eyes at his sergeant's praise. but instead, you look up at him, and you smile, and you nod, and you give him those doe eyes that you can tell make him a little dizzy.

at night, they alternate keeping watch. they carry lots of gear, and while one guards in his sleep, the other stands in the shadows and keeps their head on a swivel. they take efficient rounds of sleep, getting their rest in while keeping their senses on alert. the first night, you aren't able to sleep. you are too afraid of johnny and how he smiles, because he's a dog, and you don't know when ghost will let go of his leash.

and you are too afraid of ghost, because he looks at you like he wants to kill you, and when he does, you'd like to look him in the eyes for it. you want him to know that you might not be strong like them, might not be the kind of survivors that they are, but you aren't a coward.

you aren't a man, and you'll die the way a woman should--with her fucking dignity.

the days pass easier. ghost hunts, and johnny cleans. ghost scavenges, and johnny kills. and when there is food, johnny feeds it to you, and you put on your best face, opening your mouth, letting him spoon you a mouthful of something that warms your belly. johnny eats your lies right up, but one look at ghost, and you know he sees right through you. with each lick of your finger, he snarls, and with each foot you step closer to johnny, he growls.

he doesn't believe you. you need to make him believe you.

you see your opportunity. it crawls towards him on soft hands, flesh spongy and quiet from the weeks of decay and rot. you see its mouth, black teeth sharp and ready to sink into the meat of his calf, and you lunge, pushing the vase off the table and watching the heavy clay fall until it squishes the head into a heap of rotten matter and dead meat.

ghost turns, looks down, and when he looks back up, he sees you gasping for breath, heaving. there's a desperation in your eyes. it trickles between panic and worry, and you don't know how it is you wear it so well, but it manifests into wet tears that gather at the corner of your eyes.

he's not a beast. he's just a man. and when he passes by you, he reaches up and grips your face hard, nearly shaking you, but it isn't like any other time he's touched you. he glares down at you, right into your eyes, and you melt, stepping just that much closer, sinking your nails into fabric of his tactical vest and gripping it tight.

i can be useful. it rings in his ears as he looks down at you, the burden he has been carrying with him, and suddenly he drags you that much closer, until your open mouth touches the front of his mask.

even your determined conscience can't stop your legs from squeezing together when you feel the warmth of his breath.

i can be useful. i can be useful. i can be useful.

you can be the thing that wakes what is dead inside of him. you can be the virus that infects his veins, the dagger straight through his heart, the heat of the sun, the thing that builds back up what he's buried so far down. johnny keeps him human, but you'll keep his blood pumping. johnny satisfies the itch of authority that ghost needs to keep, but you challenge the fire he keeps under his tongue, and fuck, those eyes.

you pretend with johnny. you play the damsel in distress. you fawn, let him coo over your soft eyes, keen at his touch, but it is a game you play, and he sees it, he sees it, but this time, it doesn't make him angry, and he likes it, and fuck, have you always been this pretty?

you swallow your smile. his grips tightens, and you know you have him.

he's yours. and he's going to keep you. the world ends, god doesn't answer your prayers, the salt of the earth runs free, but it doesn't have to be the end for you. you will learn the hymn of what makes monsters move, and you will sing that song until you can't sing anymore.

you will learn their language, and you will convince them of what you are not, and keep what you really are a secret.

the good, the easy, the soft, you'll keep it inside, because that isn't who lives at the end of the world--it's ghosts that remain, and this one belongs to you.

this one belongs to me, this one is mine, this one you can't fucking have.

and maybe it's selfish. maybe it's wrong to think this way, to take from your saviors this way, because that is what they did, they did save you, but this is the only way you can make sure you make it out of here, that you live. a man takes, and a woman gives, but wouldn't it be nice if it wasn't always this way?

because the dead are still moving now, and there isn't humanity in the living; this is what you are owed.

you think it will be difficult to pretend. when it is night again, and you are staring up at the blue of johnny's eyes, you think it will be difficult, but it isn't. despite what you know he doesn't have, even though you know there isn't anything good in him, he still smiles, and he's so pretty, and you let him kiss you.

it's easy because he's warm. his voice low, his breaths heavy, and it feels like love, and it isn't hard to imagine yourself somewhere else. in another place, meeting him in another time, falling in love with him because it is the only thing you really have to worry about. if you lived another life, you wonder if you still end up here.

you wonder if he would eat your cunt this way in that other place. like he'll never have it again. if he's just as aggressive, spreading your thighs, trapping himself between them, slurping at your folds until you are nothing but a wet, leaking mess underneath him. you wonder if he would groan the way he does, gripping you tight enough to bruise, taking his fill because everything that begins has to end, but maybe if i keep making her see fucking stars, she'll let me stay here forever--

johnny's so much easier to control when he's pussy drunk. anything you whisper in his ear, he just nods, licking into your mouth, mumbling incoherently. he'll say yes to anything you say, and when the gruff call of his name pulls him away from you, he struggles to leave. it isn't obvious, the power you have over him, not to him at least. but it's real, and because he watches you even as he goes, you know he'll do anything for you.

he'll do anything for me. he'll live for me. he'll kill for me. but will he do it even if ghost tells him not to?

because that is the only question that matters. if you and ghost stand on either side of him, who will he go to when his name is called?

if i call both of their names, will they come to me?

if he calls my name, will i come to him? am i just the same? do i wear the collar, am i the puppy, is it me that fell and not the men i hate so much? how do i tell the difference between what the fuck is real and what isn't?

you don't know what time it is. it's dark outside, it must be the middle of the night, but you can make out ghost's silhouette in the doorway. you've been holed up here for some days, and he takes turns with johnny covering the perimeter. your legs are tired, and so are they, and the bed in this house gives way to a comfort and peace that you haven't felt in a long time.

you tilt your head to the side as you watch him there. you sit up, your hair falling around you, and you watch the shadow of him shift in the hallway there.

"scared of the dark, ghost?" you ask softly, and the way he stills tells you he didn't realize you could see him. he steps into the room, and the candle that flickers in the corner deepens the shadows that dance along his masked face.

"nothin' scares me," he murmurs, and you find his eyes in the dark. it unnerves you every time you stare at one another--his gaze is always so intense. he always looks in between all the layers you hide, and it's hard to remember what you are doing here when he looks at you this way.

"i don't believe that," you counter, and he narrows his eyes, shuffling closer, and you tilt your head back to look up at him. "you're terrified."

"not of wot y'think," he pushes back, but you shake your head.

"don't lie, simon," you whisper, and at the sound of his name, he reaches for your face--cups the underside of your jaw, grips the base of your throat, bends down to growl against the skin of your cheek. "are you jealous? is that what it is?"

"of wot?" he mutters, and you hold your breath when he grips your neck firmly. "of m'pet 'n his little lamb?"

"yes."

"nothin' to be fuckin' jealous of," he laughs, but it holds no humor. "what's his is mine."

"says who?" you breathe, and he pulls back to look at you again. there it is--the thing in your eyes that he cannot escape. he doesn't know what it is, but there is something there, and he craves it. he wants it more than anything else--more than food, than water, than survival, he wants to have it, to own it, to command whatever it is there because it's what he thinks he deserves.

he saved your fucking life, and this is the price for it--he gets to have the thing that lives in you that makes his fucking head spin, and you will give it to him, so help him god.

you kiss soft. he hasn't taken his mask off in a long while, but you move it up easily and without resistance, and now you're kissing him, and he moves without thinking. he hasn't even let johnny this close--he hasn't let him underneath his skin, not this way, and here you are, sighing against the scars he wears and kissing them anyways.

the ugly and the irredeemable, that is the skin he wears, and you love it anyways, and the ringing he always hears is gone because you don't seem to care. you caress his face, and you tug on the front of his vest, and then he is with you, and--he doesn't know if this is real.

when you pull away to look at him, his eyes flutter open. you don't say anything as you climb into his lap. the look you share, you don't know how to explain it, but you are almost afraid that it is understanding.

because it's the end of the fucking world, and he isn't capable of love, and you are only here to survive, and yet there is something here that you can't explain. god isn't real, he's just a man, but you think for a moment that that man might be simon riley because what the fuck is happening to me?

"simon--"

he kisses you this time. hungry, all-consuming. if there is anything you've learned about him in the weeks you've spent beside him, it's that he does everything with purpose or not at all. he has a will, a will of what you don't know, but of something, and he does everything with his entire chest. you've heard him talk to johnny when they think you're asleep, the pillow talk that you aren't supposed to be privy to, and suddenly you wonder if this is what johnny feels like--like the only person left in the entire world. because to matter to someone like lieutenant simon riley means you must've done something right, because he doesn't care about anything, and he doesn't love anyone, and--fuck.

he fucks like it, too. he fucks like he won't live another day, and maybe he won't. he fucks like it's the last time he'll ever see you, and it could be, and maybe that's why you're crying. you're sweaty, naked under him, and he can't stop kissing you. he breathes you in and swallows your breaths like it's what keeps him alive, and maybe it does.

"simon--" you cry, because it feels good, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. your hand rises, slipping under the mask, and your nails scratch over his shaved head underneath. god, it feels sacrilegious to feel him this way, to know what's under it, but it doesn't matter.

"know wot y'r doin'," he hums, and you claw at his back when he slows down. your knees try to widen to accommodate the width of him, and he puts two big hands on your thighs and pushes, nestling himself deep and pressing himself right up against your pelvis. "know y'r playin' tricks on johnny, on me--" you cry, and he tsks, shaking his head, "'s pathetic, luv...thinkin' y'could fool us both."

"i-i--"

a particularly rough thrust shuts you up, and you arch your back, pebbled nipples hard against the warmth of his chest as he chuckles, laughing at you, so mean.

he leans down, and all you can do is whine as he mutters into your ear. "johnny's so fuckin' distracted by y'r cunny, swee'eart. and fuck, i get it, 's such a sweet pussy, luv--" you whimper, grinding up against him, needing him to move, but he puts both hands on your hips and squeezes, holding you still. "--such a nice cunt, make a bloke forget all his fuckin' troubles, but i know--"

you yelp when he reaches up and grabs your face. his palm cradles the lower half of your face, squeezing your jaw, and he squeezes your cheeks as he looks down at you and snarls.

"i know wot y'are. wot y'r here for."

"you--" you sob. "'m here for you--"

"can lie to johnny all y'like, luv, but don't you ever--" you whine as he shakes you gently, "--don't y'ever fuckin' lie to me. y'r usin' us. known since we found ya."

you let out an exhale, a deep one. you find his eyes, and he looks down at you, and you swallow hard. because it's true, in a lot of ways--you could never love them, right? this could never be a real thing. the only men that are left are god's mistakes. when man broke off his rib to make a woman, he didn't know a beast like this would come from him someday, did he?

did he know his sons would try to kill each other? in each and every generation? is he watching the dead roam the earth and wondering why those ones died and ones like this one are still living and breathing?

the thing that you don't understand yet is that nothing will kill ghost. his father couldn't kill him, the dark couldn't kill him, the earth he was buried in couldn't kill him, and every bullet that scarred him had missed the vulnerable places of him by just that much. the virus couldn't kill him, and he has an inkling that even if he was bitten, somehow, he would still live because that's his fucking fate.

his fate is to live, to endure, to grieve, no matter what happens around him. the world collapses, and he watches, and he picks up pieces as he goes hoping they will last, but he knows they won't.

he doesn't know how johnny will die, but he will. he doesn't know how you will die, but you will, and he'll be there to watch. for some reason, there's a little comfort, because at least this means they won't be alone. johnny wouldn't handle being alone well, and neither would you, because johnny is a mutt, and you are a leech, and neither survive without a keeper and a host, something else to keep them alive.

"'s olright," he licks over your bottom lip. "'m keepin' you, luv. but let's get one thing straight, aye?" you grunt when he turns you roughly under him, forcing your face into the mattress and caging you underneath him. you can't move much, all you really can do is sit up on your knees a little and push back against him, burying him deep inside you again as he presses his hips flush against your ass. he tangles his hand into your hair, pulling your head back, and he plants a chaste kiss against your throat. "y'r not above me, pet. you can order around m'mutt all y'like. bet he'll like that..." you hum when he cants your hips, the tip of his cock hitting a nice, warm place inside you, "but y'r gonna do as i say. and be a good girl."

you open your eyes, looking up at him over your shoulder. you plant your palms against the mattress and push back against him again, moving just enough to encourage a few slow, wet grinds.

"anything you want, simon," you whisper, pressing your face into his neck, and he grunts as his hand disappears underneath you to cup your mound, hissing as he feels the place where his cock is moving inside you. "can have whatever you want, please--" you whine in his ear. "i won't lie to you! i-i...i won't lie..."

with his other hand, he cups your breast, squeezing, his thumb circling your nipple before he tugs on it gently.

"gonna be a good girl?" he asks. "gonna let johnny fuck ya? let my mutt have his fill?"

you nod, panting.

"are--" you sniffle. "--are you gonna take care of me?"

ghost laughs, as if it's a stupid question. he maneuvers you onto your knees, and as you start to push back against him more eagerly, you start to hear the jangle of the dog tags he wears. you want to turn around and pull on them, want to see his face when he comes, but you tell yourself that's for another time--that right now, you need to get him cumming and agreeable.

he leans over you, picking up the pace, punching his hips into your ass. the sound of your skin against his is wet and quick, and as you press your chest into the mattress, he starts hitting you so deep, the air feels tight in your chest.

"need to see you--!" you gasp, and when you're on your back again, you grab for his face. your knees spread again, welcoming him deep, and you force his eyes to stay on yours as you feel the rough grind of his hips starting to build up that sweet, soft feeling in you.

fuck--he's so big. every part of him, it swallows you, and this isn't any different. you come when you feel him, so much of it that it's leaking down your thighs because he stuffs you so full, and there's tears in your eyes, but he isn't sorry.

looking at him this way is jarring. you have really only ever seen his eyes incredibly dull, nothing in them except a void that you aren't able to understand. but you are using him, and he is using you, and you smile, because now you can read him, read what's reflected there.

when ghost shoves his cum-soaked fingers into your mouth, you don't fight it. you keen, arching your back as you let your tongue swirl around his thick fingers, and he tilts his head to the side as he watches you. he's making sure you're doing as he wants. he's making sure that you will be pliant and good, that you will do as you are told and nothing else because that is what he asks of you.

he's making sure that even though he knows you are not the submissive puppy you pretend to be, that you will be it anyways because if you don't, you won't like how he bites.

you and ghost are the same. you are equals, even if he will never admit it. you trade different parts of yourself, but this isn't about preservation, it's about survival, and you are willing to give yourself for it. you are willing to say yes, ghost, of course, whatever you want, because you aren't supposed to be alive anyways, but you might just have a chance if you hide in his shadow.

you're still on the bed when he dresses himself. he straps his vest back on, zips his pants, and you watch him lick his fingers clean before putting his gloves back on. you reach down, your mouth falling open when a glob of his cum slips out and dampens the sheets, and ghost has a hint of a smirk on before he rolls the mask back down.

"don' worry, luv," he mutters, reaching over and gripping your jaw rough. you pucker your lips, and he snickers. "soap'll fix you right up."

"soap?"

"mmm. the fuckin' thing is useless unless there's a mess to clean up, yeah?"

will you take care of me? will he take care of me when it's time? will he keep the dead out of my eyes and my blood inside?

he never answers your question. and deep down, you're certain it's because he would kill you, and maybe johnny would, too, because johnny does whatever he says, even if it isn't good for him. and you aren't sure if it's because this is his lieutenant or because saying yes is the only thing that make's sense anymore.

i can be useful. i can be useful. i can be useful.

when you are not useful anymore, you'll need to be the first to strike then. because maybe you don't deserve to live, but neither do they. god is a man, and he makes mistakes, and ghost is one of them, and he's eaten johnny's soul, and if you go down, you will take them with you.

god is a man, and he was a fool to think he could've cleansed the earth by himself.

it was the flood that cleansed it the first time, and mother nature always does her fucking job.

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milkteahood · 3 days

Text

not a good man 2

Simon Riley x fem!reader, part 1

Summary: Simon crawls back to apologise

You have asked and I have delivered. I might or might not make an alternative ending where reader doesn’t take back Simon and starts dating König instead

Warning: light smut (just a paragraph, oral f receiving), still mdni

The next weeks were spent by Simon drowning in alcohol, refusing to admit it’s because of you. He didn’t call or text at all after that last fight, but you didn’t either.

You on the other hand, spent the first week falling asleep crying next to your phone. You hoped that, for once, it would be him who fights for you. But he never called, which only worked to break your heart further.

“Silly me I guess” you’d tell yourself.

On the base he was more distracted than usual, but not enough for anyone to notice. Well, not enough for someone that wasn’t close to him. His captain, John Price, noticed. So one day, while he was having lunch, Price took a seat across the table.

“Captain” Ghost nodded his head.

“Ghost. What’s on your mind?” John’s eyes softened slightly. Simon was very dear to him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re distracted”

Those words cut through him like a knife. Distracted? Him?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he responded, tone more cold now.

“I think you do”

John wasn’t one to back down and Simon knew that. And John also wasn’t someone Simon could intimidate. He was trapped.

“Just a fight”

“Your girl or something?”

Simon didn’t respond and John knew silence was an answer too.

“Have you tried to apologize?”

“What makes you think it’s my fault?” he raised his voice ever so slightly. As much as Price annoyed him in this moment, he wasn’t going to be disrespectful to his captain.

Price only gave him an amused look.

“Look Riley, a word of advice. Not from a superior, but from a comrade”

Simon looked at him straight in the eyes, waiting for him to continue.

John smiled “just because she loves the monster you are, it doesn’t make you less of one. You cannot be Ghost where you should be Simon” and with that, John stood up with his cup of coffee and departed, leaving Simon alone with his thoughts.

And that is how Simon found himself in front of your apartment door. He stood there for at least 20 mins before he knocked.

You were on the couch, nose deep into one of your books. The past weeks have been rough, finding yourself unable to focus on much else.

The soft knocks on your door made you snap back to reality. They were so quiet you almost missed it. You stood up from the couch and made your way to the door.

Your heart jumped in your throat when you looked through the peephole and saw him. His hood was up, and he was looking down.

For a while you contemplated ignoring him, but part of you, the big part of you, the one that still loved him, won. So you opened the door.

“Simon” you said, coldly.

“Dove—“ he looked up and paused. Your eyes were red, you have been crying for god knows how long. He looked back down. In that moment he wanted to punch himself into another dimension.

“‘M sorry” he mumbled.

“What?”

“‘M sorry” he said again, still looking down.

“Is that all? Really?” you were getting angry.

“You know what? Forget it” you said, starting to close to door, which he promptly stopped with his hand.

“N-no. Wait. Look. I know. I’ve been nothing but a cunt to you since the moment we started dating… and— I’m sorry, ok?” he sounded almost desperate.

You let go of the door and stepped aside, which he took as an invitation and walked in after you, closing the door behind.

“You’re soaking wet” you remarked.

“I— I waited for 30 minutes in front of your apartment complex. Then 20 more in front of your door..” he was still not looking at you.

“So it took you about an hour to debate whether or not I was worth an apology?” your voice was cold and full of venom.

“No. It’s not like that” he looked up, his eyes almost pleading for you to stop. Just accept his apology. But of course you weren’t going to and he knew that.

“Look Y/N. I can’t be what you need me to be. I don’t know how to do love you. Not in the way you want me to”

“But are you willing to try?”

“What?”

You left a crack to your heart for him to use. It was up to him to make the effort to squeeze through it.

“I asked—“

“Yes” he cut you off. “Yes I will try. Please love”.

He took a few steps towards you, but this time, you stood where you were. You extended your hands to cup his face and he instinctively leaned into your touch.

“Don’t ever—“

“I won’t” he didn’t let you finish.

“Okay” you said, gently stroking his face with your thumbs “you will have to prove that to me”.

He only nodded, leaning more into your touch.

“I’m sorry love” he said again.

“Good. You should be” you said before standing on your toes and kissing the corner of his mouth.

His eyes widened “I thought you’re mad at me” he blinked a few times, not yet daring to touch you.

“I am. Incredibly so. But— I also love you” you said before kissing him back, not letting him get another word in. In a way, you were scared to wait, scared he wouldn’t say it back.

He didn’t wait too long before kissing you again, one of his big hands holding the back on your head, deepening the kiss. His other hand squeezed your lower back, closing any space between you.

“Seems like you can’t stay away for long little one” he smirked once you pulled away from the kiss.

“Look who’s talking. Last I checked, you’re the one that crawled back”

He gave you a quick look before pulling you into another kiss and picking you up. You wrapped your legs around him until he made it to the bedroom, dropping you on the bed and taking off his wet hoodie before climbing on top of you.

As much as he wanted to fuck you silly, he knew that wouldn’t build him a strong enough case. He didn’t want to make you feel like he was just here for a quick fix. He heard you sob about that enough in the past.

“You’re worth crawling back to” he said, kissing you again before you had a chance to answer.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss.

Once he pulled from the kiss, he latched onto your neck, sucking on all the spots he knew were sensitive. His hand traveled down your abdomen, running circles over your wet, needy clit.

Your moans were suddenly making his jeans feel too tight, causing him to grind against the mattress.

“Si— let me help you”

“No” he said, standing up on his knees and pulling your underwear down “for once let’s not make it about me dove”. And with that, his face was between your legs, pushing his tongue inside of you.

“Oh fuck—“ you moaned, arching your back.

He kept eating you out like you were his last meal before death. One hand held you firmly in place and the other was completely abusing your clit.

“Si— fuck— just like that, oh fuck” it felt so good you didn’t even realize you were tearing up.

“I’m gonna—“

“That’s right babe, come for me” he said, while his cock was still throbbing in his pants.

You didn’t need more encouragement before coming, your body twitching as Simon refused to let go of you, licking every drop.

You were panting, your eyes were glossy as you watched him climb on top of you again, kiss your forehead and then lay down next to you.

“What about you?” you asked, rolling on your side to face him.

He caressed your face with the back on his hand. It was rough, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. “I came here to apologize dove”

“But—“

“No buts little one”

He pulled you to him, nuzzling your hair. The room was dark, and the rain was still strong. How you take him back over and over, he couldn’t wrap his head around. He didn’t deserve you, that was for sure. His own ray of sunshine into the void his life was. He would never feel good enough for you, but for what it’s worth, you’re stuck with him. And he promised he would do better.

He didn’t remember just for how long he held you, but it must’ve been a while, for you started to snore.

This made him smile to himself, and he wrapped a blanket around you.

“…. I love you too” he said, but you were already asleep.

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