Simon Tries Something New

simon who sleeps wrong without a good fuck. cw. somnophilia, dubcon.

he’s incorrigible when he comes home.

silk nightgown replaced by charred, pruning palms. breath hot on the shell of your ear. you croon with disapproval before he places his thumb on your tongue to snuff it out.

been working you slowly against his knee, given the cool slick that kisses your inner leg. bleary eyes register the clock first. an hour that wasn’t made by god reads on numbers that feel strangely foreign. the world is molasses. it boils where you’re forced to ride his thigh.

remembering is just as leisured. sleeping without him and waking cuffed in his embrace. the 2 month stretch with out him. the distinct smell of gunmetal you associate with his return burning below your nose.

“si…”

he grunts and slips his fingers in your cunt. you turn your head to the pillow, but he grabs your chin before you can muster a groan.

“don’t turn tha’ away from me. been without your voice for months. not wastin’ it in a pillow.”

you moan where his digits collect on your teeth. the stretch of three fingers beckons another. louder. he’s grinding against your ass.

despite it all, his heart murmurs without vigor. calm pulse while he raises yours. just as quiet when he’s crouched behind a sniper. taking aim.

taking what he wants.

you give it up quick with your orgasm. brings you to the shore of your own consciousness, enough you register his cock pushing into the sleeve of your cunt with little warning, and the burn that follows.

it lasts until you’re legs are stiff and spread against the sheets, hole filled with his spend and ribs collapsing with uneven breaths. he folds on top of you, snoring like a bear.

loves that your cunt can put him to sleep. likes to wake up to it, too.

ghostsoap commission for @bluegiragi!

thank you so much for an opportunity to draw them again 🖤

nsfw, mdni.

simon becomes an absolute dog when he sees you in his shirt.

cw: possessive simon, sex on carpet (ouch), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink (?).

simon is a good roommate. he’s organized, clean, pays rent on time, and minds his own space. the only thing is—roommate is hot. stupidly hot. you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend and he’s never once brought back a girl let alone mentioned one. you figured your little crush on him would pass like all the other (it does not). you start dropping hints that you find him attractive. like wearing your tightest tops, brushing your ass against him while reaching for a cup, even leaving one of your lacy thongs to mix in with his laundry. he never bites the bait. you start to think that maybe he just doesn’t find you attractive or even worse he finds you creepy. so you tuck your schoolgirl crush away into the cavity of your chest.

you close the washer with your hip, cradling your laundry basket back to your room. you hear the familiar turn of your front door lock letting you know simon is home from his morning gym session.

you pad into the living room to ask simon if he needed any clothes washed. simons back is turned from you when he begins to slip off his trainers, dropping his gym at the foot of the door.

“need any clothes washed? i’m starting a load up right now.” you ask eyeing the movement of back muscle underneath his compression shirt.

he finally turns to you and starts to respond “nah don’t think-“ before he snaps his mouth shut when he sees what you’re wearing. “that mine?” his voice gruff, it’s his army issued shirt that is long enough to cover your shorts. a deep green color that frays at the hem and has his last name in bold at the back of it. you notice he’s staring at the worn fabric waiting for an answer.

you look down, “oh yeah. sorry was doing laundry found this in hamper. my clothes are in the wash. hope that’s okay?” you sound apologetic like you just did something unforgivable. jesus christ what were you thinking wearing his shirt without asking. you shift trying to ease your embarrassment.

he’s on you in three short strides. making a noise between a growl and snarl. you don’t know how or when you both ended up on the living room floor. frankly, it’s the last thing on your fucking mind now that you’re on your knees cheek pressing into the shag carpet. you can feel the heat of his stare between your legs. you get a glimpse of your shorts and panties strewn across the floor leaving you in his shirt. you wait with bated breath for him to touch you. you wiggle your hips in a silent plead to get him to do something, anything…everything.

he gives the flesh of your ass a heavy smack that has you clenching around nothing. “be good now.” is all you hear before the sting leaves an angry red mark that you know is gonna leave you wincing for the next week. simon smooths a hand over the back of your (his) shirt making a noise in the back of his throat.

you hear shuffling behind you before you feel the head of him catch on to your opening making your mouth gape like a fish out of water. he groans at the contact, kneading the fat of your hips, before he presses in painfully slow with a hiss. you whimper into the carpet, fists balling, feeling hot all over. your cunt pulses trying to make room for him inside your womb.

“i know. i know, pretty girl. almost there.” simon bites back a hiss when you clench at his words. you think you might die like this. laid out on ugly apartment carpet trying to take simon’s cock. you could cry with relief when you feel simon’s balls meet your clit letting you know he’s all the way in. simon lets out a guttural sound bordering on animalistic at the sight of you speared open on his cock, last name across your back, absolutely crying for it.

he fists the bottom of the shirt to keep you still and eases his hips back just to sink back in slowly. the pressure in your navel hurts so good it’s starting to make you dizzy. simon sets a pace that has you trying to cant your hips back to meet his thrusts. he lays a heavy palm in the middle of your back, just under the boldened ‘RILEY’, keeping you pinned giving you no choice but to take what he gives you.

“prettiest fuckin girl i ever seen. gonna give this cunt the proper treatment she deserves, yeah?” he bends his left leg, somehow sliding in deeper. there’s no doubt that you can feel him in your lungs. “s’deep simon.” you slur, reaching a hand back to weakly press against his stomach. he chuckles at the act taking both wrists into one of his hands pressing them at the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch. you sob at the change in angle. your nipples being rubbed raw by the friction of his thrusts.

“needed this real bad, huh? don’t worry baby. i’ll make sure you don’t go without it again. wearing those tiny tops think i didn’t notice.” his voice rough and deep behind you. “uh huh.” you reply without a second thought, you don’t even care that you’ve been drooling into the carpet or that you’ve been caught. simon gives a deep chuckle at how pliant you’ve become just from some good dick.

he knows your close by the increasing volume of your sounds. he never lets up his pace determined to give you his all. “where?” he asks in a quick breathe. you take a few seconds to register his words. “huh?” you manage to squeak out. “where do you want me, pretty thing?” he says in an almost pained voice. the gears turn in your head before you speak up “inside. want it inside. m’clean. pill.” resorting to short clipped words. you beg, as if you have to, simon thinks.

your orgasm comes hard and fast leaving you sobbing out garbled version of please and simon. simon is not far behind burying himself as deep as your bodies will allow and comes inside with a pinched “oh fuck.” he pulls out with a pop and watches his spend leak down your slit leaving a small puddle on the floor that he knows he’ll have to scrub out later.

simon pats your backside affectionately. “don’t think we’ll be doing any laundry today” he says with a grin that makes you giggle. “yeah, don’t think so.”

scaredy cat

chapter: unumbered one shot (maybe more to come) pairing: simon 'ghost' riley warnings: nothing explicit. all lowercase. a/n: because everyone deserves a love that is patient and kind. in spite of everything. for @wraithdance and @disgustingtwitches

it’s why he blames himself when you run.

he’s invaded your space, pushed too hard against the ease of the relationship you’d found yourselves in. it wasn’t purposeful, but simon knew there was something amiss. could sense it from the way your gait had changed around him. how you’d taken to covering parts of yourself from him that you’d otherwise let him bare witness to. the clothes didnt change, no, but your laughter did. clipped and short, long enough to fool others but simon knew you better.

he saw you transform into a version of yourself he’d only seen before he knew you. a hardened version of you made by the winds that eroded your softness.

you’d erected walls for refuge. hiding yourself away from the reach of any hands who tried to tug at you, kind or otherwise.

and yet, simon had been granted access until recently.

he’d pushed his luck, known some conversations were likely to push you to the brink, but you held strongly. in the end, it wasn’t even a conversation. you’d clammed up mid conversation giggling over childhood talks. he’d seen the realization dawn on you in real time.

overexposed, overly comfortable, unprotected.

your things were gone the next day. his side table clear of anything of importance to you. there were still traces of you, lingering in the crevices of his flat but he knew they were there to keep him off your scent. to keep him from being alarmed.

he’s a damn good soldier though. better at understanding when someone’s got the urge to run. and exceptionally good at finding people.

he gives you two days. no messages, no calls, nothing.

all so you can breathe a little easier. work yourself out of the state of mind you’d found yourself in. leaving you bare and exposed.

then he shows up to your coffee shop. order his drink and yours and simply waits.

the baristas know him by now, and they’ve already known you, so when you approach the counter eager to get your liquid energy they simply wave to simon.

you’re an expert at hiding your emotions. anyone else would have accepted your absence of a reaction as expectation but simon knows better. sees the small inhale, your hands curling on the strap of your bag, other hand clutching your phone a little tighter. you’re unhappy, but not angry.

he’ll give you your space, let you run but be within your vicinity. watching you from behind the glass while you get comfortable around again. until you allow yourself to have your back to him, to let your fingers graze the back of his, until you find yourself curled into his side again.

he’s willing to wait.

“just a cup of coffee. take your time, i’m not in a rush for anything love. i’ll be here”