A Kiss Left Of You Simon "Ghost" Riley

A Kiss Left of You ♡ Simon "Ghost" Riley

summary: simon and you, introduced by mutual friends in the military, enjoy a heartfelt moment outside a bar. you engage in playful banter, and despite knowing you will soon part ways, you express genuine affection for each other. tags/trigger warnings: f!reader, sfw, reader is not from the uk, author attempts at accents, jealous!simon, doomed romance (maybe), drugs and alcohol consumption, soap makes an appearance, simon is bad at feelings, fluff, angst, bittersweet ending, ambiguous ending, self-indulgent, hints at reader being autistic wc: 3.7k

a/n: this is a very old wip. i may or may not make this into a series. anyway, this is just a short collection of drabbles between simon and you. any constructive criticism is highly encouraged. enjoy!

pt. 1 ･ pt. 2 ･ pt.3

Breathing deeply, Simon admires the evening scenery as the last rays of the Sun disappear beyond the horizon. Hues of orange once highlighted it, but now it has turned into a deep shade of blue. Exhaling, a puff of smoke escapes his lips as he taps the lingering ashes along the railing. He stands just outside a dingy bar, its label, "Velvet Verve," gleaming brightly, casting Simon underneath its neon purple glow.

The cool night air chills Simon's lungs as he pulls deeply on his cigarette. His dark brown eyes follow the specks of snowfall as they dance through the air. As the soft flakes of snow drift by, Simon remains still and unbothered; he can appreciate a good view, and the evening air offers him that chance. Taking deep breaths, he savors the wind's chill against his skin and the scent of the air, which has started to take on a crisp note.

It's fucking freezing. You think to yourself as you step outside, feeling tipsy as you shiver against the wind's icy gust. There are specks of snow twirling downwards just in front of you, teasing you and your distaste for the weather.

Looking to your left, you spot Simon leaning against the railing as he blows out puffs of gray smoke. His signature skull balaclava is pushed past his lips, resting on his crooked nose. He seems lost in thought, yet he somehow always remains alert.

The man was large, much larger than you by far. He was slightly shy from 6'3 with an even more impressive frame. His right forearm consisted of a sleeve of tattoos in swirling black ink. His voice was deep and smoky, yet he rarely raised his voice (or let alone speak). He didn't come off as shy; he just seemed to prefer his company to others—which you could relate to. He was very aloof and a bit socially unskilled in his blunt and impolite nature, but underneath it all, you could tell he was a good man. He has this element to him that no one seemed to be able to cross, like how he was now: secluded and lost in his mind. You wondered what he could be thinking of.

A familiar scent of perfume catches his attention, and upon realizing it's you, Simon flicks his cigarette over the railing and turns his attention to you. The slight smile on his features turns into a more visible grin when he notices your intoxicated state. Simon watches you shiver as chills make their way through your body, your breath forming in front of you as you glance up at him. With a slight smirk playing on his lips, he watches you momentarily before finally speaking up. "Aren't ya’ supposed t'be drinkin' inside, or did they cut ya’ off?"

Giggling, you made your way over to where he was standing, the heels of your boots clicking against the hard wooden tile. You could feel the effects of the alcohol warm your belly, leaving your brain fuzzy. Keeping a respectful distance, you stand before him, assessing him thoughtfully.

Simon was very different from many of the men you'd met, yet so stereotypical at the same time. He was mysterious, an intangible force of nature that had always piqued your curiosity. However, you never let yourself wander too close. Unlike many others, you weren't scared of the man. He was intimidating, sure, but never had you felt genuine fear in his presence. Maybe if you were one of his soldiers, or god forbid one of his enemies, you'd think differently. And yet, Simon never gave you any reason to fear him; if anything, it was safe to say you felt very protected under his watch.

You’d met under curious circumstances. Kyle Garrick, a buddy of yours, was stationed in northeast Britain while you were vacationing. After you had met at a bar to reminisce about your past, he introduced you to many of his army buddies. One of them was his Lieutenant, Simon Riley, who most of them referred to as "Ghost." He's always been some enigma, ever since the start. He always sported his typical skull balaclava, which you had yet to see him without, and only pulled up past his nose to take a swig of bourbon or smoke a cigarette.

"Just needed some air." You smiled, watching as your breath formed into wisps of condensation in the crisp, navy-blue sky.

Simon's lips curl into a smirk at the sound of your voice. "Careful there." He gently warns as you stumble, his voice still deep but with a hint of amusement. He reaches forward to steady you, only to stop just before he touches you. His eyes meet yours, and Simon feels the intensity of the moment.

"Thank you." You mumble, gazing up into his brown eyes, the top of his face hidden behind his mask.

"Aren't you cold?" You asks curiously, dipping your head to the side with a grin. Your voice had a hint of teasing mixed in with genuine concern.

Simon remains quiet for a moment before finally responding. "M’ fine." He answers coolly, turning his gaze back out into the evening sky. He leans over, the cool winter breeze brushing past his skin. His expression is genuine as he offers a gentle smile. "But you," he glances back over your shoulder at the bar, "maybe we ‘oughta get ya’ back inside."

"But it's so loud in there," you whine, leaning against the wood. "Need a minute."

The corner of Simon's lips curls up in a half-grin as he watches you. "I di'n't know ya’ can't handle yer alcohol." He murmurs, teasing once again.

"I can!" You protest with a giggle. "I'm just a bit tipsy."

"Jus’ a bit?" Simon echoes, chuckling softly to himself.

"Mmm…” you hum, half-acknowledging him. You close your eyes, embracing the moment as the cold nips at your nose. Out in the distance, a lamp post flickers off and on again, its warm yellow light blinking in contrast to the melancholic blue-and-white atmosphere.

Simon shakes his head internally, wondering when he allowed himself to babysit whining drunk girls stumbling out of bars.

He watches you for a long moment as your eyes flutter closed, and you lean forward further. His face takes on a slight hint of concern for a second before he returns to his usual expressionless state. His eyes follow the lamp pole, his thoughts drifting off somewhere far from here. The world seemed to come to a standstill as he watched a million different scenarios in his head. His mind wandered between thoughts of the both of you perched like two birds in the frigid air and going your separate ways like strangers passing each other in the night.

A sudden gust of wind sends the snow swirling around the two of you again, and Simon turns towards you. His eyes take in your appearance, noticing how the cold seems to dig its icy, unforgiving claws into you. He takes in every detail, from the slope of your nose to the slight quiver in your bottom lip. He takes note of the way you huddle yourself inside your coat.

"S'bit nippy, innit’?” He asks, his voice low and warm, a welcomed ironicity. He keeps his eyes on the drifting snowfall, allowing you to meet his gaze at your own pace.

"Haven't gotten used to it yet." You admit sheepishly, grinning up at him as you burrow yourself further into the warmth of your furry coat.

Simon can't help but raise an eyebrow at this. "I take it, it's warm where yer from?" He asks in a puzzled tone, and though he's trying to keep his voice neutral, his curiosity gets the better of him.

You nod animatedly, a small smile hidden underneath the jacket.

A small laugh escapes Simon as his mouth curves into a small smile. His tongue traces along the top row of his front teeth as he watches the small grin form beneath the fur of your coat. A silent moment passes between you before he finally speaks.

“Mus’ be nice.” He murmurs, his voice still maintaining an even tone despite his body language giving way to a more keen and interested one.

You shrug your shoulders with a heave, followed by a long sigh. "Until it was summer," you mumble dramatically. "unbearable."

"So, it's either too 'ot or too cold wit’ ya’.” He observes softly, and something about the fact that he's paying so much attention to this seemingly dull conversation baffles him.

You grin, opening your eyes to gaze up at him, eyes wide and glowing. "Pretty much," you murmur, your smile toothy.

The corners of his lips curl up into a smirk as his eyes follow your mouth for a moment before shifting back to your eyes again. The grin spreads across his face, almost like a blush, as he stares back at you. His expression lightens further as your eyes meet, and it is as if he feels something stir deep inside him when he looks at you.

You breathe a short laugh through your nose, taking in his expression. "I should probably get going soon.", you acknowledge, closing your heavy eyes for a moment longer than necessary.

"Aye, prob'ly." He murmurs, still grinning. Simon's thoughts return to a thousand scenarios as his eyes travel around you momentarily. There's no doubt that he feels something soft make its way inside him, something he hasn't felt in a while. He shifts his weight, his body leaning against the wooden railing as he turns his head toward the bar again, letting out a slow breath.

"Think you could give me a ride?" you ask, leaning into his personal space.

His expression shifts quickly, his heart racing at your playful suggestion. He clears his throat before glancing back at you, his face momentarily caught off guard by your closeness. His eyes meet yours, and he can't help but feel a tingling sensation throughout his body. It's almost as if his body is slowly reacting to yours, the chemistry of a connection.

"Aye, dun't see why not,” he murmurs, his tone shifting slightly more severe with his agreement.

"Thanks! You're the best." You shoot him a playful wink before turning back to look out towards the flickering lamppost, yet refuse to put the space back between you.

"Hmph..." Simon's voice comes out with a tinge of a teasing hilt, and he feels just the right amount of comfort with this closeness between you. Another gust of wind rushes by, sending snowflakes into the air again; he watches as they make a home on your head and shoulders.

"Come on, yer gonna freeze out here." He murmurs, not wanting to let you linger in the frigid cold much longer. He finally shifts his weight off the rail and paces towards the parking lot.

Reluctantly, you push yourself away from the rail to follow closely behind him. "I think I'm starting to get used to it now." You chirp from behind him, not even attempting to keep up.

“Us'd to what?” He forgets about your pointless conversation as he turns back, watching you and laughing softly at the image of your shorter legs struggling to keep up with his long strides.

“The cold,” you answer, humming to yourself. Your eyes stay closed as you stuff your hands into your coat pockets.

The parking lot is a short distance away, and Simon's steps slow as you approach his truck. He opens up the passenger side door for you, waving you over.

You giggle, strolling towards him with an attempt at grace. "Thank you, Lieutenant." you grin, saluting him with the wrong hand before clambering inside.

He shuts the door with an unimpressed shake of his head.

“You smoke?” Ghost asks, offering you the cigarette between his fingers.

“Not those cancer sticks.” You turn your nose up in disgust, not caring if you offended him. To your surprise, he shrugs before placing it between his lips.

He smirked as the cigarette hung from his mouth, not seeming to mind your aversion towards them. You’ve always been straightforward, preferring to precisely say what you’re feeling or thinking rather than hiding it behind politeness or social conventions. He knows that your tendency to be so direct can sometimes rub people the wrong way. But this is just one of the many things he finds refreshing about you. He leans back against the wall with a sigh and slightly glances at you before saying, “Does it botha’ y’ then?” He mumbles in between a drag.

You take a moment to consider his words before shaking your head. "No, not really. You're a grown man; you can do whatever you want." You shrug, appreciating how he turns his head away from you to blow the smoke from his nose.

"Mmhm..." he mutters, nodding in understanding but looking you over when you aren’t paying attention to him. Your relaxed attitude appeals to him, and he grows more comfortable around you.

He watches, his eyes drifting up and down your body as he takes in your appearance, his gaze landing on your exposed neck. It's a rather tempting sight, as the smooth skin of your throat is only made more attractive by how you lean forward while talking. He watches you intently as you form words with your mouth; your accent, which he used to find unusual, now strikes a chord within him—a voice he can only describe as heavenly.

"Ghost?" You ask, turning to look up at him. Confusion is written on your face when he stays silent after you ask him a question.

He snaps out of his reverie, his body twitching as he realizes you’re now looking at him. A slight smirk flashes across his face as he sees the perplexed expression on your face, as he had been so caught up in his admiration of you that Simon hadn't even realized he was supposed to be paying attention. "Sorry, luv," he says softly, his voice slightly teasing as he maintains his gaze on you. "Wot were ya’ sayin’?"

“Here, try some o' this.” Commands John, otherwise known as “Soap,” as he slides you a glass of tequila. For the past fifteen minutes, it seemed to consist of Kyle’s task force forcing you to try their taste in alcoholic beverages. A vodka-lime wasn’t impressive according to their standards.

“Why do I have to try out every single one of your stupid ‘manly’ drinks?” You grumbled, already feeling the effects of the alcohol as you took a quick sip of his drink.

“Is tha' tequila?” Ghost scoffs as he appears in your peripheral vision, causing you to cough and sputter in surprise.

“Why do you always do that?” You complain, wiping away the stray droplets from your lips as John laughs at your misfortune.

Ghost’s eyes widen in what either looks to be humor or surprise—probably both.

“Gettin’ the lass tae expand her horizons,” John explains after collecting himself.

“You sound like an alcoholic,” you mumble, your face warm in embarrassment.

“Why tequila?” Ghost interrupts, still seemingly confused by John’s choice of beverage.

“Whae naht?” The scot shrugs, taking a sip of his drink with raised eyebrows. You glance back and forth between the two men, trying to decipher their unspoken conversation.

“Ya,’ tryna kill her, mate?” Ghost snorts in sarcasm, sitting beside you, his knee brushing against yours as he makes himself comfortable. He doesn’t even glance in your direction, but John’s eyes flicker back and forth between you two knowingly. You hide your shame behind another long sip.

“Are you?” You mutter, staring out the window as silence fills the air.

“Wot?”

John’s laugh rings loud as your face sets up in a blaze.

“Do you like it?” You inquire with anticipation, watching him take a bite of the cultural dish you had made for him to try. You asked him to stop by your temporary place so you could cook him something other than British cuisine. He seemed a bit irked but agreed nonetheless.

“S’ alright.” He mumbles after swallowing, refusing to meet your eyes as he takes another bite.

“You like it, c’mon.” You giggle, poking his bicep, which he swats away, simultaneously shooting you an annoyed glare.

“I said it’s alright.” He reaffirms, chewing slowly. “S’ a bit spicy.” He comments in a neutral tone, but you assume it was supposed to be his form of constructional criticism.

“Yeah, well, everything is spicy to you people.”

He rolls his eyes with an irritated sigh.

“You could’ve just said ‘thank you.’” You sass, hands on your hips.

“I’d 'ave t'be thankful for it first.”

You swat him in the arm this time. He chuckles in response.

Simon grunts as he slams his fist into the black fabric of the boxing bag. The thick material of his gloves protects his fists, but he can almost picture the bruises and cuts decorating his knuckles as he bashes the face in of that smug-looking private.

Simon had nothing against the man—personally speaking anyway—yet he still couldn’t get over how he looked at you. How he danced with you, twirling you around like some bloke, tripping over his feet and his words to impress you.

And you just smiled and laughed, batting your pretty eyes up at him with a sweet smile—the same way you do with Simon.

Simon furrows his eyebrows, pulling his face into a deep frown. He clenches his fists a little tighter as the images of the man dancing with you and making a fool of himself flash through his mind. Simon can also clearly see how you responded to his advances in those images: your saccharine smiles and bashful glances, your symphony of laughs that could bring a choir of angels to shame. He grits his teeth and raises his fist to strike the bag again; his jealousy is getting the better of him.

The more he seethes, the more those memories twist into something else entirely. He can't help but imagine the way the man must have touched you, maybe even kissing you or pulling you into his arms—holding you close. The thought of that makes him even more furious, as he's now thinking about him putting his hands on you in a way that only he is supposed to—or would if only he just asked.

“What’s gotten into you lately?” You inquire, tilting your head to the side as you sit across from Simon in a booth, enjoying the meal he had gotten for you both.

He stops eating for a moment, his busy thoughts halting a little as he hears your voice hit his ears, concerned with a hint of indignation. He hesitates for a second before answering you, not wanting to admit that he's felt a little insecure about his relationship with you. "Nothin’," he gruffs softly, forcing disinterest as he looks at you. "Why?”

You run your tongue over your front teeth as you assess him before looking past his shoulder in thought.

"Is it because I have to leave soon?" You ask softly, deciding to poke at your food with your fork to remain casual.

The mention of your departure only makes his frustration grow even worse, as the thought of you not being here with him brings forth an uncomfortable hollow feeling deep in his chest. "No," he mutters softly, but his response carries a hint of irritation because he believes you have seen through him too quickly. "I jus’...'ave some things on my mind."

He stares at you silently for a moment before looking away and grunting. He can't help but feel slightly guilty for not wanting to be honest with you. Especially when he knows you’ve always been upfront with him, and now he's keeping secrets from you even though there's no real reason for him to. The guilt compels him to consider admitting a little more, but he realizes that doing so would mean ripping back the layers he’s built up around himself for so long. So instead, he says, "It's nowt important."

"Then stop acting so weird."

You sigh, swallowing your frustration. "If you ever need someone to talk to, you can always talk to me." You promise with an empathetic smile.

He sighs and looks away again, feeling even more shameful now that he has to look into your pitful expression after lying straight to it. Simon has been so busy hiding his insecurities that he's lost track of how he’s been treating you, and now Simon realizes that he needs to open up, or else you’ll probably start feeling as if he's abandoning you. "Yeah..." he mutters, shaking his head slightly in disappointment with himself. "I know, m'sorry...I'll be fine."

You soak in the awkward, silent tension for a few more moments, trying to make peace with it.

"Y'know..." you begin tapping his leg under the table with your foot to get his attention. "I'm gonna miss you too." You confess with a bittersweet smile.

His expression softens just a bit, his gaze shifts to make eye contact with you for the first time in a while, and upon seeing your sweet and somewhat sad smile, his discomfort shifts towards a bittersweet tenderness rather than the frustration and resentment he felt before.

"Y'will?" he asks softly, a small smile forming on his lips as he looks away almost immediately, his heart now fluttering at the thought of someone as kind and gentle as you, missing someone as cruel and fucked up as him.

“Of course,” you all but whisper, your eyelids lowering as you admire him with a strange fondness. “But I’m glad—I’m happy I got to meet you, to miss you.” You smile, abandoning your attention on everything else and redirecting it towards him.

“I’d rather miss you every day than not have gotten to meet you at all.”

NEXT → main masterlist, rules

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kinktober day X: aphrodisiacs — kyle “gaz” garrick ⤿ kyle “gaz” garrick x reader // current wc: 0 // status: in progress a kiss left of you — simon "ghost" riley pt. 3 ! ⤿ simon "ghost" riley x reader // current wc: 0 // status: on hold

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Let Me Love You Like a Woman ♡ Simon "Ghost" Riley

minors do not interact! | mdni!

summary: when you come home late from work, you find your boyfriend sleeping in your bed after being away for a few months. and you're more than happy to give him the 'welcome home' he deserves. tags/trigger warning: 18+, f!reader, fluff, reunion sex, oral sex (m!receiving), groping, p in v, cowgirl position, rough sex, dom!simon, sub!reader, cursing, use of pet names ("love", "lovie", "babe", "baby"), author attempts at accents wc: 2k

a/n: wasn’t supposed to be this long. sorry, y'all (or your welcome).

Coming home after a long work day, you kick off your heels with a sigh, your makeup smudged, and your once neatly styled hair in disarray.

You push open the door to your bedroom, only to be met by your sleeping boyfriend curled up underneath your girly, fluffy sheets as soft snores drift through the room. He had been gone for a couple of months while on deployment, and now he was back, taking a nap in your bed. The sight was so bittersweet that you almost began to cry.

Quickly, without much thinking, you took off your work clothes, scrambling to find something cute to wear before retouching your makeup and fixing your hair. You knew Simon wouldn't care about what you looked like, only that he'd be happy to see you, which only seemed to drive you further into waking him up with something nice to look at.

You weren't exactly sure why you felt this way, but as you gazed down at him now, watching his chest evenly move up and down and how his brown lashes fluttered against his cheeks, you realized he made you feel things no one else ever has.

You bit your lip, feeling guilty, as you gently combed your fingernails through his short brown hair to rouse him peacefully; you knew he needed his sleep, but you needed him too!

He grunts deeply, his eyes fluttering open in a confused daze before scanning the room. Once his eyes finally land on you, you can't hold back the wide smile stretching across your face.

His expression almost seems bored as he gazes up at you, but you can tell by how his lips parted slightly and the natural furrow of his brows completely disappeared that he was more than happy to see you.

“I know I should let you sleep," you whispered, not wanting to break the spell of tranquility wafting throughout the room.

“Nah," he croaks, his voice husky and guttural with sleep. "dun't," his hands traveling up the expanse of your hips and thighs, gently urging you closer.

You chuckle softly, moving your body the way he wants as you perch yourself on top of him, resting your hands across his lower abdomen.

"I missed you," you murmured as you leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his lips, making sure to expose the tops of your breasts for his viewing pleasure. Yet he just closed his eyes, his hand reaching up to tuck away a stray hair falling over your face behind your ear.

"Missed ya’ too, luv," he said, his opposite hand reaching underneath your cami nightdress to grope at your ass, squeezing the soft doughy flesh with an appreciative hum.

You beam down at him, rocking your hips against his in a slow, back-and-forth motion and elevating in the deep groan you pull from his chest as his cock stirs to life.

You press sloppy kisses all across his face, giggling at his pretend groan of protest as if the quick jerking motion of his hips doesn't give him away.

"I thought of you every day, y'know..." You whisper against the shell of his ear before nibbling softly on the lobe and descending further down the side of his neck, nuzzling your nose against his pulse.

"Ah' figured y'd," I figured you would. Simon mumbles, almost intelligible, with a cocky, sleepy grin. You giggle, letting your hands roam down the expanse of his body, palming over his semi-erection.

You lean back up, straightening your spine as you tug the seam of his sweatpants down to his thighs, allowing his hard cock to slap against his pelvis. He lets out a long exhale, his hips shifting upwards as he fights back the heaviness pulling at his eyelids.

"Did you think of me?" you breathed, wrapping your soft hand around his leaky tip and twisting, pulling downwards to coat his length in his sticky arousal, allowing for a smoother and more pleasurable glide.

"Dun't act daft, luv," he tosses his head back with another sigh, his abs clenching and unclenching in response to your teasing. "y'know I did,"

You fight back the urge to keep him talking, knowing he's likely still exhausted from his lack of sleep. Yet the way his voice twists and curls around your entire being is still entirely revolutionary for you. You don't even think he'll ever realize the kind of effect he has on you.

“I know," you giggle, making yourself comfortable between his meaty thighs, pressing tender kisses along his cock. "I just like hearing you say it." you nuzzle your cheek against him, unbothered by the wetness sticking to your cheek.

He grunts in response, his large hair cradling through your hair as he holds you against him, rutting himself against your face with deep pants.

You whine softly, gripping the flesh of his thighs as you brace yourself against him as he uses you for his pleasure. “Simon," you protest, trying to shift your mouth closer toward him, but he doesn't budge, only holding your head tighter in his hand.

"Don't move," he growls, his thrusts growing faster against your face as his pants grow louder, his thighs twitching softly beneath your fingers.

"Fock, yer s'soft," he grunts, his fingers curling tighter against the sheets.

Without warning, he lifts your face upwards by your hair, shifting his legs wider as he jerks himself off in front of you.

"Simon," you try again, adding a high-pitched hilt to your voice. "lemme touch you, please?" you beg, the throbbing between your legs growing harder to ignore.

"Yeh? Y'wanna touch me, luvie? Missed this fat fockin' cock, didn'cha?" he chuckles darkly, his groans growing louder as he taps the tip against your wet lips.

"Open wide, luv," he commands, sliding his length deeper inside your obedient mouth, his eyes trained on your cock-drunken expression.

"Ahh, yeah, that's it..." he moans, resting his head back against the pillows, letting go of himself as he grabs the back of your neck with the same hand. "little wider, f'me babe,"

Your cunt throbs at the sounds of his pleasure, mewling in desperation as you lick and suckle, twisting your lips to fit around the girth of his cock. you gag softly as his hips stutter, shoving the tip against the back of your throat, followed by a lewd whine escaping his chapped lips.

"God, yeah, I really did miss yer slutty fockin' mouth," he pants with a fucked out smile, guiding your head in an up-and-down motion, lifting his head back up to watch with a stuttering groan.

"And yer pretty little pussy too, shite! Bet she missed me too, didn' she?" you hum contently, gazing up at him as the sinful sounds of slurping and sucking escape your mouth. You rub your thighs together, your cunt clenching at the words pouring out of him. You always loved it when you got him riled up like this: his brain fogged over and his lips looser.

You nod your head in response to the best of your abilities. He laughs breathlessly at the sight of you before pulling you off of him, hissing the cool air, and making contact with his wet dick.

He smirks at your whimper of protest, "Yeah, yeah, princess." he tugs you back onto his lap by your armpits before smacking the fat of your ass perched over his thighs. "go ahead n' ride this cock, ya' love s'much, then." he snorts, resting his palms on top of your thighs as he waits for you to start.

You huff, narrowing your eyes at him with a smirk, resting your hands over his large pectorals as leverage to lift yourself above him. You reach down, slowly jerking him before guiding him towards your leaking pussy.

"There ya' go..." he sighs, massaging your hips just as you begin to sink onto him. "All the way, luvie," he grunts, thrusting upward in his impatience.

You bite back a choked sob, the stretch of him almost unbearable after so long. He lets out a ragged breath of his own, his palms sliding to your ass to part your cheeks as he attempts to get deeper.

"Jesus," he practically shouts, his lips parting wide as his face scrunches together, almost like he’s angry. "s'like yer fockin' stranglin' me."

You mewl in agreement, your nails digging into the skin of his biceps in an attempt to ground yourself from the intense mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Simon," you plead, forcing to sink the rest of the way until your ass lands on the tops of his thighs with a loud 'plap'. You both let out your strangled cries as his tip poked against the deepest part of you.

"God, your little cunny is so perfect," he grunts half to himself, barely giving you a chance to adjust before he's jackhammering himself inside you, his large hands lifting you up and down by your ass cheeks.

He plants his feet higher up on the bed, giving himself more leverage as he fucks into you at an overwhelmingly rapid pace. Debauched wails fill the room along with the fast sounds of flesh-against-flesh and the slick and slippery noises of your combined fluids.

"Oh yeah, fock tha' cock, luv," he moans, slapping your ass once more, followed by a passionate squeeze as he lets you set the pace.

He smiles up at you, the tops of his white teeth gleaming happily as his calloused hands stroke along the supple skin of your body. He drags his palms upward, groping your tits as his hips begin lifting to match your own with sharp and unforgiving thrusts.

"Baby," you squeak, gripping his hands as you bounce faster, peering your eyes open to gaze at his face. Your eyes sweep over his long, crooked nose and his downturned, dark-brown eyes blanketed by long, soft lashes.

"Yeah?" he pants, his eyes peering into yours in a yearning, adoring trance. "Tha' feel good? Hm?" he purses his lips in concentration, angling himself to hit the spongy spot deep inside you.

"S’good!" you let out a sweet little cry, tears forming beneath your eyelids, your belly tightly clenching as you chase the indescribable feeling. "Oh my god!"

"Doin' such a good job, f'me, girly." he let out a low grunt as he gripped your small wrists together in his hand and pinned them against his chest as he resumed his dominant pace.

"Can tell y'gettin' close, luv." He acknowledges as his dick twitches uncontrollably inside of you, threatening to release at any moment. You're surprised he managed to last as long as he has.

"C'mon baby," he pressed with a pleased grunt. "Cum on my cock, I know ya' wan' ta.'" he grins arrogantly as his balls smack against your pussy until he's barely pulling back out to fuck into you.

And like clockwork, you do. It almost surprises you how quickly and seemingly unexpectedly you approach your high. But it shouldn't, especially when you know how obedient your body is to Simon. You cry out for him as you release, drenching his lower half and spraying his abs in a coat of transparent essence.

A deep groan of your name is the only warning you receive before he's flooding your velvety insides with his spunk, his thrusts growing faster as he rides out his high before halting completely.

He softly loosens his death grip on your wrists as he brings them to his lips to kiss soothingly. You open your eyes, whining softly at his rare act of affection. He meets your gaze with his own; his smile is crooked, and his breaths are sharp and uneven.

"Took it like a champ, luvie," he chuckles deeply before sighing and pulling you into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, dragging his fingers down the length of your spine before patting your ass.

“Y’d make a good wife...”

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Tomorrow is a Long Time 𝜗𝜚 John Price

Kinktober Day V: Masturbation

summary: the hubby misses you tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, masturbation (m!recieving), longing, yearning, captain peepaw’s tasty loins, yummm, author does not attempt at accents wc: 618 a/n: i kept this one short sorry i was pretty busy today because my washing machine was broken lol

MASTERLIST

John stood beneath the steaming spray of the shower, feeling the hot water soak into his skin and muscles, easing the tension from his body. He let out a deep, involuntary groan as the cascading water massaged his back, his hands dragging down his face as the warm droplets dripped from his hair and over his closed eyes.

He slid his hand down his stomach, leaning his head backward as his mind conjured images of you: sprawled out on his bed, deep moans of his name slipping past your pretty parted lips, eyebrows furrowed until the crease between them deepened. He fantasized about your pretty eyes gazing up at him, nails digging deep into his back as you arched your chest, pushing your perfect tits into his awaiting mouth.

He let out a deep grunt as his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, beginning in slow strokes as he squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to travel back in time just before he left, pounding your pliant body into your bed until tears were slipping down your flushed cheeks, sobbing his name as you came, clenching around his cock like a vice refusing to let go.

John rubbed over his bulbous tip, his hips bucking into his hand, pretending you were bent before him, ass spread, and waiting for him to sink his undeserving prick into your wet and greedy hole.

He called out your name in hushed whispers, trying to keep his voice low as he pleasured himself at the thought of you. It's only been one week, and he could feel the longing begin to settle deep in his bones. He wished he could be with you, holding you in his arms as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

He spread his thighs, placing his hand on the wall in front of him, leaning forward as his movements picked up in pace, pretending his fist was your sweet cunt enveloping him in your velvety walls, your pussy so wet it was running down your thighs and onto the floor.

As the images painted vividly behind his eyelids, his moans increased in volume, and he called out your name in desperation. He was so close. His top teeth sink into his bottom lip, and his sensitive skin reddens under the pressure.

“Please…” he moaned as if you were around to hear, but in his mind, you were. In his mind, it was your hand instead of his, taking his cock in your soft and smaller hands, no calluses, just gentle deft fingers moving up and down along his shaft, collecting his pre as you sank to your knees, darting your pink little tongue to taste.

“Fuck!” He barked, his wrist twisting even faster as he worked himself to completion, thick ropes of white shooting out from his tip. Some of it landed on the wall, oozing downwards towards the floor before sinking into the drain. But he pictured he was fucking it down into your willing throat like a good girl.

John didn’t want to open his eyes, to face the reality that you were not really there, so he kept his eyes closed, pretending you were still there. You helped him ride out his high like you always do while kissing along his neck and chest, telling him how much you loved him.

“I love you too,” he whispered back into an empty room, his hand eventually slowing into a stop as the last of his cum escaped from his tip. He reopened his eyes, staring down at his hand still wrapped around his cock; he couldn’t help but heave in disappointment even though he already knew you weren’t there.

“Fuck I miss you…”

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