Be Good To Me Arthur Morgan

Be Good to Me ❤︎ Arthur Morgan

Kinktober Day I: Edging

summary: reader gives arthur a hand tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, hand job, praise, a bit of degradation, edging (duh), fluff, dom!reader, sub!arthur, cursing, use of pet names ("sweetheart", "good boy", "honey", “darling”), author attempts at accents wc: 1.5k

MASTERLIST

It wasn’t every day you found yourself in this position, straddling your cowboy, his eyes glazed over and pleading as he gazed up at you like you were his goddess and he was your devotee. The top buttons of his shirt were left open, offering a teasing view of his broad, hairy chest while a sinful symphony of sweet temptation spilled from his lips. His large hands cradled your hips, and now and then, his soft caresses turned into almost painful clutches as he neared his release before you took it away.

“Please… sweetheart…” he panted desperately, his eyes squeezed shut as his hips chased your hand.

“Hm? Please, what?” You tilted your head to the side with a self-pleased smirk tugging at the edges of your lips.

“You know–” his warning growl cut off as you squeezed the base of his cock coated in endless amounts of precum that continued to leak from his tip.

“What is it?” You cooed with feigned sympathy, struggling to suppress the urge to display even a hint of mercy.

His long, dark eyelashes fluttered as his beautiful, clear blue eyes slowly reopened, appearing bleary and glistening with moisture. His slightly chapped, pink lips puckered, giving away his thoughts. As his arm encircled your waist, his fingers tightened their hold, sending a thrill down your spine. You noticed his jaw clenching, his subtle muscle flexing, and the intensity in his eyes.

“Just let me take care of you.” You purred, continuing the rapid movements of your hand before he could flip you over and have his way with you. Like you know he wants.

“You work so hard; let me do this for you,” you said, leaning forward and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. As his lips met yours, the soft, velvety timbre of your voice and the tender touch of your lips against his seemed to satiate him, if only for a moment.

You moan into his mouth, tongues intertwining as his large, warm hand reaches up to cup your breast, squeezing affectionately as his chest arches into yours.

“Darlin’…” he groaned, tipping his head back, exposing his neck in submission, moaning as your lips descended, sweet and soft kisses turned into teasing nibbles to wet sucks and licks.

“Jus’ like that,” he whined, thighs spreading wider as his cock twitched uncontrollably, tip an angry purple as his hips constantly lifted and retreated from your torturous pleasure-inducing movements.

“Feels good, honey?” you teased, twisting your fist as you went upwards, soft fingers tracing the outlines of his veins running up-and-down his cock.

"Ahh fuck!" The words flew out of Arthur's mouth involuntarily as you twisted your hand in just the right way, sending a jolt of exquisite torment straight through his body. He arched his back off the bed, hands balling into fists at his sides as he struggled to maintain control. He could see the amusement dancing in your eyes as you watched his reaction, enjoying your power over him.

With a low growl, he replied, "Yeah, it feels good." He bit his bottom lip, trying to contain himself, but the sensation was almost too much. He could feel the pressure building inside him like a wildfire waiting to erupt. His eyes locked onto yours, silently begging you to release him from this sweet torture.

“Fuck… yes,” Arthur’s voice strained as he called out, his chest rising and falling at a rapid rate as he tried to regulate his breathing. His hands found their way to your hair, fingers tangling in the silky strands as you continued your delicious ministrations. He groaned your name, the sound deep and guttural.

Arthur’s mind spiraled into a whirlwind of pleasure and agony as he fought against the impending climax. His thighs tensed, and his body quivered beneath yours. He knew you could sense his desperation, the way his breath caught in his throat each time your hand moved, and how his cock pulsed in your grasp.

The combination of pain and pleasure made him feel vulnerable, exposed, and yet oddly safe with you. He craved this intimacy, the connection between you two that went beyond mere physical release. It was as if you were peeling back the layers of his hardened exterior, reaching the raw emotions buried deep within him. He didn’t understand it but couldn’t deny its pull on him.

“Are you going to make me beg for it, darlin’?” He asked through clenched teeth, his voice a rough whisper as he challenged you to push him further.

“You might as well start,” you giggled, your breath warm and airy as you leaned close to his ear, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you enjoyed seeing him squirm beneath you.

Arthur’s jaw tightened as your breath tickled his ear, your giggle sending another wave of pleasure coursing through him. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to steady himself before opening them again to meet your gaze.

Goddamnit, woman, you know how to play me like a fiddle, he thought, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he felt himself losing control. He let out another deep groan, voice strained but filled with determination, the sound of your name reaching your ears, causing your thighs to tighten around him, “I need… ” He couldn’t bring himself to beg, but the words hung between you nonetheless. His hips bucked involuntarily, seeking relief that only you could provide. The intensity in his eyes deepened as he stared at you, silently pleading for you to end his suffering.

“Please,” he finally managed to say, the word torn from his lips as he swallowed hard. His hand moved from your hair to your cheek, gently guiding your face towards his for another passionate kiss. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip, urging it open as his tongue swept inside, mimicking the motion he wished you’d use on him again.

“Please, what?” Your words were soft as you murmured against his lips, but your gaze was hard and unyielding.

Pausing mid-kiss, Arthur studied your expression, seeing the playful challenge in your eyes. A corner of his mouth twitched upwards despite the torment you put him through. With a deep breath, Arthur swallowed his pride and let out a low moan. “Please…let me cum,” he finally uttered, the words sounding foreign yet oddly liberating on his tongue. He knew how much power he was relinquishing by voicing his need, but something about you made him want to give you that control.

There was something inexplicable about how you seemed to see past his flaws and still chose to stand by his side. It was as if you had formed an unspoken bond, drawing him in with an irresistible force. His longing for your touch and validation was akin to the desperate yearning of a person stranded in the arid expanse of a desert, utterly parched and in need of sustenance.

“Good boy.” you smiled, your leisure and methodical movements suddenly picking up in speed. The slick sounds of your hand jerking him off echoed loudly throughout the room.

“Go ahead…” you moaned, subtly grinding yourself over his thigh. “Cum for me.”

Relief flooded Arthur's system at your words, and the pressure within him began building rapidly. Finally, he thought triumphantly, his hips instinctively bucking upwards to meet your increased pace. The world around him narrowed down to nothing but you, your touch, and the exquisite torture you inflicted upon him. Every stroke sent bolts of white-hot pleasure coursing through his veins, and he could feel himself teetering on the edge of release.

Arthur’s grip on your shoulder tightened as his muscles tensed, and with one final, powerful thrust against your hand, he exploded. A guttural groan ripped through the air as his entire body shook with the force of his orgasm, every muscle contracting before gradually relaxing.

His head fell against the pillow as he struggled to catch his breath, eyes closed, and a satisfied smile played across his lips. Once he regained control, he opened them to look at you, the intense desire replaced with a gentler, warmer gaze.

"Thank you," he rasped, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I needed that more than I care to admit."

As your hand slowed to a stop, Arthur let out a deep breath, feeling both spent and alive simultaneously. He couldn't remember the last time someone had such an intense hold over him, and the realization sent a strange mix of emotions coursing through him. He watched you with heavy-lidded eyes, his chest still heaving from the exertion. The room was quiet save for the crackling fire and your labored breathing, creating an intimate atmosphere that made him feel vulnerable.

Reaching up, Arthur gently pulled you towards him, wrapping his arms around your waist as he reversed your positions, his hands resting beside your head as he wolfishly grinned from on top of you. The weight of Arthur's body pressing against yours sent another pleasant shiver down your spine, his muscles still warm and taut from your shared experience. His intense blue-green eyes searched yours, a softness there that was rare to see. Despite the chaos that often consumed him, Arthur found solace in your arms, something he hadn't expected to see in this wild, unforgiving world.

“Now, darlin," he drawled, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards, "I believe it's my turn now."

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kinktober day XIII: blowjobs — john price

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Lust for Life ꨄ Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kinktober Day III: Vibrator

summary: your new cute boyfriend finds your hidden stash tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, praise, a bit of degradation, fluff, kyle being the best bf ever, vibrators, overstimulation, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v, squirting, cursing, use of pet names, author does not attempt at accents wc: 3.2k a/n: this one is a little shorter just because the last one was very long but i still hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

As the evening descended, you found yourself sprawled out on your plush, velvety couch, wholly engrossed in the latest episode of your favorite TV show. The warm, golden rays of the setting sun gently filtered through the sheer, billowing curtains, casting a soft, ethereal glow across the room. Outside, the air was cool and crisp, carrying the unmistakable scent of autumn and hinting at the imminent arrival of colder weather. The changing seasons provided the perfect excuse to nestle indoors, surrounded by comfort and warmth, and fully embrace much-needed relaxation.

Kyle, your charming new boyfriend, phoned you just moments ago, inquiring if he could drop by for a visit. You've been in a blissful relationship for a few months, savoring every moment. Kyle embodies everything you've ever desired in a partner: he's compassionate, considerate, giving, and understanding. But he was also fun, and the sex was great. He was so attentive and in tune with your every need.

Of course you said yes.

You straightened up as the front door swung open. Kyle stepped inside, his athletic figure framed by the warm evening light. He wore a short white tank top for the summer, accentuating his sculpted arms and loose-fitting basketball shorts that swayed with his every movement. His skin glistened with a fine layer of sweat, indicating that he had just returned from a workout at the gym.

His radiant smile spread across his face as his eyes lit up upon seeing you, revealing a perfect row of pearly white teeth. Dimples formed on his cheeks, adding to the charm of his infectious grin. His captivating beauty was unmatched, leaving an indelible impression impossible to ignore.

“Hey baby,” you said warmly, striding to kiss him. He smiled as his lips met yours, his hand reaching up to keep you at a distance.

“I'm all sweaty,” he acknowledged with a soft chuckle.

“I don't care,” you grinned, gazing up at him. He sighed, shaking his head.

“I do,” he laughed. “Do you mind if I use your shower?” he asked, his eyes roaming over your figure as his hand cupped your cheek.

“Of course,” you answered, walking back towards the couch before lying on your side. You watched with rapt attention as Kyle removed his shirt and approached your room.

After seeing your expression, he promised, “Thanks. I'll be quick. " You hummed in response, unpausing your show as the door to your room clicked shut.

Through the thin walls of your home, you could hear the signature creak of the shower door hinge turning, followed by the steady percussion of water cascading down and meeting the smooth surface of the shower floor.

As you watched the show before you, the relaxing symphony of the shower’s white noise lulled you into tranquility.

When Kyle eventually stepped out, you could tell something was different. Yes, he had changed into a new pair of clothes, but his expression seemed off.

“You okay?” You asked, reaching for him as he drew near.

“Yeah, just had a...” Kyle paused, then cleared his throat lightly. “A surprise in the bathroom.” He smiled warmly, attempting to deflect the sudden tension in the air. A gap of silence filled the air, your heart rate spiking. “I found your stash,” he said, keeping his tone playful and casual as he sat beside you on the couch.

“My stash?” You questioned with a confused chuckle, your gaze leaving his as you tried to recall what he could be referencing. Then, it dawned on you.

Oh. you thought, That stash.

As your cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, you felt a wave of embarrassment washing over you, causing your face to grow warm and your eyes to drop in discomfort momentarily.

You felt Kyle reach for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Your collection...under the bed.” He chuckled softly, trying to alleviate your embarrassment.

“I didn’t mean to pry; I just tripped over the box on my way to the bathroom.” He looked into your eyes, sincerity shining through. “Everyone has their ways of unwinding. No judgment here.” He paused, letting his words sink in before adding, “But maybe next time you might want to find a better hiding spot, yeah?”

His dimples deepened with his teasing smile, attempting to lighten the mood while acknowledging his discovery's intimate nature. Internally, you appreciated Kyle’s openness and understanding. It made you see him in a new light, and you were more drawn to him. He silently vowed to respect your boundaries while embracing the opportunity to learn more about your needs and desires, whether shared or private.

"Well," you began, feeling a slight knot forming in the pit of your stomach as you struggled to find the right words. Your throat felt parched, and you could almost sense the weight of each syllable as it hung in the air.

“As long as you're not mad.”

Kyle shook his head slowly, a warm smile playing on his lips. “Why would I be mad?” He asked gently, his voice low and reassuring.

“It’s not like I’ve never seen one before,” he admitted, trying to ease your discomfort with a dash of humor.

“Some guys don't like it, I guess,” you said, your skin growing hotter. Images of Kyle holding your toys flashed in your mind: him looming over you, his once charming smile forming into a smug grin as he held it to your clit, overstimulating you, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of your overspent body. You shook the thoughts from your head.

“They think only they should make their girlfriend feel good.”

Kyle tilted his head slightly, observing your flustered state with curiosity. He took a deep breath before responding, sensing the tension in your words. “Well,” he began, his voice calm and steady. “I’m not like some guys.” He looked down at their entwined hands, squeezing yours gently.

“I believe in giving pleasure as much as receiving it. I’m glad you have your ways of taking care of yourself.” He lifted your chin, meeting your eyes with a reassuring gaze. “And I’d be more than happy to help you with that, too.” Kyle’s smile softened as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a tender kiss, hoping to show you that your vulnerability was attractive rather than off-putting.

“Yeah?” His words excited you, and you couldn't help but lean in closer. Your hands gently rested on his shoulders as you kissed him back before pulling away, eagerly searching his gaze.

He smiled against your mouth as he trailed his fingertips along your jawline, feeling your pulse quicken beneath his touch.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his voice husky with anticipation. He leaned back, his gaze roaming over your face, taking in your beauty and vulnerability. “What do you say?” he asked, his voice low and filled with promise.

As he looked at you with anticipation, you quickly nodded, a smile spreading across your face. You took his hand in yours, interlocking your fingers and gently squeezing him, urging him to stand up. Your heart raced excitedly, and you couldn't help but bite your lip, trying to contain the overwhelming rush of emotions surging through you.

Kyle rose to his feet with ease, your warm hand in his, your excitement a palpable force between them. He followed your lead, allowing you to guide him to the bedroom. Kyle took a deep breath behind you as you gathered your toys, trying to steady himself. Kyle stepped closer, reaching out to gently trace the curve of your waist with his fingers.

“Tell me what you like,” he whispered in your ear, his voice husky with want. “I want to make sure I do this right.” You shivered against him, and he pulled you closer, his arms encircling your waist protectively.

“Do you think…” you began, your voice trembling. Kyle has always been gentle with you, consistently loving and caring, never wanting to cause you pain or discomfort. He was soft and sweet, especially at the end, prioritizing your needs over his own.

“You could be rough this time?” You fiddled with his fingers, unable to meet his gaze.

Kyle paused at your words, his gaze dropping to your entwined fingers. He had known you to enjoy gentleness and care, so your request caught him off guard, but it also intrigued him. He could tell you were nervous, your body trembling slightly against his, but he saw the longing in your eyes.

He tilted your chin up with his finger, forcing you to meet his gaze, his eyes filled with understanding. “If that’s what you want,” he said firmly. “But only if you trust me.” He let the weight of his words sink in, searching your eyes for any hint of hesitation. He didn’t want to push your boundaries; he desired to give you pleasure.

“I trust you,” you promised, your voice small but heavy with desire.

Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to your lips; you savored the taste of him before he pulled away. He looked behind you at your stash of toys, and you could feel your chest twisting with anticipation. He reached for one of the vibrators, turning it over in his hands and examining its sleek design.

“Show me what you like,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’ll follow your lead.”

You nodded, looking down at the wand in his hand, which he held so casually. You quickly began removing your clothes, starting with your shirt before shucking off your pants, leaving you in only your underwear. Hesitatingly, you took the toy from his hands before sitting back on your bed and staring at him.

Kyle’s eyes darkened, taking in every curve and crevice of your body. “Go on,” he said, his tone becoming more authoritarian. As he spoke, the velvety smoothness of his voice etched itself inside of you, twisting and curling until it was delicately wrapped around your soul, stealing your breath away.

You inched back even further before pressing the device’s button before releasing. Quickly, the wand buzzed to life, vibrating slowly in the palm of your hand. You looked up to him, suddenly feeling shy.

Sensing your apprehension, Kyle kneeled in front of you, his hands resting gently on your thighs, caressing the soft naked skin. His eyes fell from your face and landed on your chest. He inhaled, one hand reaching forward to cup your breast. You let out a small sigh at his touch, a whimper getting caught in your throat as his thumb brushed over your perk nipple.

With his other hand, he pulled yours toward you, urging the vibrator in your hand to press against your nipple.

“There,” he breathed, pressing it further as you whined at the sensation. “Sensitive?” he grinned. You stared down at him, his big brown eyes captivating you, enchanting you. You nodded silently, your other hand reaching out to touch him.

As Kyle watched you, his eyes filled with intensity, his free hand slid down to trace the waistband of her underwear. Studying for your reactions, he waited for your permission, his gaze flickering to meet yours, silently asking if he could explore further. When you nodded, he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, teasing your clit lightly.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He wanted to hear you say it and know he was pleasing you.

“More,” you pleaded, your breath coming in unevenly and your panties dampened with your arousal. “I need more, please,” you whined. It felt good, really good. But it wasn't enough.

With a low groan, he pushed your underwear aside and slipped two fingers inside your warm, wet heat. He curled them slightly, hitting the spot he knew would send you spiraling. Your hips rocked involuntarily, meeting his rhythm. He watched your face contort in ecstasy, your eyes fluttering closed and your mouth forming silent pleas. He wanted to devour you, to taste your sweetness and hear you scream his name, but he held back, savoring this tender moment of vulnerability between you.

“Like this?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Yes!” You keened, pressing the moving wand against your clit. Your hips were bucking wildly.

As your breath grew heavier, he increased the pressure, his fingers moving faster. He could sense your impending climax building like a wave about to crash over you both. Just as you were teetering on the edge, he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. Your moan vibrated against his mouth, sending shockwaves through him.

You reveled in the moment's intensity, your bodies moving together in perfect sync. Kyle broke the kiss, his gaze locked onto yours, watching you ride the wave of pleasure. He felt your inner walls tighten around his fingers, your orgasm rolling over you in shudders. Your cries of release were music to his ears. Kyle smiled softly at you as your body relaxed against the bed. He removed the vibrator from your grasp and set it aside, trailing gentle kisses along your chest and abdomen.

His fingers remained inside you, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you. Kyle leaned up, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered sincerely. You blushed, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him into another kiss. He groaned as your nails scratched his scalp and shifted onto the bed, dragging you up further, barely breaking your kiss.

His tongue moved in sync with yours, sucking on your tongue and your lips as he took your wrists in his hands and placed them above your head.

“Keep these here, okay?” He commanded gently, his voice a soft rumble as he smiled down at you. You nodded your head in complacency, whimpering as he took your legs in his hands, pulling you closer and wrapping them around his waist. He quickly removed his shirt and pushed his pants down his thighs, his cock springing forward, erect and standing at attention. It bobbed against his lower stomach, already leaking pre.

His hand curled around the base, his smile dark as he looked down at you, flushed and submissive, with your hands obediently placed above your head.

“Such a good girl.” he purred. “Being so good for me.” You whined in response, your eyes glued to his twitching cock, already imagining how it's going to feel once it's inside.

Grabbing a pillow from above you, he placed it under your hips, supporting you with added comfort.

You swallowed thickly as he picked up the toy, switching it back on. He examined it for a moment before looking back down at you. “Don't worry,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”

With another press of a button, the wand began vibrating faster, the buzzing growing louder in your ears before he pressed it against your clit, adding a bit of pressure before dragging it down your folds, teasing it over your hole before pulling it back up.

Wanton moans uncontrollably escaped from deep inside your chest, your legs kicking out at the sensitivity. “Wait, Kyle,” you pleaded, your body squirming, trying to escape the overwhelming sensation.

“No,” he answered, his eyes narrowing. “You asked me for this, remember?”

You tried squeezing your thighs shut, but he held one open, holding it to the surface of the bed.

“Put it in,” he commanded, his eyes looking to yours, his brow lifting when you didn't move right away. “Go on,” he reminded you, acting utterly unbothered by your inebriated state.

You whimpered but obliged, wrapping your hand around his veiny girth, sliding your hand across his tip to collect his essence, and dragging it back down to coat his cock for an easier entry.

As you guided him forward, he shifted his hips, leaning closer in his impatience. Once his tip caught, he didn't give you a single warning before he pushed forward and filled you up completely.

“Yeah…” he breathed, wholly entranced as you sucked him in with zero resistance, your gummy walls hugging his cock, clenching and unclenching as it beckoned him forward.

“That's it,” he smiled with an added groan, pushing his hips to the hilt, tossing his head back as you both moaned in unison. “Hold it steady,” transferring the toy back to you, he reached underneath your thighs and lifted until your ankles were resting by his ears.

At this angle, his tip was nestled right up against your sensitive spot, causing you to nearly scream when he immediately began battering his hips against yours, fucking you deep and rough just like you asked.

It wasn't long until you were cumming again, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you succumbed to the white-hot pleasure coursing through you.

“Yes! Fuck!” Kyle shouted as your pussy clamped like a vice around him, causing his hips to stutter. “God, your fucking pussy feels so good,” he whined, his eyes squeezed shut as his thrusts picked up in pace, losing their rhythm.

“One more…” he panted, his hand curling over yours, pressing the button once more until the wand buzzed at full speed. You practically screamed in response, pushing at his abdomen with one hand, trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure.

“I can't,” you cried, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Yes, you can, c'mon,” he growled, slapping your hand away. “Be a good girl; you can take it.”

You had no choice but to lay there as he fucks you until his pace slowed into deep grinds, circling his hips as his cock knocked around inside. His hand that was on your thigh pressed down against your lower stomach, applying just the proper amount of pressure as you neared your third release of the night.

“It's too much!” You squealed, your hands clawing at his forearms, trying to ground yourself to something. “Wait! I'm gonna pee!” You tried to warn him, kicking your legs out to try and get away, but he didn't budge.

“You're not gonna pee, baby,” he let out a breathless laugh, coming out of character momentarily. “Just trust me, remember?” his stoic gaze turned gentle once more before he pulled back, fucking into you at a much faster pace, chasing his high.

“Let go for me, c’mon.” he panted, his eyes screwing shut as his mouth fell open, expletives falling from his in deep shudders, sweat dripping from his brow and down his face.

You couldn't hold it in anymore, tossing your head back with a silent scream, arching your back almost painfully as clear liquid sprayed onto his abdomen and drenched the sheets below you.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, watching as you squirted all over him, some even reaching his chest as you pussy practically pinched him. “Fuck I'm gonna cum.” was all he said before thrusting into you one final time, shooting ropes deep inside of you with a groan that almost sounded painful.

“Turn it off!” You sobbed, trying to lift the device away from you. You gasped in relief as he took it away, tossing it somewhere onto your bed before he leaned over your body, taking your face in his hands as he kissed you.

You turned away with a whine, desperate for air, as he chuckled breathlessly. “Fuck that was good.” he sighed, pressing kisses to the column of your throat as he eased your legs back down onto the bed. You don't think you could've replied even if you wanted to.

“One more?” he teased, laughing at the pointed glare you shot at him.

“C’mon,” he grunted as he lifted you into his arms, walking towards your bathroom. “How ‘bout a bath?” he said, kissing your temple.

A bath doesn't sound bad at all.

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ᰔ kinktober day XII: overstimulation — könig

könig x reader * warnings: 18+, f!reader, overstimulation, cunnilingus, fingering * wc: 1.7k

ᰔ kinktober day XI: uniform — simon “ghost” riley

simon “ghost” riley x reader * warnings: 18+, f!reader, p in v, rough sex, fingering * wc: 1.7k

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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.”

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