Love Me Some Big Mean Simon But Love Me Some Big INSECURE Overthinker Simon Even More. Simon Who's So

God. Specimen.

Y/N, leaning on the counter: Hey beautiful, come here often? Simon: Is this the part where I remind you we've been married for four years or do I play along? Y/N: Play along! Simon: Alright. Sorry, I'm not interested, I'm married

Price, glancing out the window: “What’s wrong with Soap?”

Gaz: “Homesick.”

Ghost: “Dramatic.”

Soap on the windswept balcony, muttering under his breath: “No money, no family. Sixteen in the middle of Miami.”

ghost being the designated photographer because he doesn’t like being in pictures but soap & gaz love it. he’s behind the camera, lovesick, saying “now do a silly one”

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader

You have no idea Simon’s rented a flat the next block over.

It’s the quickest walk, from your place to his, and he makes it frequently, especially at night.

You don’t know he stands in the shadow of a tree, waiting for your lights to flick on and off. On, and off, all night long.

Orion keeps you up, he knows without a doubt now. The tired eyes and tired smile you gave him the other day when he fixed the washer filled him with shame, miserable and scalding, a burn searing across his heart.

He gave you a baby, and then disappeared.

He estimates you get up every three hours. The dim, muted light from your bedroom window flickers alive, and then the living room follows shortly after.

If he was there, things would be different. He’d get up with Ry, get him tucked into bed beside you, snuggled up to your breast. He’d rub the apple of your cheek to gently wake you, just enough so you’d know what’s going on, but not enough to truly open your eyes. You would trust him, trust him to take care of you, and the baby, trust that he’s there. You’d be half asleep as he pulled your tank top down and helped Orion latch, half asleep when Simon turned you in the bed so the baby could switch, Simon’s chest warm at your back, his hand holding Orion steady. He’d stay awake and vigilant until he was done eating, burped, changed, and settled back into his crib. He’d kiss you afterwards, long and sweet, and then press his nose to your hair and breathe deeply, before waking up to do it all over again in three hours.

It’s all a fantasy, a secret dream he’s built and tucked away in his mind-

but it will all be real. Soon.

He starts with a dinner.

It’s around six when he strolls up to your front door. He’s got two orders of takeaway fish and chips, a favorite of yours (he remembers) and a strawberry mango smoothie (he’s not sure if you like these or not, if he’s being honest, but he knows nutrition is important right now. The internet says you’re burning a lot of calories, but you also need more sustenance and nutrient rich foods.)

You’re surprised to see him, when you open the door, too big sweatshirt rolled up at the sleeves, ratty shorts raw hemmed between your legs. He enjoys the way your thighs touch, how they press together, and remembers them as warm and soft. He’s (not so secretly, based on your first night together) pleased by your body. Soft and sweet and curved, but strong too, strong enough you made him a baby, to be a home to his son. And to him.

His favorite little kitten.

Your eyebrows crease together achingly slow as you take him in, and the spot the takeaway bag. You point to it, small smile twisting your lips. “You brought me food?”

“Need ta make sure you’re eatin’ enough.” He grunts, and then steps closer, crosses the threshold, herding you inside with a hand on your hip. He does a preliminary sweep of the flat, and then sets the bag and smoothie on your kitchen counter. “Baby asleep?”

“Just went down.” You sigh, leaning backward against the cool tile. “Was really fightin’ it today. I’m hoping he’ll sleep for more than the usual two, three hours he’s been getting.” Your head tips back into the cabinet, exposing the vulnerable marrow of your throat, and you roll, glancing at the plastic cup filled with cold pink slime. “And a smoothie?” He chuckles.

“Wasn’t sure ah, if you liked ‘em or not but… it looked good.” You glance at your feet, sweet smile shyly peeking at him.

“Thank you.” You whisper. Your voice is thick, trembling on the last vowel, and his stomach pitches. “It’s… really nice of you, Simon. To bring me food. I…” you glance up, eyes full of tears, and he’s drawn towards you like a magnet. “It was really hard today.” Your voice cracks.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He tugs you into his chest, palm stroking slowly over the back of your head. “I know it is, mama. I know. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” You sniffle against him. “It’s s-so hard, and I’m like… I’m not even a human- I’m j-just like a milk machine and I can’t sleep and can’t leave this flat. I feel like I’m failing, like I’m doing everything wrong and I’m leaking and I-“

“Okay, shhhh. It’s okay.” His arms tighten around you, nose skimming along the top of your head. “I’ve got you, c’mere.” He cradles your cheeks, tilting you upwards to look at him. “You’re not failing, you’re doing a great job. Orion is safe, and happy, and healthy. You’re healthy, and safe,” he wipes the tear rolling down your cheek. “and we’ll work on the happy part.” He takes a deep breath. “‘m gonna take some leave, be around for a bit. I’ll be here, to help.”

“You don’t have-“

“I want to be here sweetheart. I wish I had been here all along.” He’s earnest in his plea and hopes you can see, all the things he wants to give you, all the things he’ll do. The space in his heart he’s carved away for you, for Ry. The aching sore spot under his ribs that aches when he’s away from you. “Alright? I’ll be right here.” He pulls your hand into his, and then up to his face, dotting his lips across your palm, promise whispered away into your skin. “I’m right here, mama. I’m going to take care of you, of both of you, okay?” You close your eyes, take a deep breath.

“Okay.”

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ brief suggestive content

"Why are we stopping here?"

Vacation was great. It was everything you needed, he needed, a perfect slice of memories now engrained in his brain, moving pictures tucked away for him to think about when he's trying to fall asleep alone on a cold, threadbare safehouse mattress.

Not to mention the hundred photos he took of you in that bikini.

But now, it comes to an end. Now, he's about to blindside you with painful, shocking reality.

He didn’t plan it like this, not really. The town is outside of the place he chose for vacation, but not close enough that it’s in a travel path. It’s far enough away from town, tucked into grassy hill, but still close enough to civilization. He’s not a monster, after all. He knows you wouldn’t appreciate being cut off from the world.

Plus, Price and his wife live a few clicks to the east.

"Simon?" He finds your hand, shutting the passenger door and leading you to the walk. “What is this?”

The words stick in his throat, and you watch him warily. “It’s… let’s just go inside.” The keys feel like an anchor in his pocket.

“What?” Your face twists in confusion. “Go inside?” You let go of his hand, and the sapphire sparkles in the sunlight. He reaches out of instinct.

“Mama-“

“Don’t ‘mama’ me… tell me what is going on.” You shirk out of his grasp.

“This is our house.” Your jaw drops.

“What?!” You shriek. “Our what?”

“Our house. I bought it, for us. F'you, and Orion.” You're standing a pace away from him now, too far for comfort, shuddering. When you clap a hand over your heart, his body goes cold. Stress. Stress can exacerbate your condition. "I need to keep you safe."

"I... I don't know what to say. You bought a house without asking me?" You're waspish, and he's too fast for you, too tactical. You're in his arms in a second, his fingers pressed to the artery below your jaw. It's too fast.

"Take a deep breath." He murmurs. "Try to calm down, everything is going to be fine."

"No!" You jerk backwards and he lets you go, bereft at the loss of your warmth against his chest. "You don't just get to blindside me with this and then think everything is going to be fine."

"I know. 'm sorry. I just... I need to keep you safe, sweetheart. You and the baby. Your flat is great but-"

"But nothing." You hiss and stomp away, before turning back, slicing through the air with an open palm. "My flat is great. It's my home! Mine and Orion's." You sniffle. "I thought it was yours too." Fuck.

"It is. It has been. But it's not safe. It's too exposed, there's no security, your windows face the street. The neighborhood is too difficult to disappear into and away from. It's too populated."

"Gaz and Cami live there." Not for long. He doesn't tell you about Gaz's long term plans, the ones that involve a house just over the hill. He doesn't think it would do him any favors right now.

"Will you just come inside and look at it, at least?" You shake your head. "It's not a bad drive to the beach. You could take Orion as much as you want. Teach him to swim. We could take as many vacations as you want, as a family. Please, give it a chance. That's all I ask." You cross your arms over your chest, but after a minute, nod.

"Fine."

The house is a blank slate. He didn't have time to get anything done, but he tries to pitch it as a selling point. "You'd be able to do whatever you want." You raise an eyebrow.

"Like paint the kitchen pink?" He swallows.

"Sure." You're trying to test him, punish him, but he's not upset. He can already tell you're starting to entertain it all. The house is triple the size of your flat, with three bedrooms, a sizable kitchen, even a garden.

He follows you around, your finger trailing over the walls, window sills, trying to hold his tongue, allowing you space to work through it in your mind. "What if I have to go into the office?"

"You said you never go into the office. You're completely remote." You glare.

"And how are you going to get here? It's so far from your base."

"There's a small airport to the east. We'll get in and out that way. It will be quick."

"We?" Shit.

"Ah, Price and his wife live, kind of close by." You blink, and then laugh out loud.

"You've got to be kidding me. Is this your plan? Some sort of weird commune for special task force wives?" It's the first time you've said, called yourself his wife, and his cock swells beneath the zipper on his jeans, possessive instinct flowing freely. "Don't."

"Don't what."

"I know that look." Still, you don't move as he stalks closer, close enough you're backed up against the windowsill in the master bedroom.

"What look mama?"

"The caveman look you get. Me husband, you wife." You try to imitate his accent, and he chuckles.

"I love you." You roll your eyes.

"I'm pissed at you." There's fire in you, one that burns too bright to be quelled by most, but he's made it is business to know you so well, he can tell when there's something simmering beneath the surface.

"But you like it." Your skin is satin soft, and he strokes your cheek.

"I do. I'm really mad, but I do like it. You... you did a good job."

"Gonna forgive me?"

"Depends." You smirk. "Are you going to earn it?" He presses himself to the inside of your thigh.

"How can I do that?"

"Want to christen our new bedroom?"

didn't forgot about these two Links

18+ mdni

“possessive ghost” this and “possessive ghost” that. i think that man gets off when his partner is possessive. the idea that you want and crave him just kinda makes him lose it.

the way you’d kiss along the calloused and scarred lines that etch his skin and and mutter “mine”, breathy and hot each time, has him melting against you. he’s putty in your hands anytime you tell him exactly what you need. he’s always good to you, because he’s yours.

he could have you pinned under his weight, your ankles resting on his shoulders or your legs around his waist, but it’s only because he knows it’s what you want. his rough hands hold your hips as his slam against you so his cock can hit deeper with each thrust. he stretches you so deliciously, your slick walls hugging every inch of him as he ruts into you.

he’s worked up because you’re clawing at his skin, moaning in his ear, panting into the air about how much you need him; how no one can give you what he does; how his cock is yours and yours alone.

he’s never selfish and impatient during sex, your pleasure was always first and foremost. but when you’re pulling him closer and muttering in his ear—feels so fuckin’ good, si. fuckin’ me so good with that cock…s’all mine, isn’t it?—his resolve completely shatters. he can’t last long when you stake your claim on him like that. and he cums hard, groaning while his cock twitches as he fills you with his thick cum. he holds you tight, hissing through gritted teeth as your walls milk him for all he’s worth. yeah…all f’you. i’m all yours.