Through Me (The Flood) - Secret Baby Fic Simon Riley / Female Reader - 18+ Mdni - Sappy Smut

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ mdni - sappy smut

“Wow.”

Simon sets both bags on the floor, forgetting them in favor of sealing himself around you, arms around your waist. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah. I’ve never been here before. Didn’t realize it was so pretty.” The ocean is turquoise, a sparkling blue green reflecting the sun’s midday peak. His lips graze your cheek, and you giggle. “I still can’t believe we’re on holiday.”

“You deserve it.” You turn in his arms, nose to his neck.

“You think Orion is okay?” He rubs your back, trying to soothe your worries. You’d been a little apprehensive when he originally mentioned going on a quick getaway, nervous about leaving the baby, but Gaz and Cami insisted they were up to the task, and he finally coaxed you out the door.

It was much needed. You were bone weary, and with the team set to leave again in another week or two, he was desperate to get some quality, alone time.

Logistically, it took a lot. You’d need to pump this entire time to keep your supply up, not to mention you’re still adjusting to your new medication for POTS. Simon had to do extensive work to ensure the security of this town, evaluating each rental and placing endless phone calls, painstakingly combing through each one until he found something perfect.

“Orion is fine. Gaz and Cami have it all under control, you know that. We’ll FaceTime with him tonight, okay?” You nod, still burrowed against him. When you finally pull away, it’s with a coy smile.

“Can we go to the beach?”

Simon leads your past Porthcurno beach with a promise of something better, a secluded craggy cove he knows will have almost no one on it. You gasp when it comes into view, more brilliantly blue water meeting white sand, framed with dark cliffs. As he suspected, only a few other people dot the beach. It requires some effort, a steep descent on uneven ground, but he holds you steady, keeping your hand on his shoulder as he leads. If you slip, you’ll only fall right into him, cushioned at his back instead of the sharp rocks.

“Oh my god…” you trail off, dropping your backpack in the sand. “Simon this is… it's perfect.” He laughs. It’s so easy with you. To laugh. To smile. He’s never felt lighter, staring at you in the sun, honeyed heat in your eyes as you peek up at him through lush lashes. You slide your shorts down, cheeky purple bikini bottoms barely covering your ass, and then shuck your t shirt, revealing the matching top. It's skimpy, to say the least, velvet skin and curves on full display, full breasts and hips, soft belly all accentuated by the lilac hue of your bathing suit. Your cheeks swallow the stretchy fabric, and he thinks about hooking his fingers between them and digging it out. His cock hardens, nearly solid and aching for you. He's already in heaven, could believe he's died and reached some sort of twisted afterlife where he doesn't end up in purgatory, and he searches for the side of your bathing suit, tugging on the strap.

"C'mere mama." You read the husk in his voice, the heavy weight of his lids, and shake your head.

"I wanna swim," you're coy with your smile, fingers tucking into the waistband of his trunks, "take me swimming daddy."

The water is warm. He's almost resentful to it, wishing it was a little cooler, enough that you would cling to him more, searching for heat.

Still, he's not complaining. Watching you wade into the water and float with the rhythm of the sea, it's enrapturing. Intoxicating. Better than bourbon. You frolic in it, beaming, carefree and weightless, heaviness of motherhood left behind for a moment, a moment where you're just you... and he's just some poor sod who's never deserved you in the first place. You've piled your hair on top of your head, wet tendrils sticking to your neck, framing your face, shrieking and giggling each time your lifted from your feet with the crest of a wave.

Finally, you come to him. Wrap your legs around his waist and heave your arms onto his shoulder, smiling in the sun. Your skin is brine soaked and glistening, wet and slick in his hold, and as the ocean rolls the two of you together in its sway, he goes with it, using the motion to press himself against you. Everything about you is his undoing, every breath you draw filling him with life, the widening of your eyes as you feel the heft of his cock pulsing between your legs, the nervous glance you give the shore at the few people bathing in the sun. His fingers trace your belly and dip into the side of your suit, swirling down your slit and then pressing your clit. You gasp into his mouth, but the water washes away your natural desire, and he pulls away.

"Si..."

"There's a nook over there," he sucks a mark into your neck, licking at the taste of your skin, the droplets splashed across your shoulder, "it's sandy, and sheltered."

"Oh." Your eyes widen. "B-but there are people... on the beach."

"They won't see. Or hear. The ocean will drown it all out." You gnaw on your lip until he places his thumb there instead. "Y'trust me?"

"Yeah."

He lays you on your back in the sand. The rock arches up like a cathedral, hallowed ground, and he takes his time pulling your bathing suit away, tugging the bottoms down to your knees, tits falling free once he unstrings your top. They're too tempting, round and full, your head tipping back when his mouth closes over your nipple, warmth spilling across his tongue.

"Feel this?" He unfolds your hand and presses it against where he's hard in his trunks. "Feel how bad I want to be inside you, honey?"

"Fuck, y-yeah."

"You're gonna take it all for me mama. Jus' like last time." You nod frantically, and he takes a quick moment to strip, palming your thighs and then spreading them open.

You seize when he burns his face in your pussy, tongue circling around your clit, one finger, then two, working themselves inside, stretching, scissoring, trying to get you ready. You thrash and moan, shuddering when the orgasm rushes through your blood, legs closing around his head until he pulls away, still holding you wide.

His entry is gentle and slow. Fingers laced together above your, a holy crown like you deserve, kissing away the crinkles of discomfort around your eyes and even the tears trailing down your cheeks.

"Jesus." You moan, and he glances down, breaking out in a full body shiver when he sees he's barely halfway there. He remembers how it was the first time, in your bed, in the moonlight, the way you strangled him, shoved him into his orgasm far before he was ready, and though your body has changed from having his baby, you've never been more beautiful, and never felt so good. "Big, Si," your brow creases, and you whimper, "you're too big-"

"Y'can take it. You were made for me." He presses against your belly as he sinks to the hilt and you mewl like the kitten you are, sweet in his arms, fingers clawed into his shoulders. His nose drags down your cheek, thrusting slowly, easy pressure stretching you out on his cock. "How's that feel?"

"F-fuck, it's... good, so good." Your lashes feather closed, and he shakes his head.

"Keep your eyes open, mama. Keep them on me." He has to see every refraction of light, every kaleidoscope of emotion and pleasure in your gaze, the overload between the two of you as he fucks you deep and fills you with come.

He wants to give you another baby so badly it burns, mark you, fill you, watch you grow heavy with his child, be there for it all this time-

But that’s not for tonight. Tonight is not about the claim. It’s about love. Showing, telling, promising. Branding vows into your skin, burying himself so deep your body never fits another, giving you his last name, keeping and loving you forever. More than a claim, even more than a promise. Something he’ll never walk away from. Someone he’d burn the world for, walk to hell and back, pulling you behind him, eyes fixed on the horizon.

His life, his past, drops like a stone to the bottom of the sea through his mind, every trial, every loss, all now serving a greater purpose, teaching a grander lesson, though no less painful. Love. Something that used to be so distant he hardly knew its name, and now it’s everywhere. The torture, the loss of his identity, his existence, even his name, all of it once lost, only to be found by you.

He’d rip his heart out and lay it at your feet if he could.

It’s slow. He’s never been particularly patient outside of work, but for you, he tries to make it last forever. Tastes each syllable of your moans and cries, paints your body with his sweat and spit. You yield for him, bloom for him, learn him the way he learns you, and as the two of you chase the end together, his face hovers just above yours, gentle fingers as a necklace under your neck.

“I love you.” He murmurs it, and your eyes shine. “I love you mama. You’re mine. Til death.”

At the precipice, the moment before the two of you shatter, your forehead meets his, you share his breath, his words, his life. It’s now yours too, intertwined like the dna stitched with yours, and when you come, the only words on your lips are a vow of your own.

“I love you too.”

More Posts from Endymi0ns and Others

endymi0ns

9 months ago

it is so vital to my well-being to have more possessive, delusional gaz. like.. having a one night stand w him and you accidentally blurt out that you love him while you're in the middle of a life-changing orgasm.

albeit awkwardly, you manage to send him off in the morning without any issue. he was cute but you couldn't see yourself in a long-term relationship w him, so you've already made up your mind to ghost him. then the texts come. he's hounding you for days after, ranging from casual invitations to dates, to possibly half-naked selfies. it's like he doesn't understand why you wouldn't be responding.

you finally glimpse one of the messages on your homescreen (you've been leaving him on delivered, not daring to open the messages) where he says you "confessed your love” to him, which means you two must be serious.

inwardly cursing yourself for the slip, you realise you just need to block him before this escalates further.

he's concerned that he can't reach you, but luckily remembers your address from your first night together. maybe he'll just need to teach you how to accept a loving and caring man into your life <3

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endymi0ns

1 year ago

Give me Simon who, because of his family’s history of addiction, and his fear of losing control, he hardly ever drinks.

Give me a Ghost that, despite his size, is a bit of a lightweight.

Give me a Ghost who can't have a couple of "casual" beers cause he still gets slightly buzzed

Give me a Ghost that never went drinking with teammates (before 141) cause he was afraid of what they think. A big man like him getting drunk after only a few drinks.

Give me a Simon Riley who feels so safe with the 141, and with Johnny, that he agrees to go to the pub and have some drinks.

Give me a Ghost that's a goofy drunk. Doing little things to mess with the others. Snort laughing at his own dumb jokes, laughing so hard he nearly chokes.

Give me a clingy drunk Ghost. Absolutely demands to know where the other is going if someone gets up from the table. Is leaning onto Soap so much he's practically crushing him. Has to hold someone's hand when Soap goes to the bar to get more drinks. Complains the whole time Johnny is gone.

Give me a Ghost who is stumbling between Gaz and Soap, knocking into them and holding their hands as they walk. Give me Soap and Gaz laughing and Ghost laughing with them, not realizing they're laughing at him.

Give me Ghost who is finally healing his inner young adult, doing fun stuff while he can, drinking and being merry. We all know those years were stolen from him.

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endymi0ns

11 months ago

More priceghost

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endymi0ns

1 year ago

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endymi0ns

10 months ago

Simon "Ghost" Riley that likes to be pampered, to be taken care of and let me tell you, he's just so not used to it. He's never had anyone to really treat him anything close to good.

In all honesty, he genuinely thought it was fine, being alone. He's a solitary creature, as life taught him to be, and deep down he convinced himself it was best. It didn't matter if there was a small, minuscule, pained tug at his heart every time he thought about it.

What he didn't expect was to be whipped immediately, one glance into your eyes and he was a goner. It went against his reasoning, this instinct of his to have you, battling everything he's been trying to avoid at all costs. But that one glance, that small smile you gave him, and he just knew. And months of tedious yet slow opening up and trying not only for you, but for himself, Simon was yours somehow. Baffling as it was, he now had someone to go home to. A sweet angel that in no time he plans to up and move into that bare house he has and take care of. Only thing is, the man did not expect to be taken care of himself, as if he forgot that was an option.

The first few times you two dated, officially, as he had to clarify this wasn't what kids these days mean by "hanging out" or "talking to" or whatever the fuck Johnny and Kyle were babbling to him about their dating lives (it's dating or not, Simon likes things clear), the man was surprised by how sweet yet determined you were. "Can I hold your hand?" You asked him a little flustered, and this big boy almost stuttered. He found himself nodding while gulping before taking your hand in his, internally beating himself up for acting like such a... boy? Having a silly crush on a lovely sweetheart that made him nervous by just exiting around him.

God, it felt fantastic when he finally got to kiss you. Simon thought it was gonna be just a kiss, big fucking deal (he was trying to cope, his hands were sweaty but whatever, big deal), but the way you sighed and melted into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck made him shudder. It ignited something in him and his heart tugged again, this time not painful but hopeful.

It was the way you touched his scarred face that really astonished him, especially the first night you spent in his house. Whatever movie you babbled about the last date, vampires or whatever, was now playing on his flat screen on the new profile he created for you on whatever screaming service Simon just bought just to watch it. Another tiny bit of you in his life, it seemed. Movie was fucking awful, truly, fucking dumb teenagers and vampires, but whatever, your boyfriend (bloody fucking hell it felt fantastic and scary to think that he's now yours officially) was determined to watch it even if he snorted and made fun of it every three seconds, yet having you giggle by his side made his cold heart warm up as it beat a thousand times per second. Once again, he found himself about to mock something jokingly when he turned to you, finding your beautiful eyes already on him, expression warm and relaxed.

"Come here." At that moment, Simon Riley realized he'd follow anything you'd order him, as his body moved without any thoughts, just closer to you. Like a stray dog that's learning what a home is, something he's never really had, and when your lips touched his cheek while caressing the other, the world slowed down.

Having you move closer to him, placing a leg over his, smiling at him sweetly while gently kissing the scar near his lower lip, all he could do was stare dumbly as his face felt on fire. Little did he know that his pale cheeks reddened so adorably that you started to giggle. God, he fucking loved that sound.

"Lay on me, c'mon." You ordered gently again, grabbing his calloused hands to tug him onto you as you laid down on your back. Simon knew he looked like an idiot in awe, very much aware he's always had a staring problem. But as he crawled gently over you, expecting you to push him off after abruptly changing your mind, all he could do was to look down into your cleavage and stare like a muppet. " 'S aight?" Being all he asked before hearing a nice hum, approval for him to lay on you.

That day, Simon learned what heaven is. Your fingers into his hair, slowly, gently playing with his dirty blond locks, his face in your soft tits, your voice oh-so clear as he pressed his ear into your torso, the slow rumble almost putting him to sleep while his eyes were focused on the silly movie. His arms were wrapped around you while he just laid down between your legs. His dumb jokes still delivered as he muffled them out lazily, getting you to laugh and make him smirk as you(r tits) jiggled under him, and his reward, because you're a fucking angel, of course, was a sweet kiss on his temple every single time. The man could be turning into a clown by the end of the night as long as you kissed him so tenderly.

You spoiled him too. How dare you, really? Bringing him sweets, asking him what he wants to eat, adjusting your schedule to fit his (man's off duty, he can camp outside your house and come in whenever you want him to, if you'd be willing, like a good obedient dog), just making him feel wanted. It was odd. And new. And addicting.

You cared. You cared for him. And in his wonky yet honest way, he cared too. Always making sure that you know he's somehow thinking of you. He wanted to try. He wanted to make sure you'll stick around. The military has taught this man a lot of things, and apart from his head-strong conviction that he indeed can do anything if he puts his mind to it, another was how to not fuck up something good, all through the hundreds of stories from many other soldiers about failed relationships. He knows all the perspectives, all the failures, all the erros and all the aftermaths, so he learned to listen and not blame, to pay attention, to be there even if he was half a world away. Simon is determined to keep you around, coming back to you battered, wounded, traumatized, exhausted, and is greeted with his angel, all ready to pick him up, wrap him in a warm blanket and fuss over his ass. He'd roll his eyes at you, but his emerging smile said it all.

His heart now tugs when he's about to pick his luggage, a duffle bag filled with essentials and nothing more. A week earlier than expected too, relief washing over his body like never before, knowing you're at home waiting for good news. And he's heading that way too, determined, unrelenting, head first, no thoughts. He's going home to you.

Home to warm, delicious food, instead of stale and plain. Home to sweet laughter and love, instead of orders barked and indifference. Home to his, your comfortable bed, arms and legs wrapped around each other, the plump delicious curves of your body pressed against his hardened one. Home to gentle, home to calm, home to soft, home to himself, home to everything. Home to his heart, that is tugging him closer and closer, where he left it with you.

I'm just gonna dump this here and leave. Not proofread because we're old and lazy here.

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endymi0ns

11 months ago

my favorite version of ghost is when the author describes him having a fucked up face, broken nose improperly set, chipped and missing teeth, scars everywhere, cleft lip, acne+acne scars. grabby hands. gimme

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endymi0ns

11 months ago

hey i’m the biggest non-verbal-affection-simon enthusiast i just thought you guys should know that

he thinks that pressing his forehead to yours is so important and creates such a huge connection that he can’t put into words and he doesn’t even really want to. believes it’ll spoil everything.

his strong brow bone presses to your forehead, lashes kissing your own in flutters, and his eyes seem endless when they stare into yours. in the morning in bed, on the couch watching tv, an intimacy reserved for only the two of you.

you don’t mind that he isn’t the loudest in the room when it comes to how he feels about you, but it seems you already know.

butterfly kisses and a quiet murmur of something resembling utmost reverence.

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endymi0ns

4 months ago

Simon Riley

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endymi0ns

1 year ago

I'm curious. Reblog this if you know how to cook

I don’t even care if it’s macaroni, ramen or those little bowls you stick in the microwave. Please, I need reassurance that most of the population on tumblr WOULDN’T STARVE TO DEATH if their parents couldn’t fix them food or they couldn’t go out to eat.

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endymi0ns

1 year ago

"I can fix him" "i can make him worse" I can pet him on the head like a dogy

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