Mika

...But only Johnny tolerates him

"The moment of truth, Hank."

First aid

Simon’s stomach twisted into a knot as he heard your muffled sobs, your warm tears seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt, holding onto him for dear life even if he’s the one responsible for your pain. 

“I hate you, Simon.” Empty words that still send an unfamiliar ache to his chest, his soul hurting for you. 

“I know, baby, I know.” He managed to croak out, his voice hoarse. The sight of the gold wedding band on his finger stabbed at something deep within him, reigniting the flicker of emotions he always tried to push aside for an amicable divorce. 

Ten years down the drain, your whole life reduced to nothing but ink and paper. Simon’s duty to the SAS and the 141 took up so much of his time, often only managing to be home for a few months out of the year. Missed holidays and celebrations, broken promises of trying to be more present. As understanding as you tried to be, everyone reaches their breaking point. 

“Give me some time, love. I’ll retire. Y’can get anythin’.” Perhaps it is selfish to ask you to wait, yet how is a broken man expected to give up on the only beacon of light he has amidst all the darkness and shadows? His highschool sweetheart, his beloved wife. 

“How long?” Your whispered question hit Simon like a blow to the gut, so much trust and fear held in only two simple words. He closed his eyes for a moment, his hands tightening around your waist as you still straddle him, nearly cuddling him up even if all you could do was cry. 

“After we scatter Johnny’s ashes. S’ gonna be a quick trip to Scotland, and then I’m all yours.” He paused for a moment, his rough fingers tracing over the band on his ring finger, his touch always gentle in your presence. Despite the ring being a constant reminder of your love and broken promises, it was always safely tucked under the thick material of his gloves. Simon’s way of keeping you with him, of having something that made him cling to his sanity no matter how much bloodshed those same hands spill. 

“Half a month.” He’s more explicit this time, his warm hand running up and down the length of your back, not daring to go lower despite how much his entire soul craves you. It’s a tender moment that gives him an inner sanctity, and he’s not looking into ruining it. 

simon w a petite partner!!! just the idea of this tall muscled mass of a man with a partner who’s like 5’-5’3” has me kicking my feet. this man has a size kink and i KNOW IT!!!

(heads up!! 18+ mdni!! afab!reader, a bit of cervix bullying (i can’t help it), simon’s a yapper)

just, simon losing his god damn mind over how utterly tiny and soft you look under him. the way the soft pudge of your stomach moves with every languid thrust, the gentle bounce of your tits and how your chest stutters with every breath. he’s having his own breathing complications just from how large his hand looks splayed over your sternum.

“so fuckin’ small… barely fittin’ n’this tight lil’ cunt, huh, dollie?” and you’re just nodding along, dumb and drooling from how overstimulated you are. simon makes it a point to make you cum on his fingers at least once to ‘work you open’ for his cock. he’s a big man. a proportionate one at that. he just doesn’t want to hurt you, his sweet little babydoll. he might also just have a thing for those little squeaky noises you let you when he slides in so quickly after you’ve cum. (he deffo does) loves, loves, loves how when he slides just the head of his cock in you’re already clenching down so tightly around him and clawing at his forearms.

simon also loves folding you up just to hear the way your breath catches and how your face scrunches up. he knows he’s knocking right against your cervix with each thrust, every one stealing the breath from your lungs in the form of an airy squeak of his name. and of course, him being the shit he is, he’s got this smug grin on his lips as he plays with your clit until his name sounds more like a mess in your mouth.

“si- simon, plea-se, s’ to much, to-to deep si-“ and then he’s shushing you with kisses and little taps to your clit that leave you gasping and clenching so deliciously around him. he could cum just like that, still as a rock inside of you as your pussy threatens to milk him for all he’s worth. simon’s full of reassurance, when is he not when it comes to you? of course you can take it, you’re his little angel, his sweet love, you were made to take his cock, yeah? and of course you’re letting out broken cries of his name when he angles just right to hit that gooey spot that makes you see stars.

“thas’ it lovie, say m’name. such a good, sweet thing fr’ me.” he does not shut up!!! talks you the whole way through it because there’s no way anything coherent is going to leave your mouth. he makes sure of it.

“g’na cum fr’ me? c’mon sweet’art, nice and hard all over my cock. you can do it.” this man stops breathing when you tighten up around him, walls clamping down like a vice as you squeal his name and tremble in his hands. a fuckin sight, one he’ll never get tired of seeing.

oh my GOD i am scratching at the walls.

your spine curves, brushing against the thick wood of the closest closet. it smells of bleach, pure cleaning supplies n it stings your nostrils.

there’s a flashlight propped up in the corner, the thin sheen of sweat coating simon’s skin sparkling beneath the brightness. your nails hug into his back, head dropping back against the door as you fight down every moan threatening to get the two of you caught.

simon doesn’t care much though, not with the way the soft, gummy walls of your sweet cunt hug around his cock, sucking him back in desperately with every drawn, messy thrust. his fingers sit hooked beneath your knees, his own set of claws digging into the plush fat.

“feel s’good, y-you feel so good,” he’s practically sobbing, knees bout buckling as his brows knit in a pretty heed to fuck his every last drop into you.

“shut up, simon,” you scoff, fingers cupping round the back of his neck till he’s craning into you, feet stumbling and pushing you further into the door. “shut the fuck up.”

but he doesn’t, he’s letting out the most lewd of sounds he can muster like he’s excited for someone to grab the handle of the locked door. like the thought of someone listening in, ear pressed against the door turns him on.

his neck stretches, veins pumping thick hot blood straight downward as he whines n whimpers, hips pressing against you like some desperate fucking mutt.

and in a quick movement, your fingers curl, palm pressing against his popped open cherry lips. that pulls a deep, drawn out groan from the very depths of his chest.

“you need to be quiet, simon,” you scowl down at him, shakin your head in disappointment. yet, his eyes sparkle in a pretty mess of crystal tears, deep lines drawn into his forehead. he looks so desperate, so close to falling apart, it makes your clit absolutely fucking throb. “jus’ be a good boy for once, okay?”

Ghost taking his mask off during sex for the first time.

He doesn't even mean to- but with the way you’re riding him like that, the slap of your ass against his strong hips bucking up into you-

he can't stop his hand from pulling off his hot balaclava, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. you're so fucking tight around him- your shaking legs sending pulses up his body.

"Si-Simon," Your mouth falls agape at the sight of the man before you, his blue eyes rolled back, lips parted as he watches you bounce up and down on his dick.

His hands grab the fat of your hips, red hand prints forming underneath them.

"Fuck luv, 'jus like that,"

He bucks his hips up into you before flipping you on your back.

"Simon-"

He snaps his hips into you hard, the tip of his dick pushing into your cervix, gummy walls pulsing around him like fucking heaven.

"Fucken 'ell,"

His eyes fall to the bulge in your tummy, his jaw going slack.

Your pussy stretched to its brim around his thick cock- you were so good for him, almost splittin yourself in two.

"Simon, wanna cum," You whine, blinking back the tears in your eyes.

"I know luv, me too,"

You scratch at his back with your nails, leaving pretty red lines for him to admire the next morning.

He snaps into you harder, placing a warm hand over the bulge in your tummy, pushing into it.

God, he was pretty.

You came around his cock shakily, shuddering into him. You love this feeling, love being stuffed full of his girthy dick.

You pull the hair at the nape of his neck and that's all it takes for him to cum inside of you.

Moments later you're sprawled over his bare chest with his arm thrown around you. You're playing with the hem of his discarded balaclava with your fingers. His hand strokes your arm lovingly.

"Handsome," You murmur, eyes flicking up to the curve of his jaw.