legs / 29 / she/they / perpetually anxious queer nightmare / british / multi fandom pervert / peddler of bad fanfiction / sweet but bites back / big fan of bad jokes
ths is a !!MDNI!! zone. i am an actual adult and it's weird. do not feed my shit into ai. it's rude.
please come and yap with me by hitting the pls talk to me button!
legs library (masterlist) / request guidelines (requests: on a break, ish, check the guidelines link) (but still yap with me)
tags: #two legs writes (all writing) / #two legs thinks out loud (drabbles) / #two legs takes requests / #two legs answers / #two legs real life / #legs favs / #two legs talks about sex ed
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edition nine of simon ‘ghost’ riley who never learned how to flirt properly so is just horribly blunt with you all the time.
your ma calls mid getting ready. you're pacing back and forth in your underwear, trying to sound normal even as simon follows every movement of yours like a predator, one hand palming himself through his boxers.
you glare.
he smirks, unrepentant. hands slipping into his waistband and shoving his boxers down his thighs, letting his cock spring free and slap against his stomach; thick, heavy and already leaking just from the sight of you.
“‘ang up.” he murmurs.
you glare again, rolling your eyes. still trying to talk about sunday lunch with your ma like your boyfriend isn't grabbing your free hand and wrapping your fingers around his length; guiding you as you stroke him.
you trip over your words, eyes wide, bottom lip sucked between your teeth.
“tell ‘er you've gotta go, or i’m makin' you cum whilst she talks about fuckin’ potatoes.”
Medic possum!reader who’s also kinda anxious all the time. And it doesn’t help when everyone else on the team is ridiculously quite when the walk.
Like one time when it was late at night, the base was quiet, the sounds of the lights buzzing overhead as they gave off a soft orange hue to the medical wing.
You were packing away some extra gauze in the spare supplies closet, and when you turned around and say a massive still figure smack dap in front of you- well, you hit the floor pretty hard.
Poor Soap just wanted to take a walk around the place, he couldn’t sleep so he thought maybe a walk around the place would help. Didn’t think he’d be standing over your stiff body, thinking he literally scared you to death.
Or that time when you where in the rec room and some loud sound sets off, one of the demolitions on the other side of the place had accidentally gone off, sending off a massive explosion sound- and inevitably the fire alarm.
You dropped your coffee mug, glass shattering on the ground as you drop. Everyone was starting to see if the place was ok, if everyone was accounted for. Wasn’t until an hour later when Gaz was doing a sweep of the rec room when he spotted you.
You were stiff, eyes glazed over, your mouth slightly open and stuck there. You smelled rancid, like rot a decay, like you where left there for days in on end. Didn’t help that the mug you dropped was full of juice- red juice.
Safe to say he assumed the worse. He had started CPR without a second thought, but after a few pushes on your chest he went to go blow air in your mouth-
He almost shrieked when you flew flying upwards to sit up right, taking in a massive breath of air in. If Gaz wasn’t the trained Sergeant he was, he would have fainted right then and there.
Ghost was the worse of them all. He didn’t speak when he moved, didn’t make a sound when he walked- so there were multiple incidents of him making you drop “dead”.
After a while price had to start a meeting on how not to kill the head of the infirmary staff. They all now carried a little bell around there waists, the soft jingle alerting you of there presence.
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Sometimes I think about writing to process my own thoughts and feelings in like a comforting way yknow? But I don't know what characters I'd attach it too bc I don't want to write anything out of character if that makes sense?
i totally get that!
but also... who gives a shit really if it's out of character? (/gen). these people aren't real. they're not going to give a shit if you've characterised them one way. the canon we have for our dolls is also... open to interpretation? i've seen really beautiful, well thought out analysis of certain lines in games or media and been like "welp, i didn't get that from that. i got something else entirely."
it's meant to be fun. and i've absolutely written to process personal things, but also just to have a safe space to explore dynamics or things i like the idea of irl but wouldn't actually want to participate in, y'know? and if someone wants to look at my fics and be like "well they wouldn't do that." okay cool fine, don't read it, it's not for you.
some people do an amazing job of deep diving into characters. but i've also seen people simply use a character because they find them attractive and need a blorbo for their story.
if you want to write - do it! even if you don't share it. even if it's just for you to have and to hold and to keep. fuck worrying about what other people think. it's the thief of joy.
simon riley and his spouse don't wear wedding rings.
work makes it risky for him. you simply don't want anything between your skin and his when he entwines his fingers with yours.
instead, you get matching tattoos. small, black hearts on the inside of your ankles, and identical ones tucked behind his ears - hidden by the mask at work, and by tufts of blonde hair when he's at home.
no dates. no names. nothing that would obviously link the two of you.
now he’s got you folded in a mean mating press - knees crushed to your chest, legs hooked over his shoulders, cock buried as deep as it can go. every thrust makes you whimper, nails biting into his biceps, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. your ankles press against the sides of his head; the hearts tattooed there lining up perfectly with the ones behind his ears - permanent reminders of your favourite position to be in together.
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“you should be at the club” i should be by the sea. i should be in the mountains. i should be awestruck and rendered speechless by the majesty of the natural world. if you even care
you been dropping banger after relatable banger istg 😭 literally been writing about every scenario/insecurity i’ve thought about when i think of potentially getting into a relationship. it’s very cathartic in a way 🫡 thank you for your service
you are most welcome!
honestly the sexual dysfunction fic is just... my life. and has been since i started the particular antisad tabs i'm on (which probably sounds weird since i write so much porn? but. alas. that's why i write it. gotta try and kick start the ol' bod somehow.)
but yeah. it's been nice to do some like soft and more realistic stuff. i've had fun. i'm glad other people are also having fun with it. or finding it relatable etc!
Art by Auberghyn
Foreword
Chapter 1: The Princess
Chapter 2: The Seeding
Chapter 3: The Assassin
Chapter 4: The Keeper
Chapter 5: The Prophecy
Chapter 6: The Trial
Chapter 7: The Suitor
Chapter 8: The Ritual
cw:afab!reader, references to depression/medication, soft!simon. 2k words
“can we book in sex on friday evening?” your voice cuts through the silence of your shared lounge - almost hesitant.
not hesitant like you're expecting to be rejected, hesitant in the way someone is when they feel out of practice. when somewhere along the way they lost all their powers of seduction.
simon looks up over the page of the book he's reading - eyebrows furrowed before they relax, like he's trying to make sure you're not asking out of some misplaced sense of obligation.
“friday works.” he confirms, “be back late so you'll… have some time to yourself first. to do your… preparations.”
preparations.
the polite way to say you'll either watch or listen to or read some porn in the bath before he gets home to try and kick start your body and brain into getting onto the same page about wanting to fuck.
you snort softly at the phrasing before nodding, "okay. just let me know when you're on your way home."
quiet settles over the two of you again, peaceful, yours.
then simon clears his throat.
"the new meds seem to be helpin'." he says quietly. "yer smilin' more. s'nice."
you nod, once. "they are." you confirm quietly. there's a beat of silence and then, "… sorry they've broken my fanny."
simon just shakes his head, brown eyes meeting yours. "not broken. an' don't be sorry. rather have you 'appy than horny. only one of those is important to me. an' it's not the availability of yer cunt."
your ears get hot at the bluntness, but your chest tightens with relief at his words. but still. there's a twinge of guilt in your stomach, like you're somehow not keeping up your end of the bargain you made when you decided to be each other's.
"i know. you always say that. but…"
"no buts." he cuts you off firmly, no room for argument. "no ifs. no fuckin' anythin'. i love you. i love yer smile and yer laugh. an' yeah, i love fuckin' you. but i'd rather you were smilin' at my bad fuckin' jokes again than drippin' all over the house."
Si ❤️: 10 mins off
Si ❤️: don't rush. take your time
Si ❤️: gonna shower in the en suite. you'll take one whiff of me and absolutely change your mind
Si ❤️: (which would be fine. no pressure. didn't think before i sent that.)
the messages overlay the porn playing on your phone screen one by one.
you don't pause the video right away - let yourself stay in the little bubble of horny you're trying to build. the bathwater is going lukewarm around you, but your skin feels warmer now from the small spark of anticipation that's beginning to grow in your stomach.
you can't help but feel a small twinge of grief that six months ago this same activity would have had you throwing yourself at simon - that six months ago you didn't even need to prepare to have sex with your husband. that it felt like the most natural thing in the world, not something you had to manufacture.
but then you remember his words "yer smilin' more. s'nice." and the grief fades, replaced with a pang of fondness so strong it almost hurts.
you let your eyes focus on the video again, letting the sounds of soft moans and the wet noise of skin on skin filter through your headphones; try and remember that the joy you see on the amateur couple's can be yours too.
you pause the video, typing back a quick message.
just getting out. haven't changed my mind. x
you dry off quickly, clean your teeth, slip into one of simon's old t-shirts; the black colour long faded to grey, band logo once printed on it lost to the passage of time. there's a hole in the hem and it's stretched out around the collar.
but it makes you feel safe, and that's what you need right now. not lace bodysuits and stockings. by the time you've padded into the bedroom you can hear the shower running - see that today's clothes didn't even make it to the washing basket in the bedroom, instead left in the one downstairs.
you wrinkle your nose - you know that means you're probably going to need to get the stain remover out later. but you appreciate that simon hasn't brought the smell of whatever it is up into your room. you light a few candles as you hear the shower switch off, pull the curtains and turn off the big light; leaving the room in a soft glow of the candles and bedside lamp.
little things you've learned make you feel more relaxed.
you're just settling on the edge of the bed as the en suite door opens - knees tucked up under your chin, heart beating a little faster than normal. simon appears, towel slung low on his hips, water still dripping down from his blonde hair and onto the scarred plain of his chest. his eyes find yours immediately, soft in the way they only ever are when he's looking at you.
"hi." you say softly, lips pricking up at the corners as you look at him.
fuck. it really does help the situation that he looks like that.
he crosses the room in two strides, one hand reaching to cup the back of your head as he leans down to kiss you - soft, slow; the kind of kiss that's a hello and isn't an expectation. his hand strokes up your bare thigh slowly; fingers pausing at the hem of your - his - t-shirt, stopping short of pushing it any higher. "hey dove," he replies softly. "missed this smile."
your smile. that's what he missed about this situation. that specific, soft, wanting smile that you only ever give him when you're about to get him in bed.
and it's that that has you pulling him down on top of you.
your t-shirt gets pulled off with careful hands; his towel lost somewhere to the floor. he ends up hovering over you, pressing kisses down your jaw, your throat, takes his time. his thumbs stroke an almost soothing pattern across your ribs as his lips trail lower - but when he reaches your stomach he pauses.
"tell me somethin'." he murmurs, "what were you watchin' in the bath?"
your face heats immediately, throat drying out as you stare down at him with an expression of absolute horror.
he just hooks your legs over his shoulders, presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, looks up at you expectantly.
"just… soft stuff." you manage to murmur back. "couple in their bed. they… they looked like they were enjoying it. not… faking it."
he presses a kiss higher up your thigh, then another, before his breath is ghosting over your core. his tongue traces a slow line from slit to clit; gentle, soft, curling through soft heat like he's not in any kind of rush.
your hips twitch.
simon hums against you, an almost approving noise; like he's proud you actually answered. "yeah? what were they doin'?" he flicks his tongue against you again - more targeted this time. you gasp slightly as he settles in, one arm slung across your hips, fingers tracing over skin. every motion he makes is purposeful - circling your clit, dropping down down to dip inside you, tracing every inch of you with his tongue in lazy strokes.
your fingers thread through his still damp hair, nails scratching over his scalp in the way you know he likes. "they were taking it slow." you breathe. "she was on her back like this. he kept… talking to her. telling her how good she felt."
"slow." simon repeats, "like this?" his lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently before soothing it with broader strokes. your fingers tighten in his hair enough that he groans - all enjoyment and no pain. "you liked hearin' how much he wanted 'er?"
"yes-" the word breaks into a low moan as he slides two fingers inside of you, curling them perfectly against the spot he knows so well; mouth still focussed on your clit. "fuck, si…"
he doesn't speed up. just keeps a steady, slow rhythm - eyes flicking up to watch your face. he pulls away enough to murmur gently, "i want you dove - all the fuckin' time. everything you do is so fuckin' sexy i feel like i'm goin' insane." a soft kiss to your clit, "'m sorry if i stopped tellin' you." another kiss, "jus'… don't want you to ever feel like you 'ave to jus' cause i'd live inside you if i could."
your eyes burn, hands dropping to brush your thumbs over his cheekbones. "i know si. i promise."
he nods once, satisfied that you're not lying to make him feel better by the wet shine in your eyes. he drags the flat of his tongue over your clit again. "was she makin' the same little sounds you make? the ones that make me fuckin' melt?"
you nod, hips rolling under his mouth; the combination of his mouth and hands and the gentle questioning pulling you under. the porn in the bath feels distant now - a distant second to the real thing: simon riley between your legs, focused solely on you, coaxing your body to the edge with nothing but patience.
when you come its with a soft, shuddering cry - the same noise he loves so much - pleasure rolling through you in warm waves as simon works you through it. he waits until your fingers are limp in his hair before pulling back entirely, then kisses his way beck up your body until he's braced over you again, propped on one elbow so he doesn't squish you under his bulk.
"still good?" he murmurs. his cock is hot and hard against your thigh; twitching against you as he presses a kiss against your neck - but he doesn't push forward, doesn't press. just rests his forehead against yours.
“yeah,” you whisper, reaching between you to stroke him gently. “i want you, si. want this.”
he kisses you again, tasting like you, and lines himself up. he presses in -slow, perfect - eyes locked on yours the whole time. your fingers trace the scars on his jaw, eyes widening as he bottoms out; filling you in a way that's so achingly familiar now. he pulls back, pushes in again; soft, shallow rolls of his hips.
you brush your nose against his. "you don't have to be so careful with me, si."
"i want to." he replies simply. "been thinkin' about this since you brought it up. about makin' you feel good."
you, not him.
you thighs slide to wrap around his waist on the next thrust, taking hip deeper just by the nature of the position and he groans - a wrecked noise that carves itself into your memory.
"this alrigh'?" he murmurs against your neck, hips snapping just a little harder; thumb sliding into the space between your bodies to rub gentle patterns against your clit.
you nod, jaw going slack as you feel heat flood your stomach again. "yeah. s'perfect." you manage to murmur back.
he presses a kiss against the corner of your mouth, keeping up that same steady rhythm. "i love you. i love you when you're happy, an' i love you when you're sad. i love you when you're horny and climbin' me like a tree an' when all you want t' do is watch greys anatomy on repeat an' eat little moons. nothin', fuckin nothin', matters to me as much as you do."
you bury your face in his neck, cheeks hot, eyes burning, "i love you too."
your second orgasm is like sinking into warm water; nerves lighting up hot one by one, teeth sinking into the curve of his his shoulder with a whimper of his name. he follows immediately after, the pulse of your cunt around him dragging him over the edge, face buried in your hair as he breathes you in.
he doesn't pull out right away - just holds you, fingers stroking over sweat damp skin, pressing lazy kisses to your temple.
"still smilin' down there?" he murmurs softly.
you huff out a soft laugh, body and brain soft with satisfaction. "yeah, si. still smilin'."
"good." he kisses the top of your head. "that's all i need, dove."
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It reminded me of myself a few years ago. I met my fiance online and anxiously told him I'd never so much as kissed someone before, let alone had sex. He was so gentle and reassuring that it wasn't weird for a 19 year old to be like that. He asked me how I'd like everything to happen and listened when I told him. I cried when he kissed me for the first time, I had a panic attack in the middle of sex for the first time, and both times he did not laugh or make fun of me. He held me and let me calm down and waited for me to be ready again.
Sometimes its the simple things that make you fall in love. Now I've got our daughter in my arms.
WAAAAAAAAH okay i honestly love that for you, that's so sweet. but also, this is exactly how everyone deserves to be treated - EVERYBODY WRITE THIS DOWN.
congrats on the kiddo! may she uh, sleep nicely and eat well and poop just the right amount (some of the only things i know parents worry about)
