Ghost felt like an complete asshole about it, but he couldn’t help but get turned on by your crying face. You were just so pretty when you cry and with his attempt’s to alleviate your sorrow; his thought were running rampant and the sounds of your hiccups and gasp were just aiding primative desires.

Your passionate ranting stuttered by your mewls, Simon’s gaze is glued to your puffy lips—your saltwater tears making them slightly chapped. He presses his thumb against your bottom lip, swiping over it and urging you to calm down and breathe. “Shh—it’s okay, I’m here for you.”

He knew how bad of a day you were having, and he was there to comfort you in the best way he knew how. He shifted his seat, trying to relieve the tension in his pants.