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[monada43]

Johnny with a civilian bestie

Johnny reuniting with you, his childhood best friend after moving out of your apartment. You mention needing to find a cheaper place, so Johnny offers you his spare bedroom free of charge. All he asks is that you cook when he’s home from deployment, clean around the place, and take care of anything in his stead while he’s deployed.

Johnny watching you walk around his apartment in his tshirts and sweatshirts was a nice incentive.

Johnny comes back from deployment and offers Simon his couch for the night , since his flight to Manchester wasn’t for another day.

Simon wakes up to the smell of toast. He gets up to see you, flipping pancakes and shaking your ass, wearing a bonnet and one of Johnny’s hoodies. He didn’t say anything cause he didn’t want the show to stop

You let out an Oscar worthy scream when you turn around to see a beefy guy looking at you up at down. Johnny sprints into the kitchen, pistol in hand . The bastard had the audacity to laugh when the unamed beefster scared the living shit of you.

johnny introduces you to Simon, who’s a little jealous Johnny always had a pretty thing like waiting stateside for him post deployment.

Part 2

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you'll be hanging out with the sweetest person ever and they'll randomly tell you a childhood experience that would have vaporised you and you're like oh we should find your parents and murder them irl

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“Hey Simon.”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you think you can get me those night vision goggles you wear?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, luv?” Simon asked groggily, and tiredly, as he rolled on his side to face.

He had just came back from a long deployment some days ago and all he wanted was sleep. And quiet. Except you, his partner, was a chatterbox. A annoying lovable chatterbox.

He saw you looking all shy and embarrassed. You shrugged.

“You know, to see in the dark-“

“I know what they are for.” Simon cut you off. “What’s the real reason?”

“I am scared of the dark.”

He blinked. Once. Twice. He forced his eyes to be focused on you and to not drop back down. He stared at you and your flushed face.

“Uh. That explains a lot.” He grunted. “Okay, luv, I will bring you some.”

“You promise?”

“On Johnny’s Mohawk, Price’s cigar and Kyle’s cap.” He replied with a slight chuckle.

“What are you on? Did you smoke?”

“Just- go back to sleep, luv. If a monster arrives, I will take care of it.”

“I really want those goggles, Simon.” You muttered before closing your eyes and attempting to sleep.

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tonight i swore a blood oath to the minimum wage workers at my local subway

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This was in another goodwill bin and I'm gonna put the back cover under a cut just so you can experience the same sensation of flipping it over to see this:

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you keep telling best friend!simon riley that you know he's big but you can still take him. you've been stretching yourself out with an extra large toy and even offer to show him one evening. he watches you sink onto the plastic with glazed over eyes, sitting in the car across from your bed with a stiffy between his legs. the man clenches his jaw and growls to himself before snatching you up and making you prove it to him for real. when he fucks you on top of the mattress, you can feel him in your stomach. thicker than the long forgotten dildo, his cock bulges and crams itself inside you as he grips your hips and pounds you for the rest of the night.

ATTN: THIS IS A LINK TO LITERAL PORN! MDNI. OPEN AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!

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something about divorcee simon and this may let you know who i was previously. divorcee old man simon who's just so mean. nsfw. 18+

yes probably you're stupid enough to bat your lashes in front of him, give a teasing smile as you stick to his side and take his glass of whiskey to have a sip. your lipstick staining the edge of the glass and he glares at you.

he's not mad, he's annoyed.

kids these days, he think before trying your arms off his biceps, fingers digging into your skin roughly; he didn't mean to, he's an ex-military, has no sense of his strength.

and that makes you even more inclined to poke your nose into his business. lips pouting when he gruffly remarks stay away kid, you don' know what' you gettin into.

and you surely didn't.

never in thousand years did you anticipate him having such stamina, also didn't think he's be so mean and rough, your legs pushed up all the way to your ears as he pushes in and out of you at a mean pace.

you can barely make a coherent sound, nails dragging into his arms to have a grip on anything. cunt fluttering around him, gushing with all the slick as he fucks his second load in and out of you.

you didn't think before acting, but you can't think at all now, with his dick pushing at that spot that makes you whine and arch into him as he grunts above you.

and simon's having some good pussy after many years, tight and warm. it's like heaven on earth and he might thing you're the only think he wants to put in, make you moan loud and shamelessly as he fucks you good.

he's totally over could nine with how good your pussy is sucking him in, milking him, clenching around it.

ofcourse he's gonna have to call you up again, take care of you as he fucks you dumb, his name pushing out from your plush and puffly lips like a prayer.

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husband!simon who tails wife!reader like a lamb. wherever she is, he isn't too far behind.

he follows you everywhere. you thought riley (your german shepherd) was bad? wait until your very-grown, very-large, very-masculine husband starts doing it.

it's like having your own personal pair of bodyguards, one of which is an animal, but we digress. you can't even take a peaceful walk (with the dog) without getting funny stares... but who is there to blame? if looks could kill, simon would be in prison for mass murder. it's not his fault he has a magnetism to his pretty wife and a serious case of resting bitch face.

he slowly walks behind you when you're shopping, his fingers itching to reach out for your lower back. he sticks to staying as close to you as he can, like a kid who's afraid to lose their parent if they stray away for longer than a few seconds.

if there's something on a higher shelf you can't reach, he towers over your form and picks it up for you, tossing the item into the basket on your arm and flashing a shy, boyish smile.

ass.

he also sleeps super close to you at night, tattooed arms pulling you tight to his body, legs tangling with yours. when you're annoyed at him, you simply press the cold balls of your feet against the backs of his calves. the shriek he let out was far more high-pitch than his normal tone, and you swore you nearly wet yourself laughing as he shimmied away from your frozen toes.

he knew not to piss you off like that again.

he does respect your personal space when you need it - it's obvious. but that doesn't stop the man from watching you under sunken eyebrows as you huff and strop around the kitchen. he's waiting for the inevitable help me, please as you discover you actually can't open your own jar of pasta sauce. you finally give in and whine, holding the glass jar out to your more-than-amused husband.

even when you're on a night out and you drunkenly force him to dance with you, his hands find themselves in the back pocket of your jeans, grabbing at your asscheeks as you sway against him. he keeps an eye (or a cheeky hand) on you all the time, the protective bastard.

his personal favourite is your distant, "si, i'm going for a shower!" from upstairs, or even if he simply hears the water starting up, he's pausing his football match on the tv and taking the stairs two at a time to locate you in your shared bathroom, leaning over the sink in your undergarments as you get ready to shower.

"what are you doing?" you ask, watching him through the mirror as he starts unbuckling his belt and sliding it from his jeans.

"what does it look like?" he says gruffly, but you know he's being sarcastic. "showering." that call was practically an invitation.

"i'm showering."

"no can do, love," he reaches out for your elbows and gently pulls your half-naked form against his own. "lemme join you. i can wash your hair."

"really?" you watch him incredulously, an amused smile dancing on your lips.

"what can i say? manchester's a shitty team."

you smacked him.

author's note: let's not talk about my obsession with husband!simon, deal??

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(person who learned from childhood to make themself as small and unimportant as possible to avoid being a burden) yeah its okay we dont have to do my thing if you dont want i dont mind

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brooding men who cannot communicate their feelings if their life depended on it are only hot when they're fictional. if i have to deal with one in real life i will curse him and pray for his downfall every night before i go to bed

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so you’ve fallen in love with an under appreciated actor with a terrible filmography: a memoir

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