reignthereigner

[reignthereigner]

gn!reader x soap | meeting soap for the first time!

“Oh shite,” He said loudly, palms shown in apology. “I’m so sorry.” The beer was knocked by his elbow, tipping down past the bar and onto your thigh.

“Oh no, no you’re fine.” You replied incessantly, smiling at the way a corner of his mouth pulled down in grimace. “Honestly.” His body turned to face yours, suspected broad shoulders proving honest, thick arm leant on the bar exposing a tattoo. He shook his head with a short smile, motioning for napkins to the men behind him who had shrugged.

“S’yer name?”

You match his smile, leaning back in the barstool momentarily before replying. He slid a few napkins your way.

“Soap—“ Drunken laughter came, hitting a fist against his chest for a hiccup before looking back toward you. Blue eyes hadn’t ever seemed so intriguing after he had met yours, sticking a confident hand out. “Johnny.” Hardy accent echoing throughout his laughter too, lifting a hand from his thick thigh to meet yours.

@lundenloves

[reignthereigner]

HELP

dad!simon when his oldest daughter is rambling about some celebrity to you. he’s sat at the kitchen table with a cigarette, scrolling through the 141 groupchat that he’s already left 4 times but someone always adds him back.

“i just think that twenty-four years isn’t a bad age gap.” he looked at her over that, chin tilted down toward his phone but eyes up. sigh.

“like tom hardy, how old is tom hardy?”

“forty-seven says google.” the middle child sat down on the sofa, eyes glued to her phone. “he’s good looking though.”

“he’s the same age as your dad.” you looked at your two kids, then your husband who blinked.

“christsake.”

[reignthereigner]

I need anything and everything you have with Simon’s daughter and soaps son, I will take anything

oh didn’t you hear? johnny’s son near about crashed doing donuts in an asda car park with her in the car and was inches away from strangulation by simon when he found out.

it went a little something like this at 2am: coming back to simon’s with burnt out tires, red eyes and a dented passenger door. you were sat on the sofa watching notting hill, half a bottle of wine down when they’d come stumbling in high as kites.

who else came stumbling in? your grumpy, sleepless husband on his way for a glass of water. comedic timing really.

“where’ve you two been.” he’d speak without looking at them, walking through to the kitchen, though never received any other answer than a wheeze of laughter and fuck sake it was game over from there.

soap jr received effectively a travel ban to the riley house past that night and many arguments spurred between him and his eldest. it was the best thing to watch as a middle child, believe you me.

[reignthereigner]

Got asked for a Price song rec and while I was making a list, found this ghostprice anthem that's been killing me...

[reignthereigner]

[reignthereigner]

@reignthereigner

[reignthereigner]

The scene in Shrek 2 when the Fairy Godmother sings I need a Hero when the giant gingerbread man attacks the castle is still the greatest scene in cinema of all times

[reignthereigner]

did you seriously just let it linger

[reignthereigner]

silly little thought of trying to bait a reaction out of simon because even though monogamy is inferred with the both of you, he seems to not give a damn if you actually are. (your privacy became nonexistent the moment you invited him into your home. he knows you turn anyone interested down and those that can't take a hint, take one from him.)

and that stings. that he isn't even wondering just who could be texting you so late at night when his cum is still warm between your thighs stings. you'd like the chance to tell him that you're your own person at least once.

so you make the terrible, awful decision of batting your lashes at his friend, johnny— the overly friendly (borderline invasive) scottish man who could talk paint off a wall.

(he didn't even try to seem like he wasn't interested. one small curl of your lip shot his way and he was already sliding in the barstool next to yours, clever fingers warm around your thigh.)

what had meant to be a not-so-innocent flirt here and there ended up with your skirt rucked up to your waist and your ankles crossed around his. that after the fact, johnny casually brings up how simon and he have shared guns, bandages and spit before so simon oughta not mind sharing you either had you speechless.

(being so guilt-ridden you 'fess up to simon and he instead asks you how many times did johnny make you come.)

[reignthereigner]

everything has political content. sorry. theres some guys who get really really angy when you say this but its true

[reignthereigner]

GHOST BY JIANGBAOAOWU

[reignthereigner]

While I'm at ao3, uploaded the pirate and punk ghoaps (sorry it took 100 years to those who asked...)

[reignthereigner]

As I was looking for things to redraw I found this, but don’t think I can capture the sheer horniness again

[reignthereigner]

Maybe one day

[reignthereigner]

Kinda wanted to try this last year but felt unworthy…

[reignthereigner]

LISTEN GIRL

i might've developed a small [not small] crush on simon's son [don't judge me he's so rebellious], like what would be simon's reaction when he finds out that his own lad has a girl like would he be proud or like would he be depressed like he was with his eldest. ANY WAY I BELEIVE IN YOUR WRITING PLEASE WRITE AGAIN. LOVE YOU <<<<33

simon riley’s son wasn’t as much of a shit like soap’s son was but he was definitely something.

however when he’d found a girlfriend, a serious one at that, and not just some girl but one he had actually brought home and gestured to as if she were a fucking magic act when walking into the living-room for all of five seconds.

simon shortly chuckled at his shit display, looking across the room to you with a tilt of his head and a nod toward the door.

“alright mate?” his eyes reverted back to the throwaway tele he was watching, your son mumbling an acknowledgement. “that the missus is it?”

you tsked at his coldness, smiling toward the girl who seemed a personality picture image of you. this was fucking freudian — her warmth radiated compared to his and you felt actual whiplash for you and simon. what year were we in?

- so to answer shortly he had no belief that the girl would last. smh.

[reignthereigner]

masterlist | 700 wc, no warnings, f!reader

dad!simon who likes to give his kids frights and it’s the saddest shit 💀 to the point where one had come round the corner — say the eldest — and he’d pulled her into his side like he would a fucking hostage and held her tight, hand to her mouth.

you sat watching blank faced from the kitchen through all phases, hand rest against your cheek in visual representation of fucking boredom. meanwhile his eyes flit to the side at the sound of keys in the door, body turning no more than 50° before he had lifted his arm up to check his watch with a scowl.

“fuck sake, no?” he gestured his arm toward you. “two in the morning.” you shrugged in reply, standing up straight to flick the kettle on before once again conceding to the counter in a slouch. “m’gonna scare her.”

“don’t be a cunt.”

he shrugged, taking all of five seconds to find a less than optimum spot — stood between the threshold of the kitchen and livingroom, pushed against a bookshelf that hadn’t done much to hide his frame hadn’t it been dark. you shook your head and looked away, stealing a teabag from the box and tossing it from hand to hand.

the door shut, turning your head momentarily for a “welcome in.” spoken just loud enough for her to hear, shooting a glare at simon who point blank ignored it. he was good at that. dickhead.

“i’m going to bed.” she replied bluntly, the sound of shoes clattering against the floor seemed so much louder at night.

“c’mere.” you redirected, the kettle boiling in time for a saunter to the fridge, one hand on the handle, the other on the milk bottle as it had been placed on adjacent counter.

from there, she walked toward you unaware of her father and his crude vision of what? fun? you were never to know as he reached for her and pulled her into his side — hand covering her mouth and bicep wrapped to her neck as if she were a fucking bartering tool. simon did this a lot.

and the telling (best) part was her lack of reaction aside from a swift kick to his bollocks, one that hadn’t quite reached based on his upper handed stance. “time d’you call this?” he moved his hand from her mouth, the faint smell of booze lingering around her and he huffed in amusement, the side of his lip pulling upward with a poke to her stomach. “you been drinking, minx?”

you turned to pour your tea. “how’d you get home.” spinning back around to make a point of knowing and to tut at simon. “right.” he obliged without command, taking a step back and popping a handful of cashews into his mouth from the bowl on the counter.

“got a lift.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” her brows pulled down just like her fathers. “why’re you lot up.”

“waiting for that cunt who keeps trying the garage door.” simon provided bluntly, rubbing a hand across his face to rest on the back of his neck. you shook your head at his persistence, watching as he took one finger to split the blind.

“kept saying they won’t come.” you pulled a face at him and your daughter sighed a nod, pushing past simon to reach the fridge for a water.

he had nudged her back when passing, a palm pushing the back of her head into the fridge gently enough. “better not.” she laughed at him, sticking a foot out behind herself as to trip him over.

“what would you do?”

simon lazily stood over her foot, shutting the fridge door behind her and asking “where’d you get drink.” with a blink or two. displeased at best, though providing an arm for her to lean against.

“found it.”

he snorted, looking at you with half arsed amusement. “got it from your mum then did you?”

“i’m going to bed.”

you nodded with a mere laugh, standing up to round the kitchen and give her a hug. simon towered over you both, chewing gum flexing his jaw with crossed arms. he always seemed so fucking serious, you hit his shoulder and he pushed your head back.

“in a bit kid.” with a pat on her back.

with that she left upstairs and simon went back on watch by the window. you too went upstairs, probably to watch selling sunset and gripe about how you lived in outer manchester.

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tl: @reignthereigner

this is unedited unfortunately but what else did we expect from me. sigh.