#simon riley drabble

[sgtgarricks]

simon would sit you on his lap and feed you meat he’s cooked to perfection after his hunt. if you let out the slightest of moan from the taste this man would instantly get bricked up. has a praise kink. loves to see your reaction to his food.

“mmm, you like that lovie?” while you just nod excitedly.

sometimes you really can’t help yourself so you start grabbing his hand and sucking his fingers into your mouth. you’re not even trying to be sexy about it! it really is that good!

too bad, because he will lose his shit and immediately drag you to the bedroom and give you another serving of #meat

[dmitriene]

simon ghost riley stays inside of you, nights, weekends, mornings, with your body pillowed down into the sheets and the hardness of his brawny chest from behind your back, fitting into the full line of his muscular body, your plump ass cushioned against his steadily rolling, pumping forward hips, feeling how his drawn up, full and coarse balls plap wetly against your fluttering folds, making you gasp, sound high in pitch and breathy.

with his face nuzzling in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, skin warm beneath, flushing at the exertion of accepting his swollen cock, dragging with drawn out, deep thrusts, hips pushing in against your ass, making you arch deeper, meeting his movements lazily, too fucked out, as you cling to the feel of simon's stubble rasping against your sensitive, sweaty body, down to your shoulder blades, the delicate line of spine.

you daze out, eyes watery, glancing at the headboard of the bed in front of you, bleary and smudging at the edges, making your head tip down to burrow into the pillow beneath, humming, gasping when simon's cock twitches inside of you, bulbous tip leaking and bumping over your sensitive spongy spot, movements rapid, sending white hot, exploding pleasure from the base of your spine and coursing, licking over your knotting tummy.

every ridge, scar, and tense muscle of his body brushes, presses over yours, dappled in fuzzy little hairs, rough and textured, yet making you feel as comfortable as ever, nestling closer, chasing the feel of his large body weighting on your back, the cotton duvets beneath you soddening and furled around, his heavy hands draped, curled over your torso, calloused palms reaching to cup and knead at your breasts, pearling nipples catching on the callouses, hardening even more.

simon's cock always prodding, breaching in your sensitive, weepy cunt, and there's nothing better than being cradled so close to him, having him in, filling you with a pleasurable heaviness, chapped, tissued lips pressing kiss upon kiss against the side of your face, each dip and nook of your curves, matching with the softness that he accumulated as well, over those pecs and stomach that rub against you, and that knowledge is enough to make your pussy gush.

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[maybanksbaby]

WANNA SEE YOU .ᐟ

summary .ᐟ puppy!reader being needy as always: grinding on his lap, already soaking through her panties, already making both of them dizzy... but it’s not enough. not for her. she wants to see him. wants the mask gone, his mouth, to kiss him while she rides that clothed cock like it’s the only thing keeping her alive 🫠🫠

warnings .ᐟ puppy!reader x simon 'ghost' riley — smut, clothed sex, lap riding, mask kink 🤔, reader begging, soft dominance, desperate kissing. praise, dom/sub vibes but gentle, overstimulation

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

You’re straddling his lap. His hoodie’s swallowing you, way too big, sleeves past your hands, and you’re bare under it, except for the tiny little panties he loves so much.

But you’re not taking anything off. No begging to be fucked. No rushing to get naked.

You’re just… grinding. Slow and sweet, like your body’s chasing a feeling it can’t quite catch.

His sweatpants are still on, and he’s hard, cock straining against the fabric, but he’s not stopping you. He’s holding your hips, jaw tight, breath rough against your shoulder.

You whimper softly into his neck. “Feels good…”

“Yeah?” he mutters, voice low. “You like usin’ me like this?”

You nod, cheeks flushed. “I–I wanted to make you feel good…”

“So you decided to get off on my cock fully clothed, is that it?”

You whine.

“I didn’t know how else to— I didn’t wanna go too far, just…” You rock your hips harder, dragging your soaked little panties against the thick line of him, smearing heat all over his lap. “Just wanna feel you.”

He groans, full body, hands clutching tighter. “Fuck, you’re dripping.”

“M’sorry…”

“Don’t you dare be sorry.”

You gasp, legs trembling, grinding harder now, friction messy, soaked cotton dragging against cotton, making your clit throb every time his cock twitches beneath you. “Simon—Simon I think I’m gonna—”

“No,” he growls, grabbing your ass and grinding you down harder. “Uh-uh. You want me to come, remember?”

You whimper, nodding, burying your face in his shoulder. “Yes—yes I wanna make you come—”

“Then ride, my love. Just like that. Fuck yourself on me.”

You cry out, hips moving erratically now, wetness soaking through both layers, your little thighs trembling on either side of him.

He’s close. You can feel it.

His voice breaks.

“Fucking hell— gonna come in my sweats like a fuckin’ teenager—”

You whimper: “Please—please let me feel it—”

He chokes on a groan, fists gripping your ass as he bucks up into you once — clothed cock pressed snug to your little cunt — and comes.

Hot. Heavy. Body jerking under yours.

You gasp, feeling it through the layers. His cock twitching. His whole body shaking. Your hands curl in his hoodie, holding tight, clinging.

He pants against your throat, voice wrecked: “You drive me fuckin’ insane…”

You press soft kisses to his cheek through the mask. “Did I do good?”

“You ruined me.”

“Yay,” you mumble, falling against his chest, but her hips still moving.

“Fuckin’ menace.”

You’re still shaking. Needing more, and more, and more.

You stay there. Straddling his lap in nothing but your ruined panties and his hoodie, thighs trembling every time you grind down on the thick shape of him under his sweats.

His cock is still hard. Fully pressed to your soaked heat. And every time your hips roll, he lets out this low, barely-there groan that makes your whole chest ache.

But it’s not enough.

“Si, please. Want—want more”

His hand tightens on your hip.

“What do you want now, pup?” he growls, voice thick with restraint. “Already makin’ a fuckin’ mess on me—what else could you need?”

You’re flushed. Breathless. Eyes shining.

“Wanna see you…”

“No.” His tone is instant, sharp.

But you don’t stop grinding.

You just whimper again, softer this time. “Just your mouth… please, just that part…”

His breath hitches.

Your voice turns pleading, cracked with emotion. “I wanna kiss you, Simon. I wanna kiss you while I make you come. Please.”

He growls low in his chest, like it hurts to say no.

“It’s not that simple, sweetheart—”

“Yes, it is,” you whisper, hips rolling again, slow and deep. “I’m yours. You’re mine. Please let me see you.”

He swears under his breath.

Your hands are on his shoulders, rocking in his lap, soaked cotton dragging along his cock.

You press your forehead to his. “Please. Just this once. I wanna feel you.”

His mask shifts. Not off. But higher. Pulled just past his mouth. Revealing his jawline, his lips, the strong cut of his face beneath the black fabric.

You gasp, eyes wide, heart thundering.

He’s beautiful. Raw. Tense. Breathing hard.

“There,” he mutters, voice strained. “Now kiss me.”

You don’t even hesitate. You surge forward, mouth to his. Finally, finally kissing him like you’ve craved for months.

It’s messy. Desperate. All tongue and teeth and your soft whines pouring into his mouth as you grind harder, wetter, completely drunk on the feel of him.

He groans into the kiss, low and guttural, like he can’t hold back anymore.

“Fuck, you’re perfect—little body grindin’ on me like that—kissin’ me like you mean it—”

“I do,” you breathe against his mouth. “I love your mouth. I love your cock. I love you—”

He grabs your ass, pulls you down hard, forces your soaked panties against the thick line of his cock. You cry out high as his tongue licks into your mouth again.

“Come on then,” he groans. “Make me come like this. While you kiss me. Show me what that mouth of yours is good for.”

You whimper through it, sobbing into his lips as you grind faster, sloppier, slick soaking through both layers — until his hips jerk up into yours, and he comes hard in his pants, gasping into your mouth.

You keep kissing him. Keep riding slow. Soothing. Until he pulls back, panting. His mask still lifted. His mouth swollen.

Yours.

“That what you wanted?” he asks, voice rough.

You nod fast. “Yeah… but now I want it every time.”

He chuckles darkly, tucking your face into his neck. “Course you do. Fuckin’ brat.”

But he never pulls the mask back down.

Not for the rest of the night.

[elysianightsss]

Something something becoming an accidental prostitute for Simon lol.

Hear me out though, you’re at a bar. You’re making out, you’ve had a little too much to drink. Not enough to be completely gone like you’re sure Simon is but enough to be making out with a stranger.

Then you’re back in his truck, he’s practically begging for you to let him fuck you and you say no. You ‘don’t do that type of shit, one night stands and all that’ you say. Simon’s next thing is to beg for a blowjob, you again say no. ‘Part of the boyfriend package’ blah blah blah.

Then Simon delivers his final offer. He is so desperate he offers to pay for a handjob, he cringes after the words come out of his mouth thinking you’d be offended. But to his surprise you say yes. You need the money, and want him to feel good so why the heck not.

And it’s the best damn handjob he’s had in his life.

He drives you home and soon enough after a few days he’s at your door offering more money for another handjob. You feel a little dirty but when his calloused hand slides up your thigh and his hot breath is fluttering on your neck, the feeling fizzles away into something else.

Seeing him come undone with just your touch drives you wild, it becomes increasingly difficult not to do more for him. So when Simon comes over again, this time you kneel in front of him watching as his dark eyes widen when your knees hit the ground.

And just like your handjobs, it’s the best damn blowjob he’s ever had in his life. All sloppy and filthy, not like he imagined but so much better.

You don’t ask for anything but after Simon has kissed you goodbye -(after he’s done begging to let him make you cum)- you turn to find a stack of cash on the coffee table, almost double the amount he’d given for the handjob.

It’s not long after that, that you give in and let him spend hours between your thighs. He even pays you for that, mumbles into your cunt that it’s just as good as your lips around his cock as he ruts his hips into the mattress. You don’t see it until later, long after he’s left, but there is a triple stack of cash on your nightstand.

A day later you receive a text from him saying he’ll be gone for a couple of weeks on work but he can’t wait to see you when he’s back. You feel a strange fluttering sensation in your tummy that makes you feel sick. You thought Simon was the type to hide his feelings and be more stoic and blunt so seeing that message from the hulking giant has your stomach in knots.

It stays that way, you can’t rid the feeling so much so that when he finally shows up at your door you tell him whatever it is between you had to end. It was certainly not the welcome Simon was expecting after dealing with a gruelling mission with nothing but men for weeks on end. He feels something snap in his mind and suddenly he’s throwing you on the bed, gripping your jaw, brown eyes glaring into yours as he speaks, “I’m not goin nowhere sweet’art.”

You ‘fight’ with him blah blah blah but let’s get real you let him finger fuck your pussy until you go cross eyed. You let him fuck you into the mattress until you can barely remember your own name. You let him kiss your neck until the sun starts to rise. And you let him pull your body into his as you both drift off to sleep together.

In the morning you hear the envelope, heavy with weight to it, placed down on your nightstand. Then Simon kisses your forehead and whispers he’ll be back later to take care of you.

Then, the money stops appearing but he’s still fucking you. Soon the rent is paid in cash by an anonymous ‘good samaritan’. And before you know it, you’re waking up with a glittering diamond on your wedding finger and a swollen belly that moves when Simon says I love you.

[lustjunkiie]

thinking of old, retired!simon riley who hangs out pubs in his free time. he’s a tank of muscle, with a soft layer of fat over it all. he’s got the peak dad bod, and he’s a bit tanner than he was from working in his back garden. his tattoos are lining his body and he is scrumptious.

and he meets you. young little thing, sweetest bird he’s ever seen. shining, soft grins and plump, curvy edges.

he nearly drops to his knees to pray for you to grace him with your presence when you do it on your own volition. he forgot he was even playing blackball, the cue still held tightly in his hand. he was just practicing, just a hobby.

“mm, can ye teach me how to play?” you ask, and you’ve got a thicker accent than he does. he drinks it up, with a straw and all. he nods, handing you a freshly chalked cue.

you struggle enough to learn the mechanics for him to decide to stand behind you, front pressed to your back as he bends you over with his body weight — one hand on your waist and the other steadying your cue as you aim to break.

fuck. he’s so hot, burning even through your skimpy dress. his voice rumbles in your ear,

“c’mon, birdie, just steady y’rself. even out yer breathin’.” he instructed, as patient as ever.

you beat him when you guys actually started playing! yay! and then… you decided to make a silly little bet.

“if you can beat me,” you whispered in his ear, liquid temptation mixed with the way you were pulling him by his shirt collar down to your level — you knew he could easily beat you — “i’ll go home with you.”

simon has never won a game of blackball so fast.

[laceyfaeryy]

pussy drunk! simon pinning you down on the mattress, his big strong arms wrapped around your thighs as he absolutely devoured your cunt. “it takes a while for me to come,” you admitted shyly, turning away so he wouldn’t see the faint blush on your cheek. “don’ care luvie, could eat yer cunnie all day if i could.” simon didn’t care, his tongue lapping around your swollen folds as you dug your nails in his hair, tugging it ever so slightly. “told yer i luv to eat,” he groaned as your arousal dripped down his chin, getting completely drunk off your taste. “if i have to stay like this for an hour then i will, but yer gonna cum.” and when you did, so he did, blowing it in his pants without his dick getting wet.

[orbitganymede]

baby daddy simon who dated you for a year before you got pregnant, you’d gone through most of the pregnancy alone, him being deployed 3 weeks after you found out and gone until the very last month of it. the both of you had tried at keeping the relationship together, but the distance and loneliness got to you, you’d been fine when it was just you but now with baby, you can’t let the father go in and out of their life. he wasn’t very happy with the decision to end your relationship, in his mind you were together forever now, tied together by this beautiful thing you two created, he didn’t even want children before you told him you were expecting but his whole world view changed when he realized that he not only had you to protect but a baby as well.

but you’d moved out against his wishes, finding a small flat you like and making it home for you and baby. he would come over sometimes, when he could, and spend some time with baby but honestly he felt more like some glorified uncle, would be convinced he was nothing to this child until he saw those brown eyes staring back at him, the ones that are so completely his, and he comes to the conclusion that this isn’t gonna work.

he starts small, coming over once a week instead of every other weekend, takes the two of you out for dinner instead of letting you cook or ordering in. stays late enough that you offer him the spare bed in the guest room, even with the distance you’ve put between yourselves, you can’t help but care for him, knowing nobody else will.

then he puts more pressure on you, making sure you see just how valuable he is, taking night shift feedings and waking up early with baby when they’re fussy. he offers to take baby for the night so you can go out with your friends, do things you haven’t been able to since baby’s arrival, even pays for a spa day for you to really relax. he stocks your fridge, full of the snacks you love and a bottle of wine for the hard nights. he buys and sets up new decor in the house, finally gets you the pretty white vanity and a new washing machine that doesn’t squeak. he really just does what he considers ‘husband duties’, things that he should have been doing this whole time.

and when you don’t budge on the separation, he goes nuclear, “no, love, i haven’t seen your birth control pills”, “look how cute this baby is, remember when ours was that small, sweetheart”, “you’re so stressed darling, let me help you” which basically means you end up getting rawdogged within an inch of your life, condom long forgotten, one of simons hands held over your mouth to muffle the sounds you’re making. he just hopes he’d tracked your cycle right, that you’re actually ovulating, because you can’t possible refuse his ring after having two of his babies right? you wouldn’t do that to him, would you pet?

[itsoutrageouss]

It’s the first time Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley sees you cry that something in him changes profoundly. You had always had your different skill sets out on the field, it was what made you such a powerful duo for the task force. You were sly, agile, a killer in the dark and he was a brute show of force and strength, able to kill with his bare hands. You argued a lot, though. Your differences that made you work so well also made you clash time and time again. He found you annoying. You found him arrogant.

But after a mission, Ghost finds you collapsed on the floor in an empty building— Crying. He’d never seen you do that before, but he knew you were a softer more sensitive soul, you were just good at hiding it.

He was moving before he realised it, crouching down in front of you, eyes narrowed as he tried to find your gaze that was lost in a heap of warm tears. His hands got clammy and his throat dry because how could he make it stop? It was like the sight had reached in and seized a part of him long gone, maybe one he’d never found before now.

“Stop crying.” He said foolishly, but his tone had lost its usual edge, and the very rare lilt of pleading had laced into his voice. Why did he suddenly grab your shoulders and press your trembling body into his? He had no clue but he wanted to shield you from whatever had made you look so vulnerable before him.

A part of him didn’t like seeing this, didn’t recognise the garbled sound of soft sobs, the way your body’s strength seemed to evaporate into a fragile, soft one that he wanted to pick up and put back together. Another part of him was sucking in this moment, afraid it would get lost and maybe feeling a bit guilty about it. But this feeling of… was it protection? Protection, yes. He’d never had it like this before. Usually, protecting means killing and hurting. Right now it meant nurturing as your small hands reached around his neck and you curled into him. He reacted immediately, sitting down and scooping you into his lap.

He closed his eyes, his chin resting on your head with a sigh. He had no idea what came next. This had to change your dynamic in some way because he couldn’t ever look at you the same. He saw your softness and maybe he fell in love with it right there, and wanted to be the one you showed it to. Only him.

“Im sorry” You whispered into his chest. His hands flexed around you, fighting the urge to smother you even more against him.

“Dont say that. Just keep holding onto me.” His voice was more hoarse than usual as his fingers unconsciously combed through your hair.

Whatever had happened, he was sure you felt it too, or you would’ve never let him this close. And he wished for everything you would let him again one day.

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[vynlrecord]

♡ is the light sleeper in the room with us?

At first when you’d asked Simon to move in with you, he seemed excited or well, as excited as Simon allowed himself to show. Yet as it got closer and closer, you weren't so sure.

“You probably won’t ever get a good night’s sleep again. I'll constantly be disrupting it.”

"I have nightmares and night terrors, I’ll probably scare you-"

“I’m such a light sleeper, everything wakes me up and puts me in a panic."

It was almost like he was trying to dissuade you from sticking to your decision, giving you an out in case he was too difficult for you, you knew exactly how his brain worked.

But you loved him, and nothing he was saying was making you change your mind, not even close to it.

You prepared anyway, looked up everything you could with how to handle certain night terrors, best things to say or not say, whether you should wake him up if he’s having a nightmare, everything.

Then the first night came, and you were ready to be woken up at 3am, maybe to Simon shouting or crying or something and you pictured all the things you’d do to calm him down, grab him some tea, maybe gentle reassurances as you wiped his tears, whatever it took. 

But none of that happened.

The first night, he slept the whole way through, completely undisturbed and you would know because ironically you were the one who didn’t sleep the first night. You'd stayed awake, worrying, wanting to make sure he was okay, checking for even a slight twitch or a face of anguish but, nothing.

And then a few days later, on an early Sunday morning, your neighbour had decided to mow the grass. It was unbearably loud and you'd sat up, internally screaming because who chooses 7am to cut grass on a Sunday?

And Simon? Well he was completely out.

You looked at him, wondering if he was pretending for a moment, giving him a little nudge. He'd shuffled a little in his sleep before letting out a few soft snores, it was like he was on another planet completely.

And it kept happening. He'd sleep through alarms, and not just one or two but enough in a row that you had to turn them off yourself and tell him to wake up. Phone calls too, slept through every call, no matter the ringtone, no matter how loud. Your cat's 4am zoomies? Not even a flinch.

You were so confused, he'd worried constantly before moving in about ruining your sleep and now it was like sleeping was second nature to him, which you wouldn't have questioned if not for the repeated warnings of how light of a sleeper he was.

It made no sense, Simon couldn't understand it either, but you were quite happy with it of course, and so was he. Whenever you thought about it for too long, it actually made you smile, there was something sweet about it to you.

Perhaps it was your apartment, the fact that the space was yours, maybe your presence was helping him, you'd even joke it was your cat's soothing company. Or maybe it was the soft sheets, in a bedroom that felt cosy. A proper homely space, one that Simon wasn't quite used to in his old place, all bare walls and no decoration, not even a comfortable mattress. He'd never bothered with anything except the bare minimum, a vast difference to now.

Whatever it was, he was actually sleeping, peacefully for once, he couldn't remember the last time he was able to say that.

But what Simon did know, was that he felt completely safe with you and seeing him like this was the most beautiful thing to you.

[beloveds-embrace]

Telling Ghost/König you are too heavy for him to pick up or sit on his face, and he doesn’t say anything at first so you think he just accepted it even if your heart kinda twinged a little in pain because you know you are just not skinny enough-

Only for him to send you a video the next day: in the gym, looking mighty hot in a compression shirt and sweatpants just a touch low on his hips, and lifting a bar with ease. On a closer look? The weighs attached to the bar weigh far more than you do. And he so easily maneuvers and controls and manhandles it…

Between the heat curling in your stomach, face pink and thighs clenched shut, you almost miss the incoming text.

Never too heavy for me, doll.

[luvbabydoll]

stuff ditzy!reader says to simon while they’re having sex

you’re all breathy and whiny under him, blinking up at him with lipgloss kissed half-off, and go:

"wait— does it like… count as cardio even if i’m like... just laying here bein' pretty?"

and simon groans against your neck, "christ pet, you're gonna kill me."

but he's smirking. because he loves that you’re soft. that you're sweet. that you trust him to be the big scary soldier man while you get to be pretty, cared for, and spoiled.

[heavenbarnes]

thinking about your older bf!simon that cannot cope with being far from you.

when you’re in the shower, he’s sat on the lid of the toilet on his phone (watching those rug cleaning videos) enjoying your faint singing under the stream of water, the smell of your body wash on the cloud of steam- ready to pass you a towel or get your back.

when you’re at your desk, working from home or studying, he’s just on the other side of it reading the paper with one outstretched leg tangled with both of yours. he’s dead quiet when you’re on a call, just happy to be around.

when you’re doing laundry, collecting the clothes in the hamper and crouching to stuff them into the washer- turning around and accidentally colliding with a thick wall of muscle.

“sorry, love”

he steps aside but you can hear his soft footfalls as he continues to follow you throughout your home.

when you’re both watching something on the couch, what starts as his pinky locked with yours turns into his arm around your waist. that turns into your head on his chest, which culminates with you falling asleep in his lap with his cheek on your head and soft snores emanating from his lips.

when you grocery shop, you push the trolley but his chest is to your back, arms either side of you and hands clasped over yours on the handle. you can thank his military training for his uncanny ability to tell exactly when you’ll stop walking.

when he wakes up in the middle of the night, on a rare occasion when you’ve managed to slip out of bed without him realising, he’s immediately in a panic calling your name.

“in here, my love”

as soon as his heart settles, he realises the bathroom light was probably a dead giveaway. you’re taking a wee, you’ll be back in a minute.

that doesn’t stop a sleepy simon from leaning in the doorframe, shielding his eyes from the big light as he waits for you to finish up.

even on the short walk back to bed, you can feel fingers twisted in the back of your shirt- almost like you’re leading the way.

minute you’re both on the mattress, you’re being wrapped up in his arms, slotting you perfectly into the curve of his front- almost like you’re made for him.

(and you are)

[dmitriene]

it's takes some time for simon to start being intimate with you, loose himself up just a little bit so he could at least hold your hand in public, accept the sweet, butterfly kisses you press against his cheek each time he's lost in his thoughts again, catching him off guard, and he can't be uncomfortable or nervous when you giggle so treacly and smile at him lovably.

start being the one who initiates touches and kisses, hold you close to his sturdy body with heavy, spanning hands, holding your chin up with a pressing, rubbing thumb, tasting your lips slowly, almost teasingly, brushing and then pulling back, making yours and his lips swell with warmth, cooling down with spit he smears messily.

simon tells you that your first time with him might not be the way you expect, rasped between insistent kisses, his tongue licking in the sweetness of your welcoming mouth, tracing against your palate, and as repulsive as it may sound, he thinks you deserve to know that you shouldn't overestimate your expectations, even through you already know how hard it is for him.

somehow, he ruins the whole image, leaving you not only boneless, but completely cockdrunk, trembling, strained legs dangle uselessly in the air, spread wide to show and see the way your pulsing cunt gushes liquid hot around his fat, pistoning cock, pumping you full enough for you to feel simon in your tummy.

absolutely filthy, purred words scorching warm against the sensitive skin of your ear, soaking in and spreading all over your veins, body warming up as you cling to simon, sink your nails with crescents and entangled lines against his wide shoulders, sputtering, mewling sounds tumbling from between your clenching teeth's, as you keen for more.

simon manages not only prove you both wrong, but also see the way you writhe in complete ecstasy, watch through opaque, inky wells of eyes how you shiver, hips twisting, jerking up as you chase the grinding, ramming feel of his swollen head abusing your spongy spot, spine breaking in a sharp arch, crumpling the sheets, as you sob his name in garbled chants.

you're not crawling out of the bed soon, not with the calloused, rough pads of fingers splayed over your twitching, pebbled clit, not after simon discovers that he can make a girl cum more than twice, hiccuping so prettily after each one, but still holding onto his scratched, almost bleeding hands.

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[gibsongirl144]

simon riley, who asks insecure!reader to sit on his face—but she’s too afraid she’ll squash him.

“si, don’t wanna hurt you!” she whines, squirming atop his chest.

his large, calloused palms grab at her thighs, using the plump flesh to help calm the urge to suffocate himself in her sweet little cunt.

“s’right, lovie, just need a taste, s’all,” he murmurs, nipping at her thigh. she lets out a soft whine of surprise.

and that’s all it takes—for him to drag her up his chest and bury his face in her.

and this is how he’ll die. not on a mission, not from a gunshot wound. but by his love.

[alexthetrashyracoon]

“You look like my boyfriend.”

Simon raises a brow at that statement and sits down in the nearby chair. His eyes on you. “Is that so, lovely?”

“Mhm,” you agree with a confident nod and loopy. “No. My boyfriend is prettier than you.”

He isn’t sure if he should take it as a compliment or as an insult, for now Simon decides to not comment on it. “You must be lucky to have such a pretty boyfriend then.” He grins and sips his cheap hospital coffee.

“Oh, I am! He’s pretty and cool and strong. And you should be careful because he’ll be here soon!” You pout, shoving your lower lip forward.

Cute. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll be gone before he shows up.” Simon reassures you and pats your thigh.

You don’t reply, the remaining anesthesia must still be running its course through your body after the surgery in which the doctor took out your inflamed appendix, snoring softly in the otherwise quiet room. “Good thing your boyfriend is already here, lovely.” Simon chuckles before tugging the thin hospital blanket higher over your chest and keeping watch as your chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. “And he will be here when you wake up again. He will always be there, my lovely.”

[lustjunkiie]

i have baby fever so…

Single Dad!Simon Riley whose daughter is so sweet.

You, a sweet and humble hairdresser in your salon which you’ve bought and built from the ground yourself, having a walk-in appointment with a 6’4” hulking man, and his most precious angel. A black surgical mask covering his jaw, mouth and nose.

His little angel, who you learn to be Amelia, climbs into your chair with the cutest grunts of struggle and eventually a triumphant sigh. Her dad, in his effortlessly silky, gruff voice, explains that her hair is now down to her knees practically and he needs help. Her mother left when she was young and he’s only ever had one brother.

You chuckle softly and nod, and his daughter looks up at you after you explain that you’ll be trimming her gorgeous hair and demonstrating some simple braiding techniques to her father, and in the tiniest, cutest little Londoner accent:

“Thank you for helping my Daddy.” You nearly burst into tears at her shining hazel eyes and her big, toothy smile. You nod and begin sectioning her hair after placing a pink apron over her front. She beams to her Dad, “Look! She gave me pink!” He laughs and his eyes shine with pride. She’s so good at communicating, even though she barely looks five. She’s so adorably tiny, too.

At the end of the appointment, Simon has learned three different braid styles. He’s a natural, you assure him. You curl his daughter’s hair just before she leaves, and she does a little dance around the place in her princess dress. Her dad picks her up, and he smiles at you. Thanking you in that knee-weakening voice of his. He promises he’ll be back with any hair concerns, and he even tips you extra.

Before he leaves, his daughter points at you and asks if he can take you home. He responds, without missing a damn beat:

“Mm, only if she wants to come home with us.” He winks at you for good measure.

You think that maybe that idea isn’t so bad.