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Dad!Simon staying up late, using your daughter's makeover doll to learn how to do different hair styles after she asked him and spent the rest of the day pouting because he didn't do them right - the way mummy does them.

When you see the light in his office, you think nothing of it until, one day, your daughter bounds into the living room, grinning ear to ear, pointing at her neatly done hair.

'Look mummy! Daddy did my hair sooooo good! Don't I look pretty?'

You look at her, and then at your husband looming in the doorway, smiling, 'you're the prettiest girl ever, flower,' you say whilst giving your husband a knowing stare.

In response, he shrugs his shoulders and scratches the back of neck. 'Is it okay, sweetheart?'

'They're perfect, daddy! I love them so so much!'

You notice his shyness, and when you're in bed later that night, you're surprised when he asks, 'was her hair okay today?'

Closing the book on your lap, you nod eagerly, 'it was perfect.'

'She wasn't just sayin' tha' to be nice?'

Your brows furrow, 'she's your daughter, Si'. If she didn't like it, she would tell you... have you been staying up to learn?'

'Was tired of her saying I wasn't doing it right,' he confesses, rubbing his mouth with his hand, 'so I was using her doll. I thought learnin' to tie ropes was fuckin' difficult.'

You giggle, 'she's gonna be asking you to do it every day now, she was bragging to all her friends that you did her hair this morning.'

The smile on his face is brighter than anything you've ever seen and he nods to himself. You reach your hand out, placing it over his and say, 'you're a good dad, Si'.'

His voice is the quietest you've ever heard it as he whispers, 'thank you.'

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sugar!daddy simon, who can’t help but love your pussy as much as you love his money

you inspect, turning your hand over in something of disgust. nails grown out in a months retention, desperate to be cleaned up with a fresh new set. the deep red, inches from your untrimmed cuticle. it has you rolling your eyes, has your lips jutting in an sweet pout as your run the very hand through the thick of his dusty blonde hair.

“need a manicure, si,” you puff in a heightened whine. your not even paying him any mind, bringing your other hand to your face to flick at edges of your smooth acrylic, rolling your eyes at the soft chips round the lip of the nail.

“whatever you want, baby,” he’s speaking against the slick of your pussy, smoothing his tongue over you before he’s sucking the pretty bud of your clit into his mouth again, smoothing his tongue before flicking and playing round with you.

“maybe that new bag? y’know how much i love my pink bags.” and you’re giggling, pressing your toes into his shoulder blades. and simon does know in fact, with the countless other ones he’s bought you, there’s a few collecting dust, ones you’d never even touched, only looked over.

“anything you want, it’s yours, bunny.” and he’s practically speaking to your drooling cunt at this point, hand curling around the soft arch of your pretty foot. dipping his thumb into the bow, just to hear that soft giggle and giddy moan.

he’s letting his teeth clip, biting gently and pressing his nose into you, heady with the breaths of you. he’s practically dizzy of your sweet pussy, and you pay him no mind, only a few tugs at his hair, only gentle breaths. you’re practically shooing him away, and he loves it, it makes him work his tongue faster, eating at your pussy like some starved man.

spit drips from his lips as more demands spill from yours. it shouldn’t get him off, the way you want to spend all of his money, the way you practically use him completely. making him burrow his face in your glossy pussy, making him spend thousands, but he gets off on it. he likes being used, he likes the way you demand from him. and if he can provide, why not?

mmm okay i hate it but whatever enjoy loves

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cw: size difference, smut

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Just thinking about how Ghost is just so big.

Big meaty paws. Thick veiny arms. Broad shoulders. Muscles packed densely.

Sometimes he forgets just how big he is, but you never fail to remind him.

He remembers everytime you sit next to him and you take up half of the space he does, smaller thighs pressed to his.

Everytime he tugs on your tactical gear to make sure everything’s in place before a mission and you glance up at him wide eyed, dwarfed in his shadow.

Everytime you chose him as your sparring partner and he pins you under his muscular thighs, pelvis pressed to your ass purposefully.

You like it, he knows you do. It’s apparent from the way heat radiates off you in waves when you’re next to him, from the way your lashes flutter and your lips part when he stares down at you, from the way your legs twitch together for something more anytime his larger hands touch you.

So, when he finally gets you spread around his fat cock after months of you staring at him with hunger in your eyes, it’s amusing the way you protest like you don’t like it, like you haven’t been imaging him stuffing you full, haven’t been imagining how easy it would be for him to pin you down and make you take it.

“Ghost ‘s too much— too big.”

Your words are broken between choked breathes, tears framing your lashes, pawing at his hold on you like he’s suffocating you and he’s barely half way through. His hands engulf your waist, fingers touching at the small of your back as he pushes you to take more.

Your glassy eyes and tinged brows are a sight, but the way your tight cunt stretches thin around his girth is even better.

“Come on, doll, make some room f’me.”

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can't stop thinking about faking an orgasm with simon for shits and giggles and ending up getting ya shit rocked for hours because you were being a brat

simon’s got you pinned beneath him, his thick cock stretching you open so good, each thrust punching a whine from your lips. his grip on your hips is bruising, fingers digging in as he fucks you relentless, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room.

“that’s it, take it,” he growls, voice rough. “fuckin’ perfect around me, ain’t ya?”

you’re close—so fucking close—but you’re feeling bratty tonight. so when the coil in your belly tightens, you force a high-pitched moan, arching your back and clenching around him like you’re coming. “oh—oh, simon, i’m—!”

he stills instantly, eyes dark as they rake over your face. and then he smirks. “liar.”

before you can protest, his hand slides between your legs, calloused fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles. you gasp, hips jerking—fuck, it’s too much, you’re oversensitive already—but he doesn’t stop.

“thought you could fool me, princess?” he murmurs, leaning down to nip at your ear. “gonna make you come for real. as many times as it takes ‘til you forget how to fake it.”

his thrusts start again, harder now, his fingers relentless on your clit. you’re sobbing within minutes, nails scraping down his back as the pleasure crests, sharp and overwhelming. “s-simon, please—!”

“there it is,” he groans, feeling you flutter around him. “that’s my girl. now—” he flips you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up. “—let’s see how many more i can get outta you.”

you’re gonna regret being such a brat. but fuck, it’s so worth it.

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simon riley x fem!reader smut blurb. nsfw below. mdni.

so, simon is a big guy.

like hugeeeeee in every sense of the word.

he takes a huge pride in towering over you, finding the way you peer up at him endearing. he loves to grip your chin and guide your lips to his for a deep kiss. his large hands are almost always on you, traveling long paths across your figure. his hand engulfs yours as he threads your fingers together. he always finds a way to press his large stature against your back, reminding you of how big he is.

something about how much bigger he is than you just really gets him going.

even as he presses your bare front into the mattress, cock pressing lightly at the entrance of your cervix, the position put an emphasis on the size difference between the two of you. his legs trapped yours as he looped his arms under your body. his head was tucked next to your ear as he pressed deeper.

he's been at it for hours, manhandling you into several different positions as he collect numerous orgasms from your overwhelmed cunt. he abused your clit with his tongue as he prepped your vice like hole for his girthy dick. once he fully stuffed his cock in your pussy, he was a goner. he just held you down and memorized the feeling of your warm, soft, cunt wrapped around him.

"is here 'bout right, lovie?" simon muttered into your ear, groping at your bare skin. he was pressed against the spot that caused your toes to curl and eyes to roll back. one of your hands was wrapped around his wrist as you weakly tried to escape the deepness of his thrust.

"simon-simon, i can't..." you tried, but couldn't quite get out the full sentence because of his depth.

"can't what, hm? gotta be a little more specific," he responded, palming over the slight bulge in your stomach. this called you to cry out his name as tears welled in your eyes.

"you're so big, si. 's almost too big," you slurred out as his cock stirred in your guts. he all but moans at your words, lips marking the side of your neck.

"'s neva' too big," he mumbled with a gruff snort, one of his hands slowly slid down your front, making its way to your overstimulated bundle of nerves. his slow circles had your back arching deeper into the mattress, his front pressing further into your back.

he was everywhere. he was all you could smell, hear, think of, and feel. his touch set your nerves into a frenzy, causing your senses to go haywire. you couldn't move away even if you wanted to as he held you firmly in his grip.

his thrusts began to turn brutal as he pressed most of his weight onto you, properly fucking you. his pace was nothing if not consistent, each thrust as quick and deep as the last. your thighs shook as another shattering orgasm ripped through you, juices coating both of your lower halves as simon finally chased his high. he nearly sent you into overstimulation before he came, painting your velvet walls white.

he allowed the two of you a few moments to calm down. he moved to massage your hips and lower back as you laid there, exhausted from his thorough fucking. you could feel his release dripping out of your worn pussy, painting your folds a milky white. simon hums at the sight, overly pleased with himself as he moved to massaging your thighs.

he sat between them, kneading the supple flesh of your thighs while watching his drip from your center. one of his hands left your thigh in favor of scooping his cum on to his fingers and pushing them deep into your cunt. he scissored his fingers a couple of times before pulling his fingers away, stuffing them into his awaiting mouth. the flavor brought a lustful spark to simon's eye as he gripped your thighs and dragged you to the edge of the bed.

"what'd ya say to one more round, love? just one and i'll leave you be," he said, already kneeling to be eye level with your core.

and who were you to say no?

— writing smut is a lot harder than i thought it would be omg.

( sincerely, gwen. )

© minutelyfreaked 2025 —do not repost, plagiarized, or falsely claim my work. likes, comments, and reblogs are welcome!

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Y/n, just looking at Simon: Simon: Don't do this. Simon: I swear it's not working. Simon: nuh huh, my heart is made of ice— Y/n, blinks: Simon: Bloody hell, what do you want lovie? Y/n: Gimme a kiss, pretty please? Simon, getting up to give Y/n a sweet peck: All done? Y/n: Yeah! Johnny: Whipped. Kyle: Simp. John: Good lad.

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You were facing the wall.

Arms tucked close to your chest, your back turned toward the door, and a blanket pulled up to your chin even though it wasn’t cold. Your eyes were wide open. You weren’t even trying to sleep. The light from the hallway bled under the crack in the door, and every time it shifted, your breath caught, half-hoping, half-dreading that it was him.

He’d left without another word. You’d told him to sleep on the couch, and he didn’t argue. Just looked at you for a moment, his lips pressed into that hard line he always got when he was trying not to say something he’d regret. And then he walked out.

That was almost an hour ago.

You blinked slowly, eyes stinging. You hated fighting with him. Hated the way it left your chest tight and your mind buzzing. You hated the silence afterward even more. And this time… you weren’t even sure who was more in the wrong.

The fight started with something stupid. It usually did. You’d asked him why he hadn’t texted back when you messaged him earlier in the day—just a casual check-in, nothing serious. He said he’d been busy. You said you understood, but something about your tone made it obvious you didn’t. And then he said, “It’s not always about you,” and you froze.

It wasn’t just the words. It was the way he said them, like you’d been a burden instead of someone he missed. Like he didn’t have space for you in his head that day, and you were wrong for noticing it.

You’d snapped and told him if he didn’t want to talk to you, he could’ve just said that. Told him you weren’t going to beg him for attention. He looked at you like he wanted to speak but didn’t, and you’d finally said it.... go sleep on the couch, Simon, because you didn’t know what else to say that wouldn’t hurt more.

And he left.

Now you were here, pretending the pillow was more comfortable than his chest, replaying the words in your head until they lost all their meaning. You hadn’t even told him goodnight. And he hadn’t told you he loved you, not like he always did before bed.

Your throat tightened. You blinked at the wall again, trying to will yourself not to cry, not now when you’d already said your piece, already told him to leave. You didn’t want to be the one to break first. But still, your chest ached in that way that only came when something between you felt wrong.

A floorboard creaked somewhere outside the bedroom. Then silence came, a pause just long enough to make you question if you’d even heard anything at all.

And then—

The door creaked open slowly.

You stayed still. You didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to seem too eager, didn’t want him to think you’d just forget everything because he came back. But your heart betrayed you, picking up speed the moment you heard his quiet footsteps on the carpet. Then the bed dipped behind you, before his arm wrapped around your waist, fast like he was afraid you’d push him away if he didn’t do it quick.

You didn’t.

“I know you’re awake,” he said quietly, his breath brushing against the back of your neck.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

“I thought about what you said.” His voice was low and soft. “And I thought about what I said. And I didn’t come back to fight. I just... I needed you to hear this.”

He paused, exhaling slowly.

“I fucked up,” he admitted. “I was tired and distracted, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just lookin’ for me and I made you feel like you were too much.”

Your eyes burned. Still, you didn’t speak.

“I never want you to feel that way,” he murmured. “Not ever. Not when you text me, not when you talk to me, not when you just exist near me. You’re not a burden. You’re… you’re the best part of my day, and I treated you like you weren’t. I’m sorry, love.”

You felt his hand squeeze your side gently, like he was grounding himself just as much as he was trying to comfort you.

“I meant what I said before I left,” he added, “but I meant it wrong. It’s not always about you, but it should be. You’re my person. I should’ve answered you. I should’ve checked in. You have every right to need me.”

You blinked hard, finally managing to whisper, “I wasn’t trying to fight.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “I know, love. You were just tryin’ to connect. And I shut down on you. I let shit get in my head and I pushed you out. I won’t do that again.”

You turned slowly, finally facing him. His eyes met yours in the dim light, and god, he looked wrecked.

“I just missed you,” you whispered. “That’s all.”

He reached up and cupped your face gently. “I missed you too. More than I can say. And I don’t want to end a single fuckin’ day with you wonderin’ if I care. I do. So much.”

You leaned in, tucking your face against his neck. His arms wrapped around you fully now, pulling you in close, holding you tight like he’d fall apart if he didn’t, before his lips pressed against your hair.

“I’m not goin’ back to the couch,” he said softly. “Even if you ask again. I’ll sleep on the floor next to you before I ever leave you like that again.”

That made you laugh, just a little.

“Sorry I got mean,” you mumbled.

He smiled into your hair. “You weren’t mean. You were hurt. And I made you feel that way. I deserved it.”

You looked up at him, eyes searching his face. “You’re really good at this. Talking about it. Most guys just shut down.”

“I used to,” he admitted. “Didn’t fix a damn thing. I’d rather talk and hold you than be right.”

You snorted. “You were wrong though.”

He grinned. “I know. Fully aware of it.”

You finally let your body relax fully against him, tension leaving piece by piece as he kissed your forehead and whispered, “Still love you, even when we fight. Especially then.”

“I love you too,” you murmured.

And you meant it. Even when it was hard. Even when things got messy. Because he came back. Because he chose to come back and say the things that mattered. Not everyone did.

But Simon did. And that was enough.

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@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief @avgdestitute @sheepdogchick3 @echo9821 @imalapdog @foxintheferns @trulovekay @preeyas-world @ruleroftides @rose37373

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tugging Simon down by his dog tags to kiss you….

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“Hi! Probably I’m busy right now, or maybe I’m just sleeping. Anyway, leave your message! I’ll call you back as soon as I can!”

Followed by your voice a small beep sounded, giving the space to leave a voice message. However, Simon didn’t say a word, instead he hung up the call and called you again.

Five seconds, two beeps.

“Please answer…” He murmured, almost inaudible, his voice so broken it physically hurt to hear it.

Almost a minute passed, and you didn’t answer his call, so the line immediately went to voicemail. Your cheerful voice was a balm to his broken soul, and at the same time it was the knife that was destroying him.

“Hey, luv…” He spoke once the line gave him time to leave a message. “I just… ‘m just wanted ya to know that I miss you, so fuckin’ much…” At that point he couldn’t hold back anymore, and tears sprang from his eyes, a lump formed inside his throat, and despite of how much it hurt, he continued. He told you about the team and their most recent experiences. Kyle’s newborn, John and his well-deserved vacations, and Johnny’s birdie.

“Ya should see him.” Amid his crying, he let out a small, soft chuckle. “He’s like a stupid puppy around her.” Before he could say something more the call ended. The intense beep of the line made a knot in his stomach, but he didn’t complain and just hung up.

For what felt like hours he just remained there in the floor, still as a statue and looking at the ceiling with so much in mind and nothing at once. Even in the darkness, his baggy eyes could be seen, as well as his messy hair and unkempt beard, which had begun to grow several days ago without him caring about.

Finally, when he dared to move, he looked at his phone again. The wallpaper was a photo of you both that you’d taken a while ago, so he looked at the screen for about two minutes, scanning your face. Then, he opened your chat, full of messages he’d sent but you hadn’t responded to any of them in the last year. Although that didn’t stop him to send you a new one.

“Don’t worry about the bill, I’ll pay it tomorrow. Love you.”

As punctual as always. He’d paid your phone bill the last year, every first of the month. In that way he could keep sending you messages, and above all, keep calling you so he can hear your beautiful voice in that voicemail.

That was his ritual for a year, since the day you died. You weren’t there anymore, and the only thing left of you was your voice. He was aware that holding into your voicemail wasn’t healthy, it was killing him slowly. But at that point he didn’t care.

He loved you to the bone, a burning fire impossible to put out, and if that little recording was all that was left of you, then he would hold on until the day his heart stopped beating too and his soul finally reunited with yours once more.

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husband!simon who can't sleep anywhere else. warnings!: pregnancy, mild angst.

Your pregnancy hadn’t been easy. Pain, loneliness, discomfort, breakdowns — and more pain.

Simon had been there when he could. Even as your husband, he couldn’t stay with you through all of it. He had to work.

The missions started getting longer. But you understood. You loved him. And you’d accepted this the moment you said “I do” in that quiet city hall.

You never complained — because he loved you. And you loved him. At least, he was there for the birth.

After your daughter was born, Simon — or rather, Ghost — went back to routine. Two months home, two months away. Sometimes more. Sometimes only two weeks.

Now, Ghost lay on a makeshift “bed” — a stiff mattress, surrounded by snoring grown men. It stank of sweat, blood, and war-worn exhaustion. Nothing he wasn’t used to.

But sleep didn’t come easy. Not for Ghost. Not for Simon. He’d always struggled with sleeping in new places. Ironic, really.

That night, he’d only slept for two hours. It was 2AM. He glanced around — everyone else was asleep.

He grabbed the disposable phone. Every mission, Task Force 141 got one. He still wasn’t great with tech, but a notification... that he noticed.

A new message.

He opened it.

It was a photo. You, holding your daughter in your arms. You were smiling, exhausted but glowing. The baby asleep, peaceful.

The message read: “We’re okay. Don’t worry. We love you 💕”

Simon — because for a few seconds, he wasn’t Ghost anymore — didn’t know how you’d gotten the number to that burner phone. Didn’t matter.

His chest warmed.

“I love you too,” he whispered.

He stared at the photo for a while. You looked tired. He noticed. And guilt settled in. Your daughter was perfect, in her little white onesie covered in tiny stars.

Simon missed you. Both of you.

He shut the phone off. Closed his eyes.

And that night...

Simon slept more than two hours.

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house husband!ghostie who was just the best on wash days. he was so sweet and attentive, learning all about your curls and coils. what products worked best, the best heat protection for when you needed a blow out for braids, and all things moisturizers! a day that was once full of tired arms and tantrums when your braid out didn’t turn out right turned into a day full of intimacy and reassurance. “gonna give our babies the best hair gorgeous.” his right smooth voice made your knees give out. the soothing of the warm water running while your eyes were shut tight, cunt squeezing against his grith.

his calloused hands massaged your scalp letting the shampoo sud up now on his second wash, and your third orgasm. “s-simon!” your voice was louder than intended due to the small echo effect of the sink. his hips slowly and carefully moved. his cock fucking into you slow and sensually, your hands clutching the rim of the sink tightly. your body loving how he was moving, making you feel every vein, and the massive downward curve his dick had. but your mind, your mind was impatient and needed more. your stomach churned yarning to hear the fast pace of his hips hitting your ass, and his roughness that you loved.

but it was a wash day. and on wash days ghostie only gave you the gentlest stokes and softes kisses. when you tried to fuck him back, pushing your ass back to meet his toned pelvis he gently yanked at your stands. “patients,” he said sternly. he used the small hose to rise your hair, squeezing the water out and going in with a deep conditioning mask. while he parts your hair and used a wide tooth comb to comb the product in more he hummed, speeding himself up. his cock jerked in your mushy walls, his adam’s apple bobbing not wanting to lose the battle of letting you break him, but his resistance was slowly depleting.

after making sure your hair was detandgled he dropped the comb, and gripped your love handles taking what he wanted. “g-ghositee waittttuhh!” you were just getting used to his slow strokes, that when he fucked you - still gental but now no longer teasingly, you chocked on your spit. ghost bit his lip letting an animalistic groan out. your cream dropping everywhere getting the freshly mopped floors wet, which he would be happy to clean .. or lick up later. “gotta let the mask sit babydoll” ghost groaned slapping your ass, his balls srucnched with your continuous clenching and unclenching around him. “give me that cum baby” slapping your ass again, he leaned down licking your ear.

“cum all over your ghosties cock” with whimpers and burning eyes from the mask sliding down your face; you came. hard. your knees lost it’s ability again, and ghost held you up - again. creampieing your precious pussy so that you could give him his babies that looked nothing like him, and had your beautiful hair.

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Ripped ghost truthers come to my doorsteps to die.

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I WANT MORE OF BUTCHER SIMON SO BAD , you know when they started to become couples his business got growing up and he had to open other meat shops and restaurants and he became rich and asking her to marry him while she’s pregnant with his child ahhhhhh

Hi anon! I love writing butcher!simon too oml😭 It's not rlly turned out how you described it to be, but we have more parts to write and read! Enjoy!

butcher!simon who woke up after the night you two spent together (I shall say the night he spent in you). And fuuck, how pretty you looked for him! Hair all messy, naked, wrapped in the blanket in his bed. But smile faded from his lips when he thought "No, you weren't fully his yet."

butcher!simon who was afraid of you ghosting him after that night, but to his relief you showed up at his shop the next day, all dolled up and beautiful, kissing him in front of other customers, making him be over the moon and ready to cum in his fucking pants.

butcher!simon who started to receive messages from you that you're feeling sick and you puked a couple of times:( That's when the man realises: he bred you just right. You're pregnant with his baby.

butcher!simon who rushes to your place, wanting to feel your warmth as soon as possible and thank you for carrying his baby

butcher!simon who falls on his knees to pat your belly gently, to feel your now a very little baby bump with his palm

butcher!simon who goes shopping for your future baby immediately after finding out you're pregnant. Chooses clothes a size bigger , because he's oh so sure that his baby will be chubby like his daddy

butcher!simon that finally made sure that you're fully his.

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Married Simon Riley x surrogate you

Tw: mentioned miscarriage, slight angst?

You’re a surrogate for a seemingly perfect couple. Simon doesn’t even want a child but his wife does and he’d do everything for her.

She claims she always miscarry and that can be true at least at first. What he didn’t know is that she got an hysterectomy before they even got together. She didn’t want to mess up her perfect body? Why would she when she wanted to be a trophy wife? She’s been selfish and saw the payout with his money. Putting a child into it means more money for her. Right?

Big house, fancy car and a sexy husband. He didn’t understand why she wanted a child since the two were fine with just their dogs but anything for his babygirl.

His first suspicion should’ve been her lack of interest in choosing a perfect surrogate. His second should’ve been why she forgo using her own eggs.

‘But the doctor said her eggs were bad’ *she didn’t have any. She had them scoop that shit out.*

His third should’ve been her constant absence within their home, she’s either with her friends at brunch or shopping or god knows where. Not even a slight check up with the unborn child SHE begged for.

‘The card needs topping up’ ‘I maxed out the card’ ‘I bought this and that and this and that…’ it seems these are the only conversations they had.

He’s always the one to check on you, bring you food and whatever you’re craving because you’re carrying his baby. It’s only right, no?

‘How is she feeling?’ He would text you often.

‘Fine. Really active.’ You would reply.

You really didn’t want to but he’s slowly became your friend. Not that you lacked it but it’s nice to have a good relationship with the people you’re carrying for. Money aside of course.

One thing that ate you up is how much you felt you needed to detach from your growing emotions for the life inside of you. Granted, it was your egg but you had to give her away. It made you sad to think about it but you told yourself this feeling of attachment is normal. It’s technically your baby.

“This is weirdly fancy.” You said, Secretly irritated.

Eight months pregnant and his wife threw a whole party and acted like she was the one pregnant as you, the actual pregnant person, sat in the corner (by choice and out of their way since you knew no one) pregnant and felt like a show.

“Tell me about it.” Simon, sitting next to you and equally as irritated, said. He’d rather be somewhere quiet.

“We’re having a baby!” He hears his wife on the mic. “I would like to thank you all in coming. We’ve been trying so hard for this and god made this possible. I may have an unfruitful womb but my lovely friend has made it possible.” It might look like she’s gratefully looking at you but since Simon as shifted some of his attention to you that woman hated you.

You didn’t like her either so the feeling is mutual. There’s something about her that was…off. She was so fake and overly nice.

But I guessed you found out sooner than later.

It was one of your potentially last check up. Both of them were there for once.

“So vaginal birth is possible?” You confirmed with the doctor.

“If you can handle it yes. Once there’s no pressure problems and your body can naturally handle it. Your hips are wide enough and birth canal are great for the possibility. Hopefully the baby doesn’t grow more than her current weight.” The doctor explains.

She was a chubby already but Simon was a TANK so you weren’t surprised.

“Oh thank god it’s not be because can you imagine me ruining my body.” His wife made an off comment.

Bitch?

Before you could say anything the doctor cuts you off. “Bringing a child into this world is a beautiful thing. If your mother worried about that you wouldn’t have been here.”

You snorted, looking away and wincing when a contraction hit. Braxton hicks was the bane of your current existence.

Simon was more worried about how you were doing more than worrying about what his wife had to say.

“Doctor I don’t think that’s your place. I wonder what the board will think about this.” His wife seethes.

“Can you step outside for a bit baby?” Simon told her. She knew what that tone meant so she huffed and left.

The check up continued and you all split up after.

Days later you went and got a wax because if you get a fine ass doctor or nurse and your coochie is hairy you’d die of embarrassment. Your went and got your nails done too to feel cute.

You were sitting in your car sipping a milkshake and burger when Simon called. He sounded so sad it broke your heart.

“What do you mean she doesn’t want the baby?” You snapped. You’re about to go bad in this bitch.

At anytime you can give birth and that stork neck, tight faced bitch didn’t want this child??! That sounds sensible to you?

“Look-“

“I respect you I really do. But I’m—urghh!“ you scoot your seat back when your belly tightened. Your back instantly started aching.

“Hey? Hello! (Y/n)? Are you okay?” Simon was frantic on the other end.

You then realized you dropped your phone, picking it up you answered him. “Meet me at the hospital.” You really didn’t not think it’s pee that seeped through your leggings.

-

As soon as she’s out and screaming you told them not to give her to you. You couldn’t care to see what you’ll be giving up. Your heart hurt when you heard her cries because that was really your baby. Half of you.

“..you’re really not going to see her?” Simon asked when you were situated in your room and comfortable.

“She’s not mine.” You shrugged. You tried to appear nonchalant but you’re hurting.

“She can be.” He replied. Staring at her.

He did that a lot. You felt like he was staring into your soul.

“What’s that supposed to even mean?”

“Kathy and I are divorcing….” He drops the bomb. “She’s been cheating on me. Also found out that she didn’t have fertility issues, she just took her fucking uterus out.”

“Why did you say it like that?” You didn’t want to laugh but the way he said it made you laugh. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“She’s mad. Mad that I’d rather you over her. Asked why m’ always looking at your pretty face.”

You blushed red. “What?”

“I see you looking. And I’ve been looking too.” He takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “You don’t have to but Sanai needs a mum.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re perfect. And you care. And I like you.”

-

Should they?

[readernimsblog]

roommate!simon riley realizing you've been stealing his clothes

simon didn't notice his clothes had slowly been disappearing from his closet. he was always gone on missions, and it wasn't like they didn't find their way back into his drawers at the end of the day.

there would be instances where he was looking for a particular hoodie that had disappeared without a trace, only to find it hanging in his closet the next day.

naturally, he was puzzled by this, but as long as everything returned to him, he didn't mind. he figured you had something to do with it, and to him, you were a harmless little bird. what harm was it to let you steal a shirt or a hoodie from time to time? especially if you needed something big and warm.

until he realised the harm it could cause when he found you in the kitchen with nothing, but his black shirt, 'riley' written across the back in big, white letters.

it was dangerous.

simon hadn't ever saw you in that light, hadn't ever imagined having any sort of claim on you other than being your roommate.

but now?

now you had his name over you.

now he wanted to see you with his last name after your first.

and he'd start making that happen by bending you over the kitchen counter, buried deep in your pussy after he pulled aside your lacy thong.

you'd gasp at the unexpectedness of his actions and keen to the feeling of his hands all over your body, his thick cock pounding your cunt. "fuckin' temptress." his gruff voice muttered into your neck, trailing sloppy kisses over your skin.

he'd knock every breath out of your lungs, make you delirious to where you didn't even question it when he muttered about giving you a ring and putting a baby inside you while rubbing your tummy,¨NBSP;feeling where the tip of his cock nudged your stomach.

simon riley knows what he wants, and when he does, he doesn't stop at anything until he gets it.

[readernimsblog]

imagine your ex-boyfriend being so annoying, spamming your phone, and randomly showing up at your apartment, begging you to give him yet another chance.

at first, you felt pity for the guy.

even thought of letting him in a couple of times.

you didn't, but the guilt that gnawed at your throat nearly became too much to bare.

your hand drifted eerily close to the handle as you heard his pleas through your door.

the only thing that made you come back to reality was the pounding of a broom stick on the floor beneath, shouting for the man to shut the fuck up.

that was some days ago, but now, instead of feeling pity or guilt, you’re starting to feel just plain creeped out.

scared he might act on impulse and break into your apartment in the depths of the night.

you're sleeping has taken a plummet, even with a knife by your bed, nothing seems to coax you into relaxation.

that is, until you have the brilliant idea to go next door to your tall, scary, military neighbor, who goes by simon.

you don't know his last name; hell you barely knew his first.

the only reason you knew it was because you heard some girl he brought home moan it through your thin connecting walls.

you felt guilty as you pulled out your small vibrator, goading your sweet release as you heard him groan and curse with every harsh thrust.

even the guilt that swirled in your stomach couldn’t take away the guttural effects he was having on your body, even from so far away.

you ducked your head, avoiding his gaze from then on, until one day, while having trouble unlocking your apartment door, he trudged to your door after examining you for a moment, gently scooting you away and fixing it right before your eyes.

you claimed he was a magician.

he chuckled, deep and gruff, before his name fell off his tongue in greeting, making your thighs clench together.

you hurriedly introduced yourself, before rushing into your apartment, shutting the door behind you, and sinking onto the ground with a deep sigh and hot skin.

pathetic, really.

but, he didn't mind.

he thought you were cute—odd but cute—and you brought him cookies the next day as a thank you, so how could he think ill of you?

so if anyone could help you, it was simon.

“hey, neighbor,” you greet him when he opens the door. he is wearing a simple black long sleeve shirt and dark cargo pants.

he nods towards you. “hello.”

you smile brightly at him, somewhat forgetting your dilemma.

he tilts his head to the side, quipping a brow. “any particular reason you’re here?” he asks, voice rough as always.

you rock on your heels, fidgeting with your fingers. “i need your help.”

he leans against the doorframe. “go on.”

“i’m sure you’ve heard that guy that comes around,” you start, watching his squinted eyes.

“who hasn’t? that bastard is always here,” he says gruffly.

“he’s my ex,” you admit, cringing.

simon stiffens, eyes opening wider slightly.

“he’s, uh… become an issue. he won’t leave me alone, and i’m scared he’s going to break into my apartment while i’m sleeping,” you say, shaking your head, the tension in your voice evident.

“he’s not going to do that,” he shrugs.

your eyes widen at his dismissal, feeling slightly hurt. “how do you know?”

he turns to grab a backpack off a hook beside him. “because i’ll be there. won’t let him through the door,” he casually mutters as he steps out of his apartment, closing it behind him.

you feel a flutter in your stomach at his taking on the role of your protector so quickly—no enticement necessary.

“i really appreciate it, simon.” your voice is full of gratitude.

“don’t mention it, sweetheart,” he shakes his head, heading towards your door. “key?” he asks, reaching for your painted key hanging around your neck.

you hurriedly lean forward, mind completely fogging at the endearment.

his lip quips as he tugs the key up and over your head to unlock the door.

once he unlocks the door, he pushes the door wide open, stepping aside for you to go in first.

“and they say chivalry is dead,” you can’t help but joke as you slip in, a teasing glint in your eye.

he matches your humorous smile with one of his own. “do they? hadn’t heard that,” he murmurs, closing the door as he steps in.

you spin your head away from his gaze, opting to stare at a lonesome flower pot with a dumb grin on your face.

the next two hours are spent lazing until you find yourself on the cushion right next to simon on the couch as he occasionally glanced at the door, while you picked and prodded at reality show stars on the television screen.

But you and simon both stiffen when you hear the familiar hard knock on the front door, followed by a strained male voice pleading.

you look at simon who's already stalking over to the door; you uncross your legs and walk behind him.

with annoyance, simon pulls open the door, and you see your ex’s face whiten and his body sag at the sight. “can we help you?” simon gruffs, cocking a brow at his pathetic demeanor.

your ex stammers, stumbling over his words as he looks between you and simon. “who the fuck are you?” your ex demands, though not daring to try and overpower simon because simon easily has fifty pounds and eight inches over him.

simon crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging bigger as he does so. “you should lose this address,” he urges, voice so gruff and commanding it sends shivers down your spine. “i don’t take too kindly to guys stalking my girlfriend,” he says with an ease that makes you lick your drying lips.

“girlfriend?” your ex chokes out, unable to comprehend what he is hearing.

“that’s what i said, isn’t it?” simon almost sounds disinterested.

your ex’s eyes wander to you. “you're dating this guy?” he almost sounds hurt.

you shift under his gaze, feeling awkward.

“don't talk to her. talk to me,” simon interjected, feeling your unease.

“you can’t—you aren’t dating,” your ex begins, narrowing his eyes. “you’re just doing this to make me jealous, aren’t you?” there is venom behind his words that pisses simon off.

simon’s lips flatline, and just as you go to speak, simon turns his head, hand coming to cup your jaw to kiss you deeply, possessively.

your ex releases a short breath as the sight.

simon’s tongue moves across to skim your teeth, making you whine into his mouth, as his fingers tangle in your hair for deeper contact.

you release a shallow whimper of protest as simon pulls back, enjoying the sight of your ex so shell-shocked.

simon tilts his head forward, looking into his eyes intently. “this is my girl, and if i find out you’ve been botherin’ her, i’ll make you a dead man. you hear me?” his voice is so lethal it makes you squirm, but in a completely different way than your ex.

your ex’s eyes look like saucers as he nods his head fervently.

“good choice. now leave,” simon instructs.

without another word, your ex spins on his heels, looking like a hurt lamb as he leaves the complex.

simon lets out a dry laugh as he shuts the door behind him.

“thank you,” you murmur.

he gives you a brief smile, gesturing for you to sit back on the couch. you both go back to lazing around, now watching some cooking show you put on.

later that night, he insisted on setting up shop in your living room for the night… or just the next two!

it’s really not a big deal.

he just wouldn’t be able to continue on if something happened to his cute neighbor!

that’s all.

you’re so sweet and still shaken up by the interaction that you let him stay the night.

…and the next one.

…and the one after that.

you’re starting to think he never really counted on staying just one night.

you don’t say anything, but after the second week passes and simon is still around, you find yourself reeling as you start to see his socks and shirts tucked nicely in your drawers.

his coffee mug now kisses yours in the cabinet, and some magnets of the countries he’s visited cling to the fridge.

there isn’t a crevice in your apartment that simon hasn’t explored, or left a piece of himself in.

you should have known better than to invite simon into the same place he had fantasized about for the past six months.

the very place where he listened to your sweet moans, so loud, so tempting.

every. single. night.

he kicked his friends out of his place every time he heard your vibrator start up, so that they couldn’t listen to your breathy whines and so he could sneak away to his room, where your thin walls meet, to tug away at his cock imagining it was you stroking him until he came all over his hand and sheets.

such a sweet girl, you are.

letting a dog into your home to roam free, unaware of the way he watched you with a slobbering tongue and a primal hunger.

oh, sweetheart, you never stood a chance.

[readernimsblog]

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