shroomdreams

[shroomdreams]

Turning Page

You work at the library Simon and his daughter frequent.

single dad! Simon Riley x librarian! Reader

tags | alpha! Simon Riley, Omega! Reader, a/b/o dynamics, mentions of mating bonds, scenting, fluff

ch. 5 | masterlist | ao3

It’s built into his bones at this point.

Protection. Safety. Fatherhood.

The aggressive itches in his mind that used to be devoted to his line of work shaped and morphed into being a father.

He’s a different man now. Someone entirely different.

When it comes to Clementine, his pup, he’s a little too protective. All too familiar with the cruel corners of the world. The corners he intends to shield her from, the pieces that don’t have enough patience for her. His innocent girl who shouldn’t know the dangers or griefs of the world.

Leaving her with pack is one thing, Johnny is a little eccentric and Kyle a little too clueless, but it’s better than strangers, a potential threat at the hands of Clementine. He would love if his pack was always around, there to watch her when he needed to run to the store without having to wrangle his bundle into a car seat with extra snacks and toys. Though this is the life he chose, the pack he’s bonded with and he can’t exactly call up the task force mid-mission and ask if they could change their objective to babysitting.

He’s reasoned with that, settled with it long ago. It was a life he had to set aside for the sake of Clementine. He doesn’t regret it. Not a damn day.

But that doesn’t mean it’s not difficult. His sweet pup whom he couldn’t imagine putting in the hands but anyone from his pack. It’s a hard decision, a choice he can only make as a single father whose pack can’t force time.

Two new books, and the return of your copy of Corduroy.

That should be it.

But his Clementine is mischievous, tugs at his pants when she knows he’s going to walk away from their previous conversation, “Daddy, you have to ask her.”

You look at him from behind your desk, brows pinched with a tilt of your head. Mint crosses her arms over her chest, angles him a determined look when he shakes his head in disagreement. He’s starting to regret raising her to be hardheaded.

So, he follows through, as promised.

“Go out with us,” Simon says. “This Friday.”

Your lips part in shock, eyes widening as you bob your head.

His lips twitch. “Mint will be there, is that okay?”

“Of course!” You agree, flashing both of them a proud smile. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

If it were his ideal date it would be dinner, taking you somewhere both of you could talk in private. Instead, he’s got you following along at the aquarium, Clementine dragging both of them behind her to every fish she finds interesting. He does feel a little guilty; he wishes he could show you that he wants the time alone with you, that your scent weighs heavily on him, that he wants to carry you to his bed and show you how a real alpha would treat you.

But he’s a packaged deal at this point. Clementine doesn’t go anywhere without him. A man who used to be a lone wolf, suddenly a pair.

Its not like you make it seem as if you mind too much. You carry Clementine’s hand the entire time, slender fingers engulfed in her chubby ones, following behind her with your own excitement, matching her own star-struck energy as you point out and ask about the fish the both of you see.

It’s redundant at this point, but he can’t fucking help it.

You’re so fucking sweet to his girl. It’s like it’s second nature to you, like you didn’t have to adapt your flawed traits to be a person worth raising a child. He’s not surprised she likes you so much; you work so well with children, with her, that it would be impossible not to.

The missing piece in their family that falls so easily into place.

Clementine’s got her nose pressed to the glass, pointing to one of the fish in the tank, “Look! It’s the rainbow fish!”

You chuckle, squatting down to her line of sight, “It does look like the rainbow fish, doesn’t it?”

“What about those, Mint?” He asks, pointing to a different tank.

“That’s Nemo!” She exclaims, pattering over to his side.

“It is Nemo.” He agrees, “They’re clownfish. What about Dory, Can we find Dory?”

It takes a few minutes, Clementine staring wide-eyed at the huge tank before she shouts, “She’s right there! Papa, do you see her?”

The three of you go to dinner after, where Clementine insists she sits next to you instead of him. It’s not the fanciest restaurant, but it’s Clementine’s favorite, a frequent regular at the location.

“You want the pasta, Mint?”

Clementine nods eagerly, “Please, Daddy.”

“Oh, is the pasta good?” You ask her, tilting your head in her direction, and tapping your chin.

“It’s my favorite.” Clementine verifies.

“Then, I’ll just have to get that too.” You confirm, smiling at each other like both of you are sharing an important secret.

You color with Clementine while you wait, talking to her about the aquarium. He should probably pay attention, but he keeps drifting to the way you push your glasses back on the bridge of your nose. The way you help pull Clementine’s hair out of her face when she starts eating without having to ask.

“What was your favorite sea animal we saw today?” You ask her.

“The rainbow fish!” Clementine answers, enthusiastically, “From the book!”

“Ahh, that was a good one. It was really pretty, wasn’t it?” You add, “My favorite was the octopus.”

His alpha flares, twisting and spinning something territorial. Something hot and burning.

“And yours?” You turn your attention towards him.

“Hmm?” He blinks a few times.

“Sea animal, what was your favorite sea animal you saw today?” You reiterate.

“Penguins.”

A laugh follows. “Why?”

He shrugs. “The father takes care of their egg, keeps them warm until they hatch.”

You smile, wide and genuine, “That's sweet.”

It’s late by the time they get home, Clementine fell asleep in the car long ago, so he just tucks her into bed when they arrive.

“Think I should call it a night, too.” You say, standing up from the couch.

For a second night he walks into his living room to the sight of you, but this time you don’t stay.

“I’ll walk you out.”

Patience— the two of you get to your car before it wears thin.

Alpha emerging, turning in his chest, fangs and talons, maw thick and heavy. Nudges you against your car door, paw around the back of your neck, lips pressed to yours. You make a squeak of surprise, palms landing on his chest.

Still, he holds back, reels himself in because the noise you make when he thumbs your scent gland goes straight to his dick. He engulfs your jasmine taste, melts vanilla between his teeth.

Sugar sweet and something addictive.

@weeping-treee @lumilily @tessakate @shitaaba @lucienofthelakes @nocturnal-nyx @aphinthestars @muraaaaaa @night-shadowblood-writes2 @thetastewassweeter @eremika104 @animegamerfox @oaksgrove @dawnnightshade666 @chaieanne @trulovekay @appalachianecho @grossitsluca @noonespecial2347 @spidersuneee @ihe4rtme @lunamoonbby @iaozuyiling @aggiesramble @novthewolf @irondreamerface @callsignpxnguin @flowerluvr @whatdoyxumean @sleepybunnygirly @cd-mr @cod-bin @crackheadwithtoes @diasnohibng @bookies16 @amberbalcom14 @vajjaa

[shroomdreams]

maybe ill turn this into a fic but uhm this gaz thought

cw: fem reader, public/shower sex

MDNI

imagine being a cutie gaz spots from across the pool. he and 141 decide to head to a resort when theyre back from deployment. you, who looooves swimming, decide to wear a cute two piece bikini, because you love how it looks on you and it gives you so much confidence.

meanwhile, gaz is shamelessly checking you out as he puts on sunscreen, licking his lips as you float on your back. the water that clings onto your skin makes you look like a goddess, and that adorable bikini you have on drives him nuts.

maybe he swims over to you while youre in the pool, maybe you swim over and peek up from the water like a curious little nymph.

either way, you both end up in the showers fucking, gaz's mouth swallowing your moans as he thrusts into you, your bottom pushed to the side to allow him to rut into your heat.

gaz can only give price a grin when the captain asks him what took him so long.

[shroomdreams]

secret baby trope with cod men but the reader was only around for a vacation so they dont see eachother for years until a kid bumps into them, followed by a very familiar person

could see either soap or gaz for this one tee bee ech

[shroomdreams]

Turning Page

You work at the library Simon and his daughter frequent.

single dad! Simon Riley & Librarian! Reader

tags | alpha! Simon Riley, Omega! Reader, mentions of abusive relationship, noncon, forced mating

ch. 4 | masterlist | ao3

Birthdays.

Birthdays meant absolutely nothing to Simon; they were just another day to celebrate a life not worth living.

That was before his bundle of citrus and sunshine, before May 15th. After her, birthdays became sacred, another year of his baby being healthy and safe, another year of his baby growing.

Previously, her birthdays weren’t difficult, but now when he sees his pup, curled up in her fuzzy blankets and plushies, he feels it in his heart. He can see the growth, how much taller she's become, how much she’s stopped relying on him for certain things, how easier it is for her to communicate with him.

He’s proud of her, obviously, by an immeasurable amount. His smart girl, so big and brave. He loves who she’s become, but it still makes his throat a little tight. Afraid of the moment she won’t need her dad anymore.

He won’t lie, the first time he threw a birthday party he was a little overwhelmed, didn’t realize how much went into planning such an event. He likes to think he has it down just a little bit more, it’s been five years; he has quite a bit of experience under his belt by now.

Still, he’s up at the crack of dawn preparing the food and decorations, laying out Mint’s princess outfit, wrapping all the last-minute gifts he’s bought her so she can have just the day she’s imagined. He thinks he might’ve gone a little overboard considering it’ll just be a few of Clementine’s friends from the library and the rest of his pack, but Clementine spent all yesterday making tiaras and flower crowns for everyone.

Tiaras that she presents to Johnny, Kyle, and Price when they arrive with a proud smile, pulling them down to their knees so she can place them atop their heads with a giggle. He’s already got one of his own pinned in his hair.

It’s almost comical how Clementine has a pack of alphas wrapped around her tiny fingers. She doesn’t know the second life they live, the life he used to live before her. A cruel world that didn’t have room for innocence such as her and she’s got them in hand-made tiaras, a bundle of gifts in their arms, and all their devoted attention.

The preparation almost makes Simon forget you’re coming. That your mate who left those shallow indents on your neck will be on your arm, but Johnny doesn’t let his mind stray too far.

“And whose mom is that?”

Simon glances up, following Johnny's line of sight. It’s you, walking through the gate, who seemed to take the fairy princess theme quite seriously. You’re wearing a milkmaid sundress, floral cloth billowing around your heavenly figure.

Maybe Simon’s been deprived of pretty flesh for so long, but the slope of your breasts makes him feel a little crazy, mouth watering at the sight like his alpha is preparing to devour you whole. It doesn’t help that your hairs pinned up, leaving your collarbone and shoulders bare, mating bite on full display, but there’s no mate by your side.

“Clementine’s.”

Johnny laughs, smacking him on the shoulder, “Ye dirty dog!”

Simon ignores him, walking over to prolong introducing you to the rest of the 141 men. You smile that same smile that makes his teeth ache when you see him, waving as he makes his way to you.

“You made it.” Simon says, stopping once he reaches you, massive frame towering over your smaller one.

“I did!“ You respond, beaming up at him.

“I see you took the theme to heart.” He teases, doing a dramatic once over of your outfit.

You laugh, doing a twirl to show it off, “Well, do I look like a princess?”

The act has him biting his tongue, inhaling deeply because the whirl sends a thick whiff of your jasmine scent straight to his head, making him a little dizzy.

“You look beautiful.” He breathes the words like he fucking means it.

You pause, heat rushing up your neck and cheeks, “You’re one to talk with that get up.”

“Mint insisted anyone can be a princess, so she made all of us tiaras.” He replies, placing his hand on the small of your back, slowly guiding you to the gift table.

A chuckle leaves your lips, falling into place next to him like it’s normal to have his palm on your warm skin, “Well, you make a very pretty princess.”

“So do you.”

He’s putting it on a little thick, but he can’t find it in himself to care. There’s no mate by your side and he has every intention to take that empty place.

Clementine runs over at that, doesn’t give them much room to dwell in the tension he’s built, gasping in shock when she sees you, “You look like a princess!”

You lean down to speak to her, “You are a princess! Happy birthday, sweetheart!”

Clementine giggles, holding out the skirt of her dress, “Do you like my dress? Daddy helped pick it out.”

“Of course I do. You look so pretty!” You agree, nodding your head earnestly.

Clementine drags you away at that, animatedly showing off the decorations and the massive birthday cake she’s been waiting all day to eat, placing a crown on your head as well. Simon just watches from afar, rolling his tongue over his teeth to hide the smile threatening to spread on his lips at the sight of you and his girl.

Eventually, Johnny manages to pry you from Clementine’s death grip on your hand, doing his own dragging of sorts to the rest of them. It’s not easy to face four alphas at once as an omega, especially his pack, colossal and threatening. You have to crane your neck to look at them, fluttering your eyes to diffuse their pungent scents.

It’s not as bad as he expected; you exchange small talk with them, laughing along with their exaggerated banter. You’re behaving quite brave, confidently poking back at their teasing, but he can see the hidden anxiety veiled behind your pinched bottom lip and clenching fists. Though, he supposes it’s pretty easy not to take any of them seriously when they’ve got princess tiaras on.

The party goes by in a bit of a blur, eating turns into singing happy birthday while cutting the cake turns into opening gifts. There’s an abundance of gifts for Clementine to open, a range of books, toys, and clothes, but she bursts at the seams when she opens your gift, a teddy bear. A teddy bear just like Corduroy.

Clementine exclaimed loudly when she realized it was Corduroy, hugging the bear to her chest tightly. It’s the loudest reaction she’s given the whole night, the brightest smile smeared across her tiny face. She doesn’t let it go the rest of the party, carries it with her while she walks everyone out until it’s just you, him, and her.

“Papa?” Clementine says, pattering her way to his side while he cleans the mess of all her opened gifts.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can we read my bedtime story?” She asks, small paws rubbing at her eyes.

“Of course we can, Mint.” He turns towards you, “I’ll be right back.”

You nod in understanding, giving both of them a small smile before you wish Clementine a good night. It’s been a long day for her, running every which way with her uncles and friends, so he isn’t surprised she’s drained, crashing out from all the sugary frosting she’s stuffed her face with.

“You tired, pup?” He hoists her in his arms, tucking her head into the crook of his neck, “Hard work being a princess?”

She just yawns a hum in response, snuggling deeper into his hold. He chuckles, maneuvering both of them onto her bed.

“Corduroy?” He proposes, because it’s been their routine for a month now, the books already at her bedside.

She shakes her head, “Angelina Ballerina.”

“Ohh, our new birthday book from uncle Kyle, huh?”

He doesn’t finish the story, doesn’t even get close to the ending before Clementine is asleep in his arms, hand fisting his shirt, the other holding Corduroy snug against her chest. He stays after she’s fallen asleep, dwells in the warmth just a little longer, stamping a kiss on her forehead, clinging on to the last few moments he gets of her birthday.

When he returns you’re in the kitchen, back facing him as you wash the excess dishes in the sink. He stares for a second, storing the image of you in his home after he’s put Clementine to bed like it’s where you belong, fit into their life’s so perfectly.

“You don’t have to do any o’ that.” He says walking over to shut the water off.

“Oh— it’s okay!” You start, shaking your head “I don’t mind helping.”

He leans against the counter, positioning himself in front of the sink so he’s staring up at you. “She already loves that damn bear. She’s not gon’ want to go anywhere without it.”

“Yeah?” You laugh, drying your hands with a towel because he’s blocking you from doing anymore unnecessary labor. “I’m glad she likes it.”

“So,” There’s a long pause, the real question he wants to ask you heavy on his tongue, “You didn’t bring your mate.”

You inhale, glancing at him, “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t,” You stop, fingers fidgeting with the towel in your hand like you’re thinking of the right words to say, “I don’t have one.”

He tilts his head, eyes darting to the bite on your neck in confusion.

“Well, I mean I did, obviously.” You explain, gesturing to the bite, “I just— not anymore.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, brows furrowing.

“It’s a long story,” You sigh, turning your attention to your hands, “It’s from some shit alpha I was dating at the time. Helped me through my heat, but I told him not to bite me no matter what. Wore a bite guard and everything.”

“And the asshole just did anyways?” He scoffs.

“Well, I don’t remember all of it. I was in heat, everything was hazy up until I felt his teeth.” You huff a laugh, but it’s anything but humorous, “You know, they say you’re supposed to enjoy it, that it creates this unexplainable bond between the pair, but it just fucking hurt. Hurt so bad that I blacked out, woke up in a hospital bed.”

You stop to catch your breath, eyes fluttering shut to work up the courage to continue. He doesn’t push you, lets you take your time to form the thoughts swirling around in your mind.

“That was it. I didn’t have a choice after that, I was bonded to him. What was I going to do? Walk around with a bite on my neck and pretend I’d ever find another mate?”

You’re picking at the seams of the towel now, licking your lips between sentences anxiously.

“And my family— my pack, insisted I stay with him despite it all. Told me I’d be shunned from the pack if I did leave, he was my mate, bonded and signed. So, I stayed, even though he was a shitty alpha, treated me like shit, didn’t let me nest, didn’t help me with any other heat after that, didn’t even let me bite him back.” You fist the towel, words spat with anger, “I was forced to walk around with a claim, this bite that I didn’t even want while he got to walk away bite free from the situation.”

“Why did you finally leave?” He asks, wrangling the towel from your grasp, so he can smooth his hands over yours.

“My mom.” You answer, finding his eyes and swallowing thickly, “I stayed in the pack for her. The moment she passed, I packed my bags and left. Never looked back.”

You give him a sad smile, doesn’t quite reach your eyes like it usually does, “It’s fading, clearly, the bond severed and fraying after being apart for so long, but it hurts. The bite stings every day, like my body is rejecting it and purging it from my skin.”

“I’m sorry.” He says it for multiple reasons, for being a proper ass, behaving possessive towards you, pointing the bite out multiple times when he didn’t know your story, “You didn’t deserve that, any of that.”

“Sorry, kind of just dropped all of that on you.” You chuckle, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“No don’t be, I’m glad to know. You shouldn’t have had that right taken from you.” He brushes his thumb over your knuckles soothingly, dipping his head to make direct eye contact with you, “You deserve a better alpha than that.”

You flip your palm over, tangling your fingers in his. “I do, don’t I?”

You deserve him.

@weeping-treee @lumilily @tessakate @shitaaba @lucienofthelakes @nocturnal-nyx @aphinthestars @muraaaaaa @night-shadowblood-writes2 @thetastewassweeter @eremika104 @animegamerfox @oaksgrove @dawnnightshade666 @chaieanne @trulovekay @appalachianecho @grossitsluca @noonespecial2347 @spidersuneee @ihe4rtme @lunamoonbby @iaozuyiling @aggiesramble @novthewolf @irondreamerface @callsignpxnguin @flowerluvr @whatdoyxumean @sleepybunnygirly @cd-mr @cod-bin @crackheadwithtoes @diasnohibng @bookies16

[shroomdreams]

Turning Page

You work at the library Simon and his daughter frequent.

Single dad! Simon Riley x librarian! Reader

tags | Alpha! Simon Riley, Omega! Reader, abo dynamics, mentions of mating bonds, scenting, fluff, eventual romance, girl-dad, retired Simon, angst

Ch. 3 | masterlist | ao3

Clementine has Simon awake as soon as humanly possible in anticipation for Corduroy. Dragging him to the library before he even managed to feed her breakfast and tame her bed head. She’s still wearing her ladybug slippers when he buckles her in the car seat, still got blue stains on her shirt from the blueberry muffin she ate the night before.

They usually walk; the library isn’t far from where they live, but Mint isn’t very patient at the moment, kicking her feet excitedly in the backseat of the car.

You’re not there when they arrive. A different librarian perched at your usual desk, no soft smile that he’s grown to look forward to tucked between the children’s books stacked on the edges of the wood. Instantly, Simon is mentally preparing to tell Clementine, let her know they probably won’t get Corduroy today to prevent a tantrum.

He asks for you anyway, thanks the stars and the moon above when the other librarian pulls out the bloody book and explains that you weren’t feeling well, but made sure to drop it off that morning. Even left a little note for them:

⁃ For little Clementine and Papa Simon

He bites back a smile, there’s that same heart you doodled on the chalkboard at the bottom. There’s an ache in his chest the whole drive home. He pins it on his refrigerator, right on the blank side of Mint’s painting. A sweet reminder pangs his heart everytime he walks past it.

After that, Clementine brings Corduroy to Simon every night. Fancy Nancy and Corduroy are on the itinerary before bedtime without fail.

It leaves Simon to reread the handwritten note on the title page each time:

‘To my one and only baby girl. Mama loves you a bushel and a peck.’

He’s got it memorized at this point, he’s got the whole bloody book memorized the number of times Clementine insists he reads it.

Guilt claws at his throat, bitterly and acidly, stinging his esophagus each time he opens the book because you lent such a sentimental book to his Clementine, went out of your way to drop it off even when you were ill.

It’s even worse when he continues to show up every Wednesday afternoon, when it feels like he’s using Clementine to appease some primal urge buried inside his alpha. He reasons that Clementine enjoys going to mollify the overwhelming feeling.

She does like it. Loves it. Doesn’t stop asking when they’ll go again, one week feels never-ending for her. She looks forward to the interactions with other pups, loves reading, likes reading with you even more.

Meanwhile, he gets to look forward to you.

Addictive jasmine scent, cat-eyed glasses, and a pretty fucking smile. A sight for sore eyes, the pretty thing he gets to stare at for an hour on Wednesday afternoons.

Desire is a stranger to him— was a stranger to him. His whole world shifted once Clementine came into his life. There wasn’t room for it; he didn’t want to make room for it. Clementine was all there was.

He didn’t crave it; he locked his alpha away the moment his little bundle was born, tucked and folded the strings to his heart somewhere untouchable. All of it was second to his Mint with her beady eyes and chubby cheeks.

But you wormed your way through it. Coaxed his alpha out with honeyed words and a scent that made him feel insatiable. Broke and chipped at the lock around his cage, made him just a little feral enough that he licked his fangs when he saw you like some animal, stared at you with heavy eyes like he had every intention to make you his.

That was it though, he couldn’t make you his. You were someone else’s, a longing in his chest that he couldn’t act on. Reminded him each time you shifted and that ugly mark rested right where his teeth would sink.

Maybe he didn’t nail the cage shut strong enough, left just a bit of room for someone like you to wedge it open. Even he couldn’t drown out the innate desire forever, but his life got put on the back burner for his daughters.

Which wasn’t a problem, until now. Until you. Until he was pinching back a possessive growl when you bent down to find a book Clementine wanted— Rainbow Fish.

Your dress was work appropriate, but if he nudged it just a little bit higher, he’d get such a pretty view of the inside of your thighs. Just another spot he’d leave his claim, bury his teeth into the soft flesh.

It had been so long since he looked at a woman like that, like he could imagine the way your arousal would taste— jasmine and so fucking sweet.

Maybe he should look away, a little too wound up for his own good.

The perverted dad who has a crush on the sweet librarian. Fighting the sudden tightness in his jeans in a bloody library. He should definitely look away and stop coming, find a new library for your sake.

Clementine seemed to have other ideas. She stood in front of you, hiding a card behind her back as she rocked back and forth coyly.

“Go on, Mint. Don’t you have somethin’ to ask her?” He muses, chuckling at her sudden shy attitude.

She pulls the card out, holding it up to you when you finally turn around. “Will you go to my birthday party?”

You make a surprised noise, taking the pink invitation from her tiny grasps. “Oh! I’m so honored! Yes of course!”

“It’s princess fairy themed!” Mint exclaims, “You have to come dressed like a fairy!”

You smile brightly, “I’ll wear my best fairy princess outfit, okay?”

Clementine claps her hands together, clenching her fists in excitement as she cheers.

“Your mate can come.” Simon says when you turn your attention to him.

Your mouth falls open, eyes widening slightly in response, sputtering over your words. “What?”

“Your mate,” He repeats, pointing to your bite, “Bring your mate.”

@weeping-treee @lumilily @tessakate @shitaaba @lucienofthelakes @nocturnal-nyx @aphinthestars @muraaaaaa @night-shadowblood-writes2 @thetastewassweeter @eremika104 @animegamerfox @oaksgrove @dawnnightshade666 @chaieanne @trulovekay @appalachianecho @grossitsluca @noonespecial2347 @spidersuneee @ihe4rtme @lunamoonbby @iaozuyiling @aggiesramble @novthewolf @irondreamerface @callsignpxnguin @flowerluvr @whatdoyxumean @sleepybunnygirly @cd-mr

[shroomdreams]

Turning Page

You work at a library Simon and his daughter frequent.

single dad! Simon Riley & Librarian! Reader

tags | alpha! Simon Riley, Omega! Reader, abo dynamics, mentions of mating bonds, scenting, fluff, eventual romance, girl-dad, retired Simon, angst

ch. 2 | masterlist | ao3

Simon sees it on his way out a week later.

Pink chalk, copperplate calligraphy, and rainbow ribbons. He stops when he sees your name, swirled and adorned with a doodled heart:

Join us for story time!

Every Wednesday afternoon.

It’s branded in his mind, engraved on the insides of his eyelids as he goes about the rest of his day. He can’t shake it, rattling in his thoughts, debating, coming to a decision when it’s as if he can taste your jasmine scent on his tongue before changing his mind completely when the image of fading teeth surfaces.

Clementines at the kitchen table, painting an extravagant picture she spent half the day drawing. He should really be sitting with her, help her from spilling the paint on the wooden table or smearing it all over her forearms and shirt, but he lets her make a mess.

Can’t really do much when his main concern is feeding her, when she insisted they eat breakfast for dinner tonight. So, he’s busy cooking pancakes, trying his best to make them fluff and not fall flat against the pan because that’s the way she likes them. Trying his best to bury the chalkboard with the stupid heart somewhere far, deep, from the forefront of his mind.

He watches Clementine between flips, corners of his lips tugged into a smile when she furrows her brows and juts her tongue out in concentration just like he used to. There’s pink paint on her cheek, blue drops on her white shirt that’ll probably stain, but he can’t find it in himself to really care. He can just buy her another, it’s nothing compared to the proud smile she beams up at him when she’s finished. He’ll get her an apron.

“Look, Daddy! Do you like it?”

His chest constricts when he comes closer, when she points to the scraggly stick figures she’s drawn.

“That one’s Daddy.”

She's painted his tattoos, black ink bleeding on his forearm as he holds her hand.

“This one’s Mint.”

She gave herself a pink triangle dress, painted her blonde hair into piggy tails.

“I love it, pup.” He tells her, petting the back of her head before kissing the crown.

It’s just the two of them, like it’s always been. Clementine’s other hand was empty, stretched out to hold nothing. Blank spot, nothing but white paper on her right side.

“Should we tack it up?” He asks.

She nods enthusiastically, nose scrunched and eyes squished as she watches him place it on the fridge. Smiles even wider when he drops half a plate of pancakes and half a plate of syrup in front of her.

They end the night like that, like they always do: dinner and a bath. Scrubs the paint and tacky syrup off her tiny hands and teeth before crawling into bed. He sits there, lets her browse her mini library and pick her own bedtime story. She crawls to his side once she’s content with her choice, curling herself onto his chest and into the nook of his arm.

It’s the same every time— Fancy Nancy.

She’s asleep before he even finishes the book, soft purr vibrating from her little chest. He falls asleep like that most of the time, long feet falling off her tiny bed, and smushed against her teddy bears. He knows he shouldn’t, that she should be sleeping on her own, but he sleeps best when he’s got his girl in his arms, safe.

On other nights, like this, he finds himself in the kitchen, kettle on the stove, staring at the fridge. Theres that damn painting of him and Mint. An incomplete family, broken and fractured, just like his was. A missing piece that Clementine deserves.

He makes his decision by the time he finishes his cup of tea.

You’re wearing overalls this time, turtle neck on under. He’s grateful; he doesn’t have to stare at the reminder of why he shouldn’t be there in the first place.

He sticks out like a sore thumb squashed on a child’s chair, back hunched because Mint insisted he sit next to her. Ex-military, uncouth appearance, tattoos curled around his arms, scars decorating his flesh, and a brooding gaze that only softens when he glances at his Clementine.

You smile at them, dainty fingers tugging at the strings in his chest that aren’t quite ready to unfold, yet. It only gets worse when you start to read the book— Corduroy.

He doesn’t even pay attention to the plot line, let alone the words that are coming out of your mouth. His alpha won’t let him, it’s too transfixed. Focused on the way your lips move, the cadence of your voice, and how it webs its way through the soles of his feet. Netting and lacing its own string around his heart that’s only big enough for Clementine.

You finish the book once before you take volunteers to read it aloud with you. Clementine jumps at the opportunity, raising her arm high, and bouncing in her seat. You laugh at her excitement, urging her forward, but she turns to him first, silently asking his permission.

He nods. “Go on, pup.”

She smiles brightly at that, plopping herself into your lap with a happy squeal. She stutters through most of the words, relying on you to read the word first before she tries her best to sound them out herself.

It’s precious. His Clementine is precious.

He can’t even hold back his grin, doesn’t even try.

It’s sweet. You’re sweet.

Holding her so gently in your lap, nodding encouragingly when she tries to sound out words she doesn’t immediately recognize. The sight pinches his heart, makes his chest fucking ache because Clementine keeps peering up at you with reverence in her eyes, waiting for your approval.

And you’re nothing but sweet to his girl, make her tiny body swell with pride.

An omega figure in her life she doesn’t have, a mother figure she doesn’t have.

Clementine’s scent is strong, seeping through the crowd each time you compliment her. More pungent with each passing second. You match her citrus smell with your jasmine, twining both of your scents into something intoxicating.

Possessive.

It makes his alpha thrash. Claw at his chest because that’s his girl, his sweet Clementine, and the remnants of something that should be theirs.

Clementine runs to him after, “Daddy, did you hear me?”

“Of course, Minty baby. You did so well, I’m so proud of you.”

She wrangles her way into his grasp, snuggling into his lap and into his arms. He holds her close the entire time, watching you read with a few more pups. The time away — a week, almost made him forget how ethereal you were. How homely you felt, like you were the missing part of his childhood. The feeling of going to grandma's house during wintertime time where she had the fireplace running and cookies in the oven. Where she had shitty movies on VHS, so they read books together instead. Where she smothered him in kisses and scenting in dramatics when she sent him home.

The feeling he knows his Clementine doesn’t know.

She only knows alphas, roughened military aphas. Dominant and testosterone-driven alphas in his pack, that they love, of course. They wouldn’t change Uncle Johnny for the world, but she’s missing the tenderness, gentleness only an omega can bring.

He tries his best, treats her as gently as possible, and reverted every ugly attribute about himself so he could to be soft with his baby girl. But violence is in his nature. Trained and practiced, muscle memory to inflict pain.

Corduroy is the only book Clementine wants to check out after, insists she takes it home that same night. Except, by the time they get to the counter, the only copy left has already been checked out by another kid.

“But, Papa, I want it!” Clementine protests, crossing her tiny arms over her chest in disapproval.

“I know, Mint, but they already gave it to another pup.” He explains, but she’s not having it, she stomps her feet and angles her chin up in retaliation.

“Clementine.” He says a little more sternly, squatting down to her eye level. “What did I tell you about sharing?”

She matches his gaze, her little lips pursed in a frown before mumbling quietly, “We share with our friends.”

“Good girl.” He praises, cupping the back of her neck to brush his thumb against her scent gland in soothing strokes, “I know you want it, pup, but so did that other little boy, right? We can ask the librarian to put it to the side for us for next time, okay?”

She nods solemnly with glassy eyes, pattering her way to your side, and tugging on your overalls to get your attention. You look down in surprise, bending down to talk to her.

“Hi there, sweetheart,” You greet softly, “Did you need help with something?”

Clementine bounces her head in agreement, “Um, Miss. Librarian, I wanted the book about the bear.”

“Corduroy?”

“Yes! Someone took it.” Clementine explains, “Can you save it for me next time?”

“Oh! I could offer you something even better.” You say, leaning closer like you’re sharing a secret just for her, “Do you want to know what it is?”

Clementine nods eagerly, staring at you with wide eyes, and a loud ‘mmh.’

“I have my very own copy of Corduroy. If you come back tomorrow, I’ll have it waiting just for you.” You tell her, “But, it’s from when I was a little girl, so you have to promise to be very careful with it.”

“I promise!” Clementine cheers, placing her hands on her hips firmly.

You smile, “Then, tomorrow you have your mommy or daddy bring you and I’ll have it for you, okay?”

“But, Miss. Librarian, I don’t have a mommy.”

Your mouth parts in shock, eyes widening slightly before you fall back into pace again, “That’s quite alright isn’t it? Do you want to know another secret?”

“Mmmhuh.” Clementine steps closer with glimmering eyes to listen to your confession.

“I don’t have a mommy anymore either.” You whisper.

“You don’t?” Clementine gasps in surprise.

“Nope,” You shake your head, “Not anymore.”

“And, your overalls have both buttons! Like Corduroy!” Clementine exclaims, pointing to each button.

You chuckle, “That’s right, they do. Means I’m quite alright, aren’t I? Means you’ll be quite alright too. Buttons and all.”

You stand up at that, turning to face Simon with a timid expression, “As long as that’s okay with you?”

“You don’t have to do that.” He replies, staring down at your smaller frame.

Maybe he shouldn’t.

Maybe he shouldn’t look at you like he intends something more than he can say right now, but he does anyway. Greedy alpha seeping into his irises.

“No worries! It’s not like I’m really using it right now.”

You laugh, pulling at the collar of your turtle neck like you’re nervous, skin warming at his dominant stare, diverting your own gaze somewhere else. It reveals a smidge of your bite, makes his teeth fucking ache. Molars throbbing in his gums at the glimpse of skin that should wear his claim.

He hates that he likes it, that he’s the reason there’s a warmth radiating up your spine to your neck. Resting right where your mates bite is, makes you feel immoral because he scorches the indents with him. You cover the bite with your palm, pressing down on it like it stings, licking your lips anxiously.

“We’ll be ‘ere tomorrow, then.”

“See you, then.”

@night-shadowblood-writes2 @thetastewassweeter @eremika104 @animegamerfox @oaksgrove @dawnnightshade666 @chaieanne @trulovekay @appalachianecho @grossitsluca @noonespecial2347 @spidersuneee @ihe4rtme @lunamoonbby @iaozuyiling @aggiesramble @novthewolf @irondreamerface @callsignpxnguin @flowerluvr

[shroomdreams]

Turning Page

You work at the library Simon and his daughter frequent.

single dad! Simon Riley x librarian! Reader

tags | alpha! Simon Riley, Omega! Reader, abo dynamics, mentions of mating bonds, scenting, fluff, eventual romance, girl-dad, retired Simon, angst

ch. 1 | ao3 | masterlist

There’s cement in his throat.

Stucco lodged thick in his lungs, solidifying and suffocating him in a god-forsaken children’s library. He can’t breathe, heart racing and bleeding all his layers as his world seems to mute around him.

Every blonde little girl looks like her, running circles around him, mocking him for being a shit father, losing his daughter, but none of them are his. She was there, mere seconds ago, tucked into his side as they browsed the books on the shelf.

Fancy Nancy.

Fancy Nancy is the book that distracted her, with her ribbons and glitter, obnoxious curls and neon pinks, but she had asked so sweetly with doe eyes and precious chubby cheeks— please Daddy, can we get the Fancy Nancy book?

How could he say no? He succumbed, walked to the shelf in front of them, and grabbed the stupid pink book. And now she’s gone, wasn’t standing where she was when he turned back around.

His instincts kicked in, analyzing the room as fast as he could with pinpointed measurements, clearing the area like he was on a mission. An automatic routine when his biggest concerns were enemies, how many bullets were left in his mag, and if the knife buried in his leg was down to the bone. Now, he’s clearing a bloody library because his biggest concern is his daughter and which book they’re going to read before bed time tonight— Fancy Nancy.

He can’t smell her, there are too many scents, too many other little pups smothering her citrus smell. His mind is jumping to every scenario, someone took her, she’s too smart to run away from him, he’s taught her better than that. Someone from his past must’ve tracked him down and took the only important thing in his life away. Came to get revenge, retribution for the irredeemable things he’s done.

He’s stomping through the aisles with an unconfined sense of urgency, terrifying the small children with his looming presence and menacing soured scent, but he doesn’t fucking care. Can’t care when they’re not his Clementine.

Until he hears her, an infectious giggle that only belongs to his girl. When he sees her, dirty blonde curls, ruddy red cheeks, and beady eyes perched on your desk in one piece with an adorable smile smeared across her face it’s like he can finally breathe again, like the stucco melted from his lungs and washed away to utter relief.

Even when he can tell she’s been crying, lashes clumped together as fat tears cascade down her shaking chin and pool in the pink Hello Kitty t-shirt uncle Johnny got her, he knows she’s okay. He can tell by the way you’re cooing at her, wiping her cheeks gently, protruding your omega scent to soothe her anxiety.

He can smell it the closer he gets: white jasmine, musky sweetness, warm, gentle, vanilla seeping through the rich scent. Swirls with his Clementine’s citrus.

It rumbles something in him, spinning and tugging at his alpha. Pulling at the strings he folded away in a neat box for Clementine’s sake, or maybe it was his. He doesn’t have time for things such as that anymore, never really did.

Clementine jumps off the table, small feet pattering against the tiled floor when she sees him.

“Daddy!”

Simon captures her in his arms, pressing her into the crook of his neck with a palm on the back of her fragile head. He’s still shaking even though she’s in his arms, hugging her a little too tight to his chest, scenting the side of her neck and forehead probably a little too much.

“Minty, baby,” He breathes the words as a sigh of relief, pressing a kiss against her temple, “Where did you go? I turned and you weren’t there anymore.”

“I couldn’t find you, Daddy!” She explains, pointing a nubby finger towards you, “I came to the desk like you taught me. The pretty lady helped me.”

He follows her point, finding your gaze. You give him a soft smile, crossing your arms behind your back endearingly. He feels it in his chest when you do, an itch flaring in the back of his throat from the whites of your teeth like the cement was bubbling back up. Except, this time it’s not as heavy, only makes his breath stick in his lungs.

It’s a catastrophe that you are pretty, his Clementine doesn’t lie.

“She did.” You nod in agreement, “She was a very brave girl.”

Even more so because you’re complimenting his girl.

Clementine beams at that, tugging on the collar of his shirt to bring his attention back to her, “See, Daddy! I did good!”

He smiles, tenderly, eyes softening at the bundle in his arms, “Yeah, pup, you did. Thought I lost you.”

She shakes her head proudly, curls bouncing around her face, “Nope, you found me.”

“Always will.” He promises, smoothing his thumb against her hair affectionately, and he means it, he’d go to the ends of the earth until his flesh scraped away to bones to find her.

He turns towards you again, “Thank you, for taking care of her.”

“Of course,” You reassure, “It comes with the job. Happens all the time. I’m glad she’s okay.”

He places the book that got them in this situation in the first place on the counter, “Fancy Nancy.”

You laugh, “Our best seller.”

The noise smooths over him, the tension coiled between his shoulder blades loosening slightly because he’s got Clementine safe in his arms and a pretty librarian to thank for. You’re nice to listen to, sweet to the smell, even better to look at. Hair pulled back into a messy tie, cat-eyed glasses on the bridge of your nose, adorned in a sweater vest, and a skirt to your ankles. It’s familiar, homely.

“Really? Despise tha’ book.” He grumbles, a mixture of the book's contents and the culprit that almost made him lose his daughter the cause.

It’s a catastrophe that you are pretty when Simon spots a mating bite on the base of your neck. It’s ugly, taints your delicate flesh with fading teeth marks, like the asshole who left it on you didn’t really mean it. He wouldn’t do that to you.

Though, he doesn’t have much room to speak when he’s got a daughter without a mating bond of his own, when his Clementine doesn’t have a mother of her own.

Your eyes crinkle, a sight he decides he likes, “She’s a bit obnoxious, isn’t she?”

Clementine makes a noise of disapproval, frowning dramatically, “I like her!”

“I know, Mint. You make me read it to you every night.” He deadpans.

She smiles brightly at that, kicking her feet out around his torso as she giggles in acknowledgment.

You slide the book over to them with a shrug, “She’s teaching children to be themselves, self-expression even if they are a little obnoxious.”

“I like her,” Clementine whispers to him, thinks she’s being real quiet about it, but you hear her loud and clear.

You hide your laugh behind your hand, “I like you too, sweetheart. I hope you enjoy your book.”

“Thank you!”

Clementine squeezes herself tight around his neck from excitement as they walk through the library doors, “She’s pretty.”

“Yeah, pup. She is.”

He doesn’t let go of Clementine the entire walk home.

thank you to @lumilily for the name Clementine! & nicknames tiny & mint 🤍

tag list is open! 🎐

[shroomdreams]

should we peg soap

[shroomdreams]

Soap is the type of guy to say "right there?" And speed up when you're about to speak.

Ghost is the type to have you tearing up and gasping for air, but having you still beg for more.

Gaz is the type of person to press down on your stomach, so he feels every inch disappearing into you.

When you start to whine about Price's dick being too much, he praises you and says you can take more, such a good boy/girl you are.

[Sorry I'm ovulating💔]

[shroomdreams]

prev | blurb directly inspired by this ask to add context! | cw: oral sex, little bit of spiteful, enemy, cocky vibe

The roles are reversed this time, your grip seized tightly around Kyle’s wrist, dragging him along behind you as anger unravels out of your control.

You don’t need to glance back to know the shit-eating smirk he wears on his face. You can tell by the way he takes long strides behind you, not even struggling to match your pace as if your steps are too short and insignificant for him to care.

“Where ya takin’ me?” He asks edges of his words curled tauntingly, like the two of you are playing some sort of game, “Gyms the other way.”

You know that, obviously.

He knows that, obviously.

His stupid voice only makes you more irritated, each syllable dragging a dagger against your skin. You shove him hastily into the first dark closet you find, slamming him against the wall with full force, hope it fucking hurt. You’re determined at this point, fists clenched, and teeth bared, threatening your prey with fangs and claws.

“My turn to make you cum now, okay?”

It doesn’t even take him by surprise, the fucker just chuckles, pleased. “Well, let’s have at it.”

You unbuckle his cargos with a little more vigor than intended, but he’s perched himself against the wall, crossing his arms behind his head like he’s getting comfortable, waiting for you to drop to your knees and suck him off.

It drives you mad, makes you furious, rage pulsing behind your eyelids, so you toss your phone on a spare shelf, pulling up a timer.

He scoffs in disbelief. “Really, you’re gon’ time it?”

You yank his pants to his thighs, hovering your fingers over the band of his boxers, “You made me count, so now we see how long you can last.”

“Good luck with that.” He mutters, indignantly, as if his little game was suddenly ruined.

You fall to your knees unceremoniously, don’t plan to be pretty about the whole ordeal because he doesn’t deserve that. You tuck your fingers confidently into his underwear, tugging them low in one swift motion. An action that makes Kyle inhale a sharp breath through his teeth unexpectedly.

When his cock springs free it’s your turn to snicker, “Doesn’t look like it’ll be too difficult.”

He stands tall, eager, longer than you had imagined him to be. It makes you a little apprehensive, fidgeting on your knees at the sight because you’re not entirely sure you can fit all of that in your mouth, but you mask it the best you can. You’d rather die than let Kyle Garrick know he’s got a big dick.

You don’t necessarily have room to be nervous when Kyle is clearly painfully aroused, darkened tip smeared with a small bead of precum. Your apprehension outweighs his arousal, his smug attitude means absolutely nothing when his cock is leaking and desperate and you haven’t even touched it yet, entirely too excited with your sharp words and combative attitude.

Kyle doesn’t respond to your smart remark, doesn’t have the strength to when your palm engulfs his shaft. You don’t intend to take your time, be gentle in any way because you’re trying to prove a point, so as soon as you start the timer your mouth is on him.

You keep your eyes on his, want to watch the exact moment his smug face crumbles, the minute his ego diminishes into weakness and succumbs.

One broad swipe of your tongue, base to fattened tip, is all it takes.

His eyes flutter for a split second, lips parting to take a deep breath before he conceals it, eyes hardening once again like he wasn’t affected, but you know him better than that, can read him better than he likes to think.

That’s fine, as soon as you wrap your lips around his head his brows crease, jaw tensing, grinding his molars together when you slide lower and lower, taking him inch by inch. You barely get halfway before he’s in your throat, the sensation making you gag reflexively around him.

“Tha’ all you can take?” He snides, tilting his head, “Come on, doll. You can do better than tha’.”

You glare up at him, slightly regretting your situation. You can’t really snarl back when you’ve got a mouth full of his cock. You wish you could tell him to watch his own mouth, you’re not afraid to use your teeth on his precious cock, put him in his place with a few nips. So, you do the next best thing, swallow him down to the hilt, nose pressed to his curly pubes, and suck.

It makes him kilt over, hands flying instinctively to cup your jaw. He curses under his breath, tries to be quiet about it, but you hear it, deep and drawn out.

You build a rhythm, bobbing your head over his length again and again, swirling your tongue around his shaft with each motion. His swollen head kisses the back of your throat with each bob, it stings, each prod burning an uncomfortable stretch that makes tears well in your lashes.

You try your best not to choke or cough around his thick cock. You don’t want to inflate his ego any more than it is, don’t want to give him the satisfaction of watching fat tears roll down your cheeks. Except when you do look up at him, he’s got his lips parted in a strained moan, the whites of his eyes rolling as you make eye contact.

“Shit, don’t look at me like tha’.” He groans, voice ragged and pinched like it does something to him to see you making a mess of yourself, saliva dripping down your chin.

So, you do the complete opposite, gazing with hooded lids as you slap his cock against the smooth of your tongue. His head knocks against the wall at that, fingers digging shallow indents into your jaw as his balls tighten.

That’s all the sign you need to suction the head into your mouth, fisting his shaft with calculated strokes in tandem. He tries to push you off in response, weakly shoving your head away, but your willpower is a little stronger than his at the moment.

A string of incoherent words slips from his lips, hips involuntarily thrusting into the wet confines of your mouth, seeking out the mind-numbing sensation. He barely gives you any warning before he’s sinking to the hilt in one go, balls smacked against your chin as he lets out a guttural groan.

You swallow it all, licking the salty taste clean from his head as he jerks in overstimulation until he slips from your lips with a wet pop.

“Didn’t even last 5 minutes Garrick?” You mock.

The sight above you makes you chuckle, pride beating your chest because he’s completely spent, eyes lidded and glazed over like his soul hasn’t quite returned to his body.

The timer reads: 3 minutes and 52 seconds.

[shroomdreams]

beta! Gaz who doesn’t produce slick, but that’s okay because alpha! Ghost eats ass

[shroomdreams]

König meets eldritch monster disguised as a cute girl, what will happen next?

Turned out it wasn’t to lure in prey or anything the monster’s preferred form is just girl and found pulling König into the crossfire funny

- @murderkittyz

You know, this reminded me, even tho no one asked—

cw: spiders

Maybe it’s because of his arachnid skin, but I think König would like spiders. He respects them as hunters and empathizes with them— they are often feared rather than loved just for being themselves.

König doesn’t destroy the spider webs in corners of room, despite his preference for tidiness and relative order. He doesn’t see the sense in destroying its home when it kills pests for him. Ironically considering his job— he prefers not to kill little things like that.

König is just the sort of man whose luck would have that the one time he meets a girl that likes him— it’s in his dream. A beautiful girl, sitting with him on a summer evening on the porch of a house he doesn’t recognize. There’s a delicate glass wind chime tinkling with the cool breeze.

You tell him that you’ve admired him from afar for a long time. That you have quite the crush, and that it’s making you a little giddy to meet with him like this for the first time. An infectious smile. Laughter that matches the wind chime.

He wakes up, disappointed to find himself alone again, but more or less content to remember the dream for the peace it gave him, however temporary.

But he sees you again the night after. It’s odd— he’s never had a dream that continued. Dreams that repeated, usually nightmares, sure, but never continued. So you continued to chat with him, growing bold and playful as the nights go on. Brushing his hand, leaning against him, putting your hand on his thigh. He begins to ask questions. He doesn’t expect answers from you.

“How can this really be a dream? It feels so… real.”

“Dreams are always at least a little real, aren’t they?”

Your lips certainly feel real.

“Won’t I ever meet you when I’m awake, schatz? I want to… I want to take you home with me.”

Your face falls a little and you withdraw, König preparing himself for the sting of rejection. It would be just his luck to be rejected by a projection of his own subconscious.

“You w-wouldn’t like me out there. I don’t look like this— I’m gross, you’ll think so too.” You start to sniffle and he’s able to overcome his frayed nerves to pull you against him.

“I could never think that about you, liebe. I know what it’s like… to not be accepted based on looks. Please, believe me.” You cling to the warmth of his chest. As if he would leave. As if either of you had any choice.

When the morning light wakes him, it cuts a path across the ceiling, glittering against the spiderweb spun into the corner above his bed.

(Lmao sorry I know this ain’t exactly what you wanted but you got me on those jorogumo thoughts yk lol)

[shroomdreams]

something silly with our boy simon because i don't write anything for him literally ever heehee! (Also I saw a work abt Price and a djungelskog that probably inspired this wrinkle in my brain, but i cannot for the life of me find it - pls let me know if you know it so i can tag for inspo!!!)

"The fuck is tha'?"

He just wanted to lie down with his girl. That's all he wanted.

Familiarity. After being gone for over a month, he's been craving a moment of peace with his sweet girlfriend. In his bed. With his sheets. And his pillow that's got his head practically etched into it from how long he's had it.

But there it is - a new fixture - right smack in the middle of his bed.

A bloody teddy bear. And a big one, at that.

"Djungelskog" You say with a proud smile, placing your hands on your hips like you haven't been completely betraying him for the past five weeks.

"Gasundheit. Now answer my question."

"His name is djungelskog."

Simon's eyebrows raise to his forehead as he glances between you and the brown blob taking up nearly half of his bed. "His? It's a bloody he?"

And you - you seem absolutely chuffed at his displeased expression. "Are you jealous?"

"Of an obese teddy bear? Please. His head is too small for his body." He punctuates his words by smacking the bear's head back unceremoniously, pulling a discontented squeak from you as you move to fix it. "Looks like a fuckin' idiot."

"He does not!"

"Stupid fuckin' name, too."

"Cut it out!" Your defense of the thing only makes him brood even more - and he's starting to look more and more like the bear himself with his hunched shoulders and bowed head - not that you'd ever tell him that. Not out loud anyway. "He is the only reason I haven't absolutely lost my mind from loneliness while you're halfway across the world, so I'm sure he would appreciate a thank you."

"Thanks." He mumbles coldly as he picks it up out of your hands and tosses him on the floor - leaving you slack-jawed and horrified. He just shrugs his shoulders, trying to steer you back towards the bed as he steps over the flaccid bear that's now sprawled out on the carpet. "Don't need 'im anymore, love. I'm here now."

"...Djungy..." You murmur quietly - a soft coo that makes Simon roll his eyes in annoyance. You came up with a bloody nickname for him, too? While he was off fighting terrorists? He can't help but scoff softly as you shimmy out of his grip to bend down and pick it back up again, giving him a disapproving look before you begin dusting him off carefully. "Don't put him on the floor, Simon."

"Fuck's sake, love. I want to lie down in my own bed."

"We can all fit!"

And now here he is - spooning you from behind while you cuddled up to junglesmog or whatever his name was.

You're sound asleep, sandwiched between your two boys without a worry in the world to ruin your peace. But Simon? Simon is glaring daggers over at that overstuffed piece of Swedish fluff.

Was he being dramatic? Probably.

But the way you cling to it so tightly is making his chest ache. He understands that you were lonely without him - probably missing him more than he could ever imagine. But he's here now...so why the hell are you still snuggled up to that thing?

Ever so slowly, he loosens your grip on the bear as carefully as he can, but you still whimper softly in your sleep when he pushes it away (a bit more aggressively than he needed to, but hey, it's not like you're awake to see). You shift around uncomfortably - actively seeking out the comfort that Simon had so rudely taken away from you - and he decides to take his opportunity to flip you over gently to face him.

Your arms immediately circle around him, and he lets out a breath when you begin to nuzzle your face into his neck and settle back down. Fucking finally.

"There she is..." He whispers softly as he presses a gentle kiss to your hairline, making you hum quietly in your sleep. "...there's my girl."

And he can finally fall asleep now that he's gotten that damn bear out of the way and you safely tucked into him - wrapped up in his arms.

Where you belong.

[shroomdreams]

Just need a little bit of mean Simon when you tell him your nipples are sore because you’re about to start your period— tell him to be gentle.

But now he’s just got the swollen bead between his thumb and index finger with a little more eagerness. Pinches the flesh hard before pulling it taut, so much so that you arch into the touch with a surprised gasp, fat jiggling when he lets go.

Repeats the motion over and over again, rolling the nub between his digits, squishing, tugging while you’re writhing under him, squirming, kicking out from under him, but he just keeps at it.

He’s even crueler with his mouth, suctioning the bead so harshly it makes fat tears well in your lashes. Sucking ruthlessly at the sensitive skin, scraping his teeth, biting and nipping until the skin is bruised and even more sore than before.

[shroomdreams]

task force 141 tbh

[shroomdreams]

First two panels of a Farrier Triptych.

[shroomdreams]

Thinking about being a part of a herd of wood nymphs or dryads that Satyr!Soap is constantly chasing and terrorizing (because he’s horny) but I’m the one that secretly likes it and he’s starting to figure that out