#simon riley x reader

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

naps to lovers?

price is an accident, you fall asleep watching a movie with him after he cradles you in his bed. plops down with you to do some paperwork and he's out, too. you wake up cuddled into his chest and pretend not to notice his boner.

next it's johnny. you're both exhausted from sparring and workouts. instead of showering, he pulls you to his bed and tells you to wait for him before you get in. by the time you want up, the sheets are crusted with sweat and soap is on top of you, crushing you to the mattress.

after that, it's both johnny and kyle. smooshed between them after a long hard mission, it's hard not to appreciate two nice pillows. simon has the picture of you three asleep on each other.

kyle finds you in the mess hall after, pulling you to your room with the promise of takeout and uninterrupted rest.

simon is standoffish at first, but eventually offers himself up as a weighted blanket for you after being reprimanded by another force's captain (don't worry, price and gaz are handling it). he lets you hold him close while stroking your hair and face until you drift off. he frequents in odd hours with you (when he knows your alone or stacked up with another one of the boys).

you don't mean for it to, but it becomes much more regular. price pulling you into his lap during late night briefings, soap's head in your lap, and kyle following you back to your room. they get so much more casually affectionate- hands on you at all times, forehead kisses, and sweet words. they begin to take you out together after missions and on off days to movies and shopping (they love dressing you up).

this all builds up to a random friday where they bring you to a house about 30 minutes from base. lately, they'd all been a bit more secretive and making investments "for the wellbeing of the team" like price's new truck that could seat 7. the house has all five of yours stuff in it (ash trays, half finished sketches, sewing kits, kyle's hat on the table). you see some of your missing clothes in one of the big dressers half-opened drawers.

it shouldn't be a surprise to you then when you walk in the bedroom and there's a california king. you really should have expected it, hen, they've been courting you for months!

yeah, johnny's naked on the bed, so what?

[koling2345]

Retired Simon| NSFW

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Retired! Simon who: Signed the papers to retire as soon as your daughter was born. He wouldn't risk his daughter growing up without a father and you becoming a widow. Never.

Retired! Simon who: Got a job in construction, it was nothing much, quite simple compared to what he'd already had in the army. What he had to do was more related to manual labor. Which he was already used to.

Retired! Simon who: Always came home at six, all tired and sweaty from an exhausting day's work. Working as a construction helper wasn't easy, but for someone who had already worked in much worse situations, it seemed like a piece of cake.

Retired! Simon who: Loved the feeling of coming home, and seeing you and his daughter waiting for him, you with a smile on your face, and the little girl speaking some gibberish, and making loud noises when she saw her father. It was a little piece of heaven on earth.

Retired! Simon who: Was crazy about your food, there was nothing better than coming home and smelling the food you made, it made his stomach rumble. That's why you always made extra food, because he ate like an elephant, literally, you could fill his plate, and he would repeat it. He just loved your food.

Retired! Simon who: Didn't take long to acquire a sweet tooth, your desserts just ruined him. Even if he ate more than enough at dinner, there was always more room for whatever dessert you made. Cake? Oh, he'd eat half the cake in one day, especially if you put icing on it. From time to time, he would eat your sweets and steal your chocolate from the fridge. So it was no surprise when you shouted 'Simon Riley' around the house. He already knew the crime he'd committed, and he wasn't the least bit sorry.

Retired! Simon who: Absolutely adored coming home to hear your little girl talking, she still struggled to pronounce the right words, but Simon made an effort to understand the little princess, even if she said silly childish things. Since she was always complaining about how tiring her day was, that she did a lot of things. She'd only put her toys back in the toy box.

Retired! Simon who: Loved it when you'd bring him lunch at work, it was a good excuse to chat with you during his break. As well as stealing a few kisses from you. Sometimes even something more.

Retired! Simon who: No matter how tired he was, he always put your little girl to sleep, telling her her favorite princess story, watching as she slowly fell asleep. Every time Simon saw his daughter sleeping so peacefully, he felt his heart flutter. It was a view he would never be tired of.

Retired! Simon who: Helped you with the housework, hated you being overwhelmed, so he washed the dinner dishes, put the clothes in the wash, prepared a bath for you. He himself would rather die of exhaustion than see you doing too many chores. He was your husband, so he always helped you. He always put you first, even if he arrived completely exhausted. It was nothing much, just him being a descent husband, as you deserved.

Retired! Simon who: Sometimes he came home so tired, all he wanted was a good head, his body was so sore, all he wanted was to sit on the sofa and let you do the work, getting down on your knees and deep- throat him. Just the way he loved it, his cock shoved into your mouth, the tip of it hitting the back of your throat, while you looked up at him, eyes filling with tears, you obeyed his words of encouragement, always taking him deeper. Until you choked, and he pushed deep into your throat.

Retired! Simon who: Always gave you rewards after a well-delivered oral, this consisted of waking you up with him right between your legs, head buried between your thighs while he lapped you up. Sucking your clit really hard, just to hear you wake up, moaning and whimpering that you were sensitive. Not that he was going to stop, because he was working on you even more.

Retired! Simon who: Loved the lazy sex sessions in the morning, he loved seeing you all sensitive and sly, taking his cock so well, even though you were drunk with sleep. Sometimes he'd just turn you over and put his cock in your sopping cunt, because he knew you were always ready for him. You were made for him, after all.

Retired! Simon who: Was a complete slut for you, could never keep his hands off you, sometimes even at work he would ask for photos, so he could jerk off and relieve a little of his stress. And he would definitely fuck you hard when he got home.

Retired! Simon who: Also loved having romantic sex with you, having you on his lap while you rode his cock, slowly, at your own pace. His hands on your hips while the two of you kissed, whispering sweet nothings to each other. He liked it so much, he couldn't feel your pussy clenching around his girth, he'd come just like that. Your fault for doing it so well.

Retired! Simon who: Never thought he wanted to have a big family, until you got pregnant. After your first child, he certainly wanted more, of course, if you wanted them too. And given the countless times he's taken you around the house, it wouldn't be a surprise if you turned up pregnant once again.

Retired! Simon who: Wouldn't trade anything, absolutely anything, for his family. As much as he loved his old job, nothing was better than coming home to a nice home, warm food, a sweet little girl, and a beautiful wife, that was priceless. And he'd be crazy to let that go.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Hi guys! Sorry for disappearing, I'm just posting to let you know I'm alive. If I manage to post anything in the next few days, it's scheduled, I won't be able to answer comments or questions, I'm in my college exam week 😐. I'm totally cooked🫠, so I should only be around for the next week! I'm not ignoring anyone, I promise to reply as soon as I can 🫶🏻

[writersdrug]

Bartender Simon, who cuts of a drunk costumer. The costumer is angry and begins insulting Simon, particularly his looks. It doesn't bother Simon but how does Waitress!Reader react?

Alas... the much-awaited ktih

Warnings: making out, groping, dry-humping

It was only seven pm, and Cole was already drunk. Simon knew this would happen - it usually does, at least every Friday night. He comes in, drinks for a solid two hours, until Simon finally has to cut him off and steer him in the direction of his apartment. The man at least lets him add twenty percent auto gratuity if he has to be sent home like that - and, more often than not, it's every week.

Today, however, is a different story.

Cole had come in at four, right when the pub opened. He gave you his usual, tight-lipped smile, making his way to the seat he took every Friday evening. Simon was already pouring his beer by the time he removed his coat. The conversation continues (mostly one-sided on Cole's part), as does the night, and he never ceases to tip the beers back - rattling on about how much money he makes, only getting louder when a group of women walks by.

Around nine at night is when he began to get drunk enough that the numbers on his tab begin to blend together. "A'aight- 'nother one for good fortune." He smacks his empty glass against the bartop, making you jump slightly as you did your tips at the end of the.

"Not tonight." Simon says, hovering over the POS and punching buttons on the screen. "You got 'nuff for good fortune. You can pick it back up next week."

"Bahhh, c'mon - I'll pay double." Cole slurs, leaning over the bar.

"What's your wife's name?" Simon asks, turning back around and leaning against the liquor shelf.

"... Sharon."

"Ya not even married, Cole."

He laughs, eyes glassy as he smacks the bartop and wheezes. "Tha's good! Real good- ya got me. Can't keep a woman 'f I tried."

Simon doesn't comment. He slides Cole's receipt across the bar, before promptly turning back and grabbing a glass.

Cole sighs, crumpling the receipt in his fist. "Y' don't want business?"

"Don't want you gettin' lost findin' your Uber." Simon replies, polishing a glass.

"Y'know..." Cole leans back in his seat, very adamantly refusing to leave, "I know you're strugglin' t' bring in the money with... whatever ya got goin' on behind the mask."

Maybe when he was a lieutenant, constantly dealing with jabs and stabs towards his ego, it would have gotten to him. But Simon just huffs in annoyance. "This what you resort to when you can't get a beer?"

"Defensive much?" Cole bites back. "You could use the money to fix y'r fuckin' face. Should stop bein' such a cunt n' worryin' 'bout me like you're my mum."

"Hardly - your mom probably wishes she'd swallowed you instead."

Simon nearly drops the glass - it takes him a moment to realize that you had spoken, and another one to process just what exactly you had said. He turns around to find you, staring Cole down with the most disgusted, angry expression he's ever seen you display. He's speechless - mostly because he didn't know you had an arsenal of insults, ready to fire off like this.

Cole chuckles drunkenly, turning in his seat to face you from down the bar. "Don' like it when I insult y'r bank account, do ya?"

"Aren't you supposed to be dumpster diving or something?" You snap, getting up out of your seat - Simon's never seen such a look in your eyes, and he quickly steps out from behind the bar to jog over to you. He places a hand on your shoulder, but you don't back down.

"You realize who you're talkin' to, little girl?"

"Draco Malfoy if he'd gone into British Parliament."

"Oi-" Simon snaps, fingers digging into your shoulder - surprisingly, you swat his hand away. You're fuming at this overgrown cabbage, running his mouth like he actually means something to anyone in this pub.

Cole purses his lips; your insults are getting to him. "You gonna do somethin' with this chick?" he asks Simon - who nearly blows a cap, but you beat him to it.

"Y'know, maybe you should spend your money on fixing those fucking teeth - because I see they're still social distancing - instead of wasting our time here, you grey, fucking sprinkle on a rainbow cupcake-"

"Hey- stairwell. Go." Simon gives you a gentle shove towards the stairs, and you throw your hands up and storm off. He stares after you, wide-eyed and tense, watching as you disappear behind the stairwell door. He's quickly growing hard, concerningly, after witnessing you fire off at Cole with a loaded gun full of wit and anger - it was quite possibly the most attractive thing he's seen you do.

Cole huffs, breaking Simon's focus. "Women - sticking their noses where they don't belong." he looks at him, expecting the bartender to agree.

Simon's holding back the urge to drive his fist into the man's skull. He grabs Cole's jacket from the back of the chair and shoves it into his chest so hard he nearly falls from his seat. "If you're not gone in the next ten minutes, Soap 'n I will make you leave, you understand?" he doesn't even wait for a reply, turning on his heel and stalking towards the stairwell, boots thudding heavily against the ground.

He's got bigger priorities at the moment.

You're standing in the stairwell, chewing the edge of your sweater as you stare at the dustpan and broom. Simon can surely fight his own battles - he didn't seem irritated in the slightest by Cole, why did you step in? Simon isn't yours (unfortunately), you don't need to defend him. You don't have the right to defend him other than the fact that he's your coworker. Manager. And you were definitely doing it based on other, unspoken reasons. It was obvious. Is it obvious to him? Forget possibly losing your job, is he going to be mad that you lost your shit like that? That you put your foot where it doesn't belong? That-

The door to the stairwell swings open, and you stop your pacing. His eyes are lidded. Angry? You can't tell. He looks rather intimidating, tall and tense as the door swings shut behind him, mask bunched into his fist as he shoves it into his back pocket.

You think he's about to let you have it, to chew you out for your outburst. "Simon, I'm-"

His rough hands are around your face before you know it - right as you open your mouth to yelp in shock, he leans down and kisses you.

Your eyes force themselves shut. You don't have a chance to pull away, not with his hand cradling the back of your head. He won't let you; you don't want to. His breath fans across your face, fingers calloused yet gentle as they relax around you, and you sigh into his touch, tilting your head to let him get closer. Your arms rest against his shoulders, squeezing the muscle as you feel months of worry and anticipation melt away-

And then, as quickly as it had begun, Simon has the audacity to stop and pull his head back.

His eyes find yours, still cupping your face in his hands. He looks breathless - good. At least you know he's just as riled up as you are, now. There's a hint of pink on his cheeks, and a need for reassurance in his hazy stare. He needs to know he was right, despite the months of flirting and the little chase you've been leading him in; now that he's finally caught up, caught you in his grasp, he needs you to tell him you want this. Though he doesn't know how he'll survive if you don't.

"You ok?" He pants, brow creased with uncertainty.

You let out a noise of frustration - threading your fingers behind his neck, you pull him back down, sealing your lips against his once again.

He exhales through his nose in relief. His hands find your waist as you part your lips, letting him slip inside and explore your mouth. Your fingernails dig crescents into his skin - he lets out a rather needy-sounding groan, backing you up until you hit the wall. You whine; your tongue flicking across his lower lip sends a shiver down his spine, heat building and twisting and tangling in his gut until you break away for a moment, nipping your teeth into his lip.

His mind short-circuits; he grunts, all the blood in his head rushing south to his cock, where it's getting uncomfortably warm and tight. He grabs you underneath your ass and hoists you up, and you squeak, instinctively locking your legs around his hips. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he kisses you feverishly, desire brewing in your stomach as he presses you into the wall, tongues and teeth clashing, the both of you unable to satisfy the ever-growing blaze. It threatens to burn up the stairwell until there's nothing left but a sweaty, naked mess.

Simon breaks away to latch onto your neck, taking the thin flesh and rolling it between his teeth You bite back a whimper, carding your fingers through his hair; he bucks his hips in response, albeit involuntarily. You can sense the knot in your pelvis tightening, underwear growing slick as you feel the size of his erection with each thrust. Even through his clothes, you can tell it would be a challenge, but you've never been one to back down.

Fingers slide under his shirt, feeling the solid wall of muscle and fat beneath - his retracts a hand and drags it up your stomach, kneading and groping your tit through your shirt, silencing your moan with another searing, wet kiss. He's grinding into you now, hips rolling, cock twitching through his pants as you lock your ankles behind his back, and fuck he's ready to strip you bare right here and fuck you against the wall, ready to get back at you for teasing him for so long, ready to listen to your cries as you take each and every rung of his piercing-

He catches himself, lips moving away from yours to kiss along your chin, all the way up to your jaw. He sighs as he stills his hips, letting his head fall against your shoulder as he leans his weight into you. You feel him relaxing, wondering if he's worried about you again, but you so desperately want this to continue where it's heading.

"I'm alright, I'm alright-"

"I know..." he mumbles, his hand sliding back to your thigh and squeezing the flesh there, fingers barely slipping past the hem of your shorts. He wants to go further, to feel the hem of your panties snap against his fingers, but he forces back the urge.

"What's wrong?" you pant, craning your neck to the side to look at him.

"'M not..." he huffs, pulling his head back and gazing down at you. "Not fuckin' you in the stairwell, dove. 'S filthy back here."

Your face heats up even more - the fact that he had to hold himself back from disheveling you right now is an unspoken compliment. "Can we take it upstairs?"

He chuckles and gently sets you down, much to your disdain. "No. Got a bar to run." He says, preening at the way you pout at that. "And I'm takin' you out, first."

"Out?"

"Yea, for lunch."

"Wh- where?"

"You decide. Monday."

Monday - that's deep-clean day. "Don't we have to be here at noon?"

He chuckles. Always worrying about losing your job. "I'll make an exception. Won't fire ya for goin' on a date with me."

Date. God, you could scream. "But what if Price-"

"If that man ever threatens your position at this pub," Simon leans down, gently grabbing your chin between his fingers, "you come to me, n' I'll knock some sense into 'im. Sound good?"

You're too starstruck to register half of what he's said. Simon Riley's just kissed you. AND admitted to wanting to fuck you. Now, he's taking you on a date on Monday. Did you have any plans? Doesn't matter. If you do, they're cancelled.

"Uh huh..." you say, absentmindedly leaning into his touch.

Looking down at you: you, you... god, can he call you his? Is that too soon? The stars in your eyes while you're staring at him, the struggle within himself to avoid both adoration and getting hard(er)... He takes another deep breath, thumb running down the blossoming hickey on your neck.

"Right." he taps your cheek softly, then goes to tuck his shirt back in from where you'd torn it from the waistband. "Go ahead n' take a minute. Come to the bar 'fore you leave."

He grabs the handle to leave, hesitating only for a moment. Both of you seem to have the same idea, sharing a hive mind with each other. You quickly move forward and he leans down as you both kiss again, slower, trying to savor this one. Honey drips from your brain into your chest, every cell in your body screaming in relief, satisfaction, and pure joy...

He breaks away again, laying a kiss to the crown of your head. You sit down on the stairs as he walks back onto the pub floor. He's still hard, and it's plain as day - but he could care less right now. He's got you just as much as you've had him. There's a lightness in his shoulders, a voice in his head that you've finally plucked free and thrown into the abyss, only to be replaced by your own being.

You're still sitting on the stairs, massaging your tits through your shirt as you try to smooth your nipples out. Your mind is racing a million miles a minute. What should I wear? Will Price be upset? Should we try to hide this? Will anyone care? Should I wear perfume or just body spray? Is work going to be weird now? He's not going to treat me differently, is he?

You sigh, biting your lip and trudging up the stairs. Your fingers run over the hickey on your neck. I need to find a whisk.

[beloveds-embrace]

Imagine 141 moving into a quaint little town post retirement and you’re the only baker in town. You love making sweets, breads, and desserts and own a cute bakery to show for it, know everyone in your town so these four new men who come early morning to try your breakfast deal immediately excite you because- new perspectives and tastes and opinions! It’s become a habit of yours to share bites of whatever new item you plan on adding to the menu, so the more diverse opinions the merrier in your opinion.

And you are glad you didn’t let their demeanor- big gruff men, especially the one with the black surgical mask- scare you away because they are sooo nice, calling you sweetheart, doll, birdie, and bonnie. So many nicknames, it has you blushing the sweetest pink shade. And they are all too happy to help taste-test for you, giving you lots of praise.

(Though you never quite notice their immense disappointment at seeing the little ring on your finger.)

Still, at the very least one of them comes over to your bakery once a day. Sometimes they come together, sometimes only two of them- but they come anyways and tip you every time despite you insisting otherwise. It’s a lovely friendship you build with them. But they do note you never mention your partner much.

Until Simon drops by one day, intent on buying one of your apple pies and maybe fluster you enough to turn the same shade as an apple, and he sees the bruises that peek out just so from your sleeves and the collar of your outfit. Puffy eyes, more makeup than usual, your smile not quite there…

And he understands. He knows this all-too-well. And the fact that it’s happening to an embodiment of sunshine like you? Unfair. Unbelievable. Unacceptable.

Simon gently takes your hands, squeezing them so lightly. “Everything’ll be well, luvie. Promise.” And that’s all he says.

And maybe it’s cruel of you to be happy when you receive a call a few days later, the sherrif of the town telling you your husband was found mauled to death by one of the bears that roam around the woods occasionally, but you just… don’t care.

A week later, when it seems appropriate enough, you open up the bakery again and your smile is blinding as you greet the 141 men and tell them for today, everything’s for free.

[stargirlstabber]

imagine alpha!simon riley ruthlessly rutting his strong hips into you from behind. his massive hand pushes your head down as you moan and cry into the pillow, your drool slowly soaking the fabric. and that is not the only thing that's getting soaked. your tight cunt is soaking wet, literally dripping around your alpha's cock, milking him, eager for his knot. as well as the soaked sheets. mostly from your sweet release squirting out of you while simon never once stops pistoning his thick length into you. you just take what your alpha gives you, loosing count of how many times you already came. but don't worry, your alpha keeps track of that, he always counts your releases out loud for you to hear. if your cockdrunk brain can even grasp the information. once he rumbles out a two digit number, you ask yourself how you're even alive with the way he's fucking you.

[tame-the-lion-writes]

Dark!141 with the isolated cabin kidnapping/gaslighting trope but—

“you’re here because we need to keep you safe—poor thing, you didn’t know? the world ended while you were lost in the woods”

A year passes and you feel so loved and cared for and comfortable, but you’re picking berries to add to the winter stores when you see the light of civilization in the distance; it’s as if nothing ever happened; and you hear the crunch of boots behind you

[codnasties]

https://x.com/fuckbunnyyy/status/1778552213155049863?s=46&t=WOdkpgQ21mhbpNfBSPinJw

Ok this video is 😩 so

Simon getting into a petty fight with his wife because of her not pulling out or something, so he goes over to his wife’s best friend y/n house while turning off his location for 3-5 hours. Not wanting to be interrupted by his wife. He spend those hours breeding y/n until he is sure she might ended up with his baby.

i don't tend to be the bigest fan of cheating stuff but good lord anon your mind, this awoke something in me i didn't know i had

cheater ghost 👻 (🌽 link)

there are moments in which ghost asks himself why he got married and why he was still stuck in that marriage. constant arguments, getting cheated on and still trying to make the marriage work, continuously feeling like he's carrying the full weight of the relationship,...

but it seems that something as banal as an argument for not pulling out, when it had never been a problem, seemed to be it for him. he started spiralling: was he that unlikeable, was she cheating again, was there a problem that he was not seeing,...? but all that doubtfulness soon turned into rage, he was tired of all that bullshit. and in all that madness, you popped up in his head, sweet little thing, likeable, the best one could ask for, his wifed best fried, and he realised that he wanted revenge,

so he left the house, became unreachable and basically disappeared for hours on end. because he was at your house, because he knew how you had looked at him before with such hunger in your eyes and it was finally the moment to take the chance.

when you opened the door, you barely had time to processes it was him on the other side because he leapt to you, almost bringing you down with his sheer force, and started hungrily kissing you. the two of you barely had time to take your clothes off between all the rushed kissing and groping that was going on before he bent you over the couch and started both desperately and roughly fucking into you.

and he had one single objective in his mind: to get you full of his cum, cumming into you again and again until it started dripping out and he was sure that you were going to end pregnant. he's going to be pounding you pussy until you are so sore you can barely walk and all the rage he had inside had come out in the form of his seed.

now he needs a divorce, because why would he stay with his wife when he could be coming home to a pretty thing like you every day?

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Price: And what do we say when we want something? Y/N, innocently: Give it to me or my five boyfriends will beat you up Price: Well done Y/N- Laswell: NO-

[simonsrileyhusband]

CAN WE GET MORE LOSER SIMON PLEASE (also I love your work <333)

-🪐

nsfw:

loser simon is so awkard while you two fuck, he isn’t good at dirty talk, he gets shy easily, he hands are trembling and he prefers to hide his face from you.

"i-im sorry lovie, i can't call t-that, its so mean..."

simon will die every time you ride him. his eyes watering and his whimpers loud ad you make him look at you in the eyes, his hand shaking on your hips as his face gets redder every time your praise him or say how good he feels.

simon will always give his best to fuck you right, always kissing and bitting you, rubbing and touching you how you thought him.

loser simon who can't help it but get hard everytime you touch his thighs or abs. even in public, that’s why you love sitting on his lap. simon buries his face into the back of your neck, hidding his red face from the rest of the table, the loud music at the disco helped, only you could hear his heavy breath. his hands hold your hips tightly, surely leaving red marks, he rolls them around gently, his brain only being able to think about you and how much he needs you.

so he whispers into your ear. "lovie, please tell them that you need to use the bathroom. please, i can't, it hurts so bad, i need you, please~"

[dmitriene]

cw: sweat, almost choking.

simon riley has a small training room at his apartment, room big enough to fit the sports equipment thanks to which he keeps his muscles toned, and big enough to bend you over one of them, making you claw at the rough surface of the lifting bench, your panties tugged down to fit his face in your pussy, as he licks sloppily at your slit.

leather of the bench coated with sweat, clear drops glimmering under the dimmed light, as your shirt rubs against them, body bending further, spine tugged in an arch as he looses your drenching pussy with his tongue, slurping at your oozing slick, his cock chubbing up underneath the tight trousers.

he smells so good, the heady melange of sweat and leather, veins at his arms protruding out, full of pumping blood, as he kneads at your thighs, urging them to spread further through wracking trembles, as his tongue slips out from your pulsing, velvety walls, clenching at simon's fat cock that he feeds in your fluttering, stretching hole, bulbous tip jabbing against your gummy spot.

pinning you against the rough surface, the weight of his body suffocating, as he humps you with sloppy, hasty thrusts, his legs straining, and he croons at your breathy cries, moans muffled as simon cups at your jaw, palm spanning half of your face, before he skims down to squeeze at your neck, rubbing at your bobbing throat, knocking strained gasps with lewd slap of his heavy balls against your folds.

he should consider to adding you in the list of his exercises, dick you down each time after particularly rough workout, with his body buzzing hot, as if simmering beneath his flesh, tense muscles starting to soften when he has you beneath him, supple and cozy, dressed in his shirt and laid out for him like a feast, legs spread along another bench simon has you on.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

Simon who has an obsession with thighs. Its not even about the shape nor size of them. Just everything about how warm they feel when he cops a feel.

Squeezing right below your bare ass and laughing to himself when you squeak at the coldness of his hand. Freezing cold and finding heaven in your thighs. He'll knead them for hours until his hands go smooth if you let him.

Around his head is perfect, he could fall asleep just by pressing himself into your thighs. Sometimes he doesn't even care to be sexual, its more of a comfort to him. Something of a luxury in his life. Just to remind him you're there.

[betweenstorms]

Simon Riley wasn’t your typical tattoo artist.

His shop, tucked away in the quieter corners of the city downtown, was a sanctuary for those who didn’t ask questions. His hands were rough and calloused, scarred from more than just ink, but they were steady, as if the needle was an extension of himself. He rarely spoke, but when he did, his words were rough, gravelly—like he was more comfortable expressing himself through ink than through words. You had heard the rumours, but nothing prepared you for the intensity of his presence when he looked up from his work, his hazel eyes locking onto yours, the first time since you two had met.

You went back to him several times after that.

The buzzing of the tattoo machine filled the small, dimly lit studio, and you sat in the leather chair, nerves jittering in your stomach. Simon stood over you, his fingers ghosting over your skin as he prepped the area, moving with gentle purpose. The tension between you crackled in the air. You’d been here before, more than once, and every time you caught his gaze in the reflection of the mirror, you couldn’t help the flutter in your chest.

Today, though, his hands lingered on your bare skin just a little too long, the faint brush of his knuckles sending a thrill down your spine. It was the kind of attraction that simmered just beneath the surface, like the slow burn of a tattoo needle tracing your skin. As the machine buzzed against the skin of your neck, you found it hard not to watch him through the mirror, the way his dark eyes flicked between your skin and his work, the tension in his body as if he was holding something back.

When the session ended, his fingers lingered on your shoulder, tracing the ink he had just laid down.

Then suddenly he leaned down and you could feel his hot breath against your ear. His voice was a low rasp, almost a growl.

“Don’t get too used to the pain, love. It gets addictive.”

[eleganthologramcolor]

I love a good ghoap x reader as much as anyone else but what about Ghoap x reader in the sense that Ghoap hate each other and are fighting over you...

Two absolute monsters of men. One the stoic, possessive type who burns with jealousy and growls out insults about the other man when he's got you to himself. The other who's playful, cunning, intent on stealing you away, winning you over and running off with you.

It's like the instant before a fight between strays when they cross each other's paths, caught between trying to lure you away and watching the other, waiting for some sort of trick move.

Comradery be damned. They may be the only two they choose to work with, but their sparring matches are a little too far, a little too bloody and hateful.

And when one gets off deployment before the other, those same bruised knuckles are swiping over your cheek as he croons and covers your face in gentle kisses, trying to gently coax you into something exclusive.

[shamelesswolftheorist]

Simon Riley wasn't new to the feeling of getting hurt. He had witnessed so much already, had been hurt way worse before, and still this little bruise on his cheek hurt so much more than everything he's ever experienced.

Because the one to give him that bruise was you. His sweet little angel hit him in the face. Worse than that, you did not recognize him. You did not recognize the man you loved. Too caught up in the nightmares that haunted you only seconds prior, vision too foggy to see him and not the monsters that hurt you.

But Simon Riley was not a monster, not to you at least. He would never dream about hurting you. Never. Not even in his worst nightmares.

For a moment he thought that this was a nightmare too. His mind making him dream of you hating him. Seeing him as the monster he became on the battlefield. Fearing him.

It took a moment for him to realize that this was in fact real. That he was kneeling before you on the bed, his cheek bruising. And like it was instinct he suddenly knew what to do.

He approached you slowly, form hunched as to not appear like a predator, until he was close enough to wrap you in his arms and bring your shaking form into his lap. Holding you close, ear right above his heart.

You fought back. Scratching at his exposed chest, kicking your legs and even biting him. But he would not let go. No matter how much it hurt him.

He whispered sweet nothings into your ear. Promised you that it was him. That he would never hurt you, that he would always protect you. That he was there for you.

After awhile of soft praises and promises, your fighting stilled, your body slowly getting limp. Breathing ragged and hot tears streaming down your face, you started to cling onto him while whimpering his name over and over again. Apologizing for hurting him. For not recognizing him.

Simon Riley let you talk until you were too exhausted to keep your eyes open. That's when he began lulling you to sleep. Shushing you by humming a song that his mother once sung to him when he was just a little boy.

And only when you were back asleep in his arms, nightmare less, did Simon Riley let his own tears escape. Because seeing you like this broke him more than you could ever know. Because seeing you like this reminded him of himself.

[xo-codbby]

blue-collar!141 x reader

when you managed to get the number to their service from a friend, you didn't expect too much. just 4 men, an ordinary team. and you needed someone to repair the damages to your house, the entire thing needing to be constructed from the start

it's only when they arrived, your friend had failed to mention just how big and broad they were. like walking tanks, their presence demanding attention as you explained while they listened intently. catching a few of their eyes flickering to your lips and then back up as you tried to maintain your composure. they were 100% your type and you desperately wished you had met any under different circumstances but this had to be professional. any other thoughts had to be shut down immediately

soap and ghost work in sleeveless vests, price had his shirt off. you know how it gets, the england sun (no matter how rare) was too hot for him to work in and gaz with his top unbuttoned, showing off his chest. yeah it might've been a little unprofessional but the job was still getting done, did it matter so much?

a pretty thing like you didn't need to offer them anything but they were so grateful for it either way. and they were very professional at first, purely focusing on the task at hand. but slowly when you started to offer them drinks and snacks, letting them wash off the dust and grime off of their bulging muscles, the lines were a little blurred

it was taking weeks, some parts of you wondered if they were doing it purposely. needing four hands for a one man job but you grew to become fond of their company, becoming acquainted to friends.

"s'too dusty f'you to be here, hen" soap's drawl fills your ears as you hold a tray of iced drinks and some food. they were big men, they needed bigger portions of food to eat. you watched them pause on their equipment, watching as johnny leans in to give a side hug. his musk permeated the air but funnily enough you don't mind, not a bit. it makes you hang on a little closer subconsciously and a soft sound from him emanated, his hands squeezing your waist a little before he reached for a drink.

"yeah, don't want you to start sneezing here sweetheart" gaz smiles softly, the back of his finger gently smoothing your cheek for a moment before he holds the tray off from you. dirt marks stain his cheekbones, dust clinging to his skin but you don't think he could look any better, under the sun and sweating. it's hard to take your eyes off the men as you offer a soft laugh, mumbling a response as you avert your eyes. hoping they don't see how flush you look

"y'mind checking on ghost for us, pretty?" price whispers too close to your ear, his hand coming to touch your shoulder. you can feel the warmth coming from his palm, from working or the sun you're not too sure but it makes you feel weak. his lips curved into a gentle smile, looking at you with amusement flickering in his eyes. the little crinkle you've grown to admire everytime as you tried to compose yourself. maybe the sun was doing you more damage than you thought

"of course" your answer came next, blowing out a soft breath when you turned. feeling the gentle touch of his hand against the small of your back, fingers softly stroking the skin for a second but it was nothing, it had to have been nothing

you entered your home, coming up the stairs. about to knock until the bathroom door unlocks and opens. and there, ghost stood in all his glory. the towel hangs dangerously low on his hips, exposing the v line you desperately wanted to touch. you can barely catch your breath, feeling overwhelmed from the sun and their presence. watching his muscles shining with water drops, the steam rising from his skin. the tattoos shining along with the scars he had littered on his skin

"y'lookin' f'me, doll?" his deep baritone voice caresses your senses and your throat dries up for a second, unable to speak. just wanting to appreciate him and his body. his hand squeezes your shoulder so softly, his body pressed against yours for a moment too long. you can feel his palm trail across your waist, his scent sparking heat straight to your core. without all the dust on his face, without the black mask he wore, you get to see all his features and it makes you shiver at how gorgeous he seemed to look. his gaze is much more intimate and he only offers you a half smile, eyes glinting before he straightened up and headed to the other room to change. not before skimming his lips across your forehead, your body tense wanting to follow him to get out of your clothes and feel what you've been aching for all this time

but it was all professional, it had to have been. right?

[eccentricallygothic]

I am half asleep but older boyfriend!Ghost who makes you so shy but you love his big dick so…

Warning(s): Age gap, size kink, praise kink, unprotected p-in-v, doggy style, d/s vibes, intimidation kink, teasing, humiliation kink, slapping (nether regions), Simon's BDE, his dick is BIG, allusions to painal. MDNI.

. . . 

“Well,” Simon half turns on his heels, voice guttural and breathing somewhat labored because of how his hand strokes his member that is rock hard from the knowledge of what he is about to do to you. “Get on there, then” his ripped body is huge as he stands beautiful in all his glory in the middle of you and the bed that his head cocks towards. 

Your cheeks burn and though you are more than ready to climb the bed in the primal position of choice to present your own naked body to him to use, you avoid his darkened eyes. A whimperish hum is all you can let out while you chew on your bottom lip and scuffle to the bed. 

“Just like that, good girl” Simon praises you by a sharp smack to your ass that makes your tense and embarrassed form jump with a squeak. His fingers hurriedly dart down to fondle at the bruise the strike will make. A shiver sizzles past your lips and your eyes roll to the back of your head at the feeling of the pain multiplying in his grip due to how he kneads your skin. 

“Now let's see this about here” he doesn't like how narrow your kneel is. So he roughly pulls one bent leg away from the other and you nearly fall face first into the mattress but your arms support you. “Where is she?” Your heart is thumping in your ears from how humiliating the manner in which he ‘taps about’ to locate your sopping cunt is like he doesn't know it. 

A loud and nearly fearful gasp leaves you when you feel his leaking tip rub against your pucker, causing for your poor little hole that has had its fair share of disciplining at the hands of the unfair and firm impaler that tries to kiss it like a perverted lover making it recoil in defense and blink up at Simon who is busy warming up your core with strict, rapid claps against your folds. 

“Ah…” He drawls out the cool exclamation as he gropes and squeezes your petals, making you whine and your arms give up, causing for the upper half of your body to collapse into the mattress. “There, there” Simon coos uncharacteristically to comfort you when you begin to whine when his heavy tip begins to peel into your tiny hole that puts up a vain resistance. “Almost there, you're doing so well, sweets” though his scarred fingers flex over the soft skin of your back before they caress the lower region, you are still moaning and gurgling on your own spit because penetration with Simon is always a tough sport.

“O- Ouchieee~” you whimper when his tip has successfully fought itself asylum between your gushing walls that burn just as hot as your loins. Though Simon can't see you, he can vividly imagine the pout on your lips and soft scrunch of your eyebrows.

You are such a baby and he loves it. Always shyly nuzzling into him and whispering requests in his ear for his dick only to sob up a mess when it comes to actually taking his cock. 

Simon growls when the base of his tip gives you your first meanie stretch -as you call it- and he feels your insides move around his hard skin. “Ah, fuck, look at that” he is trying so hard to be considerate of your young, priorly inexperienced and sensitive body but the visual of your pucker frenzily reacting to his cock sheathing itself in you is almost too much even for the Simon Ghost Riley to handle. 

“Such a crybaby” though it's meant to be a tease on his part, his rough voice and thick accent makes it sound like a scold and to protect your poor band from ripping around his girth, the older man decides to take his frustration out on your attention seeker of an asshole that bats itself at him constantly. “Tsk, spoilt little dirt hole.” 

“Owie!” Your voice is muffled and weak when Simon's fingers begin to give mean pats to your even smaller hole in hurried intervals and the pain and embarrassment makes you clench your bottoms so hard that your cheeks not only harden under his cruel wrath but your pussy sucks him inside until he is pulled against your ass, his heavy sack colliding with your petals.

It's in, and you're on.

Simon makes handlebars of your hair by dividing it on either sides of your head and wraps the pigtails around his large fingers until they look like some odd galaxy buns.

And then he begins to pound.

. . .

MASTERLIST