#simon writing

[vanderilnde]

Simon as the maintenance guy who works at your apartment complex. He’s as unseemly and off-putting as he is enormous, and every time you see his sweeping stature or heavy gait (weighed down by his utility belt) you can’t help but remind yourself, he has a master key—he has access to your flat whenever he pleases.

He strays around the complex like a lost dog looking for its owner. Or, in this case, something to do.

When you call for him to fix a leak in your flat, you’re sure to offer him homemade muffins and tea, wrapped and bowed in a little apron as he gets to work. He’s flattered, telling himself to spend a little longer on your sink. To you, Simon works diligently. He leaves with a belly full of blueberry baked goods, and refuses your tip.

After that, you see him around a whole lot more.

In the lift on your way back from work as he updates the safety regulations (which were revised just last month). Ministering to your garden on the complex rooftop, where he seems to be checking the exhaust fan (which you distinctly remember was already cleaned the week prior). In the parking lot, right beside your parking space, where he inspects a pillar for any fissures or clefts (it’s a brand new augment to the building).

Simon becomes shamelessly forthright with it, often inviting himself to your flat. He brings his toolbox along like a stray cat that drops dead mice at your doorstep, insisting you have stuff that needs to be fixed.

Is your smoke alarm intact? Do your doors latch properly? You probably need your vents cleaned.

You’re timid and reticent with all of Simon’s unheralded appearances. He’s so big and so broody, but he’s done so much for you. You can’t exactly tell him to leave you alone, not without sounding like a prick.

Simon and his “visits” become more frequent. Even when you’re not home. The kicker is, Simon honestly doesn’t see anything repellent about his actions. He’s being there for you; is that not what friends do? … Are you not his friend?

[theres-a-body-here]

Try and tame me, I'll ruin you

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male!reader

TW: Cigarette burns, Degradation, Bondage, Homophobic slurs

Simon's jaw clenched at the feeling of rough rope biting into his wrists as he tugged half-heartedly against his restraints. A shiver ran down his spine as the cool air kissed his bare skin, but he refused to make any sign of discomfort other than a slight twitch of his eyebrow from under his mask.

Simon's gaze followed the smoke curling up from the end of your cigarette, watching it rise lazily toward the ceiling. He took another deep breath, wincing slightly at the tugging sensation coming from his bound wrists. When you leaned closer, his muscles tightened protectively around himself, but he didn't move away. Instead, he just stared back at you, unblinking, daring you to make the first move.

You slowly bring your fingers to your cigarette, staring at his eyes through the holes of his mask as you take a drag. After a few seconds of tense silence, you blow smoke into his face.

The smoky scent invaded his nostrils as the puff of white clouds floated between them. Simon tried to hold his breath, turning his head away to avoid the worst of it, but it still made his eyes water. Irritation flashed across his features momentarily when he caught sight of your amused expression through the haze.

Involuntarily, his hips bucked upward as his cock twitched - a reaction he tried to suppress immediately after realizing what happened.

Once the smoke cleared, leaving the smell of burnt tobacco lingering in the air, his shoulders stiffened momentarily before relaxing again, a low growl rumbling from within his chest.

You're the first to break the silence. "Do you remember the safe word?"

Your gentle tone seemed almost surreal, contrasting sharply with the thick tension currently ramping up. It felt like a trap waiting to snap shut any second. Still, he found himself answering honestly, albeit gruffly, "Yeah."

As if reminding himself, he added, "England."

You nod, bringing the cigarette up to your lips for another drag.

Following your soft exhale, you reached out with your free hand to wrap your fingers around his shaft. Simon watched your every movement carefully, observing how your fingertips traced the veins running along its length. He fought the urge to push further into your grip, instead letting out a shaky sigh as you started stroking him gently.

His hips jerked forward involuntarily, pressing deeper into your grasp, even though he knew better than to expect anything more than this teasing gesture.

Your hand continued moving rhythmically up and down his shaft as you brought the lit end of your cigarette close to his face. The heat radiating off the cherry made him aware of its presence before you blew a cloud of smoke directly into his mouth and nose.

Choking on the acrid fumes mixed with the thrill coursing through him caused Simon to become light-headed, and the sensation intensified as you continued to stroke his cock firmly. Each pull sent sparks flying behind his eyelids, making him dizzy.

You couldn't help but notice the twitching of his cock and the way his face contorted under his mask. "You're a sick fuck for enjoying this, you know," you mocked, disgust lacing your voice as your face twisted into a snarl.

He replied nothing at first, simply glaring back at you defiantly. But after some thinking, he spoke. "I know," he replied dryly, unable to deny your accusation. Even if he wanted to.

Twisting your wrist, you applied pressure to the sensitive underside of his throbbing tip, eliciting a strangled moan from deep within his throat. In response, your fingers tightened their grip on his cockhead, swirling in slow circles, causing visible shivers down his spine.

"Fucking fag," you spat out venomously, punctuating each word with extra force as you suddenly ground the lit end of your cigarette onto his thigh.

Pain shot through him, causing his muscles to tense in response. Instinctively, he tried to pull away from the source of pain, forgetting about the ropes cutting into his flesh until blood began trickling down his forearms.

Gritting his teeth together, he held back a yell, knowing that giving you the satisfaction of hearing him scream would be far worse than enduring the pain ripping through his leg. The agony spread rapidly through his system as the searing heat sank deep into his thigh.

The smell of burning flesh wafted through the air from where the burning ember left its mark, yet he remained silent, save for shallow gasps escaping through clenched teeth.

Despite the foul aroma in the air, you appeared unfazed by his display of pain. If anything, it seemed to irritate you more than anything else. Picking up the nearby lighter, you flicked it open and relit your cigarette. Taking a long drag, you released another plume of smoke in front of him.

Leaning in closer towards his throbbing cock, you placed both hands on his muscular thighs, carefully avoiding the tender spot where your cigarette burned him seconds earlier. Slowly, you stuck out your tongue to drag it along the underside of his erection, savoring the taste of saltiness coating your taste buds as you collected drops of pre-cum dripping from his tip.

At first, there was only silence, but soon enough, a guttural groan escaped Simon's lips. Hearing his own ragged breathing echoed back at him stirred something primal within him. He swallowed hard, willing himself not to react too much as your moist tongue lapped at his cock. The heat from your freshly lit cigarette tickled his inner thigh as it hanged loosely in your fingers.

You opened your mouth wide, swallowing his length whole without warning. Choking sounds came from the back of your throat as you tried adjusting to his girthy cock.

Feeling the back of your throat constrict around him sent shockwaves down his body, forcing him to bite his lower lip in an attempt to remain quiet.

The warmth enveloping him felt like pure ecstasy compared to the chill creeping up his spine. However, he managed to maintain a blank stare, barely acknowledging your efforts as he focused on regaining control over his racing heartbeat. Simon was determined to hide how much you were affecting him.

Slowly but surely, you forced yourself to relax your throat, allowing him to slide deeper inside until your nose nuzzled against his pubic hairs. Choking sounds escaped your throat as you struggled to accommodate him entirely, but determination etched itself onto your features.

Determined to break him, you began gulping down on him hungrily, causing your nose to dig deeper into his dark curls. Finally, you saw him react - a low moan vibrated through him as it slipped past his lips, resonating throughout the room. He arched his back ever so slightly, exposing himself more vulnerably to you before catching himself.

But it was too late.

A burning pain shot through him once more as you harshly pressed the end of your cigarette against his thigh once again, seemingly punishing him for reacting.

"FUCK!" Simon yelled out loud, a strangled sound erupting from deep within his chest as pain ripped through him like fire racing up his leg. Writhing wildly against the restraints binding him, his cock jerked erratically inside your mouth, slamming repeatedly against the back of your throat

Gritting his teeth together, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter under his mask, trying to focus on the pleasure rather than the burning sensation spreading quickly through his leg.

Slowly pulling back, you revealed his gleaming wet cock, now fully exposed to the cool air. A small string of saliva connected your bottom lip to his head before breaking free and landing on his stomach with a soft splat.

Glancing up briefly, you met his gaze hiding behind the mask, watching closely for any hint of emotion. Instead, all you found was a cold, defiant gaze staring back.

Huffing, your fingers wrapped firmly around his saliva-covered shaft, stroking him gently at first. Simon's hips involuntarily bucked forward, silently urging you to continue.

Noticing that you hadn't relit your cigarette, Simon allowed himself to relax just a little, focusing solely on the sensations flooding through him instead of anticipating the next wave of pain. Soft whimpers began escaping from his throat as he gave in to the sensations caused by your movements. Each tug brought forth louder noises, gradually becoming uncontrollable as you increased speed and intensity.

Barely recognizable words fell from his mouth in sync with every stroke. Every inch of him trembled as waves of pleasure washed over him. "Fuck…yeah…right there…"

As your hand continued moving up and down his length, you casually pressed the ashy end of your unlit cigarette against his ball sack, leaving a faint gray stain on the surface.

Following suit, you drew a crude heart shape on his sack using the leftover residue. The sight alone made him shiver visibly even as you maintained your fast pace.

His cries became increasingly desperate as he felt knots in his stomach and his body tense.

Moments later, he warned you, his voice desperate and rough "I'm gonna cum."

Without missing a beat, you switched positions, grabbing hold of his cock with both hands and stroking vigorously, using one to rotate on the shaft.

Simon's orgasm hit him hard, making him throw his head back with a loud yell as jets of cum shot from his tip.

Thrusting helplessly into your grasp, he shot thick ropes of semen across your face, painting streaks of white on your cheeks and forehead. Afterwards, droplets slid lazily down your face and onto your shirt, pooling in various spots near your collar.

A sigh of exhaustion escaped his lungs as he collapsed backwards onto the mattress, closing his eyes behind the mask.

Disgusted, you stood up abruptly, wiping your face with the back of your hand. Cum smeared across your cheekbones and chin as you turned away from him. Striding confidently towards the nightstand beside the bed. Opening it, you rummage through its contents.

Finding what you were looking for, you picked up a hand towel cloth and wiped your face as you glanced back at Simon. A strange sense of satisfaction settled inside you as you watched him lay there panting heavily, spent and vulnerable.

After cleaning off the remaining remnants of semen from your face, you returned to the nightstand drawer and searched through its depths again. This time, your fingers brushed against metal instead of fabric.

Withdrawing a folding knife, you flicked it open smoothly before leaning over him. Carefully, you reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder, rolling him onto his stomach.

Simon seemed too blissed-out to resist as you started working on the knots binding his wrists together. They fell loose eventually, releasing him from his bondage completely.

Watching him lying motionless on the bed, you noticed the peaceful expression painted on his face. His eyelids fluttered open occasionally, revealing a serene look underneath the mask.

For once, he looked almost content—completely different from the usual brooding exterior he presented most days.

You leaned in closer, softly patting his head. "You want me to run you a bath?"

"Mhm," came a low murmur from his limp form to your question, his breathing slow and steady as his face was planted into the soft blankets.

"Ill take that as a yes."

[mebssann]

imagine you're living in the post apocalypse and your adopted dad still makes you do homework

[sentientfloatingeyeball]

Possibly the greatest NPR exchange ever recorded

[kurogxrix]

me when the READER in the X READER has a name:

like babe the fic ate but i do NOT look like an Aurora🙁

[ghostly-whiskey]

simon riley who you "meet" through a program where you can send care packages to soldiers. you don't think much of it at first, just a simple package with a few necessities and treats. and along with that, a short, but genuine and handwritten letter thanking the unknown soldier to you for their service.

and when you go to retrieve your mail a few weeks later after getting home from work, brows furrowing together as you shuffle through the stack of envelopes.

bill. another bill. advertisement. paycheck. handwritten addressed envelope from 'ghost'.

your brain doesn't even connect the dots until you are inside, fingers gently picking at the envelope until your able to drag a finger through the seal to open it. a simple piece of what looks like notebook paper is pulled from inside. unfolding it, eyes quickly scan the letter to get an idea what it's about.

you've done plenty of care packages before. never did you get a personalized thank you letter back, so, this was a first. the letter starting off by thank you for the package and that he enjoyed the items, especially the "sweet treats". the two words put in quotations as he referred to what you referred to them as in your own letter. your own brain cringing slightly as you remember what you wrote.

again, thank you for all that you do and enjoy the sweet treats!

and while you expected the letter to end after thanking you, it didn't. additional lines asking about you. the sets of questions ranging from asking how long have you been doing the care packages to general questions about yourself. then, at the very end, after signing off as 'ghost', you couldn't help but notice the chicken scratch of handwriting that added:

p.s. you don't need to respond back if you don't want to, just figured it be nice to get something back in return. thanks again.

[suguann]

When you first introduce him, Simon instantly knows that he hates your now ex-boyfriend—especially after he broke up with you only two months into the relationship, and the reason behind it sets his teeth on edge.

You’re perfect and so sweet; how could he—

“He broke up with me because…I um…Do I really have to say it? It’s embarrassing.” 

He bumps his knee into yours because he really fucking sucks at saying the right thing when the moment calls for it. “You don’t have to say anything.”

With a huff, you get a little flustered and glance down into your glass of beer, brows furrowed. “I couldn’t make him fit.” 

It’s so soft, but he hears it as if you’d shouted it across the bar.

The only thought he can think of is that your ex-boyfriend is an idiot once he has your back pressed up against his chest and trembling thighs spread over top of his. Three of his thick fingers already work deep inside of you, filling the room with filthy squelching sounds and your breathy moans.

His thumb carefully drags over your clit, loving how you twitch in his arms. “See? Someone just needed to stretch your little pussy properly, huh?”

“Mhm.” You nod, pressing yourself further into him, thighs butterflying open. “It feels so good.”

“You’re so loose and wet. I bet my cock would slip right in.”

Your walls clench and flutter around him, and it takes everything in him not to toss you onto the bed and fuck you into his sheets. “Simon, can you fuck me? Please?” 

It’s hard to deny you when you ask so sweetly, but he can’t give you what you want—not yet. You whine when he pulls one of his fingers out, but it cuts off into a surprised squeak when he grabs your smaller hand to bring it between your thighs. 

“Put one of your fingers inside your pussy.”

You turn your head to look up at him, kiss-bitten lips pulled into a pout. “But—”

“Come on, love, be good for me.” Teeth nip your jaw as a warning. “I know you can be so good for me.”

Slowly, you ease your finger in beside his with little pants of his name. His cock jumps against your back as he watches your cunt open up to suck in the intrusion—it makes his stomach twist. Simon traps your finger between his and curls them alongside his inside you, tearing a sharp cry from your chest.

“You’re so gorgeous.” His words are raw, rumbling somewhere deep within his chest. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. So full. Better than your boyfriend ever could.”

Masterlist

[elexaria]

simon swore up and down he’d never want kids, he was certain he’d end up just like his old man and he would rather die than let a child grow up how he did. he tells you, “look at the state of me, yeah? not exactly father material, am i? i’m tapped in the head, ‘ts not fair to give a kid any of that.” as he taps his temple with his pointer finger.

years pass, and those words echo in your mind as he holds your chubby baby in his rough hands, one gently splayed on their soft tummy while the other supports their head. he’s gently suspending your baby in the air, mimicking helicopter noises as they squeal and giggle happily. simon has the biggest grin on his face as your 3 year old begs him to let them have a turn as a rileycopter, small hands tugging on his cargo pants with pouty lips.

not exactly father material, simon? you beg to differ.

[whinesandwhimpers]

down bad simon may look a little like this

You've stepped outside for some fresh air so when Simon walks out a few minutes after you and lights up a cigarette, your face immediately scrunches up in disgust.

He catches your expression. "Not a fan of smoking?"

"Came out for some fresh air."

"Hm, seems like more than that." He muses, turning his head away to blow out some smoke.

"I just think it's gross."

He's silent for a few moments and you think maybe he's offended even, but then he turns back to you and clears his throat.

"That one of your deal breakers then?"

"Deal brea—yeah. It is. Don't think I could bring myself to even kiss a smoker. Why? You interested?" You joke, expecting a laugh and dismissal of the conversation.

He immediately throws his cigarette on the ground and snuffs it out with his shoe, then walks over to the bin and pulls the half-full carton out of his pocket and throws it and his lighter out. Just like that. He walks back over to stand in front of you, his large hand coming up to rest on your cheek, an intensity simmering in his dark eyes as he looks at you.

"Yes."

[vanderilnde]

House of the Rising Sun masterlist butcher/neighbour au simon riley/reader

Your new flat has more than just thin walls and an infamous reputation for danger. It also has a socially inept butcher who's big and brutish and a little wolfish, but seems keen on bullying himself into your affection. Doting on you like a parasite, or, like a stray cat. Depending on who you ask.

-

There's a butcher's shop at the end of your street Simon helps you with your laundry You interrupt Simon's football game Simon gives you his meat Simon sins for you Simon bares himself to you You shower at Simon's flat

[loveindefinitely]

task force 141 with a controversially young civilian girlfriend.

-> mentions of large age-gaps, referenced sexual content, alcohol use. afab!fem!reader. minor dubcon (everyone's drunk.)

thinking that you're studying in uni. working on the side to try and afford rent and, if you're lucky, some noodles every other night. you don't really get seen compared to your friends, who go out clubbing and spend their spare time on dating apps.

one time, your friend drags you to a bar. not usually your scene, considering its clientele is more for tradies, and military-type men. not like the stuck-up blue collar boys at your uni.

cue you getting drunk off your ass, barely even standing, when you bump into one johhny mactavish.

he holds your elbows, your chest crashing into his. gentle with it, too -- kind and sweet and grounding.

"y'alright, lass?" he asks, a small smirk on his face, eyes darting across your frame greedily. he, in all fairness, looks nearly as drunk as you. he stumbles a little with your weight.

you giggle, tilting your head to look at him. say something stupid like, "you don't look like a student."

his brows raise, his dimples deepen. "aye, very smart, hen."

you preen with the compliment, a cheesy grin stuck to your face. you make no move to stand up and leave. you think your friend just left with a guy anyways.

johnny moves you, muscled arm around your waist as he takes you to a booth.

three other men sit in it, only one looking somewhere in a ten-year age bracket to you. they're all impossibly large, filling out the space with ease. your stomach swoops, but you easily blame the alcohol.

manoeuvring you so you sit in his lap, johnny's hand is a comforting weight on your waist. he huffs a laugh.

"didn't realise we were goin' for jailbait, soap," the youngest one chimes, dark features shining in the pub's dim light. his eyes trail your frame silkily.

you can't stop the roll of your eyes -- your inhibitions have made you senseless. "'m not, 'm completely," you drag out the syllables, "legal."

a hand on your thigh makes you jolt, and when you look over, a blonde man with a black medical mask raises an unimpressed brow. "got a problem, kid?"

you shoot him a weak glare. "not a kid. weirdo."

the arm around your waist tightens, as does the weirdo's hand encompassing your thigh.

"not scared of anythin', are you darl'?" the final man in the booth asks, hands folded together where they rest at the table. he looks at least double your age, and that simple fact along with his drawling words has your core tightening.

"what's there to be scared of?" you ask, stupidly. your head tilts to the side, unknowingly moving to rest on johnny's shoulder. he doesn't comment.

"miss bein' young and drunk," gaz sighs, hand softly gripping the gin sat on the table in front of him.

"you look young," your brows furrow, not understanding. how old could he really be, to act so nostalgic of your current predicament? "how old are you guys?"

it's an embarrassing question -- makes you feel like a child all over again. but your interest is quickly peaking, and your need for answers overpowers your need for decorum.

johnny's the one to answer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers.

"gaz, the pretty one over there, he's twenty-eight," he murmurs, heat stirring low in your gut as you nod mindlessly, meeting gaz's eyes.

johnny stokes his thumb over the skin of your hip, and you curl into him further -- stranger be damned.

"i'm thirty," he hums, and god, he sounds so fucking sensual you're about to melt into his arms. if you aren't already.

"the guy in the mask?" said man's hand tightens impossibly against your skin, fingers just shy of grazing your aching pussy, "he's thirty-seven. got a lot of experience, aye?"

you shudder.

"what about you?" you end up voicing, shyly meeting the last man's gaze. he takes a slow sip of his whiskey.

he leans back into the cushion, eyeing you carefully.

"forty-three."

your thighs squeeze together, and fuck, if that's not a turn-on. no matter how unsafe you should feel, surrounded by four military-grade, older men, it only manages to have you wet beyond belief.

all you can manage is one question.

"take me home?"

[sant-riley]

[Touchy feely] [tf141 headcanons]

(Romantic impied Task force 141 boys x gender neutral!reader headcanons :))

Summary: Being the sweetheart of the task force means the boys are not shy about the fact that they're all simps and always want some sort of contact with you at all times.

Consists of romantic/suggestive headcanons for each of the guys and little things they do with you <3

Words: about 1.5k (this was supposed to be short, whoops)

Warnings/Info: Can be read separately but it is intended that they all harbor feelings for you at the same time, possibly out of character for everyone, some swearing, the guys manhandle you, as always, let me know if I miss something!

Thinking about how each of the boys is so touchy with you, it doesn't matter where you are or who you're with, they're shameless.

Other units and teams who will sometimes share the base with 141 know better than to ask questions or directly say anything to one of the guys or you for that matter. Not that they could anyway, seeing as you always have at least one of them attached to your hip.

Price:

Anyone who walks into Price's office late at night to turn something in is used to seeing you next to the Captain on the little dingy loveseat he has in there.

John is usually smoking a cigar, taking care to not blow smoke your way while your head is resting on his shoulder. Your eyes closed as you hum at his words. It's terribly domestic for a military base.

John likes to gently play with your hair while he speaks about missions he's been on, always somehow trying to braid despite not knowing how to for jack shit, whether it because it's you or just the mindless motion, he's not willing to say.

John will usually walk you back to your room after dinner or time in his office unless he's swamped with work.

A small hand on the small of your back while he leads you. It's always a respectable touch, though he tucks you into his side, nodding at everyone you may pass.

If you're comfortable with it, he likes to press a kiss to your head, smiling that goofy ass smile, and tells you to get a good night's rest.

He lets you help him trim up his beard, he won't let you do all of it but he likes the closeness of it, him sitting down while you gently shape it up, tilting his head up and he tries his best to not stare directly at your chest.

The fact that he's letting you this close to his neck with a razor is a sign of trust, maybe small for others but for a man that doesn't drop his guard and doesn't truly trust others, it speaks volumes.

The first time he let you, you were barely putting any pressure and he grabbed your hand in his and showed you. "You're not gonna hurt me, put more force into it, yeah?"

Don't get me started on going out on walks in London with Price, he wraps you up in his beanie and some big leather jacket he has that dwarves you, helping you move through crowds by once again holding the small of your back, or taking your smaller hand in his. (He doesn't correct anyone if they mistake you as married)

He likes to kiss the back of your hand and laughs when it makes you blush and sputter out that his beard is scratchy.

Ghost:

Ghost is a subtle one, he won't actively reach for you or your hand but he does have some part of him against you most times.

Whether it be his leg, arm, or thigh, anything works. A normal place yall will be seen together is in the dining hall, you've both learned to ignore the stares from everyone else.

Simon never eats there, just sits with you until you're finished and then you both move on to either his quarters or somewhere else so he can peel his mask up to eat a bit.

However, while you're eating and telling him about anything under the sun, he'll lean over and wipe some crumbs off of your mouth with his thumb softly, which again, you're used to so okay whatever but Recruits always are taken aback in their seats.

Ghost's reflexes kick into overdrive with you. His hand going to cover a corner of a table 9/10 times before you completely wreck your shit, but when he does miss (sometimes on purpose).

He'll bring a hand up to rub at your head for you, chuckling under his breath before cooing down at you "That hurt pretty? Sure look like it did."

Whenever you two specifically are paired onto a mission, doesn't matter if any of the guys complain, he will share a cot/tent with you. He claims he runs the hottest (he doesn't, it's Johnny but he will not lose on this) and can keep your body the warmest.

He pretty much lugs you on top of him and wraps his arms around your waist, he'll press a hand against your head if you keep fidgeting, rasping at you to go to sleep. He takes great pride in the fact that you're usually out like a light very shortly.

I've said it once and I'll say it again, Ghost likes to hook a finger into your body straps and pull it really hard and let it smack you to get your attention if you're not actively paying attention to him, he'll soothe the area but he's smirking behind that fucking mask.

On that note, he definitely does the "You got something right here." And points at your chest and immediately pull up to flick your nose hard as fuck, he KNOWS his own strength but sometimes your eyes water and he immediately feels bad.

Ghost rests his head on your chest a lot, he finds your heartbeat to be soothing and reassuring, also grunts if you don't wrap your arms around him in return, bro literally shoves his head into you and groans

This is a grown man but it's cute so you let it slide bc he'll never ask for it outright, he just assumes you'll cradle his head.

Soap:

Johnny is the most shameless motherfucker here, I'm talking about draping himself over you, grabbing at your cheeks, ruffling your hair, kissing you dangerously close to your lips (it drives the others mad), he's the most unapologetic about it and will gloat to the others.

Manhandler #1, isn't above grabbing you by your hips and picking you up to move you somewhere, he's literally gone and grabbed you from some rookies side to come stand next to him with a smile and you're just so used to it that you just shrug and go along with it. (He gets slightly jealous, why would you stand next to some random ass dude and not him??)

Throws you over his shoulder, or likes you to cling to his front or his back and just carries you, he says it's a comfortable weight. If you ever dare say you're too heavy, he's gonna go to the gym and work out even more to PROVE to you that he simply doesn't care, he will carry you.

Extremely bad habit of sneaking into your room to fall asleep with you, Price has come into your room many times to see Soap sprawled on top of you, he's drooling and snoring and you're knocked the fuck out (he's like a glorified weighted blanket).

I've touched on this before but he only wants you to cut his hair for him, yeah he can go to the barber on base but he much prefers you and loves it when you scratch at his scalp. He also likes to just have his head in between your thighs but that's something else for another time-

Soap specifically slings you over his shoulder a lot, especially off base where he truly doesn't have any fucks to give.

You're not going to bed because you have other work?? Too bad, shoulder time you go. You're not willing to get up and make yourself food? Good thing he's here, either pick what you want from the kitchen or throw some clothes on bc he IS dragging you out of the house.

Johnny likes to draw on you a lot, it ranges from scribbles, to sometimes his name if he's feeling cheeky (he's drawn it on your thigh before and you didn't notice until Gaz shot you a look), to intricate drawings of whatever he can think whether it be a landscape or an animal.

He always holds you steady and it isn't uncommon for your limbs to fall asleep but it's worth it, if only to see him smile.

Gaz:

Gaz is probably the most secretly clingy person out of the four, he CAN function without your touch but does he PREFER to? No.

His first instinct in any situation is to grab you and shield you, he's the fastest of the four so his body moves without thinking and it's saved you more times than any of you would like to count.

The one mission where you both fell out of a moving truck, he tucked your body into his despite it costing him his shoulder popping out of the socket, you couldn't help but freak out while Ghost moved to pop it back into place.

"Why the fuck would you do that? Look at your arm!" "It's nothing." "Garrick what the fuck-"

When you're out anywhere off base, he's holding your hand, good luck trying to pull away bc he is not letting go. Too bad so sad, resign to your fate.

I think Gaz is definitely good at dancing, at least with you and when the right music is on, you cannot tell me this man wouldn't twirl you around and shit-fight me on it. He'll even lift you off your feet, laughing when you scramble to grab at his shoulders.

He goes stark still if you rest your head on his shoulder, not because he's nervous but because he's worried about waking you up when he knows you deserve a rest.

He'll usually wrap his arm around your shoulder to hold you in place so the heli ride doesn't jostle you so much, gentleness rubbing his knuckles along your arm to soothe you.

Gaz is the one who holds you when you have nightmares, on rare occasions when Soap isn't in your room and you just need to be held with no talking, you always without thinking find yourself in Kyle's room, his arms wrapped around your waist as he tucks your head under his chin, no questions asked.

He'll maybe hum a tune to help you relax but other than that, he lets you lead the way.

[tearsofastraeax]

simon is the type of guy to come up behind you while you're standing in the kitchen, his hands traveling over your hips right to your ass, his hands grabbing your cheeks and giving them a squeeze

"hmmmm, that ass," he sighs into your neck.

"simon....", you chastise him, clearly busy, your hands full, the water nearly overcooking, and the heat from the stove making you sweat.

you notice him step away a bit, but his hands don't leave your ass, giving it a little jiggle instead.

you hear his breathy laugh behind you, "sorry, babe, but these cheeks were calling to me, they miss me"

[suguann]

Being a camgirl comes with its fair share of ups and downs, but you never expected one of the downs to be one of your unboxings from a fan going horribly wrong during a live stream—the proof of it still buzzing between your thighs beyond your finger's reach. 

A rush of embarrassment comes with knocking on your roommate’s bedroom door and asking him for help because you’re nearing the brink of overstimulation and can’t think straight enough to get the words out. It’s worse when he stands there and says nothing—all imposing with two tattooed arms crossed over his chest—while you try to get through a sentence without moaning. 

Simon looks at you with a cocked brow and something akin to amusement as he watches you squirm in his doorway. 

Then he finally says, “Get on the bed,” in a steady and low voice, opening his bedroom door wider.

You fidget under his scrutinizing gaze as you settle back against his pillows, biting back whimpers with a too-hot face and sweat dripping down your back. 

Him settling a knee on the bed makes you jump, “Let’s take a look, love.” 

Simon crawls up the bed, forcing your knees open, and you’re suddenly very aware of how broad and big he looks, towering over you—every part of you laid bare for him to see. A large hand presses right below your belly button, jostling the toy inside you, and this time, you can’t hold back the squeal that rips from your chest. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, voice imperceptibly deeper, his lips twitching like he’s trying to hold back a smile. “Okay, you’re going to feel a slight stretch.”

You bite your lip. “A-alright—”

Slight doesn’t even come close to the fingers sliding into you, spearing your sensitive walls open and pressing into a spot where you’ve never been able to reach with startling precision. You remind yourself that he has to do this, that he’s just being…friendly, or whatever makes the lines less blurred. 

None of this stops the fact your lower stomach burns with the promise of another orgasm when his fingers brush against the egg vibrator before accidentally pressing it deeper inside.

“Ah, there it is.��

At the sight of your scrunched nose, he asks if it hurts. You shake your head; eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to hold back the stinging pleasure racing up your spine. “N-no,” you whimper.

“Relax, okay?”

Simon doesn’t comment on how you’re implying that it feels good. So good, you think, his thumb just barely touching your clit as he twists his hand to try a different angle. Then he pushes down on your belly again, and his long fingers finally grip the vibrator.

“Oh!” you moan at the feel of it dragging down your front wall, your fingers gripping the sheets. 

He has to tell you to relax again, his voice cracking, but you hardly hear it over your heart beating loudly in your ears. His fingers drag the toy out slowly, almost too slow that you can feel it bumping against every slippery ridge inside you.

“Ah, sorry,” he says when you twitch—unapologetic—using his thumb to rub soothing circles into your stomach. “You’re so wet. I need to make sure I don’t lose it again.”

You nod, cunt clenching down at his words.

And then Simon’s fingers curl up: your thighs start quivering, breath caught in your throat, and your jaw locks up until your orgasm ripples through you. It’s unending, the strongest one yet, and just when you think it’s over, you feel the press of his palm against your clit.

“W-wait! Simon,” you moan, pushing at his hand. “No more, I‘m sensitive!”

He gets you to fall over the edge one more time before finally slipping the vibrator out of you, letting it hum softly on the bed, and your exhausted body sinks into the mattress once again. Simon gathers you into his lap, rocking you back and forth.

You swallow lungfuls of air against his chest, head still spinning and walls spasming from the aftershocks. 

He murmurs in your ear about how good you are, kisses your temple, and rubs your sides, and it’s… enlightening. Moments pass before you finally return to yourself, and when he pulls back, his brows furrow at your pout.

“All good?”

You shake your head and go with honesty. “I didn’t think you’d cuddle me afterward.”

He smiles, thumb flicking your bottom lip. “You wanted me to fuck you?” 

Your mouth falls open. “N-no—”

Then he leans down, lips brushing against your ear: “Don’t worry, love. Good girls get fucked hard.”

[elexaria]

when you start dating johnny, you also start dating simon. they’re best friends, which means simon is also your best friend.

he’s always over at your place, and you always sit inbetween then whenever you guys watch a movie. johnny’s hand on your thigh whilst simon’s arm chills around your shoulder, his thumb gently rubbing your arm.

so its no surprise when you end up getting furiously dicked down in bed by simon, his thick girthy cock stretching your poor cunt out while you choke on johnny’s fat dick, tears in your eyes as your muffled whimpers only spur them on more. “fuckin’ hell—“ si grunts out with each bellow and pump back inside of you, his thumb reaching down to tease your swollen clit. johnny’s fingers pinch at your nipples, chuckling as he grabs at your stupidly fat tits with a satisfied growl.