#simon x reader

[simonrillleyyysss]

can you please write ghost and a reader that's very shy, like cant look at him in the eyes and blushes very easily, but when is having sex with simon is very vocal and demanding

love this nonnie!! wrote this during my lecture :3

simon is very very understanding… holding hands on the sofa? your face is turning red and you’re blubbering apprehensively into his chest on the sofa, legs straddling his beefy thighs comfily, his hand stroking your head.. only teases slightly.

“ooh, baby all red?”

“quieett.”

“all cute n’ soft.”

kissing? you’re trying hide yourself in his neck afterwards, his wandering hands hungrily groping at your waist n’ hips..kissing the soft landscape of your throat, teeth nipping and bruising at it—telling you how you don’t need to be embarassed.. he isn’t even doing anything yet.

pda? you’re complaining about how it’s innappropriate to kiss at the park, empty.. it’s dirty to, not socially acceptable! he doesn’t care, pecking your cheek for a second has you complaining and shouting at him, so dramatic..

sex? you’re so controlling, sitting yourself down on his tongue and rocking your hips back and forth, listening to the lewd ‘aaahh—‘ sounds and slurping, your hands gripping the headboard for dear life..

“simon-more, give me more. now, i need it.”

“bossy-boots, eh?”

you’re quick to shut him up with your grinding.. spilling your sweet nectar as he sucked at your clit, it all becoming too much..

let’s you take charge sometimes, bouncing atop his heavy cock after a long days work, babbling about how good it feels with his length entering and leaving your fluttering hole, his thumb tracing the mold of your stomach with such loving tenderness.. but you’re all bark no bite,

doesn’t take him long to shove your face into the mattress and ram into you with such desperation and hunger, hand striking at the fat of your ass without any reconsideration.

“fuckin’ taking it perfectly, yeah?”

“yes simon—yesyesyesyesyes..that feels so—so fucking good..oh, ah..”

“not so shy now, eh? just fuckin’ desperate for my dick, dirty slag.”

[forsworned]

husband simon breeding his cute petite wife. Mf got no mercy, if u don’t add dirty talk and slapping, ima come to ya house bbg

Warning(s): Breeding kink, Rough sex, AFAB!Reader, Degradation

I firmly believe that Simon would be gentle breeding his wife unless said otherwise.

He's syrupy sweet as he's digging into the flesh of your thighs, lifting your hips as he drives into you. Cooing saccharine pet names as he studies the way your face contorts in pleasure. It's always about you and Simon doesn't want it any other way. Directing all his attention to the resonance of your moans and the gooseberries that trail along your skin. Your body continually motions to grind against his pelvis and Simon halts his fervent ministrations to peer down at you.

He's tracing his fingers along the peaks of your breasts, dilated onyx hues fixating on your hardening buds. "'ll take care of ya, dovie."

"Simon—hah!" Another roll of his hips and you're clawing at his biceps desperately seeking purchase into anything. "Need to—fuck!"

"Tell me." He licks his thumb, coating it with his saliva and he's hovering over your clit. You part your lips to speak, but it's lost on you as he slowly starts to rub you out and slowly thrusts into you. He throws his head back a little when you clench around him.

"I want to—Fuck me! Fuck me hard, Simon! Please~" You practically sing out. And he's fighting demons. He knew that look all too well. Because every babymaking session has literally been nothing but slow, intimate, finger-intertwined, mind-blowing sex, but now you want it hard, rough, and dirty?

And that ignites an inferno in him. You're suddenly being turned around, face first, ass sitting up as he grasps onto your thighs and pushes them toward his body. Your small yelp melts into a milky moan when you feel his tongue lapping at your folds. Wet, squelching noises fill your ears as you lose yourself in the hazy euphoria that encapsulates your body. You shudder at the way he flattens his tongue against your clit, and you feel yourself clenching and spasming as you near your end, but he swiftly withdraws himself to fill you with his cock.

"Simon!" Your impassioned cry, causes him to buck his hips a bit as he runs his fingers through your hair and tugs it back so that you're half-facing him, and he hotly slots his lips between yours. His tongue sloppily swirls around your own and saliva drips from your mouths, muffling your conflated moans.

A sharp spank to your plump ass cracks through the air, as he roughly molds your cervix to his dick. "Ya like that don't ya, ya little slut?"

"Oh—fu—" Your half profanity is unfound on him as he feels your walls gripping onto him. The grin that stretches across his lips is raunch as hell as he makes you wail out in the most lewd way possible.

Another hot, welting spank to your ass jerks your body forward, but you're not going anywhere in his grip. "Such a little slut for me, aren't ya, baby?"

You can only nod in response, but he grips your chin between his taut fingers and your jaw is slackened as you peer up at his with misty eyes.

"Say it." He commands. And your lips contort into a giddy, toothy smile as you suck on his finger. His lips part as he pumps his finger into your mouth and the feeling of your tongue, causes him to suck in his bottom lip.

You let go with an audible pop. "I'm your little slut."

And with that, another smack to your ass sends you reeling as he hammers into you and suddenly you feel your clit being encircled. The excitement and the pleasure are too much for you as you become dizzy with that gratifying buzz that pushes you to the brink of your seventh heaven.

"'m gonna, Si—!" You whimper out as you feel a rich fire that is blossoming in your belly reach into every nerve of your body so pleasantly, leaving you warm and fuzzy. Your eyes are drifting to the back of your head and you feel Simon twitch inside of you and the warmth of his cum, spilling into your womb, coating your walls like he had intended. It felt so satisfying.

You're both heaving for a moment and his lips touch your shoulder and trail down your spine. A frisson runs up your spinal column and you're smiling like an idiot, with your cheek against the white linen pillow that was stained with tears and drool.

Simon slowly pulls out of you and you whine at the loss of his dick repleting in your guts, but he sighs in contentment when he admires the messy, opulent tumult you two had caused.

"Surely, that'll result in a child." He murmurs and then peers back up at you before you both end up in a fit of giggles and butterflies kisses.

But please feel free to run up on me, I'm prepared miss ma'am

Send me some reqs!!!

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: hybrids, not proof read, fluff drabble(?)

Years after Simon had retired from the special forces, he was left as a well aged man, softer muscles from a lesser workout regimen, strands of silver and black which dirtied his pretty blond hair. Didn't give much of a shite about his facial hair either, especially since he no longer had a reason for formalities, scratchy stubble all across his jaw and neck.

He was still brooding as ever; cold mornings being the worst. His muscles ached then, painfully so. It made him snappy, bitchy, down right depressed. Which was where you came along.

Simon never saw him as the type of man to have interest in cats; always thought they were assholes. Not very touchy, only really giving attention when they were hungry or wanted to play. He was certain he was a dog man, loved their loyalty, warmth, affection. It explains his disappointment upon getting a pretty little cat hybrid like you. Initially you were cold, hissing at him, never let him pet the soft fur of your tail, or fluffy ears atop your head.

You knew better than to scratch him though, knew where your meals came from. Regardless, you two thought it best to keep to yourselves. And it wasn't like you hated Simon, nothing like that. You were just scared of him, him and his aggressive movements, his impatient behavior. Everything he did was so rough, couldn't bring yourself to enjoy it.

But still, the mornings were the worst, you'd walk by his room (a place you weren't allowed), following the sun as it seeped through the windows. His pained groans and cries, curses that stumbled out and were muffled by the pillow. It made you feel...well, guilty. He wasn't a bad man, didn't throw you out even if you scratched up his couch a bit, or the time you chewed on his charging cable. Hell, even when he made fish, he'd ignore your desperate mewls at the moment, but later you'd find a plate left just for you.

You stared at the door a little longer, ears slowly drooping down. It was only fair you helped him too, right? Course, all those kind memories went out the door the moment you opened the door. Instantaneously, a pillow flew in your direction, hitting the wall right by you.

"Out! Now! Got damned cat!" It was a pathetic shout at best, masked the pain and frustration Simon truly felt. And sure, maybe your tail puffed up a bit, maybe you hissed a little at first. Ready to call him an asshole and leave immediately. But you reminded yourself why you were there.

Simon under the blankets, feeling guilty, half expecting you to have left after his reaction. His heart panging at the sound of the door shutting, and his breath slowing at the sensation of the bed dipping. A pleasant surprise.

Your warmth, rushing toward the cold aches in his legs, his back, his arms. Arms wrapping around as you curled in to spoon him. A rumbling purr massaging the space between his shoulder blades as you rubbed your face into him.

"See? I can help." What a soft whisper from his pretty little hybrid, did you always sound this way? So...sweet? Regardless, Simon let himself melt, let himself be coddled, even if it was just a bit.

"Mn. Yeah, Y'can.."

[dsdnjfd]

simon's def the type to hit you with the "i know baby, i know" ... all fake sympathy and slight condescension when you're crying through your third orgasm of the night with no end in sight, his massive form dwarfing your own as he continues to work you through it with his cock, his hands or his mouth ... maybe even a wicked mix of all three. he loves you like this, vulnerable and at his mercy because it's where you're the safest. lachrymose and gorgeous, begging like he's your salvation.

[chaosandmarigolds]

Teehee, did everyone around me tell me- ‘coco staying up for forty eight hours to study for exams is not healthy. Drink some water. Take a nap.’ Yes. Now I still have till Tuesday and I want to actually drop out and i dunno- cry?

ANYWAY, I present a lil dribble Drabble because YALL ARE SO GOOD TO ME. 1,300 of you guys like the stuff I write! Yay!

(It’s more mechanic!reader dynamics, bc those make me laugh)

Hypothetically speaking, not really hypothetically it happens routinely now, post mission everyone is a bit worse for wear. You included, so the captain gives everyone a few days to do nothing.

The issue with that? Work-acoholics. You stumble out of bed at six in the morning to get coffee, still in pjs to find Simon in the gym.

“Lt? Oh my god you’re naked.”

To that he gives a glare, reaching for the mask that laid discarded on the box, “Why ‘yer up?”

“Coffee. Why are you working out? You hurt your shoulder….sir.”

“Nun of your business.”

A second passes.

“Okay. does this mean I can go finish up the reports?”

“Ask the captain.”

“He’s gonna say I need to rest!” You would gripe, “I’m fine. I just see double and almost pass out I move too quick. I get the same way if I don’t eat for twelve hours.”

A pause. “You worry me.”

(Annnnnnyway that’s it <3)

[skelletonscloset]

simon x sick!reader

wc— 973

cw— sick fic!! reader is gender neutral. emetophobia warning!! > mention of throwing up. simon being a good boyfriend.

a/n— this is my first official addition to this page!! i’m still getting used to this whole “writing and posting” thing, so i’d love feedback and constructive criticism :3 enjoy!!

your body felt hot. the weight of your sheets on top of you was all you could feel aside from the way your eyes felt glued shut and how your clothes stuck uncomfortably to your back.

the past few days you knew you were starting to catch something, a few sneezes there and a small headache there — but you’d never guess you’d start to feel this bad.

now, it’s not like you were running to the bathroom and hurling the remains of your dinner from the past night into the toilet bowl, no. however, you did feel like the inside of your throat was being clawed at by a very angry cat and your mouth was dry from not being able to breathe clearly from your nose.

forcing your eyes open, you groan as you stir from your warm and slightly damp spot of the bed, your eyes adjusting to your dark room. you lick your lips, attempting to bring back some moisture, but they dried up again almost immediately.

“ugh… si?” you groan, looking to his side of the bed where he was. well, where he would be. you blinked your eyes, lifting your hand and placing it in his spot and feeling the warmth of his body that was left behind. huh.

you peered at the alarm clock on your nightstand. 2:41 am.

“si?” you weakly called out again, your nasally voice ringing throughout your shared bedroom. a few moments pass before you hear the heavy padding of feet approaching, a muscular forearm gently nudging the door open.

simon’s dark silhouette walked in, a mug of something in hand and a thermometer in the other. he shuffled closer, setting the mug down on the nightstand and turning on the small lamp next to the edge.

the lamp illuminated his dark eyes, which shifted from the thermometer’s buttons to you after turning it on. his short, blond locks were tousled from sleep, scratching the scruff on his jaw.

“woke up a couple minutes ago. felt ya’ start to get hot,” he grunted, holding the thermometer up to your forehead as he took your temperature. after the beep, he squinted, reading back your temperature in his gruff voice.

“99.8” he stated, setting the thermometer down and sitting on the edge of the bed, rugged body slightly facing you as one leg folded onto the sheets and the other hung off the bed.

“nothing too bad, yet.”

coaxing you to sit up, he carefully brings the cup of tea towards you, pausing when your hands don’t come up to take it. he looks up at you, watching you eye the steaming cup suspiciously. he sighs

“yes, it has enough honey.” he clarifies, watching your expression relax. he held his hand beneath yours as you took hold of the mug, softly blowing on it before you took a sip.

you hummed in satisfaction, affirming his words. “thank you, si,” you murmured, “but aren’t you going to get sick too?”

“don’t worry about that, lovie. focus on you gettin’ better,” his voice rumbled. you took a few more sips of the tea, soothing your throat little by little, before deciding you were too sweaty to finish it.

you handed the mug to him before coughing into your elbow, trying to clear out the feeling of glass in your throat but failing.

“i’m so sweaty…” you groan, watching as simon automatically puts the mug down and gets up, moving to the closet as he looks for something lighter for you to wear.

he’s back within a few seconds, one of his large t-shirts in hand and a pair of sleep shorts just in case.

“up,” he nudges your arms, helping you take off your long sleeve shirt which was slightly cold with your sweat. tossing it to the side, he rolled up the other shirt, gingerly slipping the sleeves down your arms as his shirt draped across your form.

“shorts?” he asked, noting how you already weren’t wearing pants, opting to sleep in your underwear instead. when you shook your head, he walked to the closet once more, putting the shorts away and your shirt in the hamper.

“thank you, si,” you whispered tiredly.

“none of that. need anything else? some water?”

“yes, please”

he walked out of the room.

you wondered how you ended up with such a caring man as your boyfriend. he’s practically a mind reader at this point. you looked down, eyeing the shirt he picked out for you. it was an old shirt of his, one he used to wear frequently before he became a part of your life.

the shirt was a dark gray, small holes between the seams of the sleeves. it was your favorite one, hence how worn out it was. you took the soft fabric in your hands, bringing it up to smell the familiar scent.

simon walks back into the room with a fresh glass of water, noticing you. he gently tuts to himself, setting the glass next to the mug he had forgotten to take to the kitchen with him.

he plopped back into your shared bed, your body falling towards him as the bed shifted from his weight. settling the sheets over his lower half, he handed you the glass of water, waiting patiently for you to be finished. when you were, he set the glass back down, the two of you getting comfortable once more.

he subconsciously brought you towards him as you lied back down, his strong arm pulling you into his broad, clothed chest. you sighed again, breathing him in as you tried to forget about the oncoming congestion you felt. your hand settled on his waist, your legs entangled with his.

“i love you, simon.” you exhaled, closing your eyes once more.

“love you too, sweetheart,” he grumbled into your hair.

maybe getting sick wasn’t gonna be so bad after all.

~🧸

[yawnderu]

Sex Pollen — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

girl dinner since my König sex pollen has over 900 notes♡

"That's it, love..." Ghost growls out as he pushes your hips up and down slowly, your warm, wet cunt engulfing his thick dick as his hips thrust up to meet you halfway. Your womb is already full of his cum, yet Ghost is unable to stop, each orgasm seemed to just be making his cock harder and his balls tighter. Being all the way inside you felt too damn good.

"So pretty like this, sweet girl... like you were made to take my fuckin' cock all the way inside that tight little cunt." He muttered between clenched teeth, trying his best not to cum inside you yet. For the first time in his life, Ghost was willingly having sex, and oh God, he can't believe he has been missing out on this. His thrusts were slow and deep, making sure to put your pleasure before his, hitting all the right spots with his fat cock.

"Ghost...—" His name being moaned out by you felt like music to his ears, his eyes narrowing slightly as his grip on your hips got tighter, pushing you faster up and down his dick as your tight walls gripped him, a mix of your cream and his cum coating his length, making a ring on the base of it. Though his face was concealed by the balaclava, you can see his expressive eyes focused completely on your face, basking in the pretty faces you make when you're cock-drunk. You already forgot how many orgasms he's pulled out of you, yet it all feels too damn good to ask him to stop, even when your cunt is abused and fucked-out.

"Fuck— angel, let me cum in you." He pleads for your consent, just as he did the last four times he came inside. "Want to fill you up so good, baby, please." Ghost's eyes roll to the back of his head as you give him your approval, groaning and grunting as he begins to thrust harder and deeper into you, his gloved hands pulling your hips all the way down so his cock is completely inside you as his thick, warm cum fills your womb up.

[cmncisspnandmore]

Nothing breaks Simon’s heart more than seeing you cry.

He hates it, it makes his skin crawl, and he feels helpless.

He watches the tears roll down your cheeks, leaving shiny streaks down your face. Your eyes red rimmed as you wipe at them furiously with your hands.

He feels terrible as he pulls you into a bone crushing hug. One hand on the back of your head pressing your face into his large chest. The other around your waist, holding you tightly against him.

His grip tightens when your knees give out, both of you slowly sinking to the floor. Until he’s on his knees trying to hold you together, trying prevent you from shattering to pieces in his hands.

His lips press to your hair as he rocks you slowly back and forth. Soft murmurs fill your ears as he tries to assure you that it’ll be okay even though he knows it very well might not be.

He holds you, long after his legs start to ache, his muscles tense from being in the same position for so long. He listens to your sobs quiet, your breathing slowing as you manage to calm down.

The soft “sorry..” that comes from you makes Simon feel sick. You should never apologize for showing emotion, for being human. For experiencing sadness.

Rage bubbles in his chest as she listens to you try to explain your emotions away, listens to you apologize for “falling apart” and saying “it won’t happen again.”

Simon suddenly wants to rip whoever made you feel like you couldn’t express hurt to shreds. To feel them shake beneath him as he makes them take back what they said to you. Makes them say sorry for making you feel like you weren’t allowed to cry.

But he doesn’t show you how upset he is that someone had made you feel like you can’t cry. He doesn’t tell you hoe his knees have gone numb from kneeling on the hard floor. He just continues to hold you, his arms sore.

As you collect yourself all Simon wants to do is see you smile. To see your lips turn up in even the smallest smile. So he does what he does best in situations like this.

“What do you call an angry veggie?” He asks, pulling back ever so slightly so he can see your face.

“Uh…” you pause, your face scrunched slightly, “what?”

“A steamed veggie,” he grunts, and for a moment he’s worried he said the wrong thing. But then your lips twitch, and a small smile breaks out on your face. along with a dramatic roll of your eyes has Simon letting out a small breath of relief.

Simon hates to see you cry, but he also loves being the one to make you smile after.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Simon Riley who after coming back to his flat (courtesy of the government) from his first deployment as 'Ghost', finds a momma cat yowling and crying. She's hurt and has four kittens tucked into her side. Simon takes them to the vet only to be informed that only one kitten survived and the momma is dead.

So he raises the kitten. Bhe bottle feeds it every two hours, keeps it warm and safe inside a box with a heating pad and a hoodie of his. He's sure that it'll die but he keeps trying anyways with the heart wrenching hope that he's wrong.

The kitten pulls through.

Now six years later, he has a sassy sphynx cat who cries and meows whenever she isn't fed on time. When his usual pet sitter bails on him just days before his next deployment, he scrambles. He never knows how long he'll be gone and that's an issue with pet hotels. He has to find someone trust worthy and capable of caring for his darling pet.

Then he meets you by pure coincidence. Ruthie had slipped between his legs on his way out to grab some more of the wet cat food she liked then made a bee line right towards you. She meowed and meowed until you crouched down to pet her. Simon swears he had never heard her purr that loudly before.

You smile up at him and comment on how he has a sweet cat (he doesn't. Ruthie knocks everything over and has broken so many mugs, plates and cracked so many screens he owns plastic versions of everything plus keeps his phone on him at all times). Simon says something about trying to find a pet sitter to you and immediately realizes what he said when you smile. "I can keep an eye on her for you. She seems like a sweetie." You coo and gently scratch under her chin. Traitor, it took him weeks to get her to let him do that. But how can he say no when she's already taken a liking to you.

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Napping with Simon “Ghost” Riley

My Blog is 18+ as is 99% of my content. Do not interact if you are a minor/under the age of 18.

No real warnings, just fluffy fluff.

Despite you catching the giant of a man sleeping on your sofa multiple Sundays in a row, he insists that he was just “resting his eyes”. 

It’s cold, rain pelts rhythmically against the window of your living room as you lie on the sofa wrapped in Simon’s arms. You’re nice and cosy from behind, his large frame wrapping around you as you watch something inane on television. 

You shiver a little, eyes already drooping as you clutch your arms around your body. 

“Cold?” Simon murmurs into your ear as he holds you closer, rubbing his calloused palms up and down your arms. 

“A little,” you admit, not wanting to move to get a blanket, you like it when Simon holds you like this. 

“Hang on,” he says as he kisses the crown of your head. He twists and turns behind you until you feel a soft throw blanket settle over you both, “Does that help?” 

“Yeah,” you hum as you bury your face into the plush material, “Thank you Si.” 

“No need to thank me, love,” he responds with a soft huff as he wraps a large arm around your middle, pinning you back against him. 

There’s a comfortable silence as you feel your eyelids drooping, unable to stop the inevitable, you let them close. But before you fully drift off, you notice the change in the rise and fall of Simon’s chest. His arm is looser around you as you feel his whole body slowly relax. 

“Si?” You whisper, not wanting to wake him if he had fallen asleep.

No answer. 

“Are you asleep?” You try again, only a little louder this time as a self-satisfied smirk graces your lips. 

“Hmmm?” He stirs a little, looping a leg over your two as he tucks the throw tighter around you both, “Just resting my eyes.” 

Napping with Captain John Price Napping with Soap Napping with Gaz Napping with König CoD Masterlist

[swordsandholly]

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

[youronlydarlin]

Loser! Simon who's unaware of just how big his cock is. It's so stupidly fat, and he doesn't even know. Clueless why you're pushing your face deeper and deeper into the sheets, saying shit like "s' just the base, love". There's plenty more to go.

He's always so horny too, a monster tenting through his slacks at just the sight of you. Immediately honking your ass, whining in your ear about how much he misses your hole around him. Moments later he'll be begging to put it in, "jus' the tip" he says. But no, poor guy can't help it :( bullying his weeping cockhead against your hole, he's so clumsy that it even slips out a few times :(

He's already too far gone though, thinking with the wrong head. Panting like a dumb mutt while his hips move mindlessly. Ends up just fucking your cheeks. Shoots his load everywhere on your back n apologizes about ruining your shirt. He'll do the laundry, if you let him clean you up with his tongue, promise :(

a/n: uhhhh m'back...? Kinda?? M' still pretty busy, darlings 😭 but have this as a consultation for being dead 😢 ehehe here you go @chnets . Remember to always drink water, and eat!!

Yours, truly,

–Dolly

[starryylies]

can we get baby fever simon when we tell him we're pregnant?!?

ੈ✩‧Simon when you’re preggo *ੈ✩‧

✰☺︎✰~ Bby fever: manifested to reality ~✰☺︎✰

🍼 Simon whose eyes betray him when tears flow out when you give him the news

🍼 Simon who falls to his knees on the ground kissing your stomach thanking you over and over for giving him such a blessing

🍼 Simon who gets right to it, finding baby supplies, trollers, pacifiers etc

🍼 Simon who buys a crib from ikea which leads to him cursing the instruction paper calling it stupid and badly explained

🍼 Simon who completely stops drinking infront of you, quitting it to release himself from the past.

🍼 Simon who makes you sit at home and relax like a pretty wifey so you don’t exert yourself

🍼 Simon whose praises for you are constant the entire day, from when you get up till when you sleep

🍼 Simon who gets very overprotective of you like a guard dog.

🍼 Simon who finally has the courage to visit his fathers grave only to look down on it and say he will never treat his kids like that

[konigsblog]

gym-bro simon riley

cw: scent kink (?), dry humping.

he spends hours in the gym, especially in the morning, after getting barely three hours of sleep. getting up early to go for a jog, before coming home, lifting weights and deadlifting ‘til he's shirtless, sweaty with only his sweat shorts on. he grunts lowly and quietly, breathing heavy and laboured, putting down his weights as he wipes his forehead, heading towards the shower.

although, something caught his eye. you, only in a pretty pair of lace panties and an oversized t-shirt, bound to be simon's as it draped over your body, the smell of his cologne noticeable as he took a step closer. he found himself against you, bent over the kitchen counter and whimpering at simon's perverse touch. his breath hitching in his throat, and pressing himself behind you with his hard bulge against your cunt.

he's so musky; droplets of sweat running down his brute, burly chest and forehead, his hair messy and tangled, with his lips on your neck, and hands gripping your hips and waist firmly to hold you in place. he pushed and rocked his broad hips against you, the only thing covering his crotch being his sweat shorts. simon grinded his aching cock against your barely covered sex, humping you and sucking hickeys onto your supple neck while you whimpered out and moaned breathlessly, his scent prominent and sweat assaulting your nostrils, creating an even wetter mess in your panties.

simon pushed his hips against you, rubbing and grinding his clothed length back and forth, the friction causing him to groan out painfully, the tightness in his balls overwhelming and overstimulating.

“keep still, princess’... c’mon, that’s my girl, dollface.” simon's slightly rough, large hands run up your shirt, cupping your waist and your breasts, kneading the fat and flesh on your body as he continued to rub his now drooling, wet dick against the outline of your cunny.

simon's grumbles out, a guttural and hoarse grunt emitting from deep in his chest as he feels himself getting even closer. the sounds of your pleasure and delirium send him over the edge; gritting his teeth together and panting, his sore cock leaking and spurting ropes of white, hot cum, cumming in his tight boxers. :(

“so, so fuckin’ pretty. that’s my girl’...”

[granddaughterogg]

Simon Riley truly wants to watch movies with you before sleep.

Of course he does.

Your dedication to the case disarms him, even though he wouldn't let it show. The amount of time you spend on choosing the right flick. The way you arrange your battered laptop on top of a pile of books set on a chair, placed at a strategic distance from your shared bed.

He loves to watch as you fluff the pillows (each one from a different set, including Blahaj the plush shark). To watch as you press the 'play' button and then look up to him with starry eyes, saying: "This is gonna be good!"

He's endeared to the way you crawl under the duvet (and under the electric blanket as well, because Simon is perpetually cold) to snuggle trustingly into his side. How you throw your short leg over his massive thigh, clad in grey sweatpants.

Here's the problem though. All those small luxuries...the soft bedding, the familiar warmth of your body and the pleasant buzz emitted by the laptop engulf Simon in a soothing sense of safety. And there's only one way that a trained soldier's body can metabolise such a feeling.

The man conks out instantly and sleeps like a stone.

At first, you felt offended by this rejection of your honed cinephile taste. By the fifth time, you've realised it wasn't about the films or about you.

You've stopped poking him. You'd just slid your fingers into his tousled, reddish-blond hair, which gets all wavy whenever Simon skips his bi-monthly trip to the barber. You've learned to enjoy the rest of the film by your lonesome, listening to Simon's quiet snores by your side. You let this troubled soul enjoy his moment of peace.

Yes - the fearsome Ghost snores. He's had his nose broken more times than he can remember.

[chaosandmarigolds]

Simon Riley! who isn't traditional in the gross way but in the he wants to protect you and make sure you don't feel like you have to provide for yourself, he wants to be a safety net, something to rely on

Simon Riley! Who made it a point to buy your dream house as soon as you were married,

Simon Riley! Who didn't expect houses to require so...much...work

"Baby! The water won't turn off?"

"The fuck you mean it won't turn off just-" Simon grumbled as he dropped the moving box and walked into the kitchen, grabbing the handle of the faucet and trying to pull it, only for it to come flying off. Leaving him dumbfounded and you a giggling disaster.

Simon Riley! Who likes handy man tasks as much as the next guy but the people at the store are beginning to know his name

Simon Riley! Who didn't have a dad to teach him some stuff like plumbing and whatnot so he calls Price

"Oi, Cap-"

"She came to her senses and ran away, yeah?"

"No...I need you to tell me ho' to turn off th' water."

Simon Riley! Who does know how much you love watching him do yard work but doesn't dwell because these godddamn weeds-

Simon Riley! Who loves nothing more than watching you paint the walls of the house, finds it like to be a scene of a movie and it would be a lie if the reality was much better than the cinema

Simon Riley! Who hates facebook because you would randomly send him across the city because you found an old China cabinet you thought would be perfect

Simon Riley! Who doesn't care how his buddies tease him about becoming a domestic civilian so soon, because he would happily fix a thousand houses if it meant a thousand more years with you

(Comments and feedback make my day! annnd yeah that's it <3 )