#touch starved simon and reader

[elysianightsss]

Delivery guy Simon pulls up in his piece of crap ford car, grabs his bright orange just eat bag from the car, slamming the door shut as he walks up to your house. All black attire and sporting no mask, never does during deliveries after being told by his boss it unnerves people you can’t wear that man.

You’re already there before he rings the doorbell, opening the door and giving him a bright smile. Eyes full of hunger, you stomach growling as you inhale the smell of McDonalds. After a shitty week at work you just wanted some junk food to binge on and there was no way you were cooking.

Simon clears his throat out of his temporary freeze, “Here y’a go love.” His deep gravelly voice has your focus off the food he’s picking up and holding out to you in an instance.

You actually look at him and fuck he’s gorgeous. He’s got a couple scars and his nose is crooked, like it’s been broken one too many times for it to be fixed. 6ft 7 at least, he’s built like a damn ox, there are scars on his arms too. If you could even call the both of them that, they’re just as huge as the rest of him. Graced with veins and stretch marks from where the muscles have grown bigger.

He’s a whole ass meal, forget the McDonalds. You’d happily eat him for dinner, just as the thought crosses your mind your gaze shoots down to the giant bulge in his trousers. Your mouth waters at the sight and you swear you see it pulse behind the fabric.

Simon happily stands there letting you, fuck you gorgeous little thing in a tank top and short shorts, eye fuck him. A smirk growing on his face as he watches your hungry eyes dart all over his body.

“Hungry love?”

You blush so deep at his words, cheeks and ears burning hot as you mumble out, “Starved.”

[softaestluv]

Guard Dogs

You were a proper good girl. Just like in his fantasies when he was a little boy. Ghost only looked to protect you from the evils of the world just like Riley. Your two personal guard dogs.

But maybe this is where he belonged, on the other side of the glass, staring at you from afar. Even if Riley wanted more.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Neighbor!Reader

Tags: Angst, Fluff, & Eventual Smut

Pt. 1, Pt. 2 , Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5 | masterlist | ao3

Ghost, who won’t admit it, gets a dog because when he’s not on assignments he gets lonely. His home feels terribly empty all by himself; the silence deafening, borderline painful. Adopted him from the local shelter, a German shepherd who he names Riley. Tells everyone that he needed a guard dog to protect his belongings when he’s not home, but everyone knows his prized possessions are far and few in between. Could hold all of them in his palms, carries them with him all the time anyways.

He trained Riley rigorously just like he did in the military. Treated him just as he did his trainees. Until he was obedient and well-behaved, listened to his every command. A perfect sidekick for him. Kept him company in his home that felt too large to be alone in. Always at his feet or curled into his side on the couch. A couch he probably shouldn’t let him on or bed sheets he shouldn’t be tangled in, but Ghost had a soft spot for him. Broke the rules for him because he was his dog after all, made the silence and loneliness a little bearable. Made his home a little more warm.

Riley who seemed to take a liking to you— the pretty bird who lived across the street. Made him think that maybe Riley was more like him than he realized; his own eyes had been drawn to you multiple times. He was usually well-behaved, didn’t approach strangers or jump on them for their attention. Ghost had trained him better than that. However, the first time he crossed your path on a walk, he pulled Simon by the leash, pressed his nose against your calf eagerly in interest.

You stopped in your tracks with a soft noise of surprise, “Oh! Well, hi there!” Your focus shifted to Simon, “Is it okay if I pet him?”

Simon hummed nodding his head in response. You gave him a small smile before squatting down eye level to Riley. Pet down his back and scratched behind his ears, Riley wagging his tail swiftly behind him, would probably purr if he was a cat. Dog hair covered your black shirt as he snuggled into your touch, but you didn’t seem to mind too much.

Cooed baby voiced praises to him that had him whining happily, “What’s your name, sweet boy?”

“Riley.”

“Riley,” You repeated softly, caused him to bark loudly in response. Snickered quietly at the noise, “Nice to meet you too, Riley.”

“Sorry, he doesn’t usually bug people like this,” Simon apologized, tugging on his leash lightly to pull him away.

You stood up at that, shaking your head, “Don’t worry. I don’t mind at all he’s a sweetheart.”

“Got dog hair all over ya now.” Gestured to the hair decorated on your clothing.

You exhaled a chuckle, brushing the fur off as best you could, “No worries, I live up the block. On my way home, anyways, just on a run.”

“Think I might live across from you. Moved in a couple months ago, but haven’t really been around.”

“Oh, yes! Wondered who lived there for a while now,” Held your hand out for him to take, “Nice to finally meet you.”

Riley whined when Simon pulled him away, tried to follow after you when you continued your jog. Sat and watched you run away despite Simon’s tugging or lack there of.

After that there wasn’t a day they didn’t run into you. Simon always woke up too early, military sleeping schedule beat into his mind. Didn’t have pleasant enough dreams to keep sleeping most nights anyways. At least that was the excuse he created in his mind to validate his actions.

Maybe Riley was his wingman, pressed his nose against your calf every time he passed you. Caused you to stop and greet them both, gave Riley endless pets and scratches before you turned your attention to Simon with a pretty smile. Drenched in sweat and frizzy hair from running, but each look from you had his mouth drying. Didn’t care that he wore a balaclava, didn’t even ask, chose to focus on his eyes instead.

It became his favorite part of his days, looking forward to the small interaction he would have with you. No matter how insignificant it was, but nothing seemed to be that way with you. Asked how he was, how did his day go yesterday, and how was Riley doing? How was work? Tiring, of course. Maybe you should sleep more instead of waking up so early!

He would if he could, but then he wouldn’t get to see you. His pretty neighbor, too sweet for her own good.

The only other time he got to see you was through your windows in the evening. It’s not like he was watching you, really, he wasn’t a stalker. He just so happened to be by his living room window everytime you came home from work. 6 o’clock on the dot, 5 on Fridays, started your weekends early.

Watched you slip out of your car, different sundress every time, dressed just like a pretty doll. Flowy and ruffled, hid your figure well enough. Didn’t flaunt it, but he knew what was underneath it all. He had seen your silhouette through the dimly lit curtains, shadows of you peeling layers off to shower.

Simon wasn’t a pervert, he wasn’t desperate for these small glimpses every night. But didn’t you know you should be more careful sweetheart? There were perverts out there, you were lucky he wasn’t one. He only kept looking to protect you from the evils of the world just like Riley. Your two personal guard dogs.

The evils of other men that you never brought home. No boyfriend in sight. Never stayed out late, even on weekends. Stayed snuggled on your couch or cooked for most of your free time. A proper good girl. Just like in his fantasies when he was a little boy.

Cooking he wanted desperately to try, spent hours in your kitchen preparing god knows what. It’s not like Simon would even know what you were making, his countless store bought meals buried in his trash were evident enough. Hoped he might get a taste one day, melt on his tongue because he knew it would be delicious.

But maybe this is where he belonged, on the other side of the glass, staring at you from afar rather than enjoying the warmth of your home and cooking. So he cherished what he could get, the small greetings every morning, and the clockwork of watching you every night. Even if Riley wanted more.

[heavenbarnes]

older bf!simon is always the one in control so sometimes i need to write him pathetic! (afab!reader described as wearing a dress and heels)

there’s an alternative universe out there where you make older bf!simon work for it

“i’m sorry i didn’t come back w’you that night”

he was embarrassed, his cheeks were pink and he was missing the balaclava that usually hid all changes in expression

but he’d managed to turn up on your doorstep to ply you with apologies and he looked so sweet dwarfing your lounge suite

“it’s alright, simon - i don’t mind the wait”

“it’s not that i didn’t want ye’, promise, i just-”

he cut himself off, let the words hang like ripe fruit that you didn’t even have to pick to know how sweet they taste

instead, you bridged the small gap across the couch and let your hand fall on his shoulder

“it’s okay, i know it can be a bit overwhelming”

he sighed a shaky wee exhale like it felt really nice to be understood, if not totally terrifying all the same

“ye’ don’t know how bad i wanted to, ye’ looked so bloody good”

you snorted a little breath through your nose, running your fingernails along the top of his shoulder

“i know”

he let the silence take over the room, you knew good and well there was something he wanted so badly to say

and you’d wait a lifetime just to hear him beg

“can ye’ please tell me”

it was so quiet, you could’ve missed it

but you didn’t

“tell you what?”

wait a lifetime

“tell me what’d you’d have done if we’d gone back there”

your lips curled in a smile, something wicked and heady

something that said you’d struck gold

ease him in

slow and steady

“i’d sit you back in the chair, put you right where i wanted you”

even through his shirt, you could feel his skin prickle as you ran your nails towards his chest

“i’d take off those heels, the ones you’d been staring at all night”

as much as you’d expected him to go rigid, you could feel him melting beside you

“i’d reach for the back of my dress, undo it so it just slips off my shoulders and let it pool on the floor around my ankles”

“run my hands up my chest, over my perfect tits, the ones you’d also been staring at”

simon’s breath caught him in his chest, your fingers running over his pec where you lightly traced the smallest lines

“pinch my nipples, show you how hard they were, how hard they’d been since i first saw you”

his eyes screwed closed, a deep breath expanding his in chest under your touch

“really, since i first knew you’d be there that night”

“then i’d turn around, put my back to you, and slip my fingers under the band of my little panties”

simon fought to pry his eyes open, darting straight to your fingers

he knew a look in your eyes was a death wish

“they’re so little, simon, honestly i could’ve probably torn them with a fingernail”

and you might just kill him anway

“you definitely could’ve”

there it was

like he’d tried to keep it in, a broken moan slipped from his throat- between the lips he was worrying with his teeth

“but i’d slide them down my legs, bend over so you could see them fall, and i’d turn around so you could get a good look, see my perfect little cunt”

“soft, warm, tight, and wet”

simon had been half hard since you’d opened the door

now? he thought the rush of blood might knock him out

“wet since you first placed your hand on my back when you were being all polite”

it was like he could still feel where his hand had been, like he’d never had the chance to hold something so soft

“you’d be able to smell it on my panties, so i’d hand them to you”

simon was acutely aware of the way your hand was slowly drifting down the firm lines of his stomach

“tell you to keep those, you could sniff them, lay them on your face when you’re tugging that thick cock and thinking of me”

in his lap, you ran your fingers along his thigh until they wrapped around his cock

“maybe taste them a little, or even wrap them around your cock”

his hips shot up, straight into your hand as he tipped his head back onto the couch

a pathetic whine ripped straight from his chest

“cum all over them, ruin them and give them back to me when you inevitably see me again”

you slowly ran your fingers along the length of him

rock fucking solid

“and i could give you your next pair”

you slowed down, gently stroking him through his trousers as his breathing evened out

couldn’t have you stopping his poor heart

he was the first to break

“then what?”

that smile crept back onto your face, catching the sight of his strained expression

it’s the devil you know

“hmm, i think i’d sit in your lap”

his thighs tensed, involuntarily but bordering on inviting

“feel that hard cock that’s been straining in your briefs”

squeezing it again, through two layers you could feel the small patch of wetness spreading under your thumb

“you might be older than me but you’re not too old, are you?”

he could hear the teasing in your voice, running a large hand down his face

dirty old bastard

“rub my hot wet little cunt all over your trousers, make a mess all over them”

simon’s hips were rolling under your hand, pushing the length of his cock up into your palm

clipped breath and tight chest

you didn’t have to be a genius to know what comes next

“got to ease you into it, know it’s been a long time since you got yourself into something this tight, don’t want you blowing your top”

his breaths became vocal, the quietest little whimpers told you exactly where you had him

right on the precipice

his hand wrapped tight around your wrist as he all but humped your hand

you let go

“just yet”

[3amfanfiction]

You wrote this about Simon: “At this lieutenant, already chewed up and spit out by the world. More scars than skin at this point. You wonder how many people only see the scars and not the shivering body underneath it, waiting for a soft touch.”

I’d LOVE to read more of this - i wanna be the one to offer him the soft touch he wants so badly, maaaan! He’s just so big n’ strong but i want to let him curl up against me while i pet him until he stops shivering

This came through at the perfect time. I had the desire to write but I was picking at all my wips half heartedly bc none of the them were what I wanted.

But this? This I wanted.

So thank you again and please enjoy 1.5k words of acclimatizing Simon to soft touches.

<33

Ask referencing this post.

~~~~

He scared you, the first time you saw him.

Not because of how big he was (tall, thick, muscular) or the look in his eyes (cold, dismissive, too watchful), not even because of the scars themselves (numerous, expansive, tragic).

It was because you knew any interaction would come across as a threat. He had that look in his eyes that said he'd seen the worst of what the world had to offer and he persisted through luck and spite equally. Now he was sat in front of you, too disciplined to let his skin shiver but hating being seen. Hating that you were looking.

When you met him it was through a friend of a friend sort of thing. One of your friends was seeing a Scottish boy and invited you out for drinks with them. You had no reason to say no so you found yourself sitting at a high-top doing your best not to bother the man sitting quietly to your right.

His gruff, Simon, during introductions was the only thing he had said in the last hour, content to sit quietly and watch. Almost outside of the group even though he was sitting at the same table. You made sure to include him when you were speaking to the group, your eyes darting to each person as you spoke, not leaving anyone out. But you made sure to never direct a hard question at him that required an answer. It was all, I bet you never have a problem seeing over the crowd. or I'll grab everyone a drink while I'm up or Sorry, I'll be out of your space in a moment, my jacket was getting a little warm.

He would look at you. Every time you spoke to him he wouldn't shy away from eye contact but that was where his involvement ended. Never a head nod or shake, never a verbal answer.

By the end of the night you were positive he didn't like you. He didn't dis-like you but he didn't like you, you were pretty sure. That was okay though. You'd done your best not to infringe on his space, not wanting to step on his toes. You thought you had done a good job all around and put it out of your mind, the interaction over and done with and no longer needing to be reviewed.

What you never realized was Simon's shoulders lowered a whole inch throughout the course of the night.

\\\

You called your friend out on the number of times she invited you to hang out with Johnny and Simon, flat out asking if she and Johnny were trying to set you and Simon up through subtle double-dating.

"No!" She leaned forward grabbing your hand, her eyes looking earnestly into yours, "I promise it's not like that. Johnny told me he's pretty much all Simon has. Well, their team is. So they're always together when they're home. I don't want Simon to feel like a third wheel or left out or anything."

And you believed her. This was one of her strong suits, always looking out for others. That's probably why you two got along so well, a pair of givers, the both of you. And she had a point. The idea of Simon sitting awkwardly with the other two as his only companions made something twist in your stomach. You didn't want that for him.

So you kept seeing Simon and you kept doing your best to give him space but include him at the same time. You were shocked the first day he spoke to you but the fact that it was a bad joke made a sort of perfect sense.

"What's the best way to carve wood?"

You looked over at him in shock that this was what he chose to break the ice with. At the same time you were delighted and you couldn't help but feel giddy at the prospect of Simon telling you a joke. A bad one by the sound of it.

"How?"

"Whittle by whittle."

"That was absolutely terrible."

He smiled to himself if his eye crinkles had anything to say about it. That giddy feeling bubbling up inside you was getting unsettlingly big right about now. You looked at the ground and bit your lip to keep from a cheesy grin of your own breaking out.

Before you knew it he had no problem speaking to you. While never particularly verbose, he would respond to comments directed towards him, offer his opinion if options were offered, and kept telling awful jokes.

You were hopelessly charmed.

You broke your own rules and reached for him first.

You were sat next to him on a bench, the sun setting and the evening air cooling further. He had told you another one of his god-awful jokes when you unthinkingly swatted out with your hand, brushing his arm. His muscles jumped and his arm tensed right before you made contact as if bracing for a hit. An involuntary reaction to someone reaching for him. It was a horrifying realization.

You sobered quickly and your chuckle died off awkwardly. You turned to face forward, looking out at the street, watching for any sign of your friend or Johnny who had stepped into the store for a quick moment leaving you and Simon to find a bench while you waited. You hoped that if you didn't draw attention to it then your faux pas would pass unmentioned.

You let out a relieved sigh when Simon continued with another comment, not taking your overstepping to heart. By the time the other two had rejoined you the whole situation was forgotten, water under the bridge. You didn't think of it again until it was the end of the night with everyone about to go their separate ways.

When you said goodbye to Simon he said it back, reaching out to brush his hand down your arm in return in almost the exact same spot as where you'd touched him earlier.

Your heart skipped a beat before picking up a double pace. You couldn't help but beam at him, a wide grin splitting your face even as he grunted and turned away, likely embarrassed by your show of emotion.

Today had been a good day after all.

You thought you had ruined it for a moment there, thankful when Simon seemed to brush past it. You hadn't expected him to reciprocate in the same manner though.

Maybe he really did like hanging out with you. You never doubted it for a second.

\\\

It took time–a slow steady build to where you ended up, curled up on the couch together with Simon laying on top of you. You both had your tops off to bask in a little skin-to-skin time.

You'd been together for a few months at this point and it was like night and day to compare him to the Simon you met all that time ago. This one couldn't keep his hands off you to save his life. It was a slow warm-up to get past his walls in a way that wasn't upsetting to either of you. Soft touches that slowly built, leading to hand holding, to hugging, to kissing, to this.

You dragged your fingers slowly up his back, fingertips catching on raised scar tissue before continuing on, ever moving. He hummed into the crook of your neck where he had buried his face when you switched from fingertips to nails, gently scratching the skin.

You loved spending time like this, feeling Simon melt into you, eager for every touch he could get. If you were sitting still and Simon was in the vicinity you could bet that he would be pressed against your side before too much time had passed. Eager for the soft caresses you always had for him.

He was starved for touch and you wanted to feed him.

So you offered, again and again in the beginning–most times with no luck, to let him touch you. On the couch watching TV? Your arms would open, inviting a hug when he walked by. At the table? Your head was tilting up for a kiss if he wanted one. Passing each other in the hallway? You'd raise your hand and hold it in front of you, letting him press his big barrel chest into your palm if he wanted.

It was a slow acclimatization that brought you to today and the taste was all the sweeter for the time you had poured into it.

You lifted a hand to drag it through the spiky hairs at the back of his head, enjoying his groan of contentment. It sounded like he was already halfway asleep and you knew you wouldn't be leaving this spot for a while.

Might as well settle in and get comfortable. You familiarized him to gentle touches, now he was insatiable for them. He would be consuming them from you greedily for as long as you offered.

[chamomiletealeaf]

Virgin Simon who cums in his pants while you massage his sore body after a mission because your soft touches feel so good :(

[witchthewriter]

𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡-𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐧

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: fluffy fluff

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

Being on deployment meant no proper affection. Being on deployment for two months without it was making your husband go insane. When he got home, he had never been so affectionate.

𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆

It felt like the journey home was excruciating. John was clinging to his back for dear life. His knuckles going white from how tight he squeezed.

Coming to his driveway; the beginning of a long winding gravel road. Eventually, he came to the cottage door and swung it open (you left it unlocked when you knew he was coming home).

As soon as he saw you, his hands slipped around your waist and lifted you up, spinning you around with his head in the crook of your neck "Ooh- John! I missed you too but I'm going to knock something over-"

"Don't care-" he mumbled.

His face buried in the space between your shoulder and neck. Taking in your smell, grasping you just as hard as he was grasping his bag.

"Oh John-" you cooed, stroking his hair, running your hands up and down his back.

"I'm sorry darling," he says moving his head to look at you face to face. "I just- fuck. I just missed you so goddamn much."

And then he went back to molding himself against you, giving you small kisses here and there.

𝑺𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝑹𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒚

You had always seen a different side to Simon then other people. The gruff exterior didn't rattle you one bit. Well... that's because he never spoke to you how he spoke to everyone else.

He always treated you with love, respect, dignity and equality. Not something that everyone can say.

That's how you knew he was going to be your life partner.

And as his partner, you know how physical touch means to him.

He isn't one to ask for comfort, but will initiate it. Particularly when he's been on deployment for a long time. That's when you get puppy dog Simon, who keeps you by his side.

"Are you alright?" You said in a quiet, soothing voice. Simon's head was resting on your shoulder as you watched the new Bridgerton.

He'd been quiet for a while, not unusual; but the comfortable silence had been tension-gripped since he came home yesterday.

"Yeah," your husband grumbled, shifting his head from your shoulder to your lap.

One of your hands was on his head, dragging your fingers over his scalp. The other hand rested on his neck. You felt the goosebumps on his skin, a small smile on your lips.

𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝑻𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒉

Every time Johnny came home, you would hear him before you'd see him. As an extrovert, he's vocal about the lack of affection he's recieved

"BONNIE, I'M HOME!" He continuously bellows in his loud thick Scottish accent. Walking around the house, practically hunting you in your own home.

Dropping whatever you were holding onto the bed, you raced down from the bedroom and nearly squealed.

"Johnny!" You yelled, helping him locate you.

"There ye are!" He replied, thudding towards you with his big boots still on his feet.

In a quick movement, he scoops you into his arms and presses you to his chest. A move you were all too familiar with now.

His hands grip you tight, his neck dipping to press into your neck. He took a big whiff.

"Are you smelling me, again?"

"Aye. Is that a problem?" He replied, not loosening his grip on you. Nor letting you move.

𝑲𝒚𝒍𝒆 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌

Your loverboy, always so tender and caring. He never puts his needs before your own.

So instead of rushing inside and nearly bulldozing you over, he's gentle in his search for you (although he never needs to search too long)

It's usually you who initiates the affection.

It's like Kyle is still decompressing from his time away.

And you're all too happy to help him. His affection makes you feel fuzzy inside.

But whenever he comes home, you want to be the first to initiate; you want to be the romantic one.

And he appreciates it to no end. He feels so loved when you woo him after coming home.

"Thank you, love." He whispers in your ear as you hold him in your emrace. The bouquet of flowers in his hand. A slight blush over his face.

"Anything, and I mean anything, for you Kyle." You whisper back, planting kisses over him.

𝑲𝒐̈𝒏𝒊𝒈

Your huge Austrian husband does his best not to wake you in the early hours of the morning.

And even though he has the squeaks in the floorboards memorised, his heavy foot falls still give him away. Subconsciously wanting you to wake.

You weren't really sleeping anyhow. You were too excited for him to return home.

Hearing your bedroom door open, you instantly called out your husband's name.

"It's me schatz! Just me-" he said quickly. The tension eased from your body and you audibly sighed. Months of pent up stress and fear (for both his safety and your own) whooshed away.

Kicking the blankets from your body, you rolled out of bed and jumped into König's arms.

They were outstretched - ready for you.

He was always ready for you when he came home. Nearly a tradition where you practically throw yourself into his arms.

"Do you know how much I missed you?" The same words he says every time he comes home.

"Yes," you whisper back to him. Because your heart always aches the same amount as his.

[alkalineapparition]

Jaws

Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Alone and half feral in a dirty cell, Ghost finds you during a raid beneath a foreign military research lab. It quickly becomes clear that something isn't right with you, your behavior more beast than human.

A result of horrific human experiments, you're a failed attempt at making genetically modified soldiers with killer instincts and keen senses. Instead they produced you - a mutt.

Ghost is assigned to be your handler, to help you heal and shape you in to the 141's very own attack dog. But the bond between a handler and his beast eventually turns into something more...

*Reader has human anatomy*

18+, MDNI

[here-but-forgotten]

just thinkin' about tucking my head into someone's neck and they're warm while they gently hold me to them and keep me from being alone in my own thoughts you know

[kattsmuse]

What do you headcannon for the boys flirting styles?

-Ty

TF141 Flirting Styles According to Katt

I had to stew on this one for a while. I feel like every one of the guys could go a more direct or indirect approach so I had to decide what direction I wanted to go for each of them. Just my personal headcannons though.

Edit: This post ended up sooo long, so I broke it into several posts.

Johnny Love Language and Flirting Style

Simon Love Language and Flirting Style

Kyle Love Language and Flirting Style

-more to come-

[danibee33]

Look, look.. I know it’s from Supernatural. But.. is it just me, or does this give anyone else major Simon x Reader-

“we just survived a harrowing fucking mission and I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you but for (insert reasons here) this could never work— FUCK IT.”

vibes??

[itllbeoneofthese]

This is about my Zombie Apocalypse Ghoap x Reader COD fic It Will Come Back in case ya'll are confused about my yapping. You don't have to have read my fic to read this though, there are no spoilers just a few references!

I really wanna write smut for this fic because it's a slow burn and I feel like if I make ya'll read 60k words just for a fade to black...you guys may kill me, but also of my own volition I do wanna write a smut scene (or several). I just feel like the fic so far focuses a lot on Readers emotional struggles so if I wrote smut it would be a lot more symbolic than sexually graphic. Something along these lines:

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

You are enraptured by their bodies. Strong limbs which engulf you in a long unknown warmth. Blood stained hands and calloused fingers knead at your flesh like they wish to pull some deep secret from beneath your skin. But there is nothing else to tell, you have never been laid down so bare. You feel so clearly the gnawing hunger within, like the ravenous dog that you are, and they have come at last to feed you. To fill you up with themselves, to satiate the emptiness that you didn’t know was so painfully eating away at your bones. An open palm to soothe the repulsive taste of your own stomach eating itself. 

They smell like stale sweat and dirt and you would devour them whole if you could. You would tear them apart with your canines and lick up the blood off their skin and you wonder if perhaps this is what the dead heads feel like when they eat people. You’re sick to your stomach with how full Ghost and Soap make you feel, because it has been so long since you have been fed. And you’re not sure if you want to lay tame and take another bite or sink in your teeth with a snarl just to prove your thoughts right, the thoughts that tell you that you do not deserve to be loved like this.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

This isn’t canon but do we fucks with it?

[elysianightsss]

I am not even sorry to be horny on ask cause my god you just keep hitting it out the park. All your mini series’ I’m fully in love in dirty ways with. Your roommates drabblessssss my goodness don’t even get me started on ND reader then THEN you hit us with a dark Simon Riley abducting reader….there isn’t any more crumbs but I’m licking the plate hoping for a taste of moreeeeeeeee. I am so damn excited for this fic/series I am humping the bars of my enclosure hoping for some friction. Pls pls pls a teaser? Even a sprinkle of crumbs for this pour soul🥺🥺🥹💛💜🤍

-❤️‍🩹anon

Thankyou Thankyou Thankyou😭😭😭 I love this ask so much. I’ll give you some crumbs in exchange for these beautiful words🤭

Dark Simon Riley x Abducted reader teaser

Fucking Aldi, cheap Lidl knock off but cheap is what he is going for and the nearest Lidl is thirty minutes away and there’s no way he’s going to Sainsbury’s. The last time he went in there was to end Johnny’s bitching about how the specific type of protein bars you can only get in there. Full of prissy rich folk who stared at him like he didn’t belong. He definitely thought that too.

But this was the best he was going to get, the safehouse round the corner but completely void of food even though John had told him differently. Simon lazily looked over the high protein ready meals, there was nothing that looked particularly good. All of them watery and speckled with condensation, none of them look appetising but he grabs a Thai green curry and a chocolate protein shake hoping he can stomach the meal once it’s hot.

He trips over himself changing direction from the self checkout area to the bread shelves when he thinks of toast for breakfast before he’s picked up by the heli. As he turns the corner, you’re there. A pallet taller than you full of bread crates, you’re on your tippy toes reaching for the top one, face going red as you almost drop it. You move quickly taking the old ones off and placing the new ones on to put the old crates on top of the new ones.

A tedious motion but part of your job so you do it without a complaint. Simon has to jerk himself back into action when he realises he’s been standing there just staring at you, basking in the silence that seems to swallow you. His life is so loud and you’re so quiet, he’s entranced with it, with how in your own head you are. He can see you’re thinking, pretty eyes moving quickly to keep up with your thoughts. You’re not the most gorgeous women he’s ever seen in his life but fuck you’re pretty. The kind of pretty that makes him wish his children take their features from their mother instead of him.

He’s so awkward when he slips past you to grab a loaf of half and half, not so subtly taking a deep breath of your scent in, closing his eyes for a moment. And in that second he doesn’t see that it’s wrong, doesn’t see that even if it’s not wrong, it’s weird. It looks weird to your colleague who comes over and says you’ll be on the self checkout for the next half an hour while she takes her break. You just nod and put the bread pallet away before making your way to the self checkout. Fob keys in hand and a bright yellow gilet on that makes you look washed out.

There’s something in him that festers when he thinks about you later that night as he stares up at the crumbly ceiling. How unhappy you looked. The slump of your body showing how exhausted you really were even when you painted that fake smile on your face for the whiny customers. Like how a clown paints his face for his performance so he’s always smiling even when he’s crying.

No sparkle in your eyes, nothing twinkling there, no life gleaming behind those pretty coloured orbes of yours. You just looked so miserable. He couldn’t stand it. It caused a pain in his chest to grow in a way he doesn’t understand. A pain that ferments and rots his insides so much so that he returns to the supermarket once more.

To be continued…

[softaestluv]

Guard Dogs

You were a proper good girl. Just like in his fantasies when he was a little boy. Ghost only looked to protect you from the evils of the world just like Riley. Your two personal guard dogs.

But maybe this is where he belonged, on the other side of the glass, staring at you from afar. Even if Riley wanted more.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Neighbor!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Angst, & Eventual smut

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5 | masterlist | ao3

Tupperware becomes Simon’s weak excuse to see you in the evening. Carries it across the street once he sees you return home from work that next day. Maybe he should’ve waited another day to return it; he just saw you the night before. Keep it for later in the week when the weight of the food in his stomach didn’t remind him of your warmth anymore.

Though, Simon couldn’t find the lieutenant in himself to be patient. Especially when he sees you all dolled up once again, hair pulled back to show your pretty shoulders and neck. Races over before you even have the chance to think about changing or showering. Was it such a crime to want to see you in it up close?

You open the door like you had expected him to be standing there, but maybe you were. Gave him tupperware knowing he would have to come return it, have an excuse of your own to see him again. Asked him so sweetly if he wanted to come in.

So, he does. Can’t refuse you, not when you entice him with pot roast you’ve been letting set all day. He ate your leftovers for lunch, looked forward to it, but he still didn’t seem to have his fill. Jumps at the opportunity to taste more of your cooking.

He’s not exactly sure what happened in his life that graced him with the luck to eat dinner with you two days in row. If he squints hard enough, blurs the events of today in his mind he can pretend like he came home to you, his pretty bird. Pot roast and a soft smile instead of his dark and dull home. Has half the mind to feel bad for Riley, knows he would much rather be in your company also.

He feels guilty watching you plate his food for him, offers to do it himself. He doesn’t want you to feel like you need to do that, but you insist. Tell him you want to do it for him. Can’t remember the last time someone tried to take care of him, even down to something so minuscule as sharing dinner with him.

He listens to you tell him about your day, tries his best to listen to every word. But its almost impossible to spread his attention between the tender meat that dissolves on his tongue and the way your lips glisten from the gravy. It’s rude to stare, especially when someone’s eating; he knows this. All he could do was hope you didn’t notice his intense stare, the way his pants tighten in agony everytime you smile.

It makes the night go by faster; wishes he could cling to every second, slow it down somehow so he doesn’t have to return to his cold bed so soon. But it does anyways. Finds himself walking out just as fast as he walked in. Except this time he has a new container in his hand for lunch tomorrow because you swore you made more than intended.

He eats the leftovers the next day, spends his lunch thinking about you. Spends the entire day thinking about you— like he always does. Has your food to supplement the warmth you provide. Wants to return it that evening, would it be too desperate to show up another night?

So, he doesn’t. Doesn’t want to be too overbearing, suffocate you with his presence if you don’t want him around. If you don’t want another person to feed like a stray dog. Him and Riley the stray dogs you took into your home.

Plans to return it that weekend, shamefully hopes he could recreate last Sunday with you. But the stupid plastic is forgotten on the counter when he looks out the window and sees you on your hands and knees, plucking the weeds from your yard. His feet move on their own accord, rushing to your side before he even realizes.

“What are you doin’?” He asks, voice gruff like he was disgruntled.

You look up from your spot surprised, “Jesus, Simon, you terrified me. I’m pulling my weeds?”

“Why?” It’s a grunt. A dissatisfied one. But he never said he was one for words.

Your brows furrow, placing your hand above your eyebrows to look up at him better through the sun, “So they don’t kill my plants?”

“No, why are you doing it?” He clarifies, emphasizing his words, “Don’t worry I’ll do it.”

He reaches his hand out for you to take, meaty paws engulfing your slender ones as you accept it. Rough and calloused opposes your soft and smooth palms. Standing to your feet across from him.

“Gonna hurt your pretty hands,” He murmurs, “Should’ve asked me.”

You duck your head at his words, trying your best to hide the way your cheeks warm, “It’s fine. Couldn’t ask you to do something like that.”

Just how you insisted he takes leftovers, he doesn’t take your protests as an answer. Ushers you back inside to relax, bake, take a nap, something other than sitting in the sun, ruining your pretty skin. Besides, that’s what you have him for. So, he spends the rest of his day neglecting his own chores, so he can take care of yours. Not without negotiations from you to take breaks, feed him treats and tea when you deem it long enough since he’s sat down.

And because you’re an angel on Earth, you cook dinner when he’s done. Tell him you cooked dinner for ‘us’. Tries not to read into it too much, but his chest squeezes when you refer to you and him as a pair. He attempts to protest, only because he’s covered in sweat and dirt from working all day. Probably smells, knows he does, but you don’t let him get too far.

“What are you talking about?” You chuckle, “You’re like that for me. I don’t mind. I want to have dinner with you.”

His mouth dries.

“Unless I’m keeping you from someone.”

Simon is shaking his head as soon as the words leave your mouth. Would squish them from arising in your thoughts if he could. Someone else? He almost laughs. Just a cold bed waiting for him.

“Just Riley,” He jokes.

You smile at him, “Then stay. And bring him next time.”

Served him a plate of steaming lasagna, wishes he could take you in his arms right then and there. Sweat and all.

But he doesn’t.

Digs his palms into his thighs to stop himself. Buries himself in the lasagna to shove the urges away, pretend for a second that he hasn’t been craving you more than anything you’ve placed on his plate.

“Do you want some wine?”

He’s not much of a wine drinker, prefers the burn of whiskey. Helps him blame the bitter taste in his throat on the alcohol instead of the ugly images his memories conjure. But the taste isn’t as bad when he’s with you; when you wash away pain and blood with your presence. Replace it with your food and warmth instead.

He doesn’t feel the need for something so strong around you, so he agrees. Probably stays longer than he should, sweat dried tacky on his skin, but it’s hard to walk away when the two of you move to your couch. When you sit closer to him than before. When he can feel the warmth radiating from your body. When he looks down at you and your cheeks are decorated in a pretty pink from the wine.

“I don’t drink often,” You confess.

Simon chuckles, “I can tell.”

Your cheeks burn for a different reason now, “Am I being dumb?”

His brows furrow, you’re the smartest person he knows, “What? No. I would never say that.”

“Do you drink often?” You ask.

He doesn’t want you to think bad of him, doesn’t want you to know that he craves a glass every night when he’s trying to sleep and all he can think about is his past. Doesn’t want you to know that he doesn’t feel that way when he’s with you.

“When I have a bad day.” — Just doesn’t tell you that’s most days.

You laugh, “Me too.”

He wants to ask what makes your days bad, what can he do to make sure you don’t have days like that. Ask if he makes your days better the way you do his.

You never asked about his family before even between the countless questions you asked about his life. Maybe it’s the wine in your blood system, but tonight you do. Has his heart racing in his chest because what will you think of him if he tells the truth?

He gulps before he says it, knows you can hear it, “Just me and Riley.”

He doesn’t want you to sympathize for him, doesn’t want you to treat him like a weak dog who needs your saving. Doesn’t look at you when he says it, doesn’t want to associate the empathetic stare in your eyes with you. But it never comes.

“Just me, too,” You mumble, and if he hadn’t been so close he probably wouldn’t have heard it.

He hates the way it makes him want to protect you even more. Gives him the exact feeling he was hoping you wouldn’t give him, but he does. Can’t help it when you’ve been so sweet, perfect, angelic to him. Such a kind soul even though you share similar loneliness, contrasts the evil deeds he’s done.

When he leaves, you halt him at the door. A new container presented to him despite the lack of his last return of the plastic. Lasagna filled to the brim, a muffin for breakfast you explain, and cookies for dessert. Tell him you will have more than enough dinner for him if he wants to stop by tomorrow. Doesn’t even have to stay, come and take your fill and leave if you want.

So, he returns the next day like an eager puppy when he sees you arrive home, two Tupperware containers in hand. Doesn’t even feel the need to be embarrassed when you greet him with the same tender excitement at the door.

It becomes a routine he shouldn’t grow used to; a simple cycle of returning plastic and being invited in to share dinner. Except some days there’s no lunch, no dinner, no plastic, but he still stands at your door anyways. Doesn’t need those things to see you anymore.

Most weekends he spends time at your house more than he does his own. Brings Riley with him because you insist. Works on the monstrosity of your backyard that you left to fester into a jungle. And Riley enjoys every second, runs around the yard while Simon works on it. Finds a spot on your couch when you and Simon are sharing dinner.

Thinks it might be developing too far when you buy Riley a bowl of his own for your house. Have your own collection of dog food and treats you learned he likes. Always have two plates on your table, always cook more than enough for one person even if he doesn’t show.

But that’s the thing about his occupation. Taught him not to get too used to a routine, no matter how much he wished for it.

Finds himself at your doorstep one night, no Tupperware in hand, no plans to stay. You open the door in a soft dress, prettiest smile he’s ever seen. You greet him so warmly, tell him to come inside, but he doesn’t accept.

“I have to go.”

You looked at him confused, “What?”

“My work,” He explains because he doesn’t know who else to ask, “Will you be able to dog-sit Riley?”

You nod your head, let Riley run into your home as you stare up at him.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

He watches your fingers tighten around the doorknob.

“Or if I’ll ever come back.”

He can’t even explain the emotion on your face, the feeling numbing his entire body.

“What? Simon, what are you talking about?” Your voice is shaking, fright written all over your face.

“Riley will protect you, don’t worry.”

Leaves you at that. Doesn’t have time to explain, lucky he got the chance to even bring Riley to you. Clings to the happy image of you before he left you. Both of you left to the cold alone.

Glass barrier growing incredibly thicker as he realizes he’ll never have what he wants. Knows where he belongs, on the other side of the stupid glass, but atleast Riley found where he belongs. Found warmth in your home. Even if he wishes it was him too.

tag list: @rockinraccoons @crypticenbug @c1garette-nightmares

*if I added you & you no longer wanted to be tagged for updates just let me know & I’ll take you off!! thank you!!*

[lovingapparition]

umm something something touch starved ghost??

anyways I have fanfic brainrot and I'm like 5k deep into the slowest burn shit I've ever written

I feel like a wild animal

[daemonbrain]

Part 2

1.8k, cw: ghosts a pervert, smut, readers husband is piece of work, not proofread.

Simon Riley who first saw you at the butcher's shop on the phone. 

You were a pretty thing. Wearing a pink little yoga set, one arm holding your mat and the other holding your phone to your ear as you wait for the butcher to bring out your cut of meat.

Which was taking a long time

Simon would’ve had it chopped and packed to go by now. Though, he can’t complain with the view he has of your ass- you. The man was touch starved. He hadn’t been back home in a while, back-to-back deployments keeping him occupied. His only company being his calloused and scraped hands roughly jerking himself until he came, bordering on unpleasurable. Not what some could consider enjoyable, but try being in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere for weeks on end and see if you care so much about gentle.

The borderline perverted look you were blissfully unaware of was tracking down your form. He stared at the way the material tightly clung on to every bit of you in a welcoming way, a second skin. The sweat on you from your little session.

Just how flexible does yoga make a bird like you?

It was only when he heard a grating sound come from your phone that he snapped out of his trance. Even with his bad ears from all the bullets whizzing past him, bombs going off within meters of him, and the usual shit show he did for a living he could hear the voice which bled through your phone's speaker.

"Get me a steak this time. Nonna that nasty shit from last time!"

You hurriedly turned your volume down as it blasted in your ear, startled by the voice. Chewing on your lip you pivoted towards the counter to see if your order had been brought out; the motion to no avail as the employee continued chopping away in the back room.

It was only when your other hand came into full view from the motion he noticed the absolute rock on your finger.

"Honey, I thought the salmon was pretty good." That prick clearly firing something back as you winced away from your phone once again. Gritting your teeth as if biting back your arguments, looking around to occupy your time as the man on the phone continues to speak. "I know... I'm sorry. Don't worry, it'll be ready by 7." You placatingly cooed.

"Listen, I have to go. I love y-" You began, but the moment the words tumbled from your lips you pulled the phone fully from your cheek to see a blank screen with the time staring back on you. The asshole hung up!

What a fuckin tosser.

Simon hears the butcher finally call your name with familiarity and with a sigh you step towards the counter. 

He leaned on to the wall further as he had been the entire time. Silent. Unsettling. A stark contrast to your bright appearance in the shop, the larger man brooded in his corner waiting his turn.

“See ya’ next Friday!” You still managed a bright smile at the butcher who handed you your meat.

A mild thing like you really shouldn’t be talked to so thoughtlessly, some guys are fuckwits though. He never liked the type. Why lock a bird down with a ring if you were gonna be mean to her?

“S’cuse me sir, i’m just gonna push past you here” You asked. With widened eyes, Simon gruffly mumbled a “Yeah,” out before creating a stupidly small space.

Maybe he really did want you to push past him. Or just push up on him but oh well.

Sweeping past him, you give him a toothy smile as you had so sweetly done to the butcher, as if you hadn’t got yelled at less than five minutes ago. God you really have no common sense, beaming up at the lurker in the corner at least twice your size. A girl as pretty as you should really stick to herself.

From that interaction on, Simon found himself being guided by the memory of you back to the butcher shop the next Friday.

And the next…

And the next.

Every week progressively standing closer and closer to you as you picked up your usual order. One day you had taken the liberty of starting small talk with him after recognizing his unmistakable stature. After all, there were only so many people you had seen in this shop and none so… large.

You could not deny you found this mystery man disquieting. Always dressed in dark colours, not so much as a word coming from him. Like clockwork you would come in after hot yoga, greet the butcher, he would come in, silence would ensue as you both waited for your meat, and you would leave with a quick smile.

It was rude. He had never even said a simple hello to you! Though, you suppose that it could be due to your own curt exits. The thought of the unkindness you might’ve exhibited subconsciously sent your mind into a spiral, leading to your abrupt introduction.

After all, who were you to judge! Kindness is and should always be the response in your books.

At this kindness, Simon swore he had to take a breath in as you politely outstretched your hand and spoke your name casually. Tilting his head down to your face he raises a brow skeptically, and then firmly shakes your head.

He failed to hide the shudder which wracked his body. The way your hand effortlessly slipped into his. Soft and manicured engulfed in his.

“Simon.”

“Well it’s good to meet you Simon” With the twinkly little smile you would grace him as you hauled it out of the shop. He felt the shiver go down his spine a second time when you spoke his name for the first time.

And then- it happened.

You giggled. A soft thing, no doubt intended to be small. It wasn’t to Simon though. It reverberated throughout the room, rang so prettily in his ears. Fuck. He would remember that sound later on tonight.

“Are you cold? You keep shivering. It’s pretty harsh out there right now.”

“Nah. Not really.” His accent thick as he shrugged.

Letting out a little “mhm” you nod and look back to the counter.

“I was freezing outside! Usually I walk home-” Simon already knew that “-but today I called my husband to come grab me! Way too cold!”

That visibly made him stiffen. Of course. Perfectly normal that guy is coming to get you, he’d be an idiot to leave you walking home alone in the cold.

If you were his girl, Simon wouldn’t have let you out of his sight. Fuck sakes you practically had “come mess with me” written all over you. There were creeps all over the place nowadays, (thought the creep).

He would’ve carried everything for you, scarfed down whatever the hell you had taken the time to prepare him. That husband of yours doesn’t like your salmon? Simon would. Hell if he didn’t, he’d cram it down his throat with gratitude anyways. He doubted anything could be worse than some of the rations he’s eaten on duty. 

That train of thought is pretty redundant when he takes note of how you wouldn’t be able to leave the bed to make anything.

Maybe you’d cram something of his down your throat in gratitude.

Shaking his head subtly, he hears the bells of the store door opening. He watched your face fall as you step away from him and it’s when he sees your husband's look of complete irritation he understands why.

You had grabbed your order swiftly and with a quick wave goodbye you were on your way back to your husband. Simon could only register your husband's whisper-yell as he disapprovingly glared his way. “The fuck are you doin talking to him?”. And with that you were hurriedly ushered out.

You deigned it necessary to continue greeting Simon, have little chats about the weather, any plans he had for the weekend. Tossing in your stupid jokes that he would laugh at. You interpreted it as something closer to a breathy snort-hopefully positive- and it went on as such for weeks

And every time he returned home Friday night, he came home with only one thought after. You.

As he laid in bed the same thought persisted as he slipped his cock out of his boxers, red and weeping for some sort of stimulation. He took to his usual harsh pace. You’d be so much softer.

You’d be so nice to him wouldn’t you? Coo some compliment as he lets you tug at him. Fuck he wouldn’t know what to take first.

Would you give him a blowie or a hand job? 

No. You wouldn’t be on your knees- not yet. If you’d let him have you, you’d be on your back in an instant. He’d rip the stitches of those leggings right down the middle, your panties next.

“Fuuuuuck” he moaned into the quiet of his room. He’d stick it in slow, he’d try. It would be torture not to ram himself right up to the hilt, but he’d do it for such a good girl.

That’s what you were, weren’t you? Always a nice word for someone? What would you say to him when he began to rut into you like a madman. When you would feel the pummeling intrusion, his head knocking into the deepest parts of you.

He’d be able bend you into so many different positions that you’d better hope that yoga has taught you well. Split your legs open to accommodate his imposing body size as he’d take purchase between them. Then you better hope your cunny can accommodate his other size when he spears you open on his cock.

Would you take it smiling? Would your tears roll down your cheeks, the prodding bordering too much? You’d take it either way, he knew you could. He’d rub at your clit with such tenderness he never afforded himself (as gentle as he could anyway). He’d make sure you begged to stay on his cock forever, fuck himself so deep you would be too stupid to pull away unknowing of where he ended and you started. Not that you’d have to care.

He’d flip you on to all fours and rip away your clothes entirely, pounding you from the back and instead of just his own labored breaths, the sound of skin slapping together would ring out.

In silent stoicism, he feels his balls tighten up at the thought of your perfect face stuffed into the pillows screaming your thank you’s. You probably were just as nice with someone stuffing themselves into your pussy.

At both his ruthless ministrations and boundless imagination, his release spurted all over his hand with a breathy sigh. When you were here he’d make sure to slam his hips to yours and keep them flush against you, coat your insides in hot cum better than your limp-dick husband ever could. That man wouldn’t be able to fuck you the way Simon knew he could. You deserve someone who could make you go stupid on his dick, not cry of frustration like you probably did everytime that knob who thinks himself a man rolled over after finishing himself off.

Not that you’ll have to worry about that soon

…

He wouldn’t be around for much longer anyways.

[laceyfaeryy]

fire fighter! simon riley x single mom! reader

simon being completely enamoured by the pretty single mom that volunteered at the fire station with free lunch every friday.

pure fluff, mentions of burns and scars - might do a part 2 and not proof read teehee

he was a man of discipline - of routine, and hard work and yet he was currently staring at you moving around swiftly as she handed out cookies like a love sick boy. his eyes seemed to follow your every move, how you seamlessly interacted with his coworkers and even the other parents and children.

of course, his interest didn’t go unnoticed by his captain, price who gave him a sly smile before nudging him slightly.

“she’s single for if you want to make a move and stop ogling her.”

if looks could kill price would be six feet underground.

he couldn’t make a move, not when you were the complete opposite of him. you were the like sun, beaming no matter what as you platted each meal, you were always so positive, so selfless no matter what.

simon was convinced that someone as dark and troubled as him would dim your light, scars and burns on his body that were so ugly and gruesome it almost felt blasphemous to touch you.

“si? want some lunch?” your soft melodic voice breaking him out of his trance, you always had a way of making him spell bound, like a siren.

he shook his head with a small attempted smile. “‘m not that hungry.”

but he was really fucking hungry. though he was convinced that if he ate your food he would be addicted, begging for more.

“but fire fighters need energy!” a small high pitch voice spoke up, your daughter. “mama makes good food, try it pretty please?” her eyes wide and pleading, her small lips jutted out in a determined pout.

simon cleared his throat, “i guess a little bit won’t hurt.”

oh it wasn’t just a little bit. he came back for seconds, thirds, fourth.

simon ate like a man starved, his fork scraping against the plate as he finished it again. “told you mama’s food is the best!” your daughter beamed as she perched herself up on the step next to him, her feet swinging in the air whilst simon’s were extended out. the size difference was comical.

her gaze drifted over his uniform, her eyes wide and curious. “what’s this?” her small chubby finger pointing to his scarred hand. instinctively, he pulled his sleeves over them, shielding something so dark and ugly from her innocent eyes. “‘s nothing, kid.”

“does it hurt?” she asked, completely oblivious to simon’s insecurity. he shook his head “doesn’t hurt anymore

white lie. god, it hurts so bad not physically but emotionally. sometimes he couldn’t even stand staring at his hands, purposely trying to cover them up with gloves but it irritated the uneven skin which made it even worse.

“hey, you shouldn’t be asking questions like that missy,” you playfully narrowing your eyes at your daughter who smiled sheepishly. “thought i’d taught you better than to pry into peoples personal lives.” you raised a brow at the smaller girl whose eyes were crinkling due to her cheesy smile. “gotta go get food!” she giggled as she ran, well stumbled away.

“sorry about that, she’s a curious little thing,” your eyes glued to her as she asked another volunteer for more food. simon chuckled lowly, “‘s alright, got good intentions.”

simon’s heart felt like it was going to explode, it was never heated this fast, not even during the missions where he thought he was going to die. he felt so aware of everything, secretly hoping you didn’t notice how he was hiding his scars.

you cleared your throat, pulling something out of your pockets. “i got you something,” your tone soft and shy, completely different to what simon was used to.

gloves.

“i heard cotton is good for sensitive skin, so i thought it would be appropriate for you.”

god, what did he do to deserve you?

“if you don’t want it it’s fine, i don’t want to cross any boundaries-“

but before you could even finish he took them from your hands, putting them on. “they’re amazing,” his hands flexing under the material as he tried them on. he felt like a school boy who was talking to a girl the first time, his mind completely blank.

“do yer wanna grab sum coffee with me?”

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