✧˖°🌸⋆ ˚𝘼𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙯𝙞𝙣𝙝𝙖

you'd sent simon the gif a couple of weeks ago. some big dude with a birds face buried in his ass whilst she'd jerked him off. you'd found it during one of your simon-is-deployed wanks, pinged it across to him.

all you'd sent along with it was a ?

he'd thought about it for a while.

(… wanked about it in the shower.)

then scrolled up your chat, found the gif, and thumbs up reacted it.

you always liked giving simon head on the couch. well - him on the couch, you on your knees on the floor; a cushion between you and the laminate to stop you getting bruises you had to explain away later.

simon's got one big hand cradling your head, the other tucked behind his own - relaxed in the way a man can only be when he's got his cock somewhere warm and wet.

you take as much of him as you can in your mouth, throat fluttering around his swollen head every time your sink down. spit drips down his shaft; coating your fingers as you stroke what you can't fit. his head drops back, fingers digging into the back of your head for a second before loosening again.

you pull off of him with a wet pop, stings of saliva connecting your mouth to the head of his cock; only breaking when you grin.

"remember that gif?"

his brown eyes crack open, heat crawling up his cheeks. "…yeah."

you grin grows wider.

you shift lower, hands finding the underside of his thighs; pushing them up and out until his calves are either side of your head. he watches, breath going shallow, as you mouth along the underside of his cock, down over his balls, then lower still.

when your tongue drags over his hole he jolts hard enough the couch creaks.

“fuck - bird - christ.”

you don’t stop. just flatten your tongue and lick slowly and deliberately, while one hand wraps back around his cock and starts stroking him in time. pre cum spills over your fingers, unreasonable amounts, and you swipe it up and around the spot on the underside of his head that makes him whimper.

"pet. oh fuck pet. don't fuckin' stop. please love."

every time you press a little firmer, swirl your tongue, he makes a broken noise that goes straight to your cunt, makes a little spark of smug satisfaction flare in your chest.

"jesus christ. i fuckin' love you. that's really fuckin' good."

you keep going. tongue pressing and swirling, hand keeping a steady pace where it's wrapped around his cock, thumb swiping over his slit, twisting your wrist on the upstroke.

his thighs start to shake. the hand behind his head comes down to grip the arm of the couch instead. the hand on the back of your head starts pushing you closer, holding you against him.

“gonna - can’t -”

you suck lightly on the tight ring of muscle, just once, and that’s it. simon comes with a groan that sounds like it's been ripped out of him against his will, hips stuttering, thick ropes of cum painting your fist and face and his stomach while your tongue stays working against him through every pulse.

when he finally goes limp you sit back on your heels, wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and smirk up at him as you let his thighs drop back flat against the couch.

“thumbs up still stands, then?”

he just stares at you, chest heaving, looking like a man who's been absolutely ruined.

“…yeah. fuckin’… yeah, petal. it stands.”

pairing: husband!simon “ghost” riley x shy wife!reader

summary: after introducing the new family member to your husband, you all have bonding time together

part 2!

part 1, concur your timid tendencies

masterlist!

a/n: here’s the long awaited part 2!!! i’m sorry it took me soo long :(( i hope yall enjoy!! requests are open in my ask box :)))

“we got a new family member!”

another beat of silence.

“sweet’eart…”

“si…”

meow…

a small smile crept across your face, your quiet giggles softly following. you had the kitten stretched towards simon in your hold.

he was stationed in the same chair at the dining table, leaning his elbows on his knees now, half-eaten meal forgotten beside him.

the kitty started nibbling on your fingers, soft “no, sweetie,” cooing from you.

your husband watched you pull the feline close to your chest, repositioning her in your hands. her tail curled, satisfied purrs rumbling from her when his sweet wife smooched between her ears.

“a kitten, luv’?” simon questioned, blonde eyelashes blinking, “how—” “it started as exposure therapy!” you quickly interrupted, keeping your attention on your kitty. you couldn’t look your husband in the eyes for this. “i visit the animal shelter while you’re at work because it helps me with my shyness,” you confessed, adding, “it gets me out the house, and i guess animals are just easier to be around. less intimidating.”

you walked back towards simon, taking your seat at the table again. you continued, “been going for a little over a month and this little girl,” you emphasized the title, “took a liking to me.” placing another smooth on the kitten’s head, saying, “she got so attached, she started yowling when i’d leave, si! my poor baby,” your lower lip pouted, bringing the kitty closer to you.

your husband had to admit, the sight in front of him was the most precious thing his eyes ever witnessed— his sweet wife basically holding herself in kitten form, the tiny feline nuzzling into you, returning your affection— it was cuteness overload to the brit.

and he was proud of you. he was happy to learn you’ve been trying to work on your introversion, despite how difficult it can be for you, his brave girl.

“i think she’ll also help with my loneliness, especially on days when you get home later than usual,” your voice brought him from his thoughts, “or your deployments.”

he watched you bite your lip, recognizing your body cue— you were anxious, finally bringing up a topic he knew you’d probably been pondering about for a while. he could usually read your nervousness in your hands too, giving yourself away when you’d thread your fingers through one another.

but, your hands were occupied. and your eyes were still avoiding his.

it sent a shiver down his spine, a minute tear in his heart, witnessing his wife, his whole world, react so shyly to him. he knew it was in your nature, and he also knew it was selfish, but he thought he helped you break down all of those barriers with him. he never wanted you to have to feel that way around him.

he reached a hand to your thigh, his gruff palm swallowing it.

a few seconds passed, your husband making you purr along with your kitty at the feeling of his hand kneading your thigh. “m’ sorry, hon’. ya deserve so much more,” your husband leaned forward, quickly placing a kiss on your forehead. “didn’ know ya were gettin’ so lonely,” he frowned next, “but, m’ happy ya found each otha’.”

he moved his free hand to pet along the kitten’s spine, the man smiling at the feeling. “she ‘s really cute,” he admitted, because how couldn’t he? an airy laugh departing you, “i know,” you replied, baby tone present, “our sweet girl!”

you finally looked at simon, baby voice still activated, “does dada wanna hold our girl?”

he was hesitant at first, but the brute will always choose to please his wife.

he swept the kitty into his grasp, you awwing at the adorable sight in front of you. she was perched inside one of your husband’s palms, his hand large enough to support her. she looked so tiny in his hold, the brit nervous she was too fragile for him to be around.

your beautiful chuckle filled the air, calming simon’s nerves. “you won’t hurt her, si! it’s okay, you don’t have to be so tense,” you grabbed his other hand, guiding him to add more support underneath her, “then just bring her in,” you led her towards his chest.

the sight was so wholesome, you bringing up your phone to snap a picture— this would definitely be a lock screen for you later.

simon started to get more confident, bringing the kitten into a more comfortable position. he started petting the underside of her belly, her purrs louder than anytime you’d pet her, “woah, simon! i’ve never heard her be this loud before.” you could tell your husband was already growing a soft spot for her.

trying your best to milk it, “she seems to really like you, si!” you told him, reaching to pet her too.

“kitty’s not so bad ‘erself.”

i am once again thinking about simon riley's stoner!missus.

you're all wriggly and soft next to him in the sofa, curled into his side whilst you watch some shite action film he's picked.

(you're never sure why he chooses them, he spends the entire time ripping everything from the plot to the special effects to the fight scene choreography apart.)

then he notices you're a little… too wriggly. his eyes glance down, see your heel tucked up under you on the sofa and realisation dawn's that your attention is nowhere near the film or his narration.

that's why he spends the rest of the film with one hand between your thighs, pads of his fingers circling your clit mindlessly; swapping to fucking two fingers into you when you seem to get a little too close to the edge.

you spend the next two hours like that, melted into the couch, thighs spread wide while the film drones one. he never stops, but he's not really trying either. just thoughtlessly playing with your cunt until his hand and the sofa cushion are soaked.

he keeps up his little narration, occasionally prompting you for input after he says something like "that's not how a fuckin' rifle works, jesus christ."

you're too far gone, too stoned and soft for your thoughts to do anything but slide over each other - so you just whine in respons. something to show that somehow you are actually listening.

he swaps to pinching your clit between two fingers gently. "yeah. that's what i thought too, petal."

simon's wife is truly insatiable.

simon grunts behind his teeth as his wife begins grinds her crotch against his without another word. they both are entirely clothed, but maybe thats why it clearly feels so good for her. she bites her lip, throws her head back in ecstasy as she rides him in the living room, using him for her pleasure.

there's not a single day that passes when he's home where she isn't trying to pull down his pants! simon knew his wife was a little bit of a nymph—they've produced three beautiful children in a marriage of five years, and she still blabbers about having another.

he should've expected less. before marriage she was constantly on him, aroused by him doing mere things, like taking off his shirt or drinking water the droplets running down his neck accidentally. she'd be on him in an instant, sucking on his neck like a thirsty vampire and calling him a slut. oftentimes simon tries to take a piss and struggles because his lady would suck him dry the night before :(

all simon can do is take it. he sighs heavily when he feels a telling hand rub down his spine and gives her what she wants. like now, when she's so close to orgasm and is whining like a bitch in heat he grabs onto the waistband of her skimpy little pj shorts and helps her grind onto him. for good measure he'll hike her top up till he can see her naked breasts bounce and pinch at her nipples till she's mewling out his name and cumming on top of his dick.

and he definitely doesnt enjoy it. there's definitely not a wet patch forming where his cock's tip is...

"ah! oh fuck—fuck more simon!" she shrieks, throwing her head back, adorning a pleasant smile as simon—the man you love, the man who swore he'd always love you, protect you, cherish you—fucks into her, your best friend sara, wildly. his hips piston into her with a similar attitude he's given you even on sundays. his hands drag up and down her skin, groping at her perky breasts through her shirt, her ass, everything.

you're only able to watch. your heart shattering into a thousand pieces while your cunt mistakenly grows wetter at their debauchery. weakly, you reach out for him with a hand. "..simon? what.." is all you manage to say, but not with a furor of a rage you always envisioned yourself to give in these type of situations, but with a desperate, weak whimper. one that doesn't even reach his trained ears, nor hers.

you take a step, but the distance between them and you only gets longer, stretching, seemingly infinite. a visual metaphor.

a cry leaves your throat, "simon! sara?!" tears begin to run down your cheeks. a futile thought runs across your mind, this is supposed to be my birthday, but yet you watch as simon delivers what should've been yours, to her. he lets out throaty groan as his hips snap back into hers, the two of them stilling as simon presumably empties out his balls into her cunt. she exhales heavily, satisfied at what she's done. looking down at him with crinkled happy eyes, gleaming with joy, she brushes back a piece of wild hair behind her ear as he continues to holds her up, cock stuffing her full, finally leaning down to

you gasp awake, like lighting had struck you and animated your body back to life. you blink, once, twice. your vision is no longer a dirty and littered pub bathroom but instead is pitch black. no more a taunting raunchy song in your ears, but a low buzzing. as your eyes focus, and the pitch blackness in front of you lightens into shapes and shadows you recognize that is the furniture of your room, you notice the heavy breathing in your right ear, and occasionally the hot air that blows onto your neck from it.

slowly, you look to the right, noticing first the large black blot that begins to take up your vision, and then the face of simon, his hair tussled and eyes closed comfortably shut as he sleeps heavily beside you, his face mere inches from yours. your heart flutters. it was a dream. no, a nightmare. maybe a terror?

with a relieved sigh, you roll over onto your side, a peaceful smile tugging at your lips. it was a dream. it wasn't real. simon still lays beside you, vulnerable to your hands, like a baby. not fucking into your best friend in a dirty pub bathroom..

..even so, your eyebrows furrow, bitter rage fueling your system—you don't even think as you take your own pillow from underneath your head and swing it down onto simon's without mercy. instantly he jolts awake, but you're much quicker to hit him again, again, and again, even as he begin to sputter out words, braces his head with his tattooed forearms, you don't relent. "you—hit—fucking—hit—cheater!"

"wot? ouch—lovie? wot the fuck?" he tries to reason, before finally snatching the pillow from your hands. he shoots up, blinking wildly at you as you glare at him back. "you fucked my best friend!" you hiss, slapping his forearm. his rapid blinking slows, wide eyes relaxing into a half-lidded gaze. "...no?," he simply replies.

"in my dream you did." you pout, eyes already filling up with tears just at the thought of it. it takes a second for him to connect the dots, but when it does, he only sighs heavily, shaking his head with disapproval. head throbbing from your pillow, and still lightly clouded with sleep, he quickly wraps his arms around you, ignoring your displeased protests and wiggles when he does.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Dyspraxia!reader

a/n: This request was sent in anonymously, so im not able to tag them. But whoever sent this in, thank you! I learned so much while researching and learning about Dyspraxia. Im always to honored when people trust me with their conditions, so i hope you enjoy💕

• When you first joined TF141 you made it very clear to all the boys that you had Dyspraxia, a lifelong brain condition that affects physical coordination

• Whenever you fill up paperwork, Simon sit next to you and helps guide your hand as you write, because he knows you have a hard time with writing.

“Doin’ good, sweets.”

• Sometimes during training, you’ll begin leaning a certain way, and Simon stand’s behind you, hands on your waist keep you up straight.

• Simon will always stretch/help you do yoga to help with your awkward movements. Simon never wants you to be tense when training.

• During your showers, sometimes Simon will come in and help you shave your legs because he’s a afraid you’ll cut yourself.

• At the end of the day, when you and Simon meet in the kitchen for tea. He’ll often have you talk about your day to help with your conversation skills.

• When you’re on your way out for a mission, Simon reviews everything you all had previously gone over because he knows you have short-term memory loss.

• Over team breakfast, Simon will make a to-do list for you to complete, because he knows you have a hard time completing things throughout the day

𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙆𝙎 𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙊 𝙆𝙐𝙍𝙊𝙆𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙎𝙎𝙆𝙐𝙍𝙊𝙆𝙊𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏𝙏 © 2026, do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or use my work for ai training purposes.

a/n: Thanks for reading! Love you all💕💕

Taglist!!: @xoxocelestial @figaaa6 @mrwagster @damonlore @tikitsune @sweetlittleblackrose

Divider creds!!: @starrliqhtt

"Stop moving, dovie." Your husband murmers. "Don't wanna cut you."

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to see how it looks."

You feel an amused puff of air against your upper thigh. "Looks the same as it does any time you do it. Now hold still."

You huff but obey his command. It's not that you don't trust Simon to do it right. In fact, the man has the keenest eye for detail you've ever seen. What's bothering you is quite how large your belly has swollen as you enter your final trimester. It's one thing to know your belly will eclipse the sight of your lower extremities, and another to experience it.

As he carefully drags the razor over the fuzz of your bush, Simon senses the discomfort swirling within you. He presses a brief kiss to the swell of your belly before cracking a joke to distract you "If Johnny knew I was doing this, he'd be scratching and howling at our bloody door. Worse'n a dog."

"Good thing I'm not Johnny's, then." You say with a coy giggle.

Simon pauses, wiping your skin with a damp cloth as he finishes shaving for you. He groans as he stands, callused hands trailing against your legs. Finally, he fixes you with a dangerous smirk.

"Don't mean he's not drooling at the thought of you when he thinks I'm not looking."

You flush. "Simon, I-"

Your behemoth of a husband leans forward, his lips brushing against your ear as the small of bar soap and shaving cream wash over you soothingly. "Especially since I put this baby in you. Poor bastard can't handle the jealousy."

You squirm, but say silent. It's no secret that your husband's friend is desperate for a taste of you. Simon's made it clear he's open to sharing, but you still don't know what to think. You've never done anything outside of the strict bounds of monogamy. And yet, there's no denying that Johnny is attractive.

Simon breaks through your thoughts. "Maybe you throw a dog a bone, let him put the next one in you."

sometimes, sleeping over at inexperienced!simon's place means waking up in the middle of the night with sticky upper thighs and a shiny cock head slicking itself between your legs. tiny grunts sound out in the dark behind where you lie, naked and half-awake, while simon's thrusts are wet with noisy squelches that resonate with his spontaneous, dead-of-night need.

okay, so maybe he has something wrong in his head because he fucked it until he was shooting blanks, and the cum to pumpkin gut ratio was eye opening.

what better way to put it to use than to bake it into a pie and give it to his favorite girl? the one who runs that plant nursery down the street. it's only fair since you're the one who sold him the pumpkin seeds to begin with, gave him advice on how to grow a plump pumpkin, perfect for fucking with his thick cock—he didn't tell you that part.

thinking about great pyrenees hybrid!simon riley and his pomeranian hybrid!wife. cw piss in the form of territory marking, icky (and idc i am gross but i'm free).

an odd pair? not really. your (much bigger) ancestors on your hybrid side pulled sleds, and even toy size hybrids like you made excellent watchdogs - perfectly complementing simon's protective nature.

and even if you tended towards soft things and cuddles now, you still have quite the yap when things don't go your way.

…you also have your own ways of making your feelings known.

especially when you come home and smell some other fucking hybrid has been in your house.

your nose twitches. trailing scent across the floor to the kitchen, then back to the sofa.

nowhere near the bedroom.

good. not that you think simon would do that. you know he wouldn't. but there's a little flare of jealousy in your chest anyway, you're not exactly thrilled that yours and simon's home smells of someone else.

so you do the only thing you can think of.

you lift your dress up around your waist and squat on the living room carpet, pee soaking into the fabric, curled little tail wagging once as you complete your task and head through to the bathroom to shower.

simon smells it as soon as he enters the house.

then he sees the stain on the carpet.

sighs.

"lovie, come through 'ere, yeah?" he calls from the lounge, an edge to that low rumble of his that isn't usually there.

you pad through from the bathroom, still damp, a t-shirt that definitely belongs to simon swallowing your frame. simon's standing over the damp patch, his tail (that you've always been a little jealous of, enormous fluffy thing) stiff and vibrating slightly.

you raise your eyebrows. "who the fuck was in our house?"

he rolls his eyes, "fuckin' gaz you daft cow. we're plannin' soap's stag do."

your tail gives a twitch under fabric.

oops.

"but you just 'ad to go and mark the 'ouse, didn't you lovie?" simon continues. "someone else's fuckin' scent bother you that much?"

you shrug, but your chin tilts up in defiance. "it's our house."

simon's mouth curls into something that isn't quite a smile. "c'mere."

you take a tentative step closer, fluffy little golden ears on the top of your head flicking backwards. simon catches your wrist, and the next thing you know your knees are digging into the carpet, oversized t-shirt flipped up over your waist, cool air hitting your bare cunt.

his hands spread you open, thumbs dragging over the slick already forming between your legs.

"yer fuckin' filthy, you know that petal?" he mutters, "fuckin' pissin' in the house? thought you were better than that."

you hear the noise of a zipper behind you, then feel the blunt head of his cock drag over your slit, before he pushes inside in one long relentless thrust that punches the air from your lungs, makes your toes curl against the carpet.

his hand lands between your shoulder blades, shoving you down until your cheek is pressed right into the damp patch you left earlier. the smell of your own piss floods your nose; sharp, territorial.

"there." simon grunts, fucking into you hard enough your knees skid on the carpet. "fuckin' marked the carpet for no reason. now yer gonna have to deal with it."

you whimper slightly, fingers scrabbling at the carpet for purchase, every thrust forcing your face harder into the wet carpet, the scent thick in your lungs whilst his cock splits you open. his hand stays between your shoulder blades, pinning you there, back arched harshly as the sound of the wet slap of skin on skin fills the room.

"yer a good watchdog." simon mutters, "but yer a shite scent hound. should 'ave known it was gaz."

you whine again, force your hips backwards against him, ass bouncing off his pelvis, tail trying to wag between you.

simon sighs, realisation dawning.

"ah. so this is what you wanted all along, love?"

his pace turns brutal as he feels you start to flutter around him; spilling inside you just as you clamp down around his cock, mouth dropped open against pissed stained carpet in a moan.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐

Genre : fluff, drabble

Pairings : husband!riley x wife!reader

Summary : your husband gives you a pleasant surprise by coming home earlier than you expected.

Note : not my best work, just a little something i thought of before sleeping, expect errors, badly written

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐

Tags : @yournansstuff, @girlvsghost, @coeurbrule

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐

“I love you, I love you, I love you, goddamnit,” you repeat in one shaky breath, pressing the twentieth kiss to the lips of your husband, who had come home two days earlier than you expected from a week-long, gruelling mission.

okay, so maybe he has something wrong in his head because he fucked it until he was shooting blanks, and the cum to pumpkin gut ratio was eye opening.

what better way to put it to use than to bake it into a pie and give it to his favorite girl? the one who runs that plant nursery down the street. it's only fair since you're the one who sold him the pumpkin seeds to begin with, gave him advice on how to grow a plump pumpkin, perfect for fucking with his thick cock—he didn't tell you that part.

dark sexual content! blood kink, knife play, mentions of choking, cum eating, cutting, etc, mdni!

emo!simon who sits his little bimbo!girlfriend on his raw, stiff cock whilst she paints his nails in gunky layers of black varnish. her own nails are manicured — austere french tips, filed to a perfect square edge. her dainty fingers are so tanned in comparison to his pale skin, soft pads strumming and brushing over his knuckles and joints so she can bend his hand to the perfect angle. emo!simon loves having her like this. sitting pretty and behaving herself on his fat cock, keeping him nice and warm. she’s so good to him. taking care of his needs so well with his dick nestled in her cervix whilst she pampers him <33

emo!simon who wears a vial of his bimbo!girlfriend’s blood around his neck. she’s his drug, after all. he wears it like he wears his medals — proudly and absolutely not humbly. it dangles by a silver chain, never tucked beneath his clothing but always on show. it was during a night of heated passion, like most, when his bimbo!girlfriend suggested he mark her as his forever. what better way than to take a knife to the swell of her hip, carving S.R into her bronze skin. it bled a little but not too much thanks to his skill. with the back of the blade he scooped the maroon droplets into the glass pendant. essence of her around his neck, similar to the fingerprints that bruised hers. constant reminders of who they belong to.

his bimbo!girlfriend has one too, though not sporting the crimson contents of emo!simon’s veins but instead the contents of his heavy balls. the red just doesn’t match her sickly style :(( without shame she wears his cum around her neck, sitting perfectly above her ample cleavage. encased by tacky metal gold, the cream she’d milked from his dick is kept inside a circular, transparent crystal and from a distance it could be mistaken for a white akoya pearl. it’s thrilling for emo!simom to see his bimbo!girlfriend adorning his thick seed. the very same cum he’d eaten from her tight cunt the night he fucked it into her tiny womb. hooking it out with his fingers and tongue, slurping his own orgasm into his mouth so he could spit it into the ampoule that now settles upon her plump chest.

emo!simon who lets his bimbo!girlfriend wear his chains. whether around her neck, hooked to her belt loop or clasped to her belly charm. and he likes to fuck her whilst his favourite choker moulds to the sweaty slope of her neck like framework, his hand acting as a second necklace. one time, her blood was caked to her puffy lips where sticky, glittery lipgloss smudged over her chin. all because emo!simon had lapped the blood from where his initials lay permanently stamped to her hip’s curve, before licking it into her mouth :(( he helped reapply her lip gloss after (using the swollen head of his cock) <33

emo!simon who lets his bimbo!girlfriend ink him. his pretty little bimbo was quick to kiss a bright pink lipstick stain to his neck, using it as a stencil to tattoo it into his porcelain skin. but his favourite is the art she needled onto the large surface of his back. in red, she traced the scars left behind by her talons — furious claw marks inked to his rugged, muscular flesh.

they’ll be just doing the simplest things, going to the store for example, and all this girl can think about is her bae making sweet sweet love to her in the aisle! like girl, all he’s doing is checking out the different spices for dinner!

they get home and when it’s time for dinner, she INSISTS on sitting on his lap and feeding him. she can never get enough of her simon!

giving himself to you uncensored

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x bimbo!reader

summary: you're so in love with your boyfriend

masterlist!

a/n: love, love, loveeee this request, anon!! i hope yall enjoy and requests are open in my ask box!! :)))))

simon riley was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to you.

you first noticed the muscular giant during one of your gym sessions, practically drooling at the sight of his tatted biceps. during his bench press, his veins bulged each time they flexed, the repeated up and down motion hypnotizing. just how much can he lift? you’d think to yourself, biting your lip while watching his sets.

he wore a black balaclava too, a skull design on the front— something that only added to your attraction towards the mystery man.

and when you saw him doing his hip thrusts, imagining him hip thrusting into you… that’s when you knew you had to introduce yourself.

“hi! i’m y/n,” you cheerfully started when he was finishing up his last set— it’s not like you counted! eyeing the metal bar rested across his meaty thighs, you couldn’t help but to acknowledge his strength. “i calculated around 580,” you pointed towards the weights, “so that definitely means you can handle me.” “‘s tha right, sweet'eart?” his deep voice responded, and you felt your thighs clench together. god, even his voice is fucking hot.

standing from the bench, he racked the weights and bar, walking over to you after. a smirk formed under his balaclava when he got a good look at you— a pretty bonnie with the confidence of a lieutenant like himself.

he liked that.

so when he reached you with an extended hand, "they call m' ghost," departed him too.

the contrast of his rough, gruff hand against your soft, smooth one sent shivers down your spine, wondering, how would his hands feel touching other places?

you were right, of course. the brute could, in fact, handle you, proving his worth in the year and a half you’ve been dating.

when he confessed his birth name, simon riley, around three months into your relationship, all the precious praises from his sweet girlfriend came out. "simon! what a lovely name. it's perfect for you!" you littered kisses across his face— even if they were always blocked by his balaclava. "thank you for trusting me with this, si." he smiled at the nickname.

he had already gotten this far, taking a leap a faith, "one more thing i need to tell you, hon'," he began reaching towards his balaclava, the ends crinkling in his hands, "or i guess, show ya."

when he removed the face covering, everything went silent.

it may as well been a staring match between the couple— no one moved, talked, or even blinked. you were just taking him in, taking your time taking him in, and simon knew that.

he watched your doe eyes analyze his face, scanning every scar, thinking, she's probably wonderin' how m' got em'.

"you're so beautiful, simon," rang through the air, your hands clutching either side of your boyfriend's face. gasping at the sensation, the feel of his flesh against yours heavenly.

you've wanted to see your boyfriend so badly, show him affection the way he does to you, but you were aware of his boundaries and the time he would need to cross those boundaries, so you never pried. but now that he was giving himself to you uncensored, you needed more.

using your grip, you pulled his face to yours, kissing the brit. he instantly responded, turning the gentle kiss into a heated makeout. he forced his tongue into your mouth when a small moan escaped you, caused by him grabbing a handful of your ass. "luvie'," he said, in between kisses, "yer fuckin' perfect."

now you take any chance you get to stare at simon.

he doesn't wear the balaclava ever around you anymore, and you still cannot get enough of it.

your boyfriend could be doing the most mundane tasks— reading a book in his favorite arm rest chair? large legs propped on the ottoman? oh, you were salivating, wanting him to flip you like he flips the pages to his book.

or when he'd be cleaning, the loud groans and grunts rumbling from his chest when he'd bend over, paired with the cracks of his bones, had you reeling. i need to hear him up close, biting the inside of your cheek, when you heard him again, i need him so bad, you thought, shifting on each foot.

when you're shopping together— someone needs to come sedate you.

your boyfriend always pushes the grocery cart, meaning you can hold onto his beefy bicep as he leads you both around the store. you loved how simon's muscle was too large for your hand to fully grasp, often bringing your other to finish the job. you would occasionally squeeze his muscle too, imagining the feeling of his biceps encircling your torso.

you'd whine when he tried to loosen his grip, "jus' needa grab 'tis for us, yeah?" leaning down to place a kiss on the crown of your head when he saw you nod, "good girl. m' not goin' nowhere."

he turned to the shelves with the spices, raising his arms to grab the ones you both would need to cook dinner tonight. for some reason they were all on the very top shelf— good thing simon's huge!

his shirt lifted with his arms, revealing a couple of his structured abs and his sexy v-line, which was peeking through the band of his pants. was he doing this on purpose? being hot at all times to get you bothered? he had to be.

you felt your core throb, a low heat slowly rising. what would i have to do for him to take me right now in this aisle? you asked anything that would listen.

when it was time to eat dinner, "why 's there only one chair?" "hmmm?" "where did all tha otha' chairs go?" "what other chairs?" "luv'."

but simon couldn't care enough, and you really didn't know where the chairs went, so, inevitably, you got your way as always.

simon sat in the free chair, your body perched comfortably on his.

he had his hands on both sides of your hips, gently kneading the flesh. you took turns feeding yourself and your boyfriend, claiming, "you already bought and cooked everything! at least let me feed you. i want to take care of you too!"

besides, his hands were already occupied with touching your body! he couldn't feed himself anyways!

you even wiped away any excess food on his lips with your thumb, bringing it to your mouth for a taste.

simon adored the sight of his sweet girlfriend cleaning him up, licking up his mess. choosing to tighten his grip on your hips, soft moans escaped when you felt his fingertips digging into your skin.

Request by @filmcgraphies

Eric Brooks, Blade. The man that refuses to enter battles unless he's well rested and drippy as fuck.

In order to get with him romantically, there's a lot that you'd have to become real cool with the concept of happening, including but not limited to: His hunger taking over and him potentially draining you, turning you into a vampire, him having to kill you if you turn into one, literally dracula trying to use you to get to him... There's a lot.

HOWEVER, let's say you're cool with it/able to slay vampires so that's not an issue. Hooray! That means you've got a chance.

Eric dreads the idea of someone he cares about getting hurt due to his line of work, and vows to keep you safe, but would most likely get you some training so that you can defend yourself against the undead, if need be.

Superstitious like a motherfucker, but it's got solid reasoning behind it.

His love languages, if you're able to secure him, would range between words of affirmation and quality time. He wouldn't be able to *not* tell you how pretty you are. He would also show you his music. He'd even allow you to show him songs to possibly put in his slay-list.

Not all of them will be added, unfortunately. He's picky.

One form of love he's semi-afraid of is physical affection. He's afraid that if he likes it too much, his instincts will get active. That he'd pop his claws and slice you on accident, or get to intimate and bite you.

He prefers gentler touches, brief moments of physical intimacy. However, in those cases where it's... a little less than brief, he'd appreciate taking it slow. Just in case.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)