#bluecollar!simon

it’s the fifth night in two weeks that simon has come home late, nothing more than a simple text letting you know and a string of unanswered phone calls left by you following. normally, he tells you to come meet him at the pub and have a couple drinks with him and the lads before you both stumble home tipsy together

fifth night he comes home to you curled up on the sofa, bridgerton on the tv and a blanket draped over you. in the microwave, there’s a wrapped up plate of dinner with a little note saying ‘for you if you’re hungry <3’. the first few nights, it was left on the table with no note. clearly, by now you’re expecting him to not show up on time

he switches the tv off and carries you off to bed, careful not to wake you when he presses a kiss to your head with a sigh. he knows it’s not gonna be long before you start asking questions and he’s not sure he’s got the answers for you

the next day, he’s already at work when you wake up. and you frown when you find the lunch you packed him still in the fridge. you decide to drop it off to him on the site, not wanting him to go hungry during a long shift but when you get there, the only person you’re greeted with is the site supervisor. who tells you that he gave all the boys a day off, since the weather was due to be pretty bad today and they wouldn’t be able to do what they needed to do. he also tells you that they said they were setting off for the pub instead

there’s an itching feeling in your chest, telling you something is wrong because normally simon would pass on information like that to you. so, you decide to surprise him there. it’s a short drive to the local pub, simon’s lunch sat in the passenger seat next to you, slowly ruining out of the fridge

it’s busy when you get there, it takes you a while to spot simon. but you find him, in the smoking area round the back, the only area not packed out with people. he doesn’t see you, but you see him. and her…

you recognise her from a few pictures you found on his phone when you first started seeing each other. the ex who broke his heart before he met you. he told you how he gave her everything, and he came home to find all her stuff packed up and a new relationship soft launched on her social media a couple weeks later. it took him a long time before he felt like dating again, his mates had made a couple off-handed comments about how it destroyed him when it happened

but right now he looks perfectly content, sat with her on the bench, not talking much but she’s got his jacket round her shoulders to protect her from the subtle chill in the air. to you it feels ice cold. they’re passing a cigarette between themselves, her eyes batting at him every time he lifts his pint to drink it

you bite down the tears threatening to spill and make your way over to the table. they don’t spot you until you drop the metal lunchbox in front of simon, his eyes widening at the sight of you,

“you left that at home.”

Your boyfriend works on the same construction site as Simon. He’s a serviceable worker, but a right fuckin pillock sometimes. Goes out for lunch every day with his mates like he’s got money to burn or something. And he’ll leave behind a neatly folded paper bag with a sticker on it a couple of times a week.

Eventually, Simon gets so tired of seeing it he thinks fuck it, why let it go to waste? He opens it up to see a little piece of memo paper with quickly inked handwriting on it alongside some storybook characters. Have a good day <3.

Inside there’s an insulated container with some hot tomato soup, accompanied by a hearty turkey, bacon, and lettuce club wrapped in wax paper on toasted bread. On the side are some apple slices and baby carrots. There’s a single wrapped heart shaped chocolate. And he’s kind of in heaven— god knows how long it’s been since anyone had ever prepared something like this for him.

Did your dumbass boyfriend have any idea that there were men that would kill to have a sweet thing sending them off to work with home-made lunches? Fuck, you probably have dinner waiting when he comes home, too. He’d only seen you once, when you’d come to drop something off for your man. Pretty. Pearls before swine.

how, after showering, he quietly prepares dinner only to be startled by warm arms curling around his waist.

“you showered,” you grumble, voice muffled from where your face is pressed on his back. “without me.”

simon laughs, bellowing, and twists to fully burrow you in his embrace.

“i’m up for ‘nother spray,” he says, grinning.

you sniff, furrowed brows easing up a bit. “really?”

“really.”

a hum purrs from your chest and simon puffs another laugh before pitching forward to press his lips on your temple. then, “let’s go?”

accompanying your bluecollar mechanic boyfriend simon riley to his work, you do it more often than not, dragged with him to just sit prettily in the corner of the room while he works, staining himself in machine oil while changing it to some poor bloke that barely knows how things work, getting his shirt all soiled with black, absorbing stains, his gloved hands greasy, sinewy muscles pumped with the strain of working day and webbed over with swelling veins, as you glance curiously over every inch of him.

all these things make him messy, checking the fluid levels, rotating tires, repairing or replacing some obsolete parts in people's cars, doing a lot of long talk by explaining some of the curious ones what exactly he did right now, leaving simon's short hair damp with sweat that drips down his forehead, trailing over his angled neck and dipping below his exposed collarbones, shirt outstretched and worn, hanging low enough to expose his chest, right where it's dappled with darkening hairs and layer of softness.

flushed cheeks decorated with patchy stubble and smudges of soot that often mixes with oil simon gets on his gloves, leaving fat smears on his skin as he tries to wipe off the annoying sweat, and it's less for his own comfort than yours, because he leaves his working place here and there to indulge in your uninterrupted attention, walking in closer with his mouth clashing over yours, sloppy with sharp bites and insistent licking of his tongue inside, filthy with loud, lewd sucks that escape from between you, and he moans unabashedly, cock already strained hard.

simon get's you drunk off the taste and smell of him, smoky, sweaty and leaving a tang of metal in it's wake, something to savor when he gets back to work, hearing the distant rumble of another approaching car, leaving you yet again to watch and nibble down at your kiss swollen, spit moisten lips, bothered by the slick that now oozes out of your pulsing pussy to soak in your panties, and he sees it in the way your thighs cross together, lip tucked beneath your teeth, eyes getting that dazed, sweet look he loves to see.

he get's a handful of your perky ass after asking you to give him a screwdriver from a box laying on the floor, making you all but bent down and present your ass in the air for him to smack, small, stinging slap ringing out along with a squeaky shriek you get out, batting his groping, roughened hands away, but the guy simon talked with walked away for a short smoke, so you lean into the teasing touch, whimpering when his fingers catch at your clothed mound, circling, purring at you to wait just a bit more till his shift ends.

folding your body at the back seat of his truck should he close the service shop, your legs dangling in the cramped space, spread open wide and held tight with simon's calloused, digging fingers coiling beneath your bent knees, his body bowed forward, trapping you against the leathery seat and a closed door as his engorged cock rams into the hot, gripping clutch of your drippy cunt, shaking the vehicle from the force of his thrusts, your delightful sobs and mewls answering his molten groans of your name, splitting your hole beyond repair.

bluecollar!Simon Riley is more important, apparently

tw: none, it's just a bit of fluff

olderboyfriend!bluecollar!Simon that is great at his job, but God isn’t it exhausting and overstimulating.

blue collar!Price or blue collar!Simon sending you this while they’re at work

i-

jesus fucking CHRIST-

he looooooves his pregnant missus so much

loves watching you waddle around in one of his shirts because none of your clothes fit you anymore, coming up to him and demanding he lift your belly for you because carrying around his baby is destroying your back

and when you’re using that yoga ball, your minds are in completely different places. he’s watching your hips roll and lightly bounce on the ball thinking “I got something you can bounce on” and you’re just thinking “I wonder if simon will get me wings if I ask really nicely”

and when you get bossy, oh my god just sit on his face already. stomping up to him whilst he plays his xbox and blocking his view of the tv,

“trousers off. now.”

smacking his arm in the middle of the night until he wakes up, super pissed off at him. “your snoring woke me up and I need to pee but can’t get up. what do you plan on doing about this, huh?”

and he can’t even be mad because he’s just so in love with you. helping you out of bed and earning another smack when he tries to go back to sleep,

“you need to help me off the toilet when I’m finished, dick. get back up.”

dead silence between the two of you in the bathroom as he just waits for you to finish, toilet roll already rolled up in his hand to pass you with a loud yawn,

“and don’t even think about going to sleep before me.”

still takes such good care of you and his babies. when he comes to pick them up for his week with them, he’ll always find something in your flat that needs fixing and takes care of it right on the spot. gives you cash every time you see him despite you trying to protest against it

he’s still the person your girlfriends call when you get too drunk on a night out and he acts so irritated but he loves it really. when he picks you up bridal style and you just shove your face into his neck, inhaling his aftershave

“you smell soooo good, si. that the one I got you for father’s day?”

he’ll message you when he’s got the kids, telling you to come over for dinner because they miss you. but in reality, he just wants any excuse to see you. still calls you the missus when he’s on site despite not actually being together

and when he drops them back to you, you always give him a tray of food to take home because you know he doesn’t eat properly when it’s just him in his flat :(