Simon isn't the type of person you expect to be comforting, or kind. He's your lieutenant - half the time you expect him to yell at you for not standing like a fucking pole. And still, when you all when drinking together as a form of celebration, he was attentive to you. And when you came back, a little quieter, a little more glum, he noticed.

"What's wrong, kid?" "You're not nearly as annoying as you normally are." Well, wasn't he just the kindest? But still, he asked you privately, while the other guys went to outside to go take a group piss (said something about how the cold air helped their balls breathe). He didn't look at you like he was gonna yell at you, somehow he seemed..softer.

Still, you were hesitant, didn't want an altercation - not too sure if Simon could function without a fist fight.

"Some guy..he was just, kind of creepy." You mumbled, never were too good with your own words while drunk. Never too good at saying what you felt while sober. For a moment, you seemed to brace yourself, anticipating a good scolding from your lieutenant; some shite about not talking to strangers.

Instead, Simon sipped his liqour and murred, "M'so sorry, love."

His eyes were foggy and glazed over, as if he was recounting something else in his mind. A scarred hand of his brushed the top of your head, straightening out your messy locks, "What'd he look like?"

"Don't remember," You admit, frowning slightly as your head lowered. "Just what he wore."

Simon assured you it was detail enough, and you explained. Worry in your eyes as you stared into Simon's blank expression. When the others came back, talking about who pissed the furthest, Simon was missing. Said he was gonna use the bathroom.

Conversations were too loud for you to pinpoint exactly what happened, but you saw the bruise on his knuckles when he came back, a satisfied look in his eyes like a dog with a bone. Came right back to ya and grabbed you by the collar of your shirt like a cat.

"C'mon, no use being out with this old bunch, best we get you home, girly."

The one time Simon was nice to you was when no one else was around, big bear hug as he proudly grumbled, "Ye, punched the bastard right upside the face. Gonna look like some kind of octopus for the next weeks."

He was drunk, trying to make you laugh, trying to make you smile, feel better; and of course, it worked.

fluff with your roommate

"You look like shit," You mur through a stifled laugh, arms crossed over your chest as you stepped aside, letting Simon in. He was your roommate of about four years, you knew a little and a lot about him - more than most less than others. One thing that hadn't changed since the day you met him was the cluster of bruises and scars he'd newly have every time he came home from a lengthy work trip. Simon grumbled softly, dropping a duffle bag on the floor and ditching his suitcase. "Smell like it too." You laughed quietly at his gruff voice. He was such a brooding man, always grouchy looking with a stern scowl painted on his face. You shut the door behind him and pushed the luggage away with your foot. Your arms crossing. "You hungry?" Your words met with a growling hum in affirmation. You walked toward the kitchen, grabbing a clean rag and and wetting it slightly with warm sink water. Hissing a bit as the water stung you, earning a glance from Simon. Regardless of his confused stare you turned to face him and pressed the dirty rag against his face, wiping away some sweat and dirt. "Mm, they don't let you shower or something?" You giggled at your own words, the big brute stiffening at your touch before slowly grabbing your wrist. "I was rushin'" What was he? A child? You snickered at the thought, a smug look on your face as he let you wipe him clean. His calloused hand brushing your smooth forearm gently. His eyes staring down at you with a dead eyed look. Were his lashes always this long? You tutted your head to the side and smiled, "What's that look for?" "M'hungry." Simon softy grumbled, slowly taking the rag from your hand with his freehand. His lips pressed against your now bare hand, eye lids fluttering shut and your fingers lightly curling in surprise. He couldn't help but smirk just a bit at that reaction - your soft gasp, stumble back against the counter. You hadn't been touched in awhile. "What was that for..?" You softly grumbled, tugging your hand away from his mouth, but he kept it there, gently pressing another kiss to your soft skin. "Just gimme a min.." You hesitated for a moment, your mind feeling a bit confused at the sudden affection, but you slowly eased up, your freehand running your fingers along his arm. Touching the toned muscles that trembled and flexed at your touch. Simon slowly slump to sink into your shoulder, inhaling your scent with a low sigh. He smelt a bit like a cat - oddly enough. Dust, the sun, Earth. The thought of it relaxed you, your face dipping in his own shoulder. Your scent was the opposite of his. Something sweet, maybe a bit fruity, but also carrying the scent of whatever dinner you left warming in the stove for the night. You always whined about how the flavors settled better that way. And he whined that you were crazy. A shared embrace, his fingers digging into your shirt lightly tugging the fabric to watch it cling back to your body, your heart beats filling the empty space in either ones chest. This was nice; something you think to yourself when Simon suddenly pulls away gently patting your head, back to grumbling, "Gonna go for a wash." He walks off, leaving you stunned, perplexed, and lamenting the warmth that hugged your body just moments ago. You smell your shirt where his scent had stuck to - so warm. Your arms wrap around yourself as you leaned against the counter. A singular thought draping across your mind, "What was that?"

Simon - a man intimidating on several different levels - did not know how to handle a crying girl. Especially not one of your caliber, drunk, babbling to him about god knows what. All he could do was sip his shitty liquor, stare at you and your group of friends giggling behind you. And of course you just had to blurt out magic fucking words: "Do you think I'm ugly?" He took a moment, not out of hesitance, but consideration; you and your big glossy eyes, flushed face, even the messy hair somehow you-

"No." Simon's voice was a low rumble, and for a moment it comforted you, made you shut your eyes and nod for a bit. Only a bit, before you choked out another sob.

"Then why does he not wanna fuck me?" It was immature, really. Simon shouldn't enlighten your bold behavior, but he couldn't help it. You were cute. But that didn't change anything. You were still sobbing before him, rubbing your face raw of steaming hot tears and drunken frustration. Ruining your pretty face. Simon leaned back for a moment, considering your words. Whoever broke your heart was a real, damn idiot.

Sure, you were a bit whiny, annoying; but it was easily overlooked with how sweet you seemed. Maybe it was the drinks Simon had indulged in himself, because he was actually considering this.

Another choked cry from you rushed him to blurt out his next words, "I'll fuck ya."

Something about your silence said more than words did. God, forgive him for relishing in this small victory - you were a virgin. Evident by your slight hesitance in his words, the flinch, the cute quivering lip like you really wanted it. But you were scared. Smart girl, should honestly know better than to fuck this big, scary man. And still -

"Okay." You nodded, huffed. Your friends by now had wandered off to do whatever the fuck drunk gals do. Looked just about as broken up as you were. Simon chuckled a bit, pocketed his keys, wallet, and offered your hand a place in his.

It was shocking, the moment you felt the scarred callouses along his palms. It made him laugh breathily, "Like it, do ya?"

"Mhm..!" Such a puppy. You practically scooted a snuggle against his arm, wrapping around his muscles while he led you out. Didn't deserve to be fucked in a bar like a common whore; he'd give you the benefit of some privacy with his darkened windows, turn the cooler on so the heat of the moment didn't overwhelm you so much.

You were so compliant, something he'd be sure to correct if this ever went anywhere; couldn't have you seeking cock from just anyone. But Simon understood, poor thing. You needed your pussy to be filled up, and he was willing to help you out. Let you cry on his cock, tighten up just a bit as your arousal drooled down and stained his pants with your fast orgasm.

Your hands attempting to cover your face, which Simon just couldn't have. He'd correct that with a single hand, tightening your wrist in his grip and holding them behind you. His freehand guiding your hips, while he tutted praises against your breasts. Panting roughly, either he was out of shape, or you felt much better than he anticipated.

Regardless, you were reduced to nothing but a mewling bitch. Burying your face against him while be babied you with each thrust. "Poor doll, needed someone to show your place. mm?"

"Don't worry, bird, Simon's gonna make ya feel real good."

Simon really did get a weird pleasure out of making you shy. Every time he finished fucking you he'd pocket your panties, probably keep them in a dedicated drawer in his own home, only for you to find and him to giggle about. You were so shy and bashful about really everything. Getting naked around him was something you were soooo fucking reluctant about.

"C'mon love, nothin' I 'aven't seen before." To which you'd reply with muffled curses and the bird.

Simon was similar to a cat, bringing you the strangest gifts and grumbling about how he doesn't know why he brought it to you and to just take it. These things were rocks, or pretty flowers that had by then withered up. Romantic in a way, the way he looked genuinely shocked, scratching his jaw and grumbling about how he "thought it would last longer". You saved them any ways, pressing them between the pages of a little journal you kept.

Funny to imagine a man as brooding as Simon reaching down to gather pretty rocks for his girl. But here you were, coddling and kissing him for his generous "gifts". Could see him puff up a little with pride, woo'd the pretty girl with the pretty rocks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mn. Yeah, Y'can.."

"Wann' see your face.." the air was humid; sticky. There was no use being on the bed, where the mattress creaked and the sheets got filthy. No - the floor would suffice. It's cold tile pressing against your knees and legs, parting slightly to allow the meaty thigh of Simon to take place. The scene sounded more intimate than what it really was. Truthfully the two of you (mostly him) really craved a midnight cigarette without the bitching of your captain. You were wrapped up in your cotton jammies, a big shirt and shorts that hung off you. Simon coughed softly, puffs of smoke leaving his mouth a bit. So he was surprised. He tilted his head backward and exhaled. The moment went on in silence, just like that, until your greedy paws reached out for another grab at the smoldering stick "Can smoke just fine through the mask."

"Yeah, but I can't see you 'just fine' through the mask." You hissed softly through an inhale, letting the smoke leave before coughing a bit, it tasted quite shit. You always wondered why he liked that junk. Simon chuckled, snatching the cigarette back and holding it away from you. "If, you can't handle it, stop doing it." You rolled your eyes at his words, plopping backward toward the pillows that were sprawled on the floor. Your eyes fluttering shut and watching the stars through the window. Simon sat up, blowing the smoke outward through the smallest creeping crack. It was like a stop motion film, each shut of your eyes showed him slowly lifting the mask, just past the tip of his nose.

"Oh.." You mused, moving to sit up, but he quickly sent you back down with his socked foot to your shoulder. "Oh ew." Simon laughed softly, you could see his teeth now. His stubbly chin. Dirty blonde. And his lips were scarred, chapped too. "I can feel yer eyes on me, judgin'"

"M'not judgin'.. Just curious. I've never see you before, and I've seen the others..." Trailing off a bit you let your head tilt backward again, facing the ceiling. Simon was quiet, aside from his little huffs and sighs. "So..why do you hide your face, anyways?" Simon growled a bit, not intentionally, just a noise that emitted when he though too deeply. "Just the way things are. Like..grass is green, sky is blue."

"Bullshit, the grass here is brown." The two of you giggled at your words, only going silent when you heard foot steps walking down the hall. Simon quickly put out the cigarette, a towel at the bottom of the door, preventing any of the smoke scent seeping through. After a few moments the feet move passed, letting the two of you release a breath.

"Mm, I dunno why we worried so much. Cap'n can't smell shit." You giggled again. Simon rewarded you with a doting flick to your forehead. You hissed softly at him but he shushed you with a kiss. His body moving to lie next to you, only slightly hovering. He tasted bad - like cigarette, and a bit of mint. You softly gasped in realization, hitting his shoulder, "So you did eat my mints?"

Simon laughed again, tugging his mask down while you lightly sparred his arm for revenge.

Poor you, looking up to your L.T. like he wasn't the most shittiest of influences. Self-loathing bastard who lived off cigarettes and shit liquor. Could afford better but never felt like he deserved it. Simon in a nutshell. Could see your admiration for him miles away, wide eyes and tilting head. Your voice higher a slight pitch. You really liked him.

He almost pitied you, wasn't your fault your daddy didn't love you right. You were just a cute lass in need of some proper attention. He could probably do it for ya too. He'll let you imagine that, least he could do if he wouldn't bite into a ripe fruit like you.

So you were comfortable - walked right up to him while had his morning cigarette by the balcony, "Mornin' Lieutenant."

"Told you you could call me Simon, kid." Simon didn't even look at you as he spoke, his eyes fixated on the night shift alternating between the dayshift. Could feel your stare on him, made him smirk, even if it was just a little; attention from you, felt pretty flattering. Tried to play it off too, sipping your coffee and trying to follow his gaze outside.

"Dunno, doesn't feel right, Simon." You tested the word a bit, not quite realizing the affect it had on him, made his shoulders tense up a bit - how cute. "The others call you Ghost."

"You'll get used to it."

You had to.

"The others say you aren't very nice." What a good girl you were, just telling him whatever was going on in that pretty head of yours. Simon chuckled a bit, finishing off his cigarette and flicking it to the ash tray.

"Yeah? That so? And who is saying that?" Simon turned his body to face you, finally acknowledging your curious expression.

"Johnny"

"MacTavish?" Simon chuckled, "He never got nice things to say, love."

Simon pushed off the wall, beginning his way to get ready for his own duties, you still stumbling to follow after him. Struggling to keep pace, he was a big boy after all. Had a fast walk about him.

"Heard you're going on a Mission, Lieutena- Simon." You spoke when you finally reached his barrack dorm, stopping right at the door.

"What about it?" Simon sighed, leaving the door open. He wouldn't bother with inviting you in; making you all shy and flustered. Much kinder than that he was.

"Will you be back safe?" Simon looked up at you, curious, analyzing. There was worry in your eyes. Made him smile a bit as he finished up with his gear and made his way back to you.

Somehow, he seemed bigger in this moment. Taller, fuller, more intidimating. A hand rubbed the top of your head, forcing you to lean toward it like a small cat.

"Don't you worry, love."

You really are just the unluckiest gal, the captivation of Simon's greedy attention. Couldn't say no to your legendary lieutenant - not that you wanted to anyways. Liked having his special attention; whole ordeal probably started off so sweet. You absolutely admired, wanted to make him proud in any way possible, on the field, and off. You - so easy to manipulate into dropping to your knees, all rowdy with adrenaline from your first few missions with him. Hot blood of a puppish recruit.

Had to throat train you, teach you to keep that jaw slackened while he bobbed your head for you. Whimpers vibrating all around his cock from the hot walls of your throat, tongue desperately offering stimulation for him - you wanted to please him so badly. And you looked so pretty begging for it, drove Simon crazy, made his eyes roll back and his body limp against the wall. By then, your eyes had watered with sloppy tears that streamed down your cheeks, Simon's thumb reaching off to rub it off, bringing it to his mouth to taste your salty pleas.

"S.. Simon." You'd croak so softly, strands of drool dribbled on your lips, vision blurred and light headed. Oh, what he'd give to see you painted.

You knew better than expect that occurrence to be a one time thing - you weren't that dumb. Not like the other soldiers implied, that you were just some air headed solider, best as canon fodder. Maybe that was why Simon used you with such ease, releasing the grip he had on your hair after he came down your throat, wiping off his cum from your lips and letting you lick it right off his finger; all these just because you were too dumb to say no. Too desperate to not beg for his attention, come back into his embrace when someone was too mean to you.

A proper brat you were. Impossible for Simon to imagine himself actually loving you. Then came the time Johnny approached you, devious smirk, arms crossed and listening to you yap about your day, wagging your tail for other men. Oh, you were such a whore - should really know better than to let other men talk to you. Especially men like Johnny, who had already imagined you whining with his cock bullied into you.

Later that day you would have quickly graduated from suckling the cum from Simon's cock to letting him fuck you. Dragged into his own personal quarters and thrown on to the bed, a yelp emitting from you on impact. You sat up, quickly, head tilting dumbly, "Si, what's wrong?"

God, you were so dumb, so oblivious. It made Simon growl with something furious, something jealous. His palm pressing in to his own face for relief of his expression. He was good at masking his emotions, good at hiding what he thought, but when he was with you it all went to shit. And fuck, nothing irked him more.

His touch was gentle, experienced, undressing you and watching goosebumps form on your flesh from the exposure, your nipples pebbled and fun for him to pinch, flick, tug. Yet, Simon's words were still harsh, furrowed brows as he rumbled out, "So ye like, MacTavish, mm?"

You'd shake your head rapidly, your bottom lip quivering a bit while Simon's free hand rubbed away at the nervy nub between your thighs. Already wet - like a whore. Simon laughed to himself, a cold and cruel laugh as he continued with his little touches, mapping out your body in a lazy rove. "S'okay, lovely, can wag your tail for these other men. Bet they get you real wet, make you think some dirty stuff. Can feel it from how wet this cute, little cunt is. Just remember.."

Simon trailed for a moment, leaning close to whisper softly in your ear, "Simon owns ya."