#stellsriley

# little things, big man ⭐️.

simon shows his love through little actions. you haven’t paid much attention to it until lately when you bent down to pick something up and he covered the edge of the worktop with his hand. and then after that it’s been non stop realisation.

he won’t start eating the meal you’ve cooked for him until you’ve taken the first bite. why should he when you spent so long perfecting it for him? he’s not a selfish bastard when it comes to you, he just can’t bring himself to be.

if you’re craving something late at night and nothing is open, he’ll make it his life’s mission to get it for you. and if he can’t? well he’ll just fuck the craving out until you’re exhausted and fall asleep anyway, “yeah, that’s right… sleep it off, love. we’ll get it for you in the mornin’ shh.”

he loves making sure you have money to splurge on everything. he’d discretely linked his card to your phone and refused to take it off when you noticed money hadn’t been leaving your account. he’s tapping his card in shops before you even have a second to think about buying, “shoes look sexy, wear ‘em for me” or “actin’ like i spent fucking thousands just accept the fucking bracelet.”

he knows your likes and dislikes as though they’re the back of his hand. he’s removing the onions from you burger before you notice they’re there, transferring the pickles from his to yours because they’re your favourite part. and if the take away place forgets the bbq sauce? he’s stomping back in as if he owns it: “my wife asked for bbq sauce so she better fuckin’ get it,” whilst you stand there, cheeks heated and chewing your lip nervously with an attempt to calm him down as you wrap your arm around his.

you don’t even have to complain the big light is too much when you’re reading in the night in bed, the next day there’s two little lamps waiting for you and a grumble to keep both when you say you simply can’t decide between them.

and you can’t even remember the last time you haven’t received flowers when he comes home, tulips because they’re your favourite but he manages to make them look different and special each time. “think i’m comin’ home empty handed? bullshit love, take this shite and shove it in water.”

he doesn’t know how to say he loves you often, his defences keep him from it but he finds a way to show it anyway. and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make life easier to live for you day by day because you don’t deserve difficulty. he’ll make sure of it.

# practically housemates 🥞.

🍭 first post eek i’m nerv please interact and show some kindness <3

simon isn’t really sure how it started because he doesn’t exactly like people on his best days. but you, you’ve found this way to weave yourself into his life like an intricate piece of embroidery.

he feels it in the way his pillowcase smells like you, that fucking shampoo and scent that’s so uniquely you. and he pretends to hate it, scolds you for leaving bits of you everywhere but he catches himself sniffing the case all too often.

and don’t even get him started on the colour you’ve added to his house, a boring piece of shite transformed into something straight out of one of those ikea adverts. bloody ridiculous the lot of it but he’ll admit the sofa is much comfier than the one he had before.

it’s the same with the bloody kitchen, gone from just about having a functional toaster to now having a matching kettle, toastie machine, airfryer and god knows what else.

you’ve rebranded it to the point he doesn’t even recognise it as his own. feels like coming home to a place that’s not his but fuck it, because it’s yours.

he’ll grumble all he wants but at the end of the day when you’re cuddled up in his your bed, he’ll murmur into your neck, “all fuckin’ yours, y’know? bloody house don’t mean shit to me.”

and your house? might as well be up for rent with the amount of time you spend at his. practically everything has been transferred over to his, a clutter of your hair products in his bathroom that he scowls at every morning, “can’t find my fucking toothbrush in this shite, open a shop why don’t you love?”

and he pretends and pretends it doesn’t affect him, that the presence of someone else in his house means nothing to him but deep down, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. deep down, he craves the familiarity that greets him at the door after a long deployment, wanting to wrap you in his arms, lock up the house and throw the keys away.

he shows it in the way he refuses to let you stay even a night at yours, a simple “too late to go home now anyway, just stay the night yeah? one more can’t hurt … ‘s fine” and you’re positive you never even had a house to begin with.

# a man 👻.

something about you draws simon in. maybe it’s the way he has to explain every little thing to you in thorough detail at least twice before you understand or maybe it’s the way you make him feel like a real man.

sure, he’s a big gruff man who works in a fucking task force of all places but nothing quite makes him feel like a man the way taking care of you does.

he won’t ever let you open a door because what else is he here for? won’t ever let you pay because he’s the one that needs to provide for you. won’t ever raise his voice because that’s just not who he is when it comes to you.

he used to think he’d turn out like his father, make you fear him the say way his mother had feared his dad but it’s not the same with you. he likes being in control of small things and he knows you do too. it helps you live, having him determine parts of your life so you don’t have to do too much thinking.

it’s exhausting having to make so many decisions yourself so why not force them all onto him, especially when he smirks and gets that lively look in his eyes every time you do — the one that shows he’s exactly where he wants to be.

he makes your brain turn into mush, a myriad of thoughts that revolve around him and you should hate it, should hate the fact that you’re so reliant on him but you simply can’t. how are you supposed to hate the way he serves as your medium to steady you? how are you supposed to hate how we can silence you with a single look when you’re being an absolute brat?

and the bedroom? well that’s something else entirely.

he loves when he has you a spluttering mess around his fat cock, too fucked out to form coherent words. he loves when he rails you and you take it all, a lazy smile on your face that tells him he’s giving you exactly what you need. he loves when you’ve been giving him attitude all day and it just melts the moment he taps your cheek and tugs on your hair.

he honestly loves being a man for you.

# blood pressure 🫀.

your favourite thing to do is raise your boyfriend’s blood pressure. you love stressing him out and seeing the way he fights so hard to not get frustrated because he’s aware just how much you hate any form of anger.

you scroll on your phone and see the perfect joke to pull on him, a grin tugging at the corner of your lips as you wait for him to come home from a quick visit to soap’s.

you hear the front door close, a quick yell of your name escaping him as he makes his way to the kitchen. you quickly jump off the bed, rushing downstairs to find him, an eager smile tugging at your lips.

he takes one brief glance at you and pauses, a furrow in his eyebrows as he tries to register your random excitement, “can’t have missed me that much lovie, was only gone about an hour or two.”

“no not that baby! y’know how you were talking about getting your oil changed for your car?” you ramble and he nods slowly, carefully, almost as though he’s expecting this conversation to go south instantly.

“i saw online an easy way to do it so i did it for you!” you bounce on your feet and he freezes instantly. it takes everything you have to remain composure and not burst out laughing at the bewildered look that crosses his features.

he’s pacing the kitchen the moment the words fill the air, a hand tugging through his hair as he rushes out, “like you went to a garage, hm? yeah?”

“garage? no silly, i did it all myself,” you walk over to him and he inhales sharply. you can see the sheer confusion and slight panic overtaking him. you changed the car’s oil? you who still asks him how much your tank can fill despite having had the same car for 4 years.

“how… how did you do that?” his eyes are calculating, staring intensely at you like he’s praying for some miracle, some reassurance that you haven’t completely fucked up his car.

“so the guy was saying you can just like put some vegetable—” you’re not even able to finish the sentence when he splutters on air, interrupting your words with a practiced step towards you.

“lovie, i swear to fuck if you say you put vegetable oil in my car,” he trails off, eyes practically burning holes into you as he sighs, a loaded sound that shows he’s trying to keep his calm.

you try again to not laugh, a faux expression of concern plastered as you respond, “yeah well the man said it was like an easy life hack and we have so much vegetable oil at home because of that shopping deal so i thought it was perfect! is something wrong?” you blink up at him innocently.

he’s pacing again, “oh lovie, for fuck’s sake, how many times do i have to tell you these people online are con artists? you never listen to them without checking with me first.”

he holds his hand out and you read the gesture easily; he’s asking for his car keys. but you’re not done yet, you don’t want him to check and realise you’re messing with him so instead of handing the keys over, you force a frown.

“i was only trying to help i’m sorry… are you mad? i just thought well, oil is oil,” you manage to murmur without giggling like a mad woman and he sighs again, moving to stand right in front of you.

he tilts your head up slowly, his hand massaging your jaw as he tried so hard to keep his calm. you can tell it’s damn near impossible for him but he’s doing it for you and you almost feel bad.

“i just— fuck lovie, i wish you’d check these things with me first, yeah? ‘m not mad. i just didn’t need that extra hassle to fix this shit,” he pauses, pulling you into his arms and tucking your head under his chin, “not mad but jesus. vegetable oil baby? you’re smarter than that, i’ve taught you better than that.”

he’s clearly concerned about his car but he’s put that aside to comfort you for a so called mistake you made. it makes you smile into his chest and he tenses the moment he feels the expression against him.

“just because ‘m not fucking mad, doesn’t mean it’s funny,” he releases his hold on you and suddenly everything feels empty.

you know you’re the one pranking him but the lost feeling when he lets you go makes your lower lip tremble. you’re just so ridiculously sensitive and the idea of him being pissed at you, even if you carefully planned it has you sad and regretting everything.

he presses his eyes shut at your emotional state, “okay didn’t mean that, shite. don’t cry, fuck’s sake, come here,” he pulls you into his big arms again, this time wrapping you up entirely.

and despite his worries for his precious car, you in his arms is far more precious so he kisses your forehead, “baby, ‘s okay, don’t cry, lovie. i’ll fix it, yeah?”

“was joking,” you finally sniffle, “just pranking… ‘m not that stupid.”

he inhales deeply, a measure to grasp a hold of the situation before he replies, “gonna give me a bloody heart attack one day, raisin’ my blood pressure and shit. fucking menace huh? y’not stupid.”

# nanny!reader 💖.

the first time simon saw you when he came home, he’d stopped in his tracks. he had taken slow steps towards you as you held his son in your arms, a bright smile on your face whilst you remained completely oblivious to the looming figure near you. his wife had mentioned something about hiring a nanny, some bullshit excuse he hadn’t bothered to listen to about needing time for herself despite being a stay at home mum. she simply knew they had the money to spend and ran with the fact.

“if you’re going to look after my son shouldn’t you be more aware of your surroundings?” he’d grunted out, taking his son from your arms and staring at you pointedly and the look on your face had been almost comical. your lips had parted like a fish, unable to find the right words as you stared at the man who was paying your wages and housing you for the first time.

he’d raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response that you seemingly couldn’t muster. all you could do was stare. he was big, tall, in the way that made your head go quiet and loud simultaneously. such a brooding figure holding his son with big hands and still his son was beaming up at him. the man in front of you stuck out like a sore thumb in the homely environment but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

and simon? he noticed. of fucking course he noticed the woman, maybe barely even, in front of him staring as though she’d never seen anything like him. and instead of pushing for an answer, he’d smirked. a deliciously mocking expression on his face that was concealed by the mask. what was the story behind the mask? was it suddenly hot in the room? why had you still not opened your fucking mouth?

“well… i know you have good security here sir so— so i assumed you’d be harmless,” the words made absolutely no sense but they were the first thing that fell out when you worked up the courage to answer that didn’t sound like complete squeaks.

he placed his son on the carpet, leaving him to play around whilst he stepped closer. the decrease in proximity made him look even bigger if possible and in ways, daunting to say the least. he stared at you, hard eyes unblinking as they raked over your body as though he had every right.

“name?” he asked simply, no acknowledgement of your previous words or even a smile to be polite, just a command you felt obliged to follow.

you’d given him your name and he repeated it quietly before nodding, nothing further said but another step forward. you stepped back instinctively but he wouldn’t allow that so he diminished the distance even more until you were merely inches apart.

“better look after my son, yeah, lovie?” he’d said and you were one hundred percent sure your brain had short circuited at the pet name. you rushed to nod, any faster and you would have caused some serious whiplash.

“i will sir, i promise,” you’d vowed and practically frozen when he reached his hand out to tilt your jaw so your eyes met. his were this pretty blend that you’d never seen before and staring so intensely at you that you had to look away.

“eyes on me when ‘m talking to you. no one taught you manners yet?” he mocked and your eyes flickered back to the correct place. there was something about his demeanour that made you feel like obeying his every word. he could have told you to kneel and bark and there was a very high chance you’d have done it merely because he was the one who requested it.

he’d looked at you one final time, murmured an alarmingly soft, “good girl,” and walked off as if the interaction had never happened.

that was supposed to be the end of your interactions with him, his wife had said he was barely about but you noticed him often, answered his four would long questions more than you anticipated you would and you liked it. it was wrong, the tension you felt between the two of you when his wife and son lived under the same room but it was ever so undeniable. he’d never take but he’d claw, careful grip around you just enough for you to know you wanted him but never enough to actually have him.

it never stopped. in fact, it got worse in the best way possible. he’d walk past you whilst his wife was blabbering about something or the other and make sure his large hand swiped your ass. you’d believed it was an accident the first time it happened but then it kept happening and you shamelessly leaned in. and then it got to the point where when his wife was out and his son fast asleep, he’d take you to his home office and fuck you until you were seeing stars. he didn’t care if she found out; they never were intimate anyway but you? you were worried in a way that amused him because you’d freeze every time you thought you heard someone coming but then fuck back into him as if you were alone. it was wrong, you looked after his son for god’s sake but he just felt so good.

he fucked unlike anyone you’d ever been with before and you needed him. you needed him like oxygen, his touches and his presence to both ground you and drive you insane.

he’d find you somewhere in the kitchen whilst his wife was lounging on the decks outside the house. you could see her clearly through the doors that lead there and he’d still fuck you against the panes.

“mhm fuck lovie, you love taking it when my wife’s so close hm? such a dirty little girl for me, aren’t ya?” he’d purr into your ear, giving you no time to respond before he’s pounding into you.

drool fell from your lips onto the door and he laughed, a slow menacing laugh as he rams into you with no remorse. you’d try to speak, try to tell him to be careful, that his wife could turn her head any minute now and see but you were just so fucked out to form anything he could understand.

“such a tight fucking pussy, so much better than hers y’know? ‘s the best fucking hole i’ve ever been in,” he would growl, tugging your head back with his hands until he could see the faded look in your eyes, “hired to be a slut, aren’t you baby?”

honestly? maybe? yes? because whilst looking after his son was the original reason you’d stayed here, having that thick fucking cock inside of you every day was simply unbeatable.

hands wrapped around your neck as he fills you out so good, a promise to make you the real mother to his babies, a promise to fuck you into oblivion because “this pussy’s so fucking pretty, little girl, and all for me?”

you’d nod like it was the only thing you know how to do, babble into the door with your face smushed against the glass hoping he’ll go for round 2 as soon as you come. and he does. he always does.

# mr riley 👾.

thank you sm for 100 followers and 2500+ likes, my babies i adore you smsm i hope you like this <3

you’ve always had a thing for older men but it was merely just a craving, something you imagined late at night when no one was around to watch you slide your fingers in and get off to the thought of being taken properly by a real man. you never expected for it to become a reality, especially not with your best friend’s dad.

whilst yes, he had always been a very attractive man, you’d never anticipated doing anything about your silly little crush. that’s all it was supposed to be, a crush that made you feel giddy every time he was around but were unable to act on.

so the first time he flirted with you? you could have sworn the world tilted on it’s axis and you were mistaken. there’s no way mr riley of all people had smirked down at you and made a comment about your flimsy little skirt. it had to be a figure or your imagination, a late night fake scenario you’d accidentally forgotten how to distinguish.

but then it happened again and again and again. it was never enough but somehow it was everything you needed and more. just out of your reach until it wasn’t, until his daughter had gone for one of her hour long showers and he’d cornered you in the kitchen, his mask nuzzling against your neck and the most sinful groan escaping his lips as he inhaled your unique scent.

“mhm all y’been doing is fucking teasing me, huh lovie? think i don’t notice the way your pretty little eyes fuck me? i see everythin’ doll,” he purrs into your neck and your body stills; he’d seen that?

he raises the mask so his lips and jaw are visible, his teeth sucking at your neck as though he’s itching to ravage your body, “oh you taste so good f’me.”

you can’t help but moan and he smirks in response, his free hand that isn’t wrapped around you moving to roam your body. he tugs on waistband of your skirt, allowing it to snap against your skin — the noise ringing in the otherwise silent room. you wince softly and he licks a stripe down your neck to soothe you.

he’s so fucking big as he towers over you, large arms wrapped around your body to the point it feels like he’ll squeeze you into ceasing to exist. his hand finds its way under your skirt and it’s so cold it makes you squirm. the contrast between your warm body and his freezing one would be comical if you weren’t practically melting under him.

“words lovie? you not gonna tell me i can?” he teases, kissing at your jaw before biting down.

it genuinely feels like you’ve forgotten every word in the english language as you blink up at him, attempting to respond. his thumb swipes against your cheek and you finally manage to breathe out, “okay… you can.”

it’s nowhere near enough but he’s so fucking desperate for you, he can’t even bring himself to scold you for not putting in more effort. his fingers slide in and if you were barely functioning before? god you must be entirely broken right now.

his fingers are far too big compared to your own that you’re used to and he moves them so lazily, it shouldn’t feel as good as it does. one hand pumps in and out of you whilst the other wraps around your neck, a pretty necklace so perfect all for you.

he’s so fucking filthy with his movements and words, praise bundled with the right amount of degradation that has you weak in the knees.

you can’t help the whimper that falls from your lips, your hands clawing at his back as his pace increases, “oh god, shit.”

“uh uh lovie, language yeah? keep that pretty mouth clean or i’ll have to do it for you,” he says it so casually, his expression so normal as though he’s not knuckles deep inside you, not turning you into a babbling mess.

you tighten around him and he groans, forcing his mouth onto yours in a heated kiss that has you seeing stars. his tongue works its way into your mouth, colliding with yours as you clench, “i think… think ‘m gonna cum.”

“say please,” he mumbles into your mouth and you have no choice but to oblige, a quick plead for release as he smirks, still so casual and somehow the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

and when you let go against his fingers? he brings them to his lips, sucking them clean before squishing his mouth against yours again so you can “taste just how much your pretty little cunnie enjoyed it.”

# let me take a look ⚙️.

you can’t decide if the universe is with or against you because your car has stopped working yet again but that also means seeing simon, the mechanic, once more.

you find him hunched over a bmw when you park up next to him, sunglasses perked atop your head and your car spluttering far more than what seems normal.

he doesn’t notice at first, too busy grunting at the mess in front of him, mask barely hanging on in the sweat caused from the renowned summer heat. you roll your window down and clear your throat, making him jump a little and hit his head against the hood.

he moves to scowl at the person who interrupted him, ready to chew them up and spit them out until he notices it’s you. he wants to be annoyed but the sight of your lips smiling at him innocently pauses him in his tracks, “fuck’s sake, doll. gave man a heart attack.”

and when your smile deepens, he rubs his oiled hands on his cargos before resting his arms atop your car, glancing at you through the window. he studies you, eyes shamelessly raking over the top that shows a delicious amount of cleavage and the skirt that reveals those thighs he’d give the world to bite into.

“car problems again? startin’ to think ya just fuck up your car to come see me,” he smirks, drumming his large fingers against your car.

“it’s making that stupid noise again! and i didn’t even do anything. okay maybe i hit a few curbs but is that such a crime? stupid car wants to be dramatic and groan more than me!” you ramble and he fights the chuckle that threatens to leave him. god you’re so pathetically adorable.

“think nothing groans more than you lovie, let me take a look, yeah? step out,” he instructs, using the opportunity to admire your perfect behind that sways just the right way, “y’looking fit today, off somewhere special?”

and honestly? no. well, unless you count here because that’s exactly what you dolled yourself up for. extra concealer and even more blush than normal to match the mascara coating your lashes — the perfect volume to flutter your pretty little eyes at him.

“thank you simon, not off anywhere. free all day, was thinking i could stay here whilst you have a look. it’s annoying having to make two trips,” the excuse falls flawlessly from your lips and he raises a beautifully crafted eyebrow in response.

“yeah? you wanna watch me work hard?” he’s already smug about it because he knows damn well what watching him work actually looks like. it typically consists of hand stains against your window, fog covering the surface and him ramming into you until you forget the reason you’re even here.

it takes all of two minutes for him to have you pressed between himself and your car, his lips trailing down from your neck to your chest with a satisfied hum escaping him, “mhm this is what you wanted, ain’t it?”

it’s hard to answer when his fingers slide in so easily, as though they were created for that sole purpose, to pleasure you until you’re a whimpering mess. he pumps in and out like he’s memorised the movements that get you off and you can do nothing but take it. it’s like all your issues are gone, as if they never had any meaning in the first place.

and as for the sex? it’s a miracle you’re even able to drive home after he’s fixed you and your car. your legs feel numb and his cum is still running down your thighs. he doesn’t make you pay, would rather die, but it’s common sense to know he’ll expect a blowjob next time, expect a payment of some sort this time.

that explains the missing panties you don’t notice until you’re almost home.

looks like you’ll have to go back sooner than you anticipated. maybe this time you’ll get to inspect something of his rather than him inspect between your legs.

# i’m not a violent dog (i don’t know why i bite) 🧟‍♂️

hi have something sad because i’ve been feeling really sad 😕😕😕😕

your relationship has never been perfect but you’d be lying if you say that isn’t expected, especially with the horrors of simon’s past and the ones he continues to face daily. but it is real and that’s all that has mattered to you. you know no relationship is ever flawless and you wouldn’t even think to consider yours as such but it works for the two of you, it really does, until there are times when it just doesn’f

it had taken him years of friendship to open up to you first, revealing small puzzle pieces little by little until you were able to see the bigger picture and you had been oh so patient. you had been patient with him every step of the way, never forcing him to give you a part of him but accepting each fragment nevertheless because you loved him. because you still love him, flaws and all.

and he’s learnt things from you too. learnt to breathe, learnt to feel something other than self destructive. he’s been so grateful for everything you’ve taught him and yet on some days he simply can’t help but go back to his old ways.

he doesn’t intend to be rude, he never does, but it just happens. he watches his beautiful girl’s face crumple up and he knows he’s fucked up again but he just can’t stop it. he tries so fucking hard to be a better man, to be what his father never was but he still makes you cry and it kills him. he snaps and he takes and he takes and it disintegrates a little bit more of him every time.

it’s small things, things that shouldn’t matter but he can see the way they do when it’s too late to take them back. a grumbled, “can you just wait a fucking minute?” that leaves his lips without meaning to. it hurts him because he knows he could simply ask you nicely but it kills you. you know what he’s like, know he can’t help it but it’s so hard not to feel horrible when he’ll be so so good for months until he spirals and he’s suddenly back to square one.

and when you cry? he can’t cope, doesn’t know how because he’s never had anyone teach him. he tries — a small tentative touch on your arm but you flinch. not because you think it’ll bruise your skin but because there’s already purple forming around your heart.

and then there’s the shift as you fall asleep, distance between the two of you and silence that says so much more than words ever can. he’ll hold you once you fall asleep, once he’s sure your breathing has evened out, because the idea of his skin near yours when he doesn’t deserve to be so close makes him feel sick.

he makes himself feel sick. he hates himself. he hates what he does to you. and whilst he rubs your back? he thinks about it all, about how he’ll never amount to anything more than a product of his corrupted genes.