|➛ i like writing :D I won't be writing any n/sfw stuff [ mostly because I am shit at it ಥ‿ಥ ]
|➛ i appreciate getting asks !
|➛ big BIG selfship supporter !
✿ <3 ✿
— "... I forgot to turn the stove off..."
DNI ! basic DNI , selfship haters
BYF ! if you follow me there's a 99% chance ill follow back if we have the same interests, pls use tone indicators when messaging/asking me, pls block me if you deem necessary,
DFI ! if you're uncomfortable following me because of my age, if you fit basic DFI/DNF/DNI criteria
Simon never understood the whole ass or tits debate.
It was the kind of question that got tossed around by the younger recruits, the loud, cocky ones who acted like they’d never touched a woman—probably hadn’t—let alone knew where to find a clit. He’d hear it in the barracks, in the gym, during downtime on base, always the same brainless conversation.
And every damn time, his mind went straight to you. His fiancée.
Sure, Simon liked your ass. Liked the way it felt in his hands, the way he could squeeze it in public just to hear you scold him, swatting his arm and hissing about other people being around—like he gave a shit. He liked resting his head on it, treating it like a pillow when you laid on your stomach, liked feeling it press up against him in the middle of the night when you shifted in your sleep.
But he also liked your tits.
Liked watching them bounce when you ran on the treadmill in that little sports bra and shorts. Liked sinking his face into them after long, brutal days, letting himself get lost in your warmth. Liked sneaking up behind you while you got ready, pressing his hands over them just to hear you sigh, half-exasperated, half-amused.
But then there were your eyes.
Simon fucking loved your eyes. Loved that he could stare into them whenever he wanted because you were his and that meant he had that privilege. Loved the way you squinted when the sun was too bright, how you’d complain about it getting in your face while he just stood there, mesmerized by how it made your irises glow. He got grumpy whenever you wore sunglasses. Not that he’d admit it, because it meant he couldn’t see them, just his own damn reflection staring back at him.
And your hair. Jesus.
Then there was your hair—your sweet-smelling hair that he could sit for hours just breathing in. He loved the way it felt against his skin, whether it was soft, loose or styled with care. Loved when you let him play with it, even if he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing half the time. And when you slept, he didn’t mind if it ended up in his face, didn’t care if it tickled or got in the way. he’d just bury himself deeper, content in the warmth of you.
Then there were your legs.
Simon liked them no matter what. He liked the slight prickle when your hair started growing back, liked running his hands up and down your thighs just to feel the texture. But he also liked when you let him shave them, taking his time, careful and precise, making sure not to nick you. Didn’t matter if they were smooth, stubbled, or fully grown out—he just liked you.
Your hands. Your belly. Your arms. Your face. Every part of you.
So no, Simon never really understood the whole ass or tits question. It was too small, too simple.
Because he didn’t just like your ass or your tits.
Reader who doesn't speak English as their first language and Simon being so in love !!
Over the dinner course, you leaned forward confidently, like you were sharing a secret.
"I think we should buy a baby wheelchair for them."
Price's missus was going to have a baby shower next week.
"Wot?" Simon blinked.
"A baby wheelchair—" You pulled your fist into a punching stance and moved it back and forth, mimicking a tiny car. "Like a baby car… phew phew."
"Oh, that's a stroller." Simon raised a brow, watching your head bobble in a self-absorbed nod.
"Exactly, baby car… stroller."
And it was so cute when you looked up at him whenever you forgot certain words.
"Simon, how do you say in English? The takka-takka-takka—"
"Helicopter," Simon said fondly, earning himself a sweet peck on the lips.
The task force enjoyed it immensely. When Soap said, “Break a leg !” and you raised up a fight at why Simon should break his leg.
Or when Kyle couldn't stop laughing so much with the way you pronounced, “Bitch” to the bird who was hitting up on Simon.
And Simon loved it all, felt love in your eyes through your words, especially when you used his vocabulary—God, it did something to him.
Saying "bugger" when you put too much ketchup, and "bloody freezin’, innit?!" with that corky little smile because you knew how much it wrecked him.
"Bollocks," you would curse, and he’d already be losing his heart and mind, dragging you to the bedroom.
The way you would slip into your native dialect when you were upset, voice rising as you made frustrated noises—Simon would forget the argument entirely, just watching you with that pretty face he’d go to war for.
And something, something about the way you said "I love you" in your native language first, just as softly, and how you called him "my love" in that same way too.
something that is HILARIOUS to me is the thought of reader acting like she's experienced after hearing simon talk about all the one night stands he's had.
she definitely leans on the wall and touches everything, all while avoiding simon's eyes. she speaks with faux nonchalance.
"aw..heck yeah. me too brother. i've had like..a million one night stands. always gettin it. every day, every night."
simon is definitely internally cringing. bad. he knows for a FACT that his little baby has NEVERRR even had her cherry popped.
"oh yeah? what's your favorite position?"
…
she goes silent. simon knows she’s been caught. she keeps it up though, making the situation even more painful. she chokes out a little
“m-mission..”
simon can only internally facepalm. the truth ends up coming out about a week later when they finally have sex. simon can barely hold back his grin when he’s taking off her panties with his teeth and she starts to wiggle and squeak
“i lied! i-i lied im a virgin i never done this before! pleasee! spare me!”
all he can do is let out a sarcastic and just APPALLED “no…!”
Dad!Simon thoughts for today :D He’s a girl dad, your honor.
With the mouth on that man, Simon Riley definitely has the absolute sassiest little toddler. She’s only three and hardly goes up to his thigh but she will straight up tell him no. It’s a forceful “no”, too, direct and intense, just like her dad. It's even more ridiculous, too, because she's picked up a bit on his accent. Honestly, she’s a delight for you, normally agreeing with a sweet little “yes, mama!” if you tell her it’s time for bed or that she needs to eat just a few more vegetables but her dad does not get the same sweet temperament all of the time.
You’re on the carpeted floor of her bedroom with photo albums sprawled about, trying to tire out your toddler before bed by showing her your wedding pictures. She’s tired of all the many picture books you and Simon normally read her. Besides, she loves pressing her tiny fingers to the images, squealing with delight as you point out everyone in the images. “See, baby? There’s mama, and your daddy, and here’s your Uncle Johnny, too.”
“Mama, so pretty!” She admires the photographs of you in white the most, tracing her fingers over the fabric of your dress as if to feel it through the image.
When Simon tries to join in, though, his eyes also lingering on the solo images of you in your dress, he doesn’t get the same praise you do. “Is daddy not pretty, too-?” Before he can even complete the playful question in that gruff voice of his, your daughter is sending him a glare.
“Shhh! Don’t talk!” She plops herself into his lap, her little form curled up against him. Her words are blunt and direct in the way only kids can be.
You have to hold back a laugh as Simon looks down at her in astonishment. He pokes her side, tickling her plush little tummy. “It’s like tha’, huh? I can’t talk but you can use me as a chair? You’ve been spendin’ too much time with your Uncle Johnny. Spoiled thing, you are.” Her shrill giggles fill the room as she wiggles in his lap.
“You sure that sass is not from you, my love?” You ask with an amused raise of your brows.
(The one with detached reader and traumatized Simon that blurb was so tasty and ONLY only if you have the spoons for it ♡)
i have a ladle so have this
they share a cig together; it’s not even from simon. he found it in the drawers in their bedroom, stashed underneath a couple of CD’s that are only encased in paper folders. it’s an old pack with only four sticks left and they’re not even the potent kind, and simon realizes, then, that they have been hidden so carefully.
he purposefully lays them on the kitchen table, after dinner, to watch how she’ll react. it is, after all, still a breach of her privacy; that, sure, she opened her home to him but he knows, all too well, that there are certain corners in every house that are never meant to be prodded — apparitions made from memories live along too, and simon knows to be careful lest he rouses a nightmare from its burrow. he knows. he knows. still, he thinks about what he can coax from her, and chances it with the shadows.
but she just blinks at it, her eyes flicking between simon and the pack, slowly and cat-like, before heaving a sigh and reaching for her lighter in her pockets. simon hums, something low and curling with a quiet wash of disappointment at her impassivity, and moves to take a stick out from the pack, only—
a twitch in her fingers. a slight pause in her movements. a crack in the facade; a blip in her silence.
simon smells the blood in the water and pounces on it with snapping maws. he grins, careful, and utters, “y’don’t like it that i found them.”
he doesn’t need to ask when it is obvious that it is true.
she licks her lips, eyes meeting his, and simon wants to commend the way she was quick to gather her spillage and force it back in her mask, but her hands are still quaking, and her fingertips have turned light with how hard they are pinching the lighter, and simon knows that he’s won this one.
she knows it too. he sees it in the way she takes a ragged breath in; in her continued silence.
“they’re my mom’s.”
her voice doesn’t waver, it doesn’t break. it rings clear, like he just asked her what the weather was and she knows it is raining outside because when does the rain ever stop? but she is no longer looking at him, and simon—
he knows enough about the apparitions made from memories and pulls his hand away.
“i see.”
simon wonders if it’ll look too much like he’s licking the wound of his shame if he offers his pack instead, but in the silence of his words, as his own memories unfurl like miasma, she lights up one.
he devours the image she makes — the quiet ember flickering across her face, now smoothed off any storm — when she takes a puff. he doesn’t look away even when she passes the stick to him; doesn’t look away even when it is his turn to breathe it in, and for his patience, he is rewarded the sweet image of the smoke spilling from her lips as she collapses back to her seat with a soft upturning of her lips.
and, somehow, the night isn’t over even when they’ve finished the pack.
Just imagining Ghost who’s not used to all these warm fluttery feelings for you, the medic that patched him up a few weeks ago. He’s had hookups and knows the thick power of lust well. The brief connection of bodies is familiar territory for him and that’s all he’s wanted. But this?
God, he’s fantasizing about holding your hand and blushing under his mask at the thought, the pillowy pads of your fingers pressed tentatively against the rough and veiny back of his hand. He knows the feeling would undo him, cause irreparable damage.
Yes, it’s pathetic but he can’t get over the way your gentle hands patched him up. No one’s ever treated him like that, so careful, so delicate. Like he was the fragile one.
He’s an insomniac but can fall asleep by imagining your soft, warm form cuddled in his arms. And for the first time, he wants more, even if he has no idea how to ask for it.
Meanwhile, reader’s terrified out of her mind cuz why is the scary lieutenant on base staring at her so much?!??? I love cliches so much. A rugged, huge man who’s all soft and flustered for you? Is that so much to ask??
König, who had finally let you be the big spoon in bed after you begged him for days upon days until he surrendered to your desires. Now, you were lying with your arms wrapped around his and a leg draped over his hip, your chin resting on his head. You whisper sweet nothings while caressing his arm, a satisfied grin on your face.
He's speechless, lying as still as possible, not moving. His cheeks burn from the sweet words and delicate touches, thinking about how he ended up in this situation and how to make it happen again without asking.
He reaches out to grab your hand, bringing it to his front and holding you even closer. The feeling of your chest rising and falling made him feel warm and tingly inside. The warmth of your body radiating onto his made his heart thump against his sternum, feeling vulnerable but in a good way. He felt safe under the weight of your body with a desire of your delicate touch.
He would never have guessed that he'd like something like this - like someone hovering over his body with their limbs wrapped around him, but he did and he liked it a lot.
English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes I may have made!
You've been dating for a year now, and you always tried to be safe. But now, he came home earlier from a mission, and you didn't have the time to buy the condoms.
But how you can say no to him, when he begs you to let him fuck you. He says how much he missed you and your pussy. So, you agree that you will give him a pussy job and he can push the tip inside.
John thinks that he never felt anything better than your pussy raw on his dick. Everything feels so intense, and he can't control himself. With few hard thrusts he is completely inside you and he can't hear your whimpers when you remind him that he is only allowed just the tip.
Now he has you under him and he promises that he will pull out, but he slowly starts to realize that it won't be possible. He thinks about you full with his child, with your breast getting bigger and his load spilling out of your pussy. How lovely would you look with his fat baby on your hip while being pregnant with another one.
He never thought he had a breeding kink but once he tried your pussy without a condom everything changes.
He pins you down to the mattress pushing his dick deep inside your pussy and when he feels you reaching your orgasm and squeezing his cock he spills his seed inside of you. With few more thrust he fucks the cum deeper inside of you.
And when you moan his name so overwhelmed and sensitive, he knows that he needs to make sure that it sticks. It doesn't take long and he is spilling another load into you.
And than another one in the shower while he has you pressed against the glass. And another one on the couch when he makes you ride him, while he smokes his favorite kind of cigars.
When the next day you come home with a pack of condoms, he quickly hides them away from you when you're not looking. He needs to make sure that soon enough you will be fat with his baby.
I need hooker!Soap but with a shy college student who needs help with her physics assignment. She can't go to her professor (he's a dick), and she doesn't really have friends and doesn't wanna seem like an idiot for needing help.
She somehow hears about Soap and hears how he used to be a sniper and demolition expert. That means he knows math and physics, right? There's a confidentiality rule, right? She buys one hour, and when he walks in, he thinks it's just the usual. But she's got her too heavy backpack with some books and worksheets. Okay, so she has a schoolgirl fantasy, easy enough. Except she starts rambling about how she needs help, and her assignment is due soon, and she's stuck. Okay, so she's deep in the fantasy, alright.
She explains she doesn't want sex. She just actually needs help. She knows he knows this shit, and she has no one else to go to. He's slightly baffled, considering most people just get straight into jumping his bones. But no. It's just a shy little thing that needs an A on her physics assignment.
Well, she already paid for the hour, and she's so pretty all flustered like that, who is he to turn her away? Show him the page, hen.
