Mean owner! Price who snaps at Bunny hybrid! Reader after they accidentally break the nice ceramic bowl that he gave them for meals. You were just mad you got healthy yucky pellets!!! You wanted cake!!! (´∩｀。)
But he quickly feels bad because you give him the silent treatment. Refusing his pets, hiding under tables. You even refuse grooming time!!! You loved when he would brush your hair for you!! (╥ ω ╥)
So while you’re sleeping he gently scoops you up with those thick arms of his. giving you small kisses and coos while you wake up. And when you try to escape, legs kicking and wiggling with all your might! he just traces your hole. His finger against it. Finally pushing in when you whined enough. His two thick fingers pumping over and over as he whispers small apologies to you.
“Oh, I know, I know, m’such a meanie. M’sorry I’ll never yell again okay? Bunny? You gotta answer or I’ll stop”
You lazily nod your head, which makes him smile. He finally pumps harder making you finish. Your head against his chest as he enjoys finally being able to hug his bunny again <33
Simon Riley going to the airport with Reader is a well thought out mission.
He’s four paces ahead of you at any one time, a big man has big strides already but airport Simon is on another level.
He holds the passports, insists on it, “course I trust you, jus wanna make sure it’s nice and safe” and obviously he’d never lose your passports (if you ignore that one time he forgot his passport and had to ring Johnny in the middle of the night to drive it over in time)
Simon’s bags are always stopped. Does not matter how many or how few bags he has or how strategic he is with packing security always flag him and check his luggage. Catch him grumbling as security rifle through his things and try not to laugh at the poor sod.
He follows you around in duty free, whatever you’re looking at or smelling he’s right behind you. You drown his wrists in perfume and he just accepts his fate as your test subject. “Yeah, yeah smells luvly, whatever you think is right.”
Somehow always guesses your gate number correctly it’s like a sixth sense, he can just pick a number and you check the screen and yup he’s right.
And a little extra about you both on the flight, no one’s paying extra money to book their seats so y’all end up with seat roulette. Simon is chronically uncomfortable, he just doesn’t fit in the tiny packed together seats of an airplane.
With any luck, if the flight’s looking pretty empty, you get a row all to yourself and make your way over to pick Simon up, who’s currently squished between a loud teenage boy and an old woman half falling asleep on him. Looks up at you with pleading eyes because, “Please love, I can’t spend the whole flight like this.” You take pity and bring him back to your free row.
Hope any of that was enjoyable, never done one of these before but I thought it’d be fun and I like the idea of a domestic Simon going on holiday with someone he loves. I was envisioning manchester or liverpool airport just cus i’ve been there
❀~900 words, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), dirty talk, overstimulation, dubcon (just to be safe), degradation, rough sex, pet names/name calling(e.g., slut, sweetheart, and baby), condomless sex (wrap it), etc❀
💌: I like the first version I wrote more... might not be the same next time you see it.
་༘࿐18+ 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓓𝓸 𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽་༘࿐
You try to tilt your hips, a desperate, fluttering movement intended to throw him off—to angle away so he stops hitting that spot, the one that’s got your legs shaking and your brain buzzing with a static charge.
But he catches it. Of course he does.
"Where you runnin’ to?" he rasps, his voice a low, vibrating growl that shivers through your spine like a physical blow. His fingers—calloused, thick, and mapped with those heavy, prominent veins—dig into the soft meat of your hips, squeezing the skin as he anchors you to the mattress.
"Thought you liked it right there." He slams back in, a deliberate, bone-deep thrust that drives his entire weight into that tender, aching spot that’s already got you fucked dumb.
You gasp, your hands scrabbling for something to hold, anything, but he’s relentless. He keeps your hips locked down under the crushing pressure of his palms and grinds into it like he’s trying to ruin you from the inside out.
The sound of your joining is obscene—a wet, rhythmic slap slap slap of skin meeting skin. The friction has turned the slick heat of your arousal into a thick, creamy lather that smears across your thighs and webs between you with every stroke.
"You think I didn’t notice? How you squeeze me every time I hit it? Thought you could hide that?" The words are hot and filthy against your neck. "Nah. That spot's mine now. You hear me? I’m gonna keep hitting it until you can’t remember your own name."
He pulls back just a fraction, the wet, suctioning plop of the air hitting your joining echoing in the room. He leans back on his heels, a dark, amused smirk etching on his face as he looks down at where he’s buried. The thick, pale cream of your arousal is lathered white against his shaft, dripping in heavy, slow beads onto the rumpled sheets.
"Look at that," he coos, his voice dripping with sweet condescension as he reaches down to trace the mess. "Look how messy you are for me. Just a little puddle of need, aren't you? All that talk, and you’re already out of it. Poor thing... you can't help yourself when I'm inside you, can you?"
He doesn't wait for an answer. He leans forward, threading his hand into your hair and yanking your head back to force your eyes to meet his. His eyes are hooded, dark and heavy with a terrifyingly deep sort of hunger. He crushes his mouth against yours in a sloppy, open-mouthed make-out, his tongue clashing with yours as his hips resume their brutal work.
The kiss tastes of salt and heat, his saliva mixing with yours in a messy, desperate exchange. The wet, squelching sounds of him fucking you fill the quiet room, a rhythmic, suctioning squelch that matches the frantic pace of your heart. He fucks you deep and mean, his heavy length stretching you until your vision flares white at the edges.
“Mghn—ahh!” you gasp into his mouth, nails digging into the hard planes of his shoulders while you writhe.
He breaks the kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting you for a heartbeat before it snaps. He watches it break with a slow, mean grin. “You keep trying to run, I’m just gonna chase you deeper. You want me to stop hitting it?” He lets out a dark, breathless laugh, his chest heaving against yours. “Then stop clenching around my dick like a slut.”
You can’t. And he knows it.
He shifts his weight, his arms bracing on either side of your head, and grinds forward in those slow circles again. The head of his dick strikes that spot again, and again, and again. Your mouth hangs open on a silent cry, eyes rolling back as the pressure mounts.
“Oh, you like that,” he says, his mouth twisting into that sharp, condescending smirk that always makes your skin burn. “Course you do. No idea what you’re doing, but your body knows exactly how to take it. Look at you, shaking like a leaf just because I'm giving you what you asked for.”
You whimper, your voice a broken thread. “Mmm—fuck... please…”
“Right there?” he mocks, his voice dripping with derision. “Is that the spot, pretty? You want me to keep fucking you until you cum again?”
You nod, crying now, trembling under the sheer volume of him. He gives it to you—pounding into that same sensitive nerve until you’re sobbing from the overload. Each thrust sends a shockwave through you, thick and heavy, pushing your limits until your legs shake and your mind goes blank.
Another inch. Another thrust. Stretching you open until it burns—until you feel like you’re splitting in two. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let you squirm away. He holds you there, breath hot against your neck, whispering how small and helpless you feel under him. You come apart again, sobbing as the orgasm tears through you, leaving your legs useless.
Even as the aftershocks rack your frame, he doesn’t let up. He keeps pounding into you, making sure you’re so full of him that you can’t think of anything else.
“Still with me, sweetheart?”
You nod through the haze of exhaustion. Your body is still twitching, mouth open in a sob you can’t quite finish.
He hasn’t pulled out; he stays buried deep, thick and pulsing in the mess he’s made inside you. He stays there, enjoying the way your walls flutter and seize around him.
He brushes his fingers down your cheek, pulling them away wet with your tears. “You’re still crying” he mutters, his voice dark and low. “Thought you were done. What’s the matter, baby? Too much for you?”
“I—I can’t stop…” you whimper, blinking up at him.
He doesn’t coo. He doesn’t tell you it’s okay. He just presses in deeper, using his weight to anchor you to the bed, his chest a solid wall against your own.
“Too full? Too deep?”
You let out a broken noise of agreement, your head tossing on the pillow. He hums, a low vibration in his chest that you feel in your teeth, then grinds into you again—slow, heavy, and mean. “Good. Stay right there and take every bit of it. I want to feel you try to swallow all of me.”
A cry rips out of you, your back bowing off the mattress as your core clamps down around him in a final, desperate clench. He groans like it’s killing him, his jaw ticking as he drives through the tightness to chase his own edge.
One hand stays locked on your hip, while the other grips your face—not gently. His thumb presses into your cheek, forcing you to look at him. “Eyes on me,” he commands, his voice a fractured, rasp. “I wanna see you.”
You try to focus, blinking hard against the tears. He buries himself one last time, bottoming out with a force that makes you sob, and shudders.
His whole body goes rigid, his muscles turning to stone under your hands as he spills into you, a hot, heavy flood that you feel reaching your very chest. He drops his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and broken, and you feel the heavy, grounding weight of him settle over you.
hi everyone here’s a tiny drabble of simon x sensitive little crybaby reader since i have had a horrible week and was broken up with yesterday and i want nothing more than to cry😊😊😊😊
Simon Riley who notices you before he understands why.
Simon Riley who clocks the way you linger at the edges of rooms, not shy, but careful. Who sees how you flinch at sudden noise, how your eyes track exits without meaning to. Sweet little thing, but you always looked like you were on verge of tears.
Simon Riley who doesn’t know how to deal with it. You cried on the first date because he made a remark that would have been brushed off as banter to the average person.
Simon Riley who starts adjusting without realizing it. Positioning himself so you’re never backed into a corner, keeping his voice low when he speaks to you, stepping in when conversations turn sharp. Small changes. Instinctive ones. He knows that you feel everything.
Simon Riley who becomes careful with you. Who watches your hands more than your face. Who learns the difference between your comfortable silence and your overwhelmed one.
Simon Riley who earns your trust not by asking for it, but by being consistent.
Simon Riley who realizes one day that you lean toward him without thinking. That your breathing evens out when he’s near. That you look for him in rooms before you even realize you’re doing it.
At first, it was panic. Sleepless nights. Missed calls. You paced the kitchen floor like a ghost, heart hammering with every unknown number that lit up your phone. Maybe something happened. Maybe he was hurt. Or worse.
But that was before you called the base.
Before some stone-cold voice on the other end told you your husband hadn’t gone missing he’d been deployed. Four months ago. Without a word. No note. No goodbye. No explanation. He left like a shadow and didn’t look back.
And now you’re just angry.
Livid.
Because the man you trusted with your life didn’t even have the decency to tell you he was leaving.
It’s a little after 1 a.m. when you hear it, the dull slam of a car door. Then boots. Heavy and familiar on the pavement outside. You don’t rush to greet him. You don’t cry. You don’t even blink.
You stay in the kitchen, elbow-deep in last night’s dishes because sleep doesn’t visit your side of the bed anymore.
And why would it? That bed hasn’t felt like home since he left it.
You hear the lock click. Then the door creaks open.
Then—silence.
You don’t turn around.
“This how you greet me now?” His voice cuts through the quiet.
You don’t answer.
“Seriously?” he says, sharper. “I come back from hell, and I get a cold shoulder?”
That makes you laugh but it’s hollow. Bitter. You set a dish down with too much force. “Hell? You think you’re the only one who’s been through it?”
Simon stiffens in the doorway.
You turn, eyes sharp. “You left, Simon. You vanished. I thought something happened to you. I thought you were dead.”
“I couldn’t tell you—”
“Don’t give me that shit,” you cut him off. “You didn’t even try. You let some random operator be the one to break the news. You didn’t have the balls to tell your own wife that you were leaving.”
He steps forward, jaw tight. “You think it was easy for me? You think I wanted to go?”
“Then why didn’t you say something?”
“I was protecting you—”
“Don’t.” You hold up a hand, shaking your head. “Don’t feed me that line. You didn’t protect me. You abandoned me.”
Silence floods the room again, thick and bitter.
He exhales slowly, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Let’s talk.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Why not?”
You look away, voice cracking despite yourself. “Because talking leads to arguing. Arguing leads to nowhere. And I’m just… I’m tired, Simon. I’m so tired.”
He watches you quietly. “Okay. Let’s go to sleep then.”
You let out a soft scoff. “Not like that you aren’t.”
He frowns. “Like what?”
You look at him for the first time in full really look. His face is tired. Eyes dull. Shoulders weighed down like he’s carrying something he can’t put down. But it’s not enough. Not after everything.
“Like a soldier.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then another.
Something in his expression falters.
“I want to sleep with my husband,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “Not some stranger in a uniform. Not someone who shuts me out, who leaves without a word, who walks back in like I should be grateful.”
The pain is all over your face in the tight press of your lips, the furrow in your brow, the shine in your eyes you refuse to let fall.
“Is that too much to ask?”
You don’t wait for an answer. You turn your back and walk toward the bedroom, the weight of your words dragging behind you like chains.
Simon stays in the kitchen, frozen. Still in his boots. Still not the man you married.
And the silence swallows him whole.
dividers by @thecutestgrotto | i wrote this while listening to Not You Too by Drake at 4 am !! o(≧∇≦o)
I saw your cute shifter confused reader and was very much expecting one of the men wanting kitty time and get barreled into by a lion and not a very small and lap sized kitty cat.
YESYES I LOVE LOVE THIS (gn!reader)
I’m imagining Soap being extra annoying since Price first made the official announcement that you’re a shifter, specifically with the species of cats. It only got worse when he saw you go into the tiniest form to slip through some cracks on a mission. It’s safe to say he’s been begging you ever since.
“Kitty?”
“That’s not my name, Johnny.” You’d scowl at him, forcing a hiss but he doesnt even bat an eye. He comes over, a grin slowly forming on his face.
“If i get your favourite fish, will you sleep beside me tonight?”
“No.”
“Tuna?”
“No.”
“Salmon?”
You fall silent, contemplating it until he leans in, giving you a cheeky smirk. “Ye want some sea bass kitty?”
You should be annoyed, really should be fed up with his antics, but it’s only one night you have to endure this for. So after he promises to buy you the best fish for the next three days, you trot into his room, tail perked high.
“Yer so damn cute.” He coos, picking you up and snuggling you onto his chest, his thick arms locking you in. “Go to sleep kitty, tha’s it.” He pets your ears, making a low purr rumble through your chest. It soothes him to sleep too, the both of you snoozing quietly.
But it’s almost 1am when his chest feels like it’ll implode. It feels like two hands have grabbed his lungs, squeezing it tight to flatten out any air left behind. His eyes snap open, wincing at the harsh feeling until he comes face to face with your giant canines peeking through your lip. Two large paws trap him beneath you, the slight dig of the claws making him panic as you slumber on him.
“Ay— kitty!” He wheezes, trying his best to even move his arms and failing miserably, you dont even wake, just growling softly.
“I- i can’t breathe—“ With all the strength he can muster, he pushes against you and you jolt, sleepily glaring at him.
He watches in horror as you bare your teeth, so large and practically centimetres away from his face. He didnt know you coud shift in your sleep! You hiss, annoyed he woke you before you see the sheer panic on his face, promptly realising the situation you’re in.
In seconds you’ve shifted back to a human, just the blanket covering you as you scramble off of him, looking panicked. “Oh my—Johnny are you okay?!”
“Yeah- i just—“ He wheezes again, and you’re terrified you might’ve actually broken something in him. Wrapping the blanket tight, you quickly make your way to Ghost’s door next door.
He opens it after a moment, mask hastily shoved on and eyes narrowed. “This better not be because you got fed up of Johnny—“
“Simon! I think i broke his ribs!”
His eyes widen in alarm and he slips past you, dragging you with him into Johnny’s room where he’s laying on the bed , face scrunched.
It’s safe to say you’re not really allowed to sleep beside any of them anymore, especially if both of you are asleep. It’s for both of your safety anyway; if you managed to turn into a small desert cat, and he rolled onto you, you’d be in a very similar situation.
Despite your insistence, he still buys you the fish he promised, although his chest is a bit bruised from the whole ordeal.
Simon raises a brow at that statement and sits down in the nearby chair. His eyes on you. “Is that so, lovely?”
“Mhm,” you agree with a confident nod and loopy. “No. My boyfriend is prettier than you.”
He isn’t sure if he should take it as a compliment or as an insult, for now Simon decides to not comment on it. “You must be lucky to have such a pretty boyfriend then.” He grins and sips his cheap hospital coffee.
“Oh, I am! He’s pretty and cool and strong. And you should be careful because he’ll be here soon!” You pout, shoving your lower lip forward.
Cute. 
“Don’t worry. I’ll be gone before he shows up.” Simon reassures you and pats your thigh.
You don’t reply, the remaining anesthesia must still be running its course through your body after the surgery in which the doctor took out your inflamed appendix, snoring softly in the otherwise quiet room. “Good thing your boyfriend is already here, lovely.” Simon chuckles before tugging the thin hospital blanket higher over your chest and keeping watch as your chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. “And he will be here when you wake up again. He will always be there, my lovely.”
“seriously don’t come over im sick—i don’t wanna pass it to you” you texted him when he insisted on coming over to see you.
or how the 141 care for you when you’ve got the sniffles 🤧🦠🌡️ SFW
johnny ignored the warning to come over and get shit done. you’ve been sick the last 4 days? oh bonnie, let him clean up around the house yeah? you’ll feel loads better with a clear and cozy home. after he’s done with the kitchen and your bedroom he’ll reset your bathroom while you’re soaking in the hot tub. don’t. even. think. about lifting a finger. if you need to be scrubbed call him over immediately 🫧💗
price doesn’t give a single shit about catching your cooties, love, he’s been hit with far worse. and yes he’s cuddling with ya to keep u warm— now make room before he moves you himself swee’eart. by the way, the best way to beat a flu is sweating it out right? just lay back. he’ll make you a cuppa with lozenges for your throat after you’re done whimpering for him 💕
simon makes sure you’re fed. doesn’t matter if your flu made your appetite disappear, you need to stay full and hydrated, dove. it’s what makes your immune system stronger. he texts you check ups everyday to pressure you into make sure you’re eating the leftover stew and spuds he cooked up last night. after his briefing he’s coming over to make sure you’ve finished your food xx (better eat up, doll)
kyle is as dastardly as his captain 💀 so you’re in bed for the next few days and you need him? say less. “kyle, seriously im too sick to hang out, you’ll catch it too” and he’s over within 20 minutes of receiving the text. a full basket filled with cold & flu medicine, cough drops, vitamin C and D supplements, tea, honey, and… is that lube ?? ( its the kind that warms up the more you rub it in)
cod m.list !
a/n: let the brain worms fester as i blow my nose for the 1000th time 🥹 as always here’s a kiss for the read 😘💕
