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
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)
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.”
your shared bedroom has a little bit of everything that's apart of both of your lives. it has konig's mask on the dresser, your jewelry strewn about, his favorite jacket slung at the end of the bed frame.
so, when you drag him up the hallway and into your room and sit him on the bed, telling him to get ready to sleep, he doesn't complain.
konig's favorite thing to do is to watch you get ready for bed. he just thinks you're so cute.
the thing is, you think you look absolutely hideous. there's curlers and/or a bonnet on your hair, at least like... ten pimple patches stuck on your face, and a toothbrush hanging off of your mouth that has toothpaste foam all over it.
and konig adores it. the toilet he's sitting on to watch you is claustrophobic; the space between the counter and the wall is too small for him, so he kinda just has to squish his body between it. but it's okay! he's used to it, and he'll do anything just to watch you prepare for bed!!
sometimes you'll put a clay face mask on him. he hates the texture and it smells funny, but he'll do it because you're doing it, too.
he gets soo distracted by your face when you're both brushing your teeth. he likes the way your cheeks puff out so you can scrub in hard-to-get places. he likes looking at your mouth because it's absolutely lathered in toothpaste foam (as mentioned before) and he just thinks that's so cute! konig likes to kiss you right after you spat out your toothpaste because then your breath is nice and minty. his tongue invading your mouth to get a taste, and you have to stand there and deal with it >:(
koing likes your night clothes, too. (assuming you wear any) he'll stare with wide eyes if you wear his shirts that he doesn't wear anymore. konig likes to lay on top of you and sniff your skin because he can smell the lingering scent of himself on you, which makes his mind blank.
speaking of him liking the shirts you wear to bed, konig loves it when you wear an extremely sized overshirt to bed. it's falling off your shoulder, you're accidently flashing your tit/pec at him occasionally (arguably his favorite part) and he is salivating.
"Mein Gott, du bist so süß.." konig whispers, more to himself then to you.
"did you say something?" you murmur, your voice in that sluggish, sultry tone that has his cheeks burning hot.
"neinneinnein--" konig stumbled. "vhen-- uh.. vhen are you coming to bed?"
"soon, baby." you answer, leaning over the counter to poke and prod at your face.
when you finally turn off the bathroom light and sit on the bed, konig wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you down into bed with him. not nudging at your whining--"i didn't plug my phone in!" "i need to set my alarm!" "i want to turn the fan on!"--and sneaking his hands under your shirt. (again, assuming you wear one. he much prefers when you don't.) he'll groan when you demand he does something for you before you sleep, like switching on a night light or refilling your water bottle. no matter how much he huffs, konig always gets up and does it.
when your needs are met, (because konig insists that he does anything you want before going to bed) he moves close to you, his chest pressed against your back. (or the other way around) he feels the safest with you next to him, so it doesn't take long for him to be drooling against your skin.
Painfully prepared.. for every situation and some situations that weren't even possible.
You knew Simon loved knowing what he was going into at all times. However it can be a bit much at the best of times.
Ever had 2 different types of navigation tools including a compass while going to the post office?
You have-
Ever had hiking gear loaded into your car cause you where going to a local park to jog?
You sure as fuck have!
Thanks to Mr. Always Prepared Skull Man!
You swore this man was prepared for a Mutant zombie apocalypse with the amount of supplies and preparations he had constantly.
Sure while it wasn't something you thought about often and it was clearly in a loving way, He wanted to make sure you were always safe and you appreciated it deeply-
However when you go into your kitchen and see MRE's and emergency dried food to last 30 years next to your chips-
It can get a bit much..
It was always a bit power struggle with the broody man. You'd have a better time fist fighting a brick wall or bringing a rock to a orgasm then winning over the Lieutenant when it came to stuff like this.
Which lead you to staring at the hard black suitcase that was being loaded into the back of the SUV along with your guys few shared soft luggage bags.
You rub your temple, perfectly in between the two emotions of either crying or laughing at your partner.
"Simon-.. I love you. So so much. However I don't think, We need a literal military grade survival kit.. on a couples get away to a private resort"
He looked to you calmly-
"Never know.."
You look up to the sky, Begging whoever is up there that he leaves the kit in the car the whole vacation- and that he doesn't bring a tactical knife into the resort..
Price
John, the love of your life. The apple of your eye..
A good man and a Captain of a special Ops team...
Also..
The bastard that leaves one God damn bit left of whatever he touches and tells no one!
From toothpaste where there is only a bead sized amount left.
To even leaving four chips in the family size bag you'd gotten.
Leaves a single bite of ice cream in the pint and puts it back like it's still full.
Ever opened a box of what used to be Chinese takeout and seen literally 6 noodles, 12 grains of rice and a single piece of meat with a perfect green onion on top?
You sure as fuck had.
You knew it started out as something he genuinely did naturally. However once he figured out it annoyed you- It was on.. he now did it cause he knew it annoyed you.
The fucker-
Just how now you stared at the empty jug of what used to be white grape juice. Now with maybe a shot glass worth in the bottom.
You supress the demonic feeling of wanting to Hex your spouse.
Walking upstairs to his office area where you knew he was both smoking a cigar and drinking from his private stash while watching football (soccer).
Opening the door slowly you make direct eye contact with him. Price slowly raising an eyebrow at the serious look on your face.
"Yes Dear?"
You hold up the empty jug of juice and shake it a little showing the literal trinkle of juice left in it.
"Couldn't just kill it off could you?-"
John gives a smile at you as he takes a sip of his scotch.
"Well, Wanted to save ya some-"
John laughed loudly when you threw the empty juice jug at his head after that.
He's like those children you used to see that had to have their hands on the cart at all times or in their parents pockets cause they would always touch stuff.
Kyle was one of those people in adult form- You'd even heard his mother yell at him saying 'Idle hands are the devils workshop' when he visits and continues the practice.
While in most cases you didn't mind, it was a bit irritating when things got moved from where you'd left them or things just appearing out of thin air.
Your tube of chapstick? Suddenly in the Livingroom.
Phone charger? Now sitting on a random shelf.
You knew it wasn't on purpose but damn, Hell he didn't even seem to realize it himself.
He'd be sitting there, shaking his knee as he rolled something between his hands casually. The two of you talking about something random in the livingroom.
You can't help but narrow your eyes a bit as you see something silver in his palm which he was rolling like playdough.
"Sweetie, What are you messing with?"
He also looks confused for a second, not even realizing he had been messing with something. He looks over whatever had been in his hands.
"Uhh Looks like a oat bar-"
You scrunch up your face a bit.
"We don't even have any granola bars in the house? Where did you get that?"
He shrugs having no idea himself.
Johnny
He buys bulk in everything...
Once he realized that it was a thing he could just do-
He did it with everything..
Bulk Paper towels, Bulk Soy Sauce, 45lb tub of Nut Butter? He got all of it, Leading you to staring up at what was equivalent to a Military food storage in your downstairs pantry.
Leaving you currently staring up at the 25lb cloth bag of table salt on the top of the easy 10ft tall pantry shelf wondering if this was worth the possible 80% death rate trying to fill up the salt shaker.
As you stare up at it, the man of the hour pokes his head in. Seeing you staring at the bag of salt.
"Love?-"
"Johnny My Dear- We have essentially a bunker of Bulk everything. I don't think we need anything else.. I cant even get the salt without risking a skull fracture"
Johnny chuckles at this. Setting down a box to grab the hefty stool kept in the pantry and pulling down the bag, Setting it next to you on the floor.
"Well just saves us the hassle"
He chimed with a chuckle. However you silently disagreed.. Before looking to the large box hed set down.
"What is that?.."
Johnny gives a shy chuckle as you move over opening it quickly you see a massive mountain of 250 individual bags of Welch's Fruit Snacks.
"Johnny.. Why is there enough fruit snacks to kill a small child?"
Hong-Jin (Horangi)
So you're darling husband, He has a wonderful terrible habit of just disappearing..
Walking through a store?
Going to a Restaurant?
Hell going down the hallway of your house!?
The Poof-
He's just gone.
Which always leaves you stranded looking around like a crazy person.. Currently in a giant ass world grocery store he had been the one to drag you to- Aka you knew nothing!
"God Damnit-"
You mumble looking around the aisles trying to see if you could spot him. The place was like a maze, each aisle was a different part of the world it seemed and had at least 60 people crammed in each section.
It was hell! Why did he leave you here!? Now rushing around to just find a spot that wasn't being occupied or in anyone's way.
Aisles 43!? You thought you where at 12!? Where is the Exit!?
Standing there confused by what seemed to be some sort of brooms, you feel a small tap and see Hong-Jin standing there calmly.
"Found you. Got what I needed, We can go now"
He holds up a single small package of a seasoning mix he liked.
...
There was a small tick in the back of your brain that said to shove that packet up his ass.
König-
One word-
ONE GOD DAMN WORD
Lüften...
While sure, it's good to air out the room..
However not when there is 4ft of snow outside and the heater is off because of König wanting to 'Save Gas'.
Bullshit to save gas, He just likes the cold. Correction.. He Loves the cold.
More then most around you or anyone probably in this country. He will happily have the window open and let the house freeze like the arctic saying its refreshing new air.
Ever seen those weirdos that walk in a blizzard in shorts, sandals and a shirt?-
That's him.. damn near skips when a snow storm hits.
However he drags that brand of cold enthusiasm into the house. Leading you huddled under 4 blankets as you have to turn the heater onto Max.
"I swear- If you open that God damn window.."
You mumble to you're spouse as you look up from the blankets of your guys shared bed hiding from the cold that was already in the room as the heater works hard to make the room livable.
Seeing König standing by the large window ready to open it- His hands on the little handle as he stared wide eyed at you.
"But-"
"There is a snow storm going on. The house does not by any means- 'need to be aired out'"
"It feels nice Liebling and it's goo-"
"Felix- I will turn the heat on during peak summer and leave you here... to melt"
And Bonus!
Nikto
This man will eat anywhere at anytime..
You leave him alone for .24 milliseconds?
He's munching on something in record time.
Sure he seemed to burn it off but it was the amount he could eat, what he ate and then if it was close to dinner. He would eat again-
You where honestly starting to worry about his health.. He was concerned about the scars on his face but not the amount of sodium he just drank from the pickle jar.
It made it so when you left to grab one of his prescriptions from the pharmacy which you swore was 15 minutes tops you walk in and see Nikto there with a mountain of food on your coffee table watching TV.
A opened pickled onion jar which was now empty- juice gone too, Some sort of packaged meat that seemed was mostly gone and what seemed to be a rolled newspaper filled with the shells of sunflower seeds and seemingly walnut shells (You hadn't even bought either of them-) And now he was cutting up an apple with a knife and using it to eat the slices.
"H-How, Its been 15 minutes... We don't even have walnuts in the house?"
Nikto looked to you eating another slice of apple and shrugged.
"We got hungry-"
He said plainly before looking back at the TV you standing there both worried and frustrated.
Simon wasn't used to sitting still and just existing.
His mind always rattled with what needed to be done, constantly humming with a mental list of duties he had to complete — less he wanted to get an earful from price and a bark of orders.
Always on his feet, a sturdy mountain of muscle that contemplated every little thing. He couldn't relax and he was half-convinced that he'd forgotten how to loosen the knots in his body, coiled into his flesh that he no longer could unravel.
But then he met you.
You coddled him, soft hands that worked meticulously — almost reverently — to ease out the tensions in his shoulders. Murmured sweet words into his ear that had him melting like candy left out too long on the windowsill.
His duffle bag fell against the hardwood floor with a dull thud and his feet carried him to where you were, unceremoniously falling into your lap, earning a laugh from you.
Your massive boyfriend, curled as much as he could manage atop you — never quite fitting, yet stubbornly trying every time. A grumble vibrated through his chest, but it dissolved the moment your fingers carded through his dirty-blonde hair. He went pliant, soft as warm putty being shaped by your touch.
"You need a shower," You'd comment, but no real urgency in your words.
"Later," he said gruffly, as it was more important to him to be in your arms than wash away the grime that clung to him.
"You're like some stubborn lapdog, Si," You giggled softly, and the noise went straight to Simon's heart, tucked away carefully for him to replay in his mind when he's deployed in some foreign country.
A quiet exhale left your lips, knowing there were no words you could say to get him off your lap — but you didn't really complain.
You didn't care if he was the clingiest man on earth, just as long as he came back to you in one piece.
