Price not wanting his daughter to get into truble at the club so he lets the boys watch over her.
So now you have three military bodyguards that murder every guy with their eyes the moment they get close to you.
You don´t notice that though. You only want to have some fun with your girls.
The three men notice when you´ve had enough to Drink and should go home.
Gaz walks over to your giggling form that is talking to a random guy that approched you after your Friends left and even after your guarddogs tried to kill them with their eyes.
"We have to go now, sweetheart." Kyle puts his hand on your back and turns your body into him.
You giggle while resting your forehead against his chest.
The rando tries to interupt but Simon is already shoving him back and turning away from him to focus on you.
Johnny gets to the group after paying your bill.
"Come on bonnie, we need to go" Johnny takes your other side, wraps his arm around you and thats how Kyle and him get you out of the club.
Simon follows after making sure that none of your friends are still in the club, cause he knows you wouldn´t leave them behind when you could bring them home too.
The men get you to the car and that while your walking on your own.
Your hands are holding Johnnys and Kyles and you playfully let them swing around.
"can we get ice Cream?" you look at the three with a pout and they all immediatly know they will have to get to McDonalds now. None of them can say no to the girl they all three shouldn´t be atracted to.
Once in a while, Simon indulges in doggy style.
He loves to watch his big dick thrust in and out of her. He’s mesmerized by her plump lips and folds parting to make room for him. His cock throbs at the sight of her ass bouncing every time it meets his pelvis. Occasionally he bends over her to drive himself even deeper in her and grind till she’s screaming, his hands grabbing and massaging her tits or sliding down to rub her clit till she cums.
But what he loves most of all? Pushing his fingers into her mouth till they’re soaked and she’s moaning around them. Then, he coats his thumb and gently works his way into her asshole. He starts by circling her rim, tapping it and swiping it like he’s playing. He’ll dip his thumb in a bit— not all the way, just applying a bit of pressure. His wife whines and wiggles, and he spanks her for the impatience. When her squeezing rim relaxes and gives way, he pushes through the tight hole till his thumb is hooked all the way.
She’s even fuller between his cock and his finger up her ass. He makes sure to grind and stimulate her walls from that end too. Spurred on, he usually winds up fucking her harder.
Her orgasms are different with anal stimulation. She can feel the pleasure from her clit to her clenching rim to every cell in her head. When he feels her getting closer, he’ll thrust his thumb in opposition to his hips— cock out, thumb in, and vice-versa.
Her climax hits with a scream and her body shaking. Unable to hold herself up, she’ll collapse onto the bed, and that’s when he presses deeper, harder into her, thumb pulling at her rim to give that delicious stretch. When she tries to crawl away, he just laughs and pulls her even closer. “Take what I’m giving you.” He growls, strong arm snaking around her to hold her in place and give him access to her pussy. He always targets her poor clit afterwards and overstimulates her cuz he knows it makes her gush.
The extra room plus the wetness she squirts out makes it easy for round two with his dick in her ass this time
man is like at least 6'4 without boots, at least 6'7 with
but no matter his height, mans will drop to his knees if you ask him to in that commanding voice of yours
is totally dominant, when he is dominant, but also able to switch that off completely in order to obey your every command
it was *months* into your relationship with your neighbor, Simon, that you discovered this power you held over him
sometimes you wondered if it was too much power
Sunday mornings became your favorite. Sleeping in with Simon in his (or your) bed, his arms wrapped around you, his legs probably tangled with yours
the two of you would share an intimate morning, then have breakfast together
after breakfast, you would watch him take the dirty dishes, rinse them off, and load them in the dishwasher, all while not wearing a single piece of closing
he'd come back over to you, and you'd command him to drop to his knees
then you would reward him with his dessert. he's been such a good boy for you, after all.
pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader
cw: implied smut, simon is a flirt, he'd rather be home with his lovie than at a social gathering
"Simon, can you help me love?"
Your back was facing simon, head turned to look at him behind your shoulder.
He was in the middle of buttoning his shirt, a chuckle rumbling out of his chest as he stepped closer to you — calloused hands running along your back, savoring the feeling of his hands on your soft skin. He lowered his head and planted a kiss your shoulder, making the small hairs on the back of your nape rise and a whine fall past your lips.
"Simon." You'd huff out softly, pouting at him for being such a tease.
"Sorry darlin', you just look so beautiful."
He whispered lovingly, planting one more gentle kiss on your exposed shoulder before zipping up your dress.
"You're stunning, love." Simon hummed as he looked at you through the mirror, his hands resting on your hips as he kissed the top of your head.
"We're gonna be late if you keep this up Simon."
"I wouldn't mind that."
You rolled your eyes, wriggling yourself out of his grasp as you walked to where your heels were. Simon followed closely behind, hooking his arm around your waist to stop you from bending down to grab your heels.
"I'll do it for you love."
Simon purred softly, kneeling on one leg as his hands guided your feet to slip into your heels, planting a tender kiss on your knee as you giggled at the soft affection.
"Si—"
You gasped when his lips went further up your leg, immediately grabbing his scalp and pulling him away — a grin on his face as your frowned.
"We can't be late Simon!"
You'd remind him and he'd huff playfully, still smiling as he got up onto his feet and press a kiss on your temple.
"After the party then love?"
"Fine." You'd roll your eyes, but your frown couldn't last when he kept peppering kisses all over your face.
Sneaky bastard, knew exactly how to rile you up and then calm you down. (And he definitely got what he wanted after the party)
Look, I love every version of big scary animal hybrid simon as the next person, but have we considered sheep hyrbid!simon?
Sheep!simon who is used to people assuming things about him. He's big, a cathedral of a person, so people assume hes got hybrid genes to match. He's heard plenty of guesses, wolf, panther, tiger, bear. He never confirms anything, never denies it either. Its helpful for people to be unaware of his true status, a harsh stigma around prey hybrids and especially domestic ones.
Sheep!simon who hasn't made a hybrid sound in years. Who keeps his hair shorn to the root because if it grows out its into tight coils of blonde that remind him too much of his mother. His mother who he watched suffer each day for being a sheep, and thats the only trait she gave him. He got his eyes, his bulk, his face from his father. But the one thing from his mother? It feels too shameful, too weak to ever accept. It eats at him, but there's nothing he can do.
Sheep!simon who eats alone. He wears a mask anyways, so no one bothers him to eat with them. He finds some secluded nook, and makes quick work of a plate stacked with greens. On the grueling missions, packed too close with others to grab food without someone seeing his plate, simon forces himself to grab meats and a sliver of greens. The vague diet of a predator species. He eats everything, feels too guilty about wasting food not to, and simply ignores the painful twists of his stomach at eating stuff hes really not suited for.
Sheep!simon who feels anxious when hes not in a group, but feels even worse being near people he doesn't trust (everyone). He never truly rests, never relaxes completely as his mind fights with itself. Its exhausting, but hes felt this way since he was small, and has grown apathetic to it.
Just....consider it. (Yapping abt the specific sheep he'd be under the cut.)
Personally I envisioned him to be a kerry hill sheep!
Mostly bc the face markings remind me of his mask lol, but also bc they dont have horns! There's a unique dynamic that comes from ghost being a sheep hybrid that doesn't even have horns to defend himself that I find really compelling....they're also raised primarily for meat, which is another great metaphor or whatever abt ghost being made for the military, designed for slaughter when hes no longer useful....
Killing is just a job for him. As depraved as it sounds, he's a natural at it, and he doesn't see himself ever stopping. Not with the ease and the money. When it comes to pulling the trigger, he's never hesitated.
That was until you.
WC: 2.4k
TW: suicidal thoughts, mentions of violence, gun, knife, implied intercourse, probably OOC at points
The job description had come with a hefty paycheck and little to no instructions. Fifteen thousand dollars cash, plus liquid assets. Meet at the coordinates given on Sunday at 4 AM. Details to be given there, payment after successfully finishing the mission.
Ghost isn't an idiot. He shows up with enough weapons on him to get him on the no fly list in every country.
It's damp and cold. If he didn't have his mask on right now, his breath would be coming out in white puffs inside his car. He's put even more on edge when he sees you, a stranger in a sweater and scarf, looking down as you walk.
You knock twice on the hood of his car as discussed. He unlocks the passenger side.
You slip in and take a deep breath. You look a mess, not to mention suspiciously innocent. Your eyes are tired, features ruddy from what seems to be either a lack of sleep or lots of crying. There certainly could be a weapon stashed in your sweater, but somehow he doubts it. An unlucky messenger, maybe.
"Hope it wasn't too hard finding this place," you mutter softly, managing a glance at him. He's scary. From the hard glare, silence, and what looks to be an entire arsenal on him, you get the memo. He isn't here for chit-chat, and he certainly doesn't trust you.
You sigh and soldier on. "As I mentioned in the description, you'll receive all of the money in cash after the job is done. I have some things you'll inherit, but not everything. I wrote a little contract here. It's not very professional, but-"
"Cut the bullshit. Who do you want me to kill?" His voice, gruff and low, cuts through your timid one. You feel yourself sinking into your seat.
"Me," you whisper.
It's nearly imperceptible, but you see his eyes widen. He has a way of staring right at you that puts you on edge. Like he'll shred you if you so much as make a wrong move. Ironic, considering your request.
"You what?" He asks, biting down the incredulity he feels threatening to take over his tone.
You swallow and take another deep breath, feeling emboldened. "I'm paying you to kill me. I want you to witness my last week, then put me out painlessly in my sleep. I know it's not very conventional-"
He pulls a knife on you. You can feel the presence of its cold, fatal edge just millimeters from your throat. His eyes are narrowed.
"Jesus, man," you shakily mutter.
"Who the fuck sent you?" Ghost barks.
"No one!" You feel stupid for the tears that threaten your eyes. You squeeze them shut. "It's all legit, ok? I just can't seem to do it myself, so I figured I'd pay someone. I'm just," you pause, breathing again. "I'm just done."
Ghost scrutinizes you further. You don't see it, but you can feel it - his eyes roaming over you, looking for even the slightest falsehood. Anything to indicate a lie.
You must have passed his parameters. You hear him sheath the blade.
"Bloody insane," he mutters, more to himself than you. "Fine. One week, and not a second more."
Day 1
"Red onions or yellow onions?" You look to Ghost, who pushes the cart beside you. He's switched the menacing mask for a simple balaclava under a hoodie. He gives you his signature 'I don't give a fuck' look. Expressive for a man of few words. "Yellow it is."
You get stares wherever you go with him following you. You can see why; Ghost is tall and imposing, his silence oppressive. Its nice, in a way. You feel seen beside him.
You pay for the groceries and exit the store. He puts them into the trunk of his car and drives you to your apartment.
When you enter your small place, he goes about his usual cautious routine, searching each corner and frame for some threat. You would roll your eyes, but you know its how he's survived in a harsh profession. You'd be more concerned if he didn't look around.
"You can do whatever," you shrug your coat off and start to unpack groceries to start on dinner. It's a little early, but you have nothing better to do. You quit your job last week. "TV remote is on the table if you wanna watch something."
You chop vegetables and meat in relative silence. He eventually deems the place up to his standard of safety and sits down, flicking through channels on the television. When you finish dinner, you sit on the other side of the couch and hand him a plate. "I usually only cook for one, so sorry if it came out weird."
He eats without complaint. After eating and watching shows together, you find that you don't mind the silence. Whatever it is to him, you find it domestic and comfortable. You're allowed a little bit of comfort in your last week.
For bed, you offer him pajamas, which he declines. He follows you to your room. "Gotta keep my eye on you. Just in case," He asserts in a low voice. He sits on a chair in the corner, arms crossed as he watches you. You roll your eyes, but your sleep comes quick and dreamlessly.
Day 3
The next couple days are spent much the same way. He follows you and begrudgingly participates in whatever activites you throw at him. So far you've made him go to the movies and visit the aquarium with you. Now, you've forced him on a walk in the park.
It's another grey fall day. Sometimes he walks so mechanically that it makes you want to laugh. You make him push you on the swing for a bit just because it inconveniences him. When the novelty is gone, you let him stop. "You can sit on the other swing."
He takes it. You're not sure how long you're both sat there, quiet like always. You swing slightly, really just kicking your feet, and watch the clouds as they pass.
"I like fall."
He snorts. "I bet you do. Gloomy ass."
You roll your eyes, but you smile anyways. You chance a question. "You have any family?"
You expected this same silence from him. What you didn't expect was for his quiet, hoarse answer after minutes without replying. "No."
You nod and look ahead. Is it a painful subject for everyone? "I do," you reply.
"Complicated?" More of a statement than a question.
A sigh. "Yeah."
You kick at the damp woodchips below you and bite the inside of your cheek to stop that sudden urge to cry. "I don't think they understand me."
"Do families ever understand?"
That makes you chuckle. You may have imagined it, but his eyes seemed to crinkle with the hints of a smile.
"Let's go," you stand. "It's getting dark."
Day 6
"I don't see the appeal," he gruffly states. You can hear the smirk in his voice. "Are you seriously crying?"
You sniffle and wipe the popcorn butter off your cheek. "You just don't get it. It's a cinematic masterpiece."
Since the beginning of this week, you and. Ghost had fallen into a comfortable routine. Meal, activity, nap, meal, activity, sleep. Tonight, you had gotten him to watch Pride and Prejudice with you - the 2005 version, of course - and he had made snarky comments the entire time.
"Yes, a masterpiece. You hardly ever see a male director get the female gaze right, Ghost, and," you huff as you catch him mocking you, his hand puppetting your words as you speak. You smack him with a pillow.
His eyebrows raise. "Oh, you do not want to go there with me, sweetheart." You raise your head in defiance. "Maybe I do."
He looks at you, giving you a chance to take the words back. You nail him in the face with another cushion.
He pounces. You laugh and kick and squeal, smacking him with anything you can grab. He's stronger and faster - anything he doesn't block doesn't even make him flinch.
He pins you down with a hand on your chest and uses the other to whack you repeatedly with a pillow. "Ack! Son of a -" You uselessly use your hands to try to grab the pillow or smack it away, but he smacks you anyways. "Ok ok! I surrender!"
He stops and looks down at you. You're breathing heavy, and you're smiling - really smiling. It's the first time he's seen it on you.
He drops the pillow. The hand that was on your chest releases you. You look into his eyes and you feel your heart beating against your ribs.
You eyelids flutter shut. He pulls his balaclava up just enough for his lips to meet yours.
Day 7
Ghost can't believe how impulsive he was last night. It wasn't like him. There's no room for emotions in this job, and certainly no room for waking up naked in his client's bed. You were warm in his arms.
He shakes the thought. He screwed up, yes, but it's your last day and he has no time to think about the mistake. He needs to focus on fulfilling your last needs. He takes you out to eat, drives you out to watch the city lights for awhile. You haven't had much to say.
He lays in bed with you, straining his eyes to watch the subtle changes in your expression. You're on your sides, facing each other. You trace his rough palm with a finger. He tries to ignore the electricity it sends through his nerves.
"Will it hurt?" You whisper. Suddenly, his throat feels tight. He shakes his head.
"No. You won't feel a thing."
He watches your chest rise and fall with a new breath, and the tears forming in your eyes. He catches them with a thumb before they can hit the pillow.
"I know I didn't put it in the contract, but do you think you could make sure I always have flowers on my grave? I like flowers. I don't know if anyone will leave some for me."
He lets you lace your fingers with his. His own curl to hold your hand.
"I guess I can do that."
You finally look at him. Your words tremble as they leave your lips. "Do you think I'll get into heaven?"
He frowns. Slowly, he pulls you closer. You didn't think you'd be doing so much crying this week.
"I don't know about heaven and hell," he mutters, "But if we end up in the same place, someone made a poor judgement call."
When you finally calm down, you can feel sleep taking you.
"Goodnight, Ghost."
He waits a few hours until he's sure you're deep in sleep. He slips out carefully, not wanting to wake you up. From a case, he preps his pistol. For some damn reason, his hand won't stop shaking when he points it at your forehead.
Day 8
When you wake up, light filters in through the blinds. You rub your eyes. Heaven feels just like my room, you think. That is, until you realize this is your room, and you're still alive.
You rub your eyes. Some part of you is relieved, if not confused. You leave your bed and look around the place. It's like nothing has happened, and no one has been here. Something like dread or disappointment sits in your throat. Had you imagined it all?
Your head snaps right as something catches your eye. A little yellow square. You peel a single sticky note off of your fridge. So it wasn't a dream. You smile to yourself. He has shitty handwriting. You read it, and fuck, you're crying again.
Keep your money. I'm too busy trying to get that awful movie out of my head.
Here’s what I think the Emeritus siblings’ flats look like within the ministry! All images are from Pinterest (which needs an option to exclude ai generated/modified images. It’s ridiculous.)
Primo
Dark, royal, vampiric vibes
Plants everywhere
Very inviting
Always smells faintly of lavender with a hint of blood
Shelves are full of old books, ritual tools, and cursed objects
Secondo
The more minimalist of his siblings
Slick and clean
Plenty of floor space for his dogs
No seriously how is it always so clean
Kitchen is always stocked with gourmet foods and expensive liquors
Terzo
A dramatic maximalist’s dream
Cozy and glamorous
Lit by lamps and candles- the overhead light is never on
Higher ceilings and a bigger bed, couch, bathtub, etc.. for Omega
Turned his study into a boudoir
Copia
70s/80s themed
Initially appears to be the more brighter of the flats, but upon closer inspection a lot of the decorations are pretty macabre
Living room includes a giant enclosure for his rats, a collection of his favorite movies and video games, and a stack of heavy metal magazines
Has the biggest bath/shower since he gets water EVERYWHERE
Like Terzo, he never uses the overhead light. It hurts his head.
How does he react, when his SO's pediod comes earlier?
I'm pretty sure Simon handles hatters like that way better than what people often think. He doesn't have a deep knowledge about periods or women's healthcare, but if he's anything, he's practical.
When someone he cares for has a problem, his brain usually switches into a problemsolving mode. He needs to solve things quickly on the battlefield too, why would he struggle outside of it, with something this normal? He can easily solve the problem and support you through it.
The Initial Discovery
You've benn at his place many times, but usually becore of after your period, never during. It wasn't intentional, just how it usually turned out with all his work and all.
His time was the same, you thought you still have a few days before your period starts by calendar. You two were watching a movie, and it was paused while you made some tea, because you felt that something isn't right. Not the way like you'll going to be sick, but just... off. When the tea was halfway done, you started to feel the cramps, and you realised it's your period knocking on the door early. "Ugh." That's what involuntarily left your mouth with a grimace.
Simon, who was still resting on the couch, turned towards the kitchen, because you rarely made sounds like that. Only when you burned yourself with food, cut your finger or hit your toes somewhere. "Wha' happened?" He asked casually, as you walked over, placing the tea down onto the little table, and awkwardly explained your situation.
Simon only nodded as he understood, no disgust, no discomfort like you were used from previous relationships. Most boys you dated thought periods are disgusting and simply "eww, don't speak about that shit". Simon's reaction, or more like the absense of it surprised you. He inly gave you a court "Right." as he stood up from the couch.
The Emergency Supply Run
Simon said he'll get you whatever you need from the corner store, so you gave him a little list. Nothing extra, you just asked for sanitary pads and a heating pad.
When Simon was at the store, he called you, because he was lost. Not in the aisles, he found the right one, but there was twenty brand and different sizes. Ultra. Ultra Plus. Super. Super Plus. Night. Ultra Night. What does "with wings" even mean??
He's usually planning operations, standing in front of the aisle and comparing products, reading them up to you, so you can choose whichever you want. He's not embarrassed, when some young boys laugh, like it was funny. If anything, he gives them a look that makes them go away somewhere else.
Next time Simon is at yours, he takes a picture of your cabinet to know what you usually use (not just which pads, but the other products), so he can get them and have them at his place. You're there a lot lately, so why shouldn't he have them there to make it easier for you?
If You're Having Cramps
Simon isn't overly emotional or does big things. He simply isn't the type of big confessions and big actions like flowers every sunday and all. If you're having cramps, he simply makes sure you're sitting or laying down and that you rest. He'll get you some painkillers too, if they can help. Makes you tea, and gives you some snacks that he got not long ago (if they aren't expired yet, because he forget them in his cabinet mosz times).
If you're in the mood to watch the movie you started, he'll sot by your side and sometimes gives your hand a little squeeze, or runs a comforting hand over your leg. He simply shows he's there for you and that he cares.
The Softest Version
The softest version of Simon isn't loud or dramatic. It's the quiet care, how he makes sure you're comfortable, that's you've eaten and drank enough water, that you're not in pain.
Once you're fallen asleep on the couch during the movie— probably from the painkillers, hesting pad on your lower stomach, Simon simply pulls the blanket over you, letting you rest against him. When you squirm in your sleep because of the cramps, he puts a hand onto your shoulder, gently oulling you closer, just socyou know he's there.
That's how Simon is in a relationship, not grand gestures, not speeches, not romance movie moments. Just dependable presence, the kind that makes bad days a little easier simply because he's there.
