#shinoko oshi

[shinoko-oshi]

Simon fixes your sleep schedule

Simon hadn’t realized just how fucked your sleep schedule was until he moved in with you. His birdie.

Waking up in the middle of the night or at the ass crack of dawn only to find you curled up on the couch, blanket wrapped around you, phone in hand, eyes barely open. Sometimes, you’d be watching a show, other times scrolling mindlessly, and on rare occasions, half-asleep but refusing to actually get up and go to bed.

And then, without fail, you’d spend the next day complaining about how tired you were. You’d drag yourself around the apartment, yawning every five minutes, rubbing at your eyes like a petulant child. And when he told you—plain and simple—that you needed to go to bed earlier, you had the nerve to roll your eyes at him.

“Okay, dad,” you’d say before walking away, completely ignoring his advice.

No amount of reasoning could convince you. If anything, the more he brought it up, the more stubborn you became.

So, Simon took matters into his own hands.

First, he switched out your usual tea for chamomile, hoping it would knock you out easier. Every night, he handed you your favorite mug, tea bag steeping inside, always a different flavor, something new to throw you off. Just in case you started getting suspicious.

You never noticed. Never questioned it. Just sipped at it, curled up in your blanket, completely oblivious.

Then came the melatonin sleep spray. He practically doused the corner of the couch where you always nested, soaking the blankets and pillows in the scent, ensuring that once you settled in, sleep would come whether you liked it or not.

And slowly, it started working.

You began dozing off earlier. The nights where he found you awake at ungodly hours became less frequent. You stopped yawning every other sentence. Stopped rubbing at your eyes like you were seconds away from passing out on your feet.

The dark circles under your eyes faded. Your complaints about exhaustion became fewer and farther between.

He never said anything about it. Never told you. Just watched in silent satisfaction as his plan worked.

But his favorite part? When you passed out on the couch instead of the bed.

Because that meant he got to pick you up, carry you to bed, and watch you sleep peacefully for a moment before pressing a kiss to your forehead and climbing in beside you.

It was selfish, really.

Because, sure, fixing your sleep schedule was technically for your health. But he couldn’t deny that he loved the way you curled into him when he slipped under the covers. The way you nuzzled into his chest, warm and pliant, letting out a soft sigh in your sleep as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer.

And, well better sleep also meant more cuddles.

And Simon loved that most of all.

Ik your sleep schedule is fucked. Go to bed.

[shinoko-oshi]

Idk how to title this

Handler!Simon with bunny!hybrid reader who no matter how much sex he gave you: whether it was his thick fingers knuckle deep inside your soaked cunt, pounding you into the mattress until you because a mess of incoherent words, or holding you down while he lapped at your pussy until you sobbed from overstimulation.

it was never enough. Not for a bunny like you.

Because without fail, you always ended up back in his lap, paws tugging at his shirt, giving him the same glassy eye stare that said: my problem is now your problem

The saying “fucking like rabbits” proving to be true. And Simon was starting to believe his cock might actually break at the rate you were going.

So, who else was he supposed to call? Other Johnny. A Wolf hybrid himself.

He didn’t even need convincing. Simon could practically hear the grin in his voice as he spoke: “Aye, mate, I’ll be there in ten”

And when Johnny finally showed up, he didn’t waste a single second. The moment his eyes landed on you, he pounced. You were just as eager, meeting his hunger with your own, and Simon sat back on the couch with an ice cold beer in hand, long legs kicked out as he prepared to watch.

If Kyle had been there, Simon was sure they’d both already be betting on who’d tire out first. Not a bad idea, maybe he’d call him next time.

For now, it was just you and Johnny.

And Christ, the wolf had stamina.

You went at it for hours, three, at least before you finally tried to curl up in Simon’s lap, body limp and spent, ears drooping. But Johnny wasn’t finished. With a wicked smirk, he pulled you back for round whatever you lost count, and then another after that.

By the time he was finally done, you were babbling nonsense, words spilling out in some made up language only you seemed to understand. Your body trembling with overstimulation, and Simon finally stepped in, scooping you up gently. He cleaned you up before tucking you into bed with a kiss to the forehead.

“Good lad” he muttered to Johnny on his way out. The wolf just smirked, looking like he could’ve gone for several more hours without breaking a sweat

And Simon got peaceful sleep that night, your body finally slack and nestled against his chest.

At least until next week.

Because when the hunger came back, it always did, Simon didn’t hesitate to call up Johnny.

And Kyle too.

[shinoko-oshi]

Simon teaches you how to cum

One month into your relationship with Simon, he was set to leave on his first mission since you’d gotten together. It wasn’t a long, just a little over two weeks but the moment he mentioned it, your face dropped, and your fingers curled into the hem of your shirt.

He noticed. Of course he did.

That night, he handed you a small black box, thumb brushing over your knuckles when you took it with hesitant fingers. A vibrator.

“Figured you’d need somethin’ to keep busy while I’m gone,” he said, half teasing, though the look in his eyes was anything but light.

You only nodded, biting your lip, avoiding his gaze.

“What’s wrong, birdie?” he asked gently, tilting your chin up with the curve of his knuckle.

You hesitated, cheeks burning. “I’ve just… never made myself cum before.”

He stared at you for a second longer before standing up, pulling you with him, murmuring, “C’mon then. Let’s fix that.”

He positioned you in front of your bedroom mirror, body bare, knees weak, thighs trembling already just from the heat of his gaze. One of his hands held your jaw in place, fingers curled under your chin, forcing you to watch.

“Eyes open, love,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

“Want you to see how your body works, how it should be touched.”

His other hand moved between your thighs, fingers pressing slow circles into your clit. You whimpered, eyes fluttering, only for him to tighten his grip on your face.

“Watch,” he chuckled. “See that? That’s how you like it, yeah?”

His fingers sank into you slowly, then faster, curling just right. Over and over, until your knees buckled and your breath hitched sharp in your throat. And when you finally came, gasping against the glass, he kissed your shoulder and hummed, “That’s it, lovie. Just like that.”

You got up, staggering toward the bed, legs shaking, ready to collapse into the mattress.

But Simon caught your wrist and gently tugged you back.

“Where you goin’, birdie?” he asked with a light chuckle. “I still gotta teach you how to cum on a vibrator.”

He guided you back down, spreading your legs, eyes wide as he held the toy up, his smirk lazy heavy with promise.

Maybe you really did need the lesson.

Or maybe Simon just had a thing for mirror sex.

Maybe Simon just loved his birdie too much and the thought of being away from you already ached more than he’d admit.

Either way, you weren’t getting any sleep that night.

Shit post.

[shinoko-oshi]

Simon tests his new tongue piercing out on you, his sweet roommate

With too much free time on his hands— literally. Simon was going stir-crazy. Breaking his arm on a mission three weeks ago had landed him a two-month break, and he still had a long way to go.

But you, his sweet roommate, made it bearable. Even signed his cast in pretty cursive, dotting a little heart next to your name. To which that night, he jerked off to the sight. Your name staring back at him while he imagined you beneath him. Though it was frustratingly unsatisfying, given that he’d broken his dominant hand. Writing, eating, taking care of himself— everything was a struggle now. But he couldn’t complain too much, not when you were there to help without a word, making sure he ate, doing the little things he refused to ask for. Your cooking alone was enough to make him consider breaking a leg next time— maybe throw in a collarbone and a broken rib, just to have you fuss over him a little longer.

But boredom was a hell of a thing. And eventually, it led to impulse decisions. Like getting a tongue piercing.

He wasn’t exactly sure why, just knew it’d be easy enough to hide when he got back to work. So it didn’t exactly matter.

And when you noticed it, curious little thing, eyes locked on him while he grabbed a soda from the fridge. He’d almost forgot about it. Until you asked, and he smirked, told you about it, and before you knew it, you were naked on the couch, legs spread, moaning his name as his tongue lapped at your pussy. the cool metal against your clit making you shudder.

He pocketed your pink panties when you weren’t paying attention. Something to look forward to for when the cast finally came off. When he could wrap a fist around his cock and jerk off properly to the thought of you.

Though, as it turned out, he didn’t need to wait that long.

Because the next day, you came to him, all innocent eyed with quiet need, wanting more than just his tongue. And that? That he’d gladly give you.

[shinoko-oshi]

Simon’s sweet wife

seen other people talk about the task force finding out about Simon’s bird at first in subtle ways so I made this

It started with the lunches.

At first, no one thought much of it. Simon had brought the occasional sandwich before, nothing out of the ordinary. But then it changed. Out went the basic bread and meat, and in came proper meals. Lasagna. Curry. A neatly packed container of something warm and homemade, tucked right beside a little folded note Simon was far too quick to snatch out of sight when Johnny leaned over, grinning.

“C’mon, Simon,” he teased, voice full of curiosity. “Just let us have a peek. We wanna know who’s makin’ you lunch like that, eh?”

Kyle nodded, snickering.

“Piss off,” Simon grumbled, big hand curling protectively around the note like it was a classified file. He didn’t care that they were watching, didn’t even look up. Just reread your words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth beneath the mask.

“Ay, Johnny, look! you can see a heart through the paper!” Kyle laughed, catching the way the light hit the thin paper just right, revealing the faint outline of a heart signed with your name.

After that, it became a bit of a running joke. Not that Simon gave them anything to work with. But the mystery only deepened when, during a three week deployment at another unit, a care package showed up with his name on it.

To say the guys hovered would be an understatement. Johnny and Kyle practically sat on either side of him like vultures, trying to act casual. Price stayed back in his chair, cigarette between his fingers, looking disinterested but Simon could feel his eyes, just as nosy as the others.

The box had all the essentials: snacks, cold weather gear, a familiar blanket from home. A couple of your sweet notes, some of his favorite tea in bulk. But what really got them going were the Polaroids tucked in between the layers of stuff.

Kyle caught a glimpse of one. Simon sitting on a porch step with you in his lap, your smile soft, his arm wrapped tight around your waist.

Johnny elbowed him. “Alright, Simon. When ’re we gonna meet this mystery missus of yours?”

“She wouldn’t like you.” He grunted in response 

“What is she, a grump like you?”

Hardly.

The real surprise came a few weeks later, when a sweet bird showed up at base asking for Lieutenant Simon Riley.

Price was the first to see you. He’d expected someone with a set it glare, reserved, maybe a little sharp around the edges. Instead, you walked right up to Simon with a warm smile, kissed his cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world, and handed him a jacket. 

Simon knew Price, Kyle, and Johnny were watching from around the corner. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if half the rookies and a few of the other sergeants were too.

But none of that mattered.

Not when his sweet girl was standing in front of him.

“Why are you here, baby?” he asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You forgot your jacket,” you said, brow furrowed. “And I heard it was supposed to be cold today. I didn’t want you to get sick.”

Your voice alone cracked something in him, and it was impossible not to smile under the mask.

“Y’know I would’ve been fine, love.”

Still, he took the jacket from your hands with a quiet “thank you,” promising to wear it, walking you down the hallway before watching you turn and head back out.

Well— not before Johnny and Kyle caught you at the corner, peering over the wall like a couple of kids up to no good.

They didn’t say much, but by the time Simon heard about it later, you’d already agreed to let them come over for dinner sometime.

He just shook his head. Not even surprised by their antics. But he didn’t say no either.

Because you’d said yes.

So next Saturday, he guessed he’d be setting an extra few plates at the table for Johnny, Kyle, and probably Price, too. 

[shinoko-oshi]

Simon Noticed The Little Things

Simon noticed the little things.

Always had. Oversensitive to the details, the crumbs most people overlooked. He saw people, truly saw them. Heard them. Understood them. But no one had ever seen him back. He only knew what it felt like to observe, never to be observed.

Until you.

Until you handed him a pair of gloves on a random Wednesday, saying you noticed his were wearing thin. The exact same brand, same skeleton design, same size. Fit just right, snug over his hands— something he always struggled to find. A weird flutter settling in his stomach.

Until you got him a drink at the bar: no ice. Just the way he liked it. He’d never told you that, never mentioned how he hated when melted ice watered it down. You just knew. You just saw him.

Until you saved him a seat in the meeting room, the one facing the door. Knew he needed to see the exit, needed that small control over any space that eased him. Never asked why. Never judged. Just silently understood.

So Simon saw you, too.

That’s why he was standing in front of your door now, a bouquet of daisies in hand. Because he remembered the way your eyes had lit up on that mission, the way you plucked a few wild ones from the ground, bringing them to your nose with a happy little smile.

When you answered, he asked you on a date. And when you said yes, he took you to a Mexican restaurant. Because he saw the wrappers in your trash can from the busy days you opted for something fast.

And when you got back to your place that night, he knew exactly what to do to make you fall apart.

Watched the way your face twitched and turned when his fingers curled just right inside you, dragging against that spot that had your breath hitching. other hand working slow, deliberate circles against your clit, pushing you higher until your legs trembled from pleasure, your body melting under his touch.

Then he was shoving his cock inside you, his jeans long gone, his belt discarded somewhere on the floor. Each thrust deep, hitting every spot that made you gasp, made you cling to him, moaning his name until it came out all jumbled sounding like a foreign word.

By the third orgasm, you were wrecked, body pliant and shaking beneath him, and when he finally came, he wasted no time pulling you into his arms.

Tucked a damp strand of hair behind your ear, pressed a slow, grounding kiss to your forehead.

And the next morning, he made you chocolate pancakes.

Because before he ever touched you, before he ever kissed you, fucked you, and made you his.

He saw you. And you saw him.

[shinoko-oshi]

Simon’s substitute for cigarettes

Simon Riley, who was trying to quit smoking for you, his bird because for the first time in his life, he had a reason to want to live longer.

Easier said than done. He’d tried everything to keep his fingers from twitching, aching for the familiar weight of a cigarette. Candy, mints, toothpicks, gum. Every damn thing the internet recommended. Nothing worked.

Until he tried you.

Bending you over any and every surface. Stuffing your pretty cunt full of his cock until your legs trembled. Pressing his tongue against your clit until you came against his mouth, trembling and gasping his name.

And the problem— or rather, the solution was that Simon used to smoke multiple times a day, going through a pack in less than a week. Which meant he was bending you over just as often, Fucking you slow and deep, or hard and desperate, chasing relief in the only thing that worked better than nicotine.

Sure, your muscles ached, your body sore in the best way possible but the pros outweighed the cons. Because he was quitting. For you.

And after every session, he’d pull you into his arms, pressing lazy kisses to your forehead as you curled up against his chest. His rough fingers tracing circles over your bare skin, grounding himself in the reason he was fighting the urge at all.

Currently writing a Simon x reader, neighbor shortish fanfic 😗

[shinoko-oshi]

Simon is creeped out by ur plushies

I cackled while making this

Maybe it was just him. Maybe he was weird. But he swore he couldn’t do it.

He just couldn’t fuck you, couldn’t have you writhing beneath him, screaming his name while your collection of plushies sat there on the bed, their little beady eyes watching as he stuffed your pretty pussy full of his cock.

Their innocent little faces stared right into his soul. And to make it worse? You’d named them. Made it personal.

So now, as you stood in the kitchen, making his favorite meal, Simon was busy.

Gathering armfuls of plushies from the bed and tossing them onto the couch, completely focused. It was almost endearing.

“Simon, what are you doing?” you laughed, glancing over your shoulder.

“Yer makin’ my favorite food,” he grunted. “Gotta repay you tonight. And I can’t with those—” he pointed accusingly at the plushies like they’d personally offended him “—watchin’ me.”

“Stuffed animals? The big bad lieutenant can’t handle a few stuffed animals?” You dragged out the words, teasing, your grin widening when his glare deepened.

“They creep me out.”

And so, it became a routine.

Anytime you two planned on fucking: in the bed, on the couch, against the wall, even on the damn kitchen counter. Simon always took a minute to move your little “army” out of sight.

But on the nights when he got impatient, like when you were lounging in nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties— he settled for the quickest solution: grabbing a blanket and tossing it over them like he was shielding their innocent little eyes.

And after sex, when you were both exhausted, he’d scoop you up and carry you back to bed, to the very same plushies he had just evicted. His favorite, for now, was Henry the Hippo, who he begrudgingly tolerated as long as he wasn’t watching.

Ik I said something about a fanfic a few days ago and I promise tomorrow I will upload the first chapter 😗