simon riley who loves seeing all the little outfits his girlfriend dresses up in. whether it’s a pair of jeans and a jumper, one of those cute sun dresses or even those stupid pair of dinosaur overalls that her students love so much.
simon riley who loves to watch his girlfriend get ready for work. watching her do her makeup, put her hair up and even helping her pick what to wear.
simon riley who loves the art work his girlfriend brings home from her students. who loves them more than she does sometimes. who melts every time one of the write ‘mr. simon’ above a small stick figure next to another one that has his girlfriend’s name above it.
simon riley who gets videos from his girlfriend while deployed. most of the videos being her saying she loves him but some of them include the preschoolers telling him to be safe.
simon riley who retires from an injury. who can’t stay still so he ends up in his girlfriends classroom for the first time. who ends up sitting with the kids, reading them a book about a military dog.
simon riley who by the end of the week has been to the class everyday. even bringing Riley in for the kids to meet.
simon riley who by the end of the week decides he wants kids.
What if the first time you saw Simon Riley's face was not a particularly solemn nor dignified moment?
Not in the middle of a raging battle, where you'd be pulling him out of the line of fire and ripping off his mask with urgency to check his breathing ?
Not at the end of a notably emotional conversation who took place after you two almost died— your survival only achieved because you had each other's backs. Him dragging his mask off so you could, at long last, lay eyes on the man that you owed so much to, and vice versa.
No, your first time is mundane, nonchalant. He had just come back from a particularly back-breaking mission and wished for nothing more than shed his gear and get some rest. Sitting on his bed, he's untiying his boots when you come in, with a smile and a tea, one that may or may not contain a dash of bourbon. You settle down on the chair by his desk and tell him about all he missed while away— what shenanigans Johnny and Kyle have been up to, Price and Laswell's latest disagreement, how stupid was that high-ranked officer you had to deal with the other day.
This setting feels so domestic, familiar, solid, that his mask comes off naturally, before he can think twice about it.
Your chatter suddenly comes to an end as your eyes widen in shock. The silence that replaces it is thick with uncertainty.
Simon's wary of your reaction, yet curiousity nags him— some sort of morbid fascination?
He designed multiple scenarios in mind for the ways you'd react, based on what he's been through before, but somehow none of them emcompassed this.
You laugh. Gleeful, warm, sincere.
"Panda," you manage to say among chuckles. "You're a panda."
He frowns in incomprehension until you reach out, your thumb stroking the tender skin beneath his eye and coming back covered in black grease.
Can you imagine Simon finding out he’s going to be a dad?
He’d be gone on a mission when you realize, your period is late. You’d pass it off as stress related until you start feeling sick, getting these weird cravings of things you detested.
So you’d take a test and gasp five minutes later when it comes back positive. Now, you know Simon didn’t want kids just yet. He wanted to wait just a little longer. Wanted to buy you your dream house so he could fill it with little angels.
You’d spend your days in his clothes, stressing how you’d break the news to him. Even thinking of keeping it hidden for a while. That is, until he came home.
See, when he was on his mission, he had such a close call with death and it was different than the other times. Usually he’d stare death in the face and tell him to piss off but he was too close to breaking his promise of coming back to you.
You’d always make him promise to come back to you. In one piece preferably. His last run in with the shadowy figure made him open his eyes.
So when he’d come home, he dropped his bags and immediately went to seek you out, beginning to panic when he didn’t see you anywhere in the house. He’d call out your name, waiting for a response but got nothing in return.
He pull out his phone to call you but he heard the front door open, your cursing as you struggle with the many bags. He’d sigh in relief and immediately help you, chuckling as he startled you.
You’d jump and shriek because why is there a man in your house but then- oh.. it’s your husband.. oh okay.
Wait-
It’s your husband!
You’d gasp and drop the bags, hugging him tightly and he’d hug you back even tighter. You both mutter how much you both missed each other before he’d pull away, looking down at you.
Something was different.
He’d hug you again just to see what it was but couldn’t for the life of him figure it out. He pushed it to the back of his mind as you began recapping your day and asking about his mission as you both put the groceries away.
You were putting away the dairy when he stopped responding so you turned to him, freezing when he saw a few baby items. He picked up a pacifier and looked at you.
…
…
It was silent before you sighed softly and looked away nervously, not knowing how to just say ‘I’m pregnant’
He stared at you, waiting for an explanation but when you were silent, he approached you “sweetheart…” he’d mumble softly in his grumbly voice.
You’d look up at him, nervousness clear in your eyes as he asked “you’re carrying..?”
You’d nod your head and look away, not seeing his eyes light up. True he did want to wait but he’s always wanted kids with you. That just meant he’d have to do things sooner but that’s okay. Anything for his wife.
He’d take you in his arms and hold you tightly as he asked “how far along?”
You’d bury your face in his chest for a moment before speaking “two months…”
He’d be shocked but he’d be happy. His arms would tighten around you and he’d be smiling as his chin rested on your head. He was excited that he would be a father. Worried he wouldn’t be a good one but he had you. And you two could conquer the world together let alone parenthood.
He’d pull away when you ask “you’re not mad?” He’d look at you and kiss you in response. He wasn’t mad at all. He’d do anything for you and his baby.
Cannot stop thinking about Simon “let’s go back to your place instead” Riley bringing you back to his flat for once and fucking the depression out of you. He’s so good (and you’re just so fucking pleased that he finally took you home with him) that you get up to make him breakfast in just his t-shirt only to find he’s got a roommate, the bastard leaning against the counter in the kitchen slurping the milk from his cereal bowl and looking way too smug. (Johnny is also pleased Simon finally brought a woman home)
“Oh Simon…” And you forgot everything, lost into oblivion of some sweet dreamy kind as he pushed and slammed even more further with his big rigid cock.
Your eyes rolled back in your skull, while the room echoed with Simon's groan and the creak of your couch, the shameless sound of skin slapping against skin in electrifying sizzles. A sharp pain stinged where Simon's big palm connected, aching in tingles as he fucked harder, all the while pain stirred in toe-curling pleasure.
“Ya’ not here with me, stay here.” He demanded, leaning further over to yank back at your hair, his arm snaking around his neck and surrendering you in a headlock.
“Shake ya’ head, yeah ?” He hit your g-spot and another scream tore down your throat but only managed to vibrate against your skin, Simon's chokehold was damming your senses.
He released his grip and you hastily gulped bulk of air before he tightened his muscles around your neck, his veins popping along and how much you wanted to kiss them.
“If ya’ can't speak your safeword then shake ya’ head lovie.” He grunted but didn't stop for one bit and you were grateful even if your knees gave out and only Simon fucking through your overstimulation. You were drooling on his elbow that was wrapped around you like snake coil.
Butcher Simon who owns a meat store in the same building as your bakery store. (Literally a door over).
Butcher Simon who slowly starts to fall smitten over you whenever you come by and ask help pulling freight or those 50 pound flour bags.
Butcher Simon who comes to you with the idea of collaborating making lunch and dinner sandwiches, using your bread and his meats.
Cashier Johnny who constantly flirts with you whoever you pop in the morning.
Cashier Johnny who argues when Simon says he only hired him for his looks.
Cashier Johnny who gives you his employee discount, just don't tell Simon about there being an employee discount.
Cashier Johnny who plays the radio extra loud for Simon to hear the football game while he is in the cooler.
Farmer John who sells his meats to Simon.
Farmer John who also sells his eggs, dairy and other produce to you.
Farmer John who started growing squash, peppers and berries for your bakery and gets to try new items with his ingredients.
Farmer John who has a really bad sweet tooth and shyly buys the last lemon bar every morning.
Sheriff Kyle who comes every morning for your danishes
Sheriff Kyle who comes in every day before closing to buy a dinner sandwich
Sheriff Kyle who gives you his own personal phone number "just in case".
Sheriff Kyle who can be heard arguing with Johnny about meat prices every couple of months.
Sheriff Kyle who can be seen always on John's farm.
Small Town 141! Would be so protective over you.
Small Town 141! Always inviting you to the pub after work, even when they know you'll say no.
Small Town 141! Who always invites you to go hunting or hiking with them.
Small Town 141! Where they are always taking it upon themselves to fix something around your store. Glass needs repainting? Johnny is on it. Lights are out on the sign? Simon has replacements. Door doesn't lock? Kyle knows a guy who owes him a favor. Car broke? John can fix it.
Small Town 141! Who desperately want your affection.
I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this. I’m hoping you posted this but I doubt it.
i didn’t post this, thank you for letting me know. pls pls pls report it. despite it having my user, it makes me feel icky others reposting it in that wayyy.
petition to start writing more soulmate AUs ? I MISS THEM SO MUCH 😫😫😫💔💔 I know they're all cliche or angsty but PLEASEEEE 🙏🙏🙏 IVE ALREADY READ ALMOST ALL OF EM BUT THE MOST RECENT ONES ARE FOR A YR OR 2 AGO 😭
Let's get this out of the way, the restaurant fucking sucks. Don't even know how it's still open. The food is terrible. The owner is an incompetent drunk who's never there. You got referred to the job from a friend of a friend. You did an interview with the head chef/manager, John. He hired you because you were hot.
"The fuckin ass on that one, huh?"
Just like any man that works in a restaurant, they're all horny fucks who love to tease you. You'd run back to the kitchen and ask to tweak an order. Price would wink and say:
"Next time it's gonna cost ya."
When it gets slow (which was all the time), you'd sit in the back and chat about how they met and what they did with their lives. They all get paid under the table for various reasons. Johnny takes smoke breaks with you, sometimes Price joins. Gaz pours shots for everyone after "busy" nights (busy meaning there was an hour where there were two tables to serve instead of one). Ghost... well he's strictly work. Sometimes he engages in banter with the guys, but he only acknowledges you when needed.
Your first month flies by, you basically get paid to sit around and talk with the most charming men on the planet, and Simon.
"He'll warm up eventually. Just gotta loosen 'em up, just like any tight ass."
Soap smirked as he leaned against a counter while everyone was wrapping up for the night.
"Don't you have dishes to put away?"
Ghost snapped while wiping down his station. At least he was nice to look at.
You and Gaz would roll up the forks and knives talking about bullshit, knees touching. Soap and you would light each others smokes by touching one lit end to the unlit one, all while still holding the cigarettes in your mouths (he called it a cigarette kiss). Price would constantly make food for you:
"Gotta plump you up 'fore it starts getting cold, yeah?"
He'd look you up and down while sliding you a basket of fries. And Simon? Cold as ever. Even when he started driving you to and from work because your car broke down. He drove like a madman, but it was totally silent. You made the mistake of reaching for the radio once, he gave a admonitory grunt and you snatched your hand away.
As time went on, you got comfortable with everyone and they got comfortable with you. It started with suggestive jokes.
"Simon's just straightforward, doesn't beat around the bush."
Price said one day while prepping vegetables with Ghost.
"What are you talking about? He beats around the bush all the time Price, you know that."
Soap walked by with a shit eating grin while he was carrying a bucket of dishes to the back. Uproar from the guys. Ghost storms off following Johnny, knife in hand. You want to stop him, but Gaz places a hand on your shoulder.
"Best not to do that, just let 'em settle that amongst themselves."
Johnny comes back disheveled, wearing a different shirt. Simon is stone faced as usual as he goes back to prep. It only got worse after that.
You'd watch as the boys messed with each other more; pats on the back, that turns to squeezes on the shoulders, that turned to slaps on the ass.
"They're just handsy," you think to yourself.
Eye contact that lingers for a second too long.
"They're just close friends," you think to yourself.
Compliments that boarder on harassment.
"They're just joking around," you think to yourself.
Then you entered the walk-in freezer, only to make direct eye contact with Johnny as he has Kyle's dick down his throat.
"Oh, uh-huh..." you think to yourself.
You didn't look at their faces for a week, they acted as if nothing happened. Then, the flirting only got worse.
"Behind!"
Price would yell while grinding up against Simon's ass when passing behind him.
"Yes, Chef."
He'd respond while he continued cooking, unfazed. They seemingly shared clothes: the younger guys preferred to don John and Simon's apparel all the time. You stopped going into the walk-in for a while, you figured you'd give Gaz and Soap some privacy (although they didn't seem to mind an audience). Christ, was everyone fucking everyone here?
You were taking a smoke break with Price when he leaned back on the railing and adjusted himself, it wasn't really adjusting himself as it was more him gripping his thick dick and looking directly into your eyes. You nearly choked as he smiled.
Ghost threw you a hoodie when he dropped you off one night. It started raining before you got home and you were complaining about just getting your hair done. You tried to give it back but he refused to take it.
"Keep it. I don't care about that one anyways."
He shrugged. You'd wear the oversized hoodie to bed, the smell was comforting. Smoky, dusty, boozy, like Javanese vetiver. It smelled like a grown man. Delicious. Accidentally wore it to work one day when you were in a rush getting ready. That started a trend for the rest of them to get you to wear their clothes. It less of a trend and more of a competition honestly. They'd "accidentally" spill drinks or food on you.
"No worries, I've got an extra shirt in my car!"
They'd have a wide, cheeky smile plastered on their faces while giving you their shirt. Of course, they wouldn't take them back either; so you had a growing collection of huge shirts that you'd wear around your apartment. Eventually, you had to go back to the walk-in. Thankfully, there were no exhibitionists present. You were reaching to grab some ketchup when the door opened. You and Johnny stared at each other for a long moment.
"Need help getting that, bonnie?"
Before you could respond he was reaching over you, pressing his chest on your back. He handed you the bottle while his dick grew hard on your ass. He was breathing hard in your ear, waiting for your reaction. You pushed back on him and that's all he needed, he gripped your hips and grinded into you. Even through your jeans you could feel his dick twitch when you moaned. It was a hot minute of panting while he pulled you back onto him desperately, like he was trying to fuck you right through the denim. The door handle clicked. You both froze, staring at the entryway.
"Johnny?"
Gaz's head popped in. Your face got hot while he stared back and forth at the two of you. One thing led to another, and your pants are around your ankles while Johnny is face first in your wet folds. Kyle is standing behind you, fucking your thighs and leaving sloppy kisses on your neck.
"Pretty doll, how long have ye bin waiting fur this, huh?"
Soap looked up at you with so much adoration, like he was servicing a goddess.
"Gonna cum Johnn-"
Gaz whimpered and bit your shoulder to muffle his groans as he came right between your thighs and cunt. Soap cleaned up the mess greedily, savouring the taste of both your juices. He didn't stop eating you out until you finished. Gaz held you up while your knees buckled when you came undone. Gentlemen they are, pulled up your pants for you and wiped the smeared lipgloss from your face. You stumbled out of the freezer, walking past the kitchen. Price's eyes crinkled as he saw you head out onto the floor.
~
"You shouldn't do that in there. It's unsanitary. And a health code violation."
Simon looked straight ahead as he weaved between cars. You opened your mouth, but no words came to mind, so you just nodded. Your leg bounced nervously. He grabbed your thigh, stopping the movement. His hand stayed there until you were in front of your place. You stared at him, his brown eyes boring into you.
"G'night."
He pulled his hand away, placing both of them on the steering wheel. You walked into your apartment, dizzy with confusion. "What the fuck is going on?"
Ghost complaining about his back and how he struggles to pop it so it hurts
Soap offering to walk on his back to help
Ghost asking, incredulous and very alarmed, “do I want you to WHAT??”
Soap just cackles because he and his siblings used to do it all the time as kids, so he shows Ghost how to lay down and steps into the middle of his back, just between his shoulders, and feels more than hears Ghost’s entire spine pop
Ghost lets out the most pornographic moan because he’s been trying to pop his back for weeks
It becomes their thing, a weekly ritual when their schedules allow it
They don’t do it on missions because they’d never be able to explain it to anyone who wandered in on Soap walking in socked feet down his commanding officer’s spine like a tightrope
...He’s sitting on the couch, watching the day’s match. Knees spread wide and taking up half the cushions. You’re cuddled under his arm with your feet tucked up, reading a book or a download on your phone. It’s in the middle of a steamy scene in your latest bodice-ripper. After chapters’ worth of fighting and resisting, the heroine is finally going to come all over the big mean villain’s engorged appendage.
You’re so engrossed, you’re sure he can feel your breath change and your cheek heat up where it rests against his chest. Can he sense your arousal as it dampens your knickers underneath the old, softened t-shirt you claimed from his bedroom floor the first time you slept over?
When the whistle sounds to end the half, you vaguely notice, until he stirs next to you. “Hey, babe? We got any snacks?”
“Umm, I th-think so.” You pull your attention away just in time to meet his eyes. And he immediately knows.
“Got yourself a good one there, do you?” You’ve bitten your lips raw, you’re sweating, and your chest is nearly heaving with lust as you nod desperately.
“Do you mind if I take the edge off?” You squeeze your thighs together and feel the slick dripping past the fabric.
“Your finger or mine?” he asks, keeping one eye on the telly and one on you as your maneuver out of your underwear.
“I’m going to need something a bit more this time,” you nearly whine as you launch onto his lap, careful not to headbutt his chin in your urgency.
GAZ – He doesn't miss a beat as you nestle your excited little pussy just over his cock. He’s already rock-hard and it doesn’t take much to pull him out from the sweatpants he wears slung low on his hips.
“Take what you need, love.” He smiles proudly as you drop down onto him, slipping and sliding on your own slick.
And you do, pitching forward to settle him against the bundle of nerves deep in your belly. He’s so long, he doesn’t just graze it, he impales it. You swear he’s in your lungs, stealing your breath with each rise and fall.
He cheers you on the whole way.
“Look at you bouncing so well on my cock...So pretty all flushed and sweaty...Fucking hot, you are.”
Your unfairly handsome, quick-tongued rake tenderly wipes the hair and perspiration from your face, and lets you use him until you're shattered and worn out.
SOAP: He lets you grind against him for a bit through his gym shorts, dick fully chubbed like the pommel of a saddle.
“Please tell me it’s a Scottish highland warrior that’s got you so bothered, and not some prissy English lord. You’ll hurt my feelings.” He grins, his eyes already rolling back in his head at your steady stroking.
“Keep talking, Johnny.” You hump against him faster, knowing the second you put him in, you’ll be done for. A weeping, overstimulated mess before he even catches his stride. His burly, veiny length has an upwards curve like he was molded and kiln-forged just to fit you.
And he could go for hours if you didn’t wind him up good. Tease him and test him, get his attention exactly where it needs to be.
“Let me suck on your tits, bonny lass.” He deepens his brogue and his voice an octave as he tries not to laugh, while he strips your shirt off and buries his face into your bosom.
You are quite sure that the hot-headed highland scoundrel in your story didn’t use the word ‘tits’, but you let it slide. The one between your thighs is everything you need, and more.
GHOST – He’s wearing jeans, so it’s a bit harder to get him free. After you let out a frustrated huff at the complexity of his wardrobe, he cups you under your ass and stands you both up. Undoing his belt buckle and the fly one-handed before setting you back down astride him again.
“Needy little dove today.”
“Just let me try, Si.” You rarely ever ride him. The few times you’ve attempted it, you give up when your thighs turn to mush and your cunt aches from being split in two. He’s just too thick for a quickie.
“Are you going to let me help this time, or are you going to be stubborn?”
“Help!” The strangled sound escapes your throat as you fit him in to the hilt. He takes up so much space, you can’t tell where you end and he begins.
“You’re fucking soaked.” He rolls his hips to stretch you further, to find the right spot, as your slick trickles down to coat his balls. You feel them wet and sticky against your seam.
“Mmmh-uhhh, that’s it. Right there,” you bellow gratefully to the ceiling.
“What are you going to do about it?” He grabs your hips rudely, fingers pressing to dimple the skin and hold you down as he spears your nerves like a spike.
You fight against his hold, knowing that’s what he's looking for. Just a little fire in your belly, a little steel in your spine and your merciless, battle-scarred rogue will give you anything you want.
“That’s it, dovey. Fuck me good.”
PRICE – He’s watching you with awe, wide-eyed and slack jawed, so immersed in the act of being milked by your warm, soft walls that he’s relinquished control completely. You know that look too well.
“Do not come yet, John. Please. Think of bullets. Hollow points and grenades. A...ummm, a panzer!” You’re almost there. So...close your mind is just pulling words from memories of past conversations you were only barely listening to.
“A panzer? Like the bloody old German tank?” he asks with the sort of clarity of mind you need of him in this situation.
“Yes, keep thinking of dusty relics rotting in museums. While I ride your big, beautiful cock—”
“You’ve done it now.” He groans, and you feel him stiffen inside you. The sensation of it, coupled with the hot spurts of his spend hitting your most sensitive spot, get you there just in time to join him.
You don’t even mind that it was so quick. It warms your heart, and your cunt, that the callous, domineering war hero falls to pieces so completely for no one but you.
Need Soap to fold me like a lawnchair and whine and pant about how he wants to be a dad so bad, more than anything. How he wants a whole soccer team, practically sobbing from how good he feels
