#Simon and blue

[tojisun]

call it bad porno plot but blue collar simon coming to your house cuz you rang, saying you needed some plumbing done, and you, well, you didn’t expect this hulking mass of a man to come greet you with an accent so thick you can feel yourself getting wet :(

he calls you maam and missus—you say “just miss,” with a little cough because you’re not married, and he pauses and goes, “oh, is that so?” with this little pleased smile tugging at his lips.

he checks whatever’s going on in your kitchen sink and says it might take a while, and you can barely reply to him when he begins to shrug his jacket off, leaving him in this skin-tight black shirt that literally looks so beat up with overuse but unbelievably hot on him.

“reckon little ol’ me can have somethin’ to drink, maam?” he asks, crossing those thick arms over his chest, and you can barely rasp out your reply before you’re turning around to rummage around the fridge.

you don’t notice the way simon eyes you down, tracing your body and barely biting a pleased hum at the sight you make, all doll and pretty, so easy to read with your blown wide eyes staring up at him with such palpable desire.

you haven’t been fucked right, huh darling? probably never had a real man treat you well—fold you over the counter, make you squirt with only fingers, yeah?

well, he thinks, rolling his shoulders and grunting his thanks to you when you give him a glass of OJ, maybe i can be that man for you, isn’t that right petal?

(it takes a purposeful hit at the pipes for things to pick up—you came running back to the kitchen with a confused yelp, and the next he’s got you on your kitchen table, legs thrown over his shoulders, and his head buried in your cunt.)

-

ext

[stargirlrchive]

simon’s work wife

one — two — three — four

the transition in your relationship—if you could call it that—with simon was easier than you anticipated. he practically herded you into his apartment.

helping you pack, doing all the heavy lifting, and grunting softly when you’d ask if some of your decor would clash with his. “wh’tver you want in our house will go, doll.”

our house. our.

shivers ran down your spine when you’d hear him refer to your things as our. you didn’t mind it—albeit it did confuse you a bit because just two weeks ago you were single, and now you were living with your lieutenant, and sleeping in his bed, and he’d cook for you—even knew how you liked your coffee in the morning.

the only weird thing was that he didn’t touch you.

well he did, like placing a heavy hand on your lower back to guide you, or pressing up against you to grab a cup from the shelves because you couldn’t reach it, or letting his thumb trail down your throat as you spoke to him.

but he didn’t touch you.

that plagued your thoughts all day, even as you slipped into bed with him. letting out a small huff as he turned to face you in the dim light of the room.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing.”

you could tell his brows pinched together but you didn’t mention it. picking at your cuticles to stop yourself from looking at him.

you were still so confused; he clearly wanted you if his actions meant anything. and you couldn’t deny that anytime he’d refer to you as his ‘missus’ that warmth curled in your belly and left you a mess.

a needy, horny mess. it was his fault really.

he grunted, thick fingers wrapping around your soft thigh to pull you closer to him, “we ain’t supposed to go to sleep mad at each other.”

your nose scrunched up at him as you somehow found yourself under him, “and who sets these rules?”

he stared at you for a second before that same hand that was curled around your thigh now moved to curl around your throat gently, his eyes glued to your lips.

“me.”

you huff again, but make no move to move from under him—a move simon doesn’t miss. “what’s go ya’ so worked up, sweetheart?”

the gravel in his voice had your skin heating up, nipples pebbling as you met his gaze, “you.”

“me?”

“mhm.”

the amusement was clear in his eyes, staring down at you as he let his weight sink into you and you had to bite back the moan that threatened to leave your lips.

god, you felt pathetic. just the feeling of his cock on your belly, the scent of him, had you reeling.

“tell me what you need.”

one of his hands trailed lower, thumb barely ghosting over your nipple and a breathless whine left your mouth. “well—i-i need you to perform your duties-”

a rumbly laugh left his mouth as his nose dipped down to your throat, licking up your neck and nipping softly, “my duties?”

heat coiled in your belly, arousal pulling between your thighs as you tried to control your breathing. “and what duties have i been falling short on?”

your mind went hazy as he cupped your breast, lowering his hips to press his cock against your cunt, heavy and thick and just there. teasing you further by not moving.

“have i been neglecting my missus?”

that pulled a moan straight from your parted lips, hips bucking upwards to grind against his cock as he grunted lowly. “y-yes, been neglecting me.”

he nipped at your neck, thick fingers easily snapping away that lacy fabric that sat on your hips as he growled out softly, “m’sorry, baby. i’ll make it up to you.”

[amaranthinespirit]

blue collar or cowboy!simon riley who would fuck you in the bed of his truck

simon was always out working so hard all day, coming home with dirt caked on his clothes. you'd have to scold him when he would track mud through the house—that you had just cleaned from whenever he came in yesterday.

he'd grovel, pressing kisses to the bare skin of your shoulder, the well-worn, holed shirt you stole from him slipping off your frame. muttering promises between each press of his lips further up your neck, along your jaw.

who are you to resist?

and who is he to either?

your pants pooled at your ankles, shirt hiked up your back and drooping off one shoulder. your inner thighs are slick and glistening with arousal and saliva.

a rough hand pushes down on your back, further squishing your chest into the hard metal of his truck bed, another grasping firmly at the fat of your backside where simon's face is lapping at your dripping cunt.

soft mewls cry from your lips, hands reaching back to grasp as his head, fingers tangling through the short locks of dirty blond. he only grunts in response—sorry, luvie, he's in heaven.

your legs are trembling, knees threatening to buckle under you with three orgasms already coaxed out of you on his tongue alone, milking you of your sweet, slick nectar.

your quiet, strained cries do nothing, but aid the tightness in his dirtied jeans, his cock oozing arousal in his boxers, dampening the fabric beyond his zipper. every involuntary shift of his hips causes more friction and tension with the denim, sending a groan throughout your pussy.

his noises vibrate against your pussy, shocking your overstimulated, and oversensitive, clit. all you can do is cry out as he pushes himself deeper, closer. his tongue is merciless, selfish as he threatens to swallow you whole.

at this point, you're begging for relent, repeated pleas of his name falling from your lips as the familiar heat builds in your tummy, and you writhe under his hands. the cold metal turning warm under you as it digs into your skin.

everything becoming overstimulating as the world begins to spin, jaw going slack, saliva pooling in your mouth as it threatens to spill over your swollen lips.

tears are streaming down your flushed face, your hair is frizzy and eyes are practically rolling to the back of your head as yet another release washes over you, sending a shudder through your body.

simon finally pulls his face away from the heaven between your thighs, not without flattening his tongue over your cunt for a last taste.

the lower half of his face glistening, coated in your juices, he desperately licks his lips to savor it. as he stands up from his position, his hand on your back pushes you back down onto the bed of his truck.

"n't done, luvie, be'a gud girl 'nd stay still," he kneaded the flesh of your backside, groaning at the sight in front of him.

his hands meet your hips, pulling you back on his clothed erection. a small yelped wince escapes your lips at the friction against your sensitive cunt. your frayed nerves against the harsh material that soaks up your arousal and previous releases.

you whine as he rocks his hips slowly, grunting as he watches the material dampen so easily before he pulls away from your hips.

his movements are hasty, not wasting any more time as he barely undoes his belt and zipper, freeing his heavy cock from the constraints of his jeans.

he whines softly at the warmth of your puffy, swollen folds as he rubs his cockhead up and down your pussy before catching your slit.

he groans at the tightness that welcomes him, the slick, clamping, spongy walls that pulse around his dick almost milks him of every last drop of sperm that fills his heavy balls.

your voice is hoarse, almost gone by the time his cock is sheathed in you, his cockhead brushing your cervix as you feel the precum oozing from his slit. you can feel every prominent vein of his cock against your spongy walls, they're practically ingrained in you, your pussy molded to take his dick.

a creamy, white circle forms at the base of his cock as he forces his entire length inside, his girthy dick stretching your weeping pussy with loud, lewd squelches.

he doesn't give you time—he's selfish tonight, unapologetically so because luvie, he didn't track any dirt through the house! this is him rewarding himself for being so good! you can't discourage that, can you?

it isn't long until your backside is red, his hips pistioning into your sopping cunt, the sight of your slick pussy swallowing his red, angry cock so needily, sucking him in so desperately and clamping around him was addicting, and the feel even more so. his pace isn't nice, it's mean, and relentless, and bruising.

"fuck, lovie, couldn' wait t'hav ya," he whined in your ear, his cock drilling into your tight hole as he nipped at your earlobe. calloused, rough and dirty hands kneading the fat of your ass, a sharp slap to your skin causing it to turn even more flushed and red as he fucked himself stupid.

he was pussy-drunk, drool dripping from his cracked, dry lips onto the expanse of your shoulder. he'd press lewd, wet kisses against your supple skin, adding to the trails of saliva that pooled from his lips.

you'd have bruises the shape of his fingers on your ass for days, maybe even a week after, because of how hard his hands grasp your backside, pulling you back onto his cock as he milks himself dry.

"need t'fill y'r pussy, baby," his voice comes out a low, rough whine, despite the heavy grasp and force he exerts, "fuck, 's all f'me, ain't it?"

he'd always make sure to put dirt on the floors if it meant making it up to you by stuffing his face between your thighs.

or, making sure to kick off his boots outside the door if it meant rewarding himself like this, again, and again, and again.

[drgnflyteabox]

mdni - implied fat!reader x bluecollar!simon riley drabble - simon is a bit of a creep also lol

Bluecollar!Simon Riley whose house floods so he has to spend the next few days in a cheap, seedy motel

First morning there he's leaving for work just as the sun is rising. Its hot, humid, and he's a shitty mood because he'll be working all day and it's only gonna get hotter

Simon Riley who smokes a couple cigs before he goes, sitting on a plastic lawn chair on his concrete faux patio when he sees you

You're flustered, damp with sweat and skin sun-kissed. You've got a laundry basket on your hip and immediately he's imagining a baby there instead. His baby.

Simon Riley who's shameless about staring at you struggling with the laundry door, dropping your clothes and giving him a view of your wide hips and plush ass in very short pajama shorts

You're so flustered:(( nearly in tears while you pick everything up. The shorts are a little tight, a little worn, and the thin material gives him just enough of a view of your pussy that it sustains him the whole day :')

All he can imagine is coming back and sinking into you :') not even necessarily fucking right away, but keeping his cock warm and relieving the tension in his body. He deserves that, no?

He's not creeping, necessarily, when he takes note of the lotion you use. Vanilla. He just happened to be having a smoke and walking right by your window, where you've got one foot propped on a chair rubbing it into your skin.

Your room is tidy. Despite the stained walls, cracks in the ceiling and overall dingy-ness, you've managed to make it look cozy.

New sheets, a fluffy blanket, string lights strung across the wall. Beside you, lotions and creams and washes - he snorts a little to himself. The bathrooms here don't have any counter space or mirrors to set them down on.

But his house does. In fact, most of his shelves are empty everywhere. His pantry, his closets. The only thing he's got are work clothes and beers in the fridge. Maybe a stray heel of bread.

Simon Riley who decides he'll have you move in before he even talks to you, before he starts memorizing your schedule on the weekends and evenings he gets home. You're struggling, on the edge of homelessness, but he knows you'd be the perfect wife and mother. That you'd bring light and warmth to his house, fill those empty shelves and empty rooms...

[mokeonn]

decided to warm up today by drawing my favorite image of all time

[tsuchigomu]

Seriously. I love 2009 simon riley so much. I love his droopy blue eyes, his cursing, his voice, his youthfulness, his baclava and sunglasses. everything about him screams biker boyfriend. He deserves so much more attention… HIS BLUE EYES ARE SO……. not to mention he looks adorably high. Maybe i’m just a sicko for droopy eyes. HE LOOKS SO TIRED! They remind me of a puppy and i’m not sure if i’m going crazy or what. HE’S JUST SO ADORABLE DAWG I CANT��beefy ghost is cute too, but 09 ghost js gives me the tall handsome, well-built biker boy. Why did they have to do him like that bro…. (Pics not mine)

[ghouljams]

(cw flexible!ballerina!reader, minor foot fetish, Ghost's down bad)

It's easy to find himself in the mirrored studio. Big man in a little chair, the only one quiet enough to hear the soft piano under the whispered chatter of the moms on either side of him. It's just enough for him to hear the little padded feat that prance along behind you as you have them cross the floor in little pas de bourees and short hopping leaps. You clap your hands with the music, smiling and waving your hands to try and coax the shier girls forwards. You in your loose pants and fitted shirt that if Ghost could see the bottom of he'd swear must be a leotard. God he wants to see the bottom of it, wants to see the cut of your legs through the fabric, smell the sweat of your skin and lick along the seams.

Instead he waves silently at his little girl when she grins at him and returns the gesture with a much more enthusiastic flap of her hand. It's enough to make you step forward --and God just watching you walk is like an art, your feet stepping toe-heel in a gentle rolling motion that seems to leap across the polished wood like rubber balls, weightless-- and gently turn the little girl's attention back to class. It's a mistake that you bend at the waist to redirect his girl to the lesson, must be. Waving your ass for him like a cat in heat, he wonders how flexible you are, how far he could bend you in half before you cried uncle.

You settle on the floor to lead the girls through some mid-class stretching, and the way you sweep your legs out to either side of you and press your chest to the floor makes Ghost's head spin. The muscles in your legs flex, your knees turned out, and your feet pointed. If his girl is doing the same he doesn't notice. His eyes follow the length of you, checking the edge on the blade that's pressed itself to his throat and stop at the pink slippers on your feet.

The straps the crisscross the top of your foot dig pleasantly into your bare foot, and your foot curves beautifully into a perfect arch. He's never seen anything like it, subconsciously he tries to curl his toes to match and feels his eye twitch at the ache of his work boots interference. He wants to slip off the slipper and see how you do it, hold your foot in his hand and trace the lines of your arch with his tongue. If he could just kiss the knob of your ankle maybe he could drag his lips higher. The bend of your knee, the flex of your adductors, the swell of your-

He clears his throat and crosses his ankle over his knee, adjusting for the growing hardness between his legs. The stiff starch of his work pants only does so much to cover it.

The little feet start pattering across the floor, ballet slippers softening the noise even as the mirrors covering the walls echo it through the space. One of the moms to his side asks him a question and he grunts in response, eyes trained on the soft sweeping roll of your feet as you rise up into releve.

He wonders how far he'd have to bend you to make sure his come hit your face when he was done fucking his cock between those perfect arches.

[shprimpstersthesecond]

hehehe!!1!1!1 hello sprunki fandom!!

shows my redesigns of the colorful sprunki!1!1!

id also post the other half but I CANT DECIDE WHAT TO ADD FOR CLUKR AND IM FREEKING OWT!1!1!1

[zvdvdlvr]

thinkinf blue collar!simon thoughts…

welder!simon making you those pretty metal flowers. welder!simon who loves when you pack lunch for him because its so domestic and he’s out of the house by 0400 in the morning anyway. welder!simon who talks about you to all the down-to-earth guys that come through and have a job for him. welder!simon who always showers right when he gets home because he know how you get when he gets thise little curls of steel that latch onto his shirt on the couch or get dirt on the bed.

mechanic!simon who always gets your vehicle in and out before anyone else though possible. mechanic!simon who offers to fix things up at your house/apartment for free because he (wants to spend time with you) knows how expensive things are… and he is your friend, so why not just do it out of the kindness of his heart? mechanic!simon who is friends with you long enough to know your favorite animal/song, so he casually gets a tattoo of the animal silhouette/lyrics because he has tattoos anyway so why not get one that reminds him of you?

electrician!simon who always jumps to offer his work skills if you need. electrician!simon who always lets you know the latest gossip that he hears on the job if you want to know. electrician!simon who always calls you after a work accident/scare: he fell about twenty feet and landed on his back and his first thought was of you, simon got shocked by a live wire and asked for you to come cook him dinner because he burned through some skin tissue (and he knows you’d do it).

[starboye]

imagine being a male wife for blue collar!simon and he's just getting off work, opening the door and kicking off his work boots to the delicious smell of you cooking and the sound of some low music playing, watching you dance your way around the kitchen looking as care free as ever before noticing him looking at you

you greet him warmly running into hid broad arms for a hug and pulling back when you smell the odor of ten hour work shift at a construction company in the hot sun, taking his lunch box and telling him to go clean up a bit and then come back

getting out of the showers and throwing on some clothes you put out for him, getting back to see you set the table with some great food for a big guy like him, taking off your apron as sit down and give him a kiss, making him sit down as well to enjoy the food

once done he doesn't want to do anything except spend the rest of the night cuddling you but what's wrong with giving him just a slice of pie before bed... and maybe to more just because he earned it, the next morning you pack him a lunch with a cute note and all his favorites

[vampyrdolll]

Call her moon child ♱

[tojisun]

found you today through your plumber simon story and hngggg how can you take a concept that's so overdone and still nail it??? THE TALENT

(I need more of those plss)

aww im glad u liked the lil drabble teehee and thank you so much!!

(idk if this will serve the way the first past did but—)

just. blue collar simon makes me shrivel up in need. he’s just so…capable. so competent. he’s suave and ruggedly charismatic. he sees what he wants and knows how to take it; how to coax it out of you.

simon sees how wide-eyed you are when you look up at him, sees the shyness in the way you give him that drink he asked for, sees the way you curl into yourself while you explain to him the problem you’re having with your kitchen sink, and he physically has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from preening.

you stuttered out your concerns, ducking your head down when you noticed how much eye contact he’s keeping, only for your lungs to constrict when all what your quiet murmur did was make him lean ever so closer to you.

“sorry, miss,” he drawled, shuffling to rest his hand on the counter. “just can’t hear y’well, s’all.”

“oh, okay,” you replied, voice all sticky because what else could you say?

and simon just watched with narrowed eyes and pinched lips because darlin’, you didn’t even know what you do to him.

simon didn’t really fuck you then, not with how you laid there on your kitchen table, loopy and twitching, eyes faraway while your body came down from the intensity of your orgasms.

little lady, you fuckin’ squirted. you drenched his mouth and made his fingers all pruny with your slick.

god, doll, you were so pretty, all sweaty and drooling, unable to even properly kiss him back when he leant down to nab a taste of those spit-slicked lips. all you could do was whine, your body locked while your cunt spurted uselessly, still so overstimulated by the way he stuffed you.

you pawed at the tent in his jeans when you finally came back to, and who was simon to deny you of his cock?

you sucked him messily, but simon’s never been so horny until then. you couldn’t even swallow his prick properly, your mouth tired and your body still putty, but simon came the fastest he’s remembered, shooting his spunk all over your sweaty face.

simon would’ve snagged a photo of how you looked but the pipes really needed some fixing. so he tucked himself back in his jeans, then slapped the inside of your thigh softly, his eyes still on your puffy cunt.

“a’right. this bloke need t’work again, is that not right miss?” simon crooned, dragging his hand along your leg, watching your skin dimple with the weight of his hold.

you warbled a response.

simon chuckled and pressed forward to brush a kiss on your forehead before forcing himself to walk away because he’s still on the clock.

not like he’d even charge you after all of that.

.

it’s two weeks later when you finally called the plumber again. sure, you had to slam the hilt of your knife on your pipe until it finally dented, but it’s not like the plumber—mr. simon—would need to know.

your call gets picked up after the second ring but before you could even offer any greetings, all of which you’ve rehearsed in front of the mirror over and over again, he says, “well, that sure took y’while, didn’t it doll? almost had me worried that you wouldn’t call.”

you breathe in sharply, your pussy tingling already. he chuckles.

“same address?”

“yes, please,” you rasp out before licking at your chapped lips. then, “can i request for an asap service? it’s…leaking right now.”

mr. simon laughs loudly this time. you end the call before he can say anything more, dutifully ignoring the way your cheeks thrum with feverish heat.

because you’re sure that this time…

[shotmrmiller]

those few first initial thrusts at the beginning, the ones where the guy gives that sigh of almost relief as his hands tighten around you, fingers dimpling your skin, eyes glued to where you two meet absolutely lost in the sauce makes my head spin because simon savors nothing. not the smokes he puffs down to the filter in less than a minute, the energy drinks he guzzles down more than he does water, not even the damn food. if he could just swallow it whole without risking death he would but you (and your pussy)???

like the guys sitting around a safe house waiting for dawn to break to exfil and they're just talking about what they miss about home the most. they all say generic stuff, miss their beds, pets, family, whatever so when it's simon's turn they all assume it's food because he's talking about a specific little burger joint that, in their opinion, sounds like a hovel, but no one's ever thought simon has sane taste but then when kyle asks him what does he like off the menu the most his eyebrows furrow and he looks almost repulsed.

because he is.

"the food's bloody terrible. couldn't make me eat there even if it was the last place on earth."

no, he explains, my bird makes up for it. best damn pussy he's ever ate.

[vanillaearwig]

I'm glad people seemed to like my Winter Betty AU so here's more of that

I tweaked her design a bit from that first rough pass. And I'm feeling this one more.

Someone said I should give her her magic man hat, and I couldn't figure out a way to incorporate it without it looking out of place or like a blue santa hat so....... ribbons.

I drew her generally more "put together" here but she's also still a bit nuts and slightly feral and we love that for her

[yooo-lets-go]

Blade Runner 2049 ghostsoap anyone?

[gomzdrawfr]

Merry Christmas!! they're exchanging gifts by the tree :3