#Simon riley

[k0ingisdone]

you know what.

I am so fucking tired of rape fics. I am a sexual assault survivor and you sexulise rape. why. why do I work so hard to get better and it all get ruined by some horny asshole just like last time. THESE CHARATERS DONT WANT TO RAPE YOU. rape is horrible, its NOT sexy. its traumatizing. why do you keep talking about it and writing about it. STOP MINIMIZING MY PAIN WITH YOUR DERANGED FANTASIES.

Simon Riley isnt a rapist

Leon Kennedy isnt a rapist

and belive it or not Jonathan Crane ISNT A FUCKING RAPIST

dont tell me not to kink shame

do not tell me to skip it

you cannot tell me that my trauma doesn't matter

STOP WRITING RAPE FICS

[sidollie]

༉‧₊˚. Simon Riley with a overstimulated reader cw// ᴍᴅɴɪ, overstimulation, pussy drunk simon Riley creampies, porn with no plot

𐙚 Simon Riley who thrusts maniacally into you, thick fat cock bullying it's way into your overly sensitive pussy as his thick seed gushes out of it.

His hot breath fans against the shell of your ear as he grunts,

"one more lovie, promise... jus' one more round"

his hips come to a stuttering halt as his cock once again spurts hot ropes of cum into you, he breaks his promise nth time that night as he starts to bully himself in your hole again.

Simon's red mushroom tip slams into that gooey spot within your slick gummy walls repeatedly as guttural groans erupt from him, while you try to squirm away from the amount of stimulation you were receiving, tears running down your cheeks as you sobbed,

"simon... 'm too sen-sensitive"

"I know sweet girl, I know but yer gonna keep taking it like a good girl, right? Hm?"

The bedroom is filled with his groans, your cries, and the wet sound of skin slapping against each other

plap, plap, plap

he bites the sensitive spot beneath your ear making you moan and clench around him.

"fuck lovie! D-don' clench"

Another orgasm rips through his body, his cock aching painfully but it feels too good to stop. so his hips once again start hammering into your poor cunt while he hoarsely apologizes,

"ah shit 'm sorry hon, yer lil cunt feels so good wrapped around my cock, jus' c-can't stop myself"

He ignores your whines, his mind driven only on getting his seed deep in your fertile womb till his lovely little wife is barefoot and swollen with his child.

@sidollie

[shinoko-oshi]

Simon, tits or ass question

Simon never understood the whole ass or tits debate.

It was the kind of question that got tossed around by the younger recruits, the loud, cocky ones who acted like they’d never touched a woman—probably hadn’t—let alone knew where to find a clit. He’d hear it in the barracks, in the gym, during downtime on base, always the same brainless conversation.

And every damn time, his mind went straight to you. His fiancée.

Sure, Simon liked your ass. Liked the way it felt in his hands, the way he could squeeze it in public just to hear you scold him, swatting his arm and hissing about other people being around—like he gave a shit. He liked resting his head on it, treating it like a pillow when you laid on your stomach, liked feeling it press up against him in the middle of the night when you shifted in your sleep.

But he also liked your tits.

Liked watching them bounce when you ran on the treadmill in that little sports bra and shorts. Liked sinking his face into them after long, brutal days, letting himself get lost in your warmth. Liked sneaking up behind you while you got ready, pressing his hands over them just to hear you sigh, half-exasperated, half-amused.

But then there were your eyes.

Simon fucking loved your eyes. Loved that he could stare into them whenever he wanted because you were his and that meant he had that privilege. Loved the way you squinted when the sun was too bright, how you’d complain about it getting in your face while he just stood there, mesmerized by how it made your irises glow. He got grumpy whenever you wore sunglasses. Not that he’d admit it, because it meant he couldn’t see them, just his own damn reflection staring back at him.

And your hair. Jesus.

Then there was your hair—your sweet-smelling hair that he could sit for hours just breathing in. He loved the way it felt against his skin, whether it was soft, loose or styled with care. Loved when you let him play with it, even if he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing half the time. And when you slept, he didn’t mind if it ended up in his face, didn’t care if it tickled or got in the way. he’d just bury himself deeper, content in the warmth of you.

Then there were your legs.

Simon liked them no matter what. He liked the slight prickle when your hair started growing back, liked running his hands up and down your thighs just to feel the texture. But he also liked when you let him shave them, taking his time, careful and precise, making sure not to nick you. Didn’t matter if they were smooth, stubbled, or fully grown out—he just liked you.

Your hands. Your belly. Your arms. Your face. Every part of you.

So no, Simon never really understood the whole ass or tits question. It was too small, too simple.

Because he didn’t just like your ass or your tits.

He liked you.

[fludderpy]

“How to make your lieutenants day a bit better“ - tutorial

(More artworks on patreon ✨)

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Ghost: I've caught this stupid disease because of Y/N Price: For the last time, Simon, feelings are not an illness

[abusivegymrat]

Being the only female in 141, but not in the 12 year old wattpadd writer “they all wanna fuck me uwu” way…

cute lil drabble (im sleep deprives as hell)

wc: 243

These men have no idea how to do the most basic tasks, taking care of themselves be damned.

They looked at you like they saw a ghost the first time you sat down with something on your plate that wasn’t a can of corn, beans, tuna or MRE’s. Holy shit, you’re eating from a plate, love!

And it was like you grew three heads when you wiped the table after Gaz spilled water, why didn’t you let it dry? Or that time you had to broom the dead mice out of the safe house. We could have lain down next to them, sweetheart! Oh when you made dinner for them? You won their hearts…

This wasn’t about gender roles, no, you weren’t doing this because you had to. You weren’t the problem for doing it, they were the problem for being so fucking dumb.

“Are you lot some sort of loyalty as in riches, or fucking rags?”

“Wha’?” Simon blurts.

“Are you this incompetent because you’ve never done anything and people did shit for you your entire life, or are you completely useless?” The genuineness in your voice is a shock factor itself, enough to make the captain’s eyebrows raise.

“Lass, are you okay—“

“Soap, you just told me you’ve never held a broom in your life.”

One time, Gaz was cleaning ketchup from the table with rounded motions, smearing it over the table. Your breath hitched. “GARRICK!”

They’re nervous around you since.

Check out my masterlist!

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[bunny-jpeg]

most think that simon comes home from missions or deployment and just smothers himself in his wife's plush titties and fucks your sweet cunt like a mad man - a desperate dog for completion after so much time apart.

and while that did happen, usually he was dead on his feet when he arrived home. his bag thrown onto the couch, his hands moved without thought to get his boots off - left by the door to be cleaned in the morning. then he trudged upstairs to your shared bedroom. you were close behind asking if he needed anything: food, water, a change of clothes, a bath. he just grunted in response, his eyes heavy. the dark circles were noticeable, even with his mask still on.

he at least was smart enough to get out of his well worn (smelly) military clothes before he face-planted into your bed. the mask taken off and throw somewhere in the room to hopefully be found later. his body curled into himself and he just relaxed for the first time in what felt like years.

you tried to ask him if he needed anything: the heat pad for his back, a face cloth to wipe the eye grease off, a pair of sweatpants, the biscuits that you went out to buy just for him.

he barely lifted his head off his pillow as he looked at you. he said bluntly, but in a gentle tone, "just get into bed with me, dove." he scratched the stubble on his chin, "come to bed and read me one of those cheesy books ya love so much."

everything could wait: a meal, a bath, sex, it could all wait. simon in that moment just needed one thing: to feel you in his arms once more <3

a/n: i can't wait to get my baby back!

[succubusvalentine]

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐠𝐚. 𝐂𝐖 : 𝐍𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬.

𝐌 𝐀 𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐋 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓

You didn't expect the strange situation you were in with your boyfriend and his teammates to progress further than it already had. Simon would send videos and images of you during sex to the men he trusted with his life, you got an ego boost from the desperate praise from said men. Everything was good.

And yet, one day when you were on your lunch break, waiting for your name to be called at the cafe, your phone dinged.

You were slightly confused, assuming it was Simon despite that he rarely messages you while he's on base.

But when you opened your phone, it was a group chat.

And not a new one, no. Because as you scrolled up, you saw videos of you that Simon had sent. And some familiar text messages from Simons teammates.

Your phone dinged again and you were at the bottom of the chat once more. Only to see an image of Johnnys hard dick.

"Christ, Soap. Do we all have to see that?" Price messaged.

"Couldn't help myself. Got excited to see that Bonnie lass finally got added after Simons been edging us for months about it" Johnny responded.

"Don't word it like that, Soap." Simon messaged.

The short conversation between the three heavily amused you. Making you giggle under your breath.

Once you returned to your office building with your treat from the cafe, you put the small paper bag on your desk before going to the bathroom.

You scoped out the place, making sure no one else was in there. Before you quickly unbuttoned your blouse and took a photo of the lace bra you had on. Suddenly thankful it was wash day for your favourite comfy bras.

Almost as soon as it was sent, a flood of messages from all four men came through. Clearly all salivating at the image.

That's how it went for a while, too. You'd started sending pictures of your tits, cunt, a few of your hand (or Simons) under your panties.

It definitely inflated your ego. And you now loved getting demands from the men. You should feel disgusted by them, but reading a text from Price saying "show cunt", with the following messages of his men agreeing and begging for it...Yeah you weren't disgusted. It only made you throb.

Your favourite was when they would send voice messages after one of your pretty photos. Grunts and the slick sound of their hand stroking themselves raw.

You've even gotten a video or two from Simon and Price of Kyle and Johnny sat next to each other as they tug each others cocks, staring at the video you'd just sent of you touching yourself.

And at the end of every week, after the last meeting of the day on base, Price would dismiss everyone but his favourite three. Switching the presentation to the more personal one. Where they go through all the images and videos you and Simon had sent during the week. More often than not, cocks in hand as Simon described how you tasted and felt like. How you sounded.

And if the boys had been good that week, they all got a pair of soaked panties to take home.

Adding you to the group chat was definitely the right idea.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

[dante-mightdie]

your dickhead boyfriend who knows simon is obsessed with you and instead of confronting him about it, he just decides to “lower your value” in front of him except simon is too far gone now

revealing his pet peeves about you, what you’re like to live with. he thinks telling simon about how your hair clogs the shower drain or how you you forgot to flush the toilet after you peed this morning will turn him off but he’s never been hornier in his life

all he’s doing is adding fuel to the already out of control fire. you’re the love of his life, nothing is off-limits to him now. he won’t play this game with your boyfriend, no one humiliates simon’s wife.

“strange.” is all simon says, taking a sip of his bourbon

“what’s strange?”

“nothin’ jus… can’ imagine wha’ it’s like bein’ a pussy tha’s afraid of piss an’ hair.”

[softaestluv]

Boyfriend! Simon Riley who loves giving you his debit card. ‘Accidentally’ leaves his card in your purse, at your house, or in your car because you pretend you don’t secretly like it when he pays for everything, when he takes care of you. Acts surprised every time you message him to tell him he left his card again— no worries, sweet’art, rather you use it anyways.

Even more so when he’s assigned to a mission, sneaks his card into your wallet before he leaves; it’s not like he’s exactly going shopping when on an assignment anyways. You protest each time, but seeing the notification on his phone of a purchase he didn’t make while away makes him content, in more ways than one. He knows you’re safe and alive. that you’re okay, when his phone dings with a sum of money withdrawn from his account— $50, $100, $300, he doesn’t care.

He takes care of what’s his.

Besides, it always guarantees that he comes home to you, his pretty dove, with a fresh set of nails and a new lingerie set for him.

✎ᝰ.ᐟ

[skyrigel]

Simon doesn't do girlfriends. He's not hanging out or going on dates or buying you flowers or food or hairpins.

It's just...well he might accidentally stop by to get chinese takeouts and might see to buy shiny pin and other things you have saved in, and well, he just might think of you in everything he sees.

And god forbid a woman staying in his house ?! Taking over his clothes and frowning at the lack of furniture and pictures on wall and dull curtains.

No, that's absurd. But...well he might take you to ikea and might indulge in your ifs and buts and might get you something which makes your eyes glimmer and might take you home —to spend all evening assembling it, taking his time telling you how to turn allen key, the click of dowel, the wood quality, the torque of screws.

He might let you stay after and give him shoulder massage, might let you hold his face from behind and turn his neck to kiss him square on mouth.

He might buy frames for all the polaroids of you in his sweats, or stirring the pot, or looking at your laptop, and the one where you're draped on his shoulder might be the one he caresses with his thumb every so often.

He might go to that pottery place you gushed about and might sit behind you with his hands pressed onto yours and might make a ( heart shaped ?! ) cup with his and yours initials carved and baked and painted into the beautiful clumsy thing.

He might drink his morning coffee to whiskey in that cup only.

He might get a second key.

He might put those shampoos you smell so much of, in his cabinets.

He might change the dull curtains to your favourite colour.

He might just upside down his whole world for you to take a look around and smile.

And well Simon doesn't really do girlfriends, but he might just die if it's not your yapping he falls asleep to, with your hair poking his chin and gibberish of all day long ending to a soft sweet sigh — goodnight baby.

Masterlist

[imtherain]

Ghost coded

emptying and reloading a gun with practiced efficiency so you think i'm an expert marksman but you later find out that's just how i stim

[sidollie]

༉‧₊˚. Simon Riley breeding reader cw// ᴍᴅɴɪ, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampies

𐙚 Simon Riley who bullies his big raw cock into your poor cunt that is trying to accomodate to his thick cock. Your little bundle of nerves all swollen and sensitive as his thick fingers pinch and pull on it so he can watch in amusement as your pretty face twists in pleasure

His rugged face stretching in a smug smirk as he rubs tight circles on your clit after pulling on it relentlessly as he taunts you

"yer gonna cum f'me again, dovie? Hm?"

His fat cock was covered in your juices, he leaned down and captured your pink lips in a rough kiss, teeth and tongue clashing together. He broke the kiss, a string of saliva connects you both together as he presses his forehead against yours

His hips continuosly snap in a ruthless rhythm as he feels you grip his cock like a vice. a deep grunt resonating within his throat as his hips stuttered and he filled you up as you came around him,

Your hips lifting into him as his warm cum makes home deep in your sweet cunt. He groaned satisfied against your ear,

"feel that swee'heart? My cum deep in your sweet womb, breeding yer sweet cunt. Gonna get ya pregnant with my kid dovie"

he groans smugly as his thick fingers left light marks on your plump hips as he pulled out his cock leaving your sloppy cunt satisfied and filled to the brim.

@sidollie

[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.

[readwritealldayallnight]

At this point, you couldn’t even remember what the bet had been about anymore

Was it who could chug their pint the fastest? Who could take the most shots in a row? Who could hold their breath the longest after a smoke?

Whatever it had been this time, one of the countless idiotic challenges the men liked to constantly one up each other with on nights out, it didn’t really matter, because the winner tonight was none other than you

Soap had been whining most of the way back to base about how they’d never hear the end of this now, telling Gaz about how they’ll have to up the stakes from now on if the lass is catching up

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you hiccup, fiddling with your seatbelt as you and the men pull into the base’s garage. “Enough complaining, gentlemen, I want my prize.”

“That so?” Gaz asks, looking back at you through the rear view mirror with an amused expression plastered on his face.

“Ye don’t get no fuckin’ reward, hen. Your blabbing’s been sufficient.” Soap pipes in, hopping out of the car all too eagerly.

“No. It’s definitely not officiant-”

“Sufficient.” The captain quietly tried to correct you as he himself steps out do the vehicle, hiding his amusement at your drunken state better than the rest of the lads are.

“- and I know exactly what my prize should be.”

“What’s that love?” Ghost asks you softly, having opened your door to help you out, a gloved hand reaching out towards you.

You place your hand in his, allowing the large man to help you to your feet, standing in closer proximity to the lieutenant than you probably would if you were sober, but you’re still riding high off your victory, and so you stand as close to him as you’ve been wanting to, and you say what’s been on your mind for long enough now

“I want you to kiss me.”

Ever the stoic soldier, Ghost’s reaction is imperceptible, apart from the slightest widening of his eyes and the tightening of his grip on your hand, until you open your mouth again

“In front of them.”

“… what?”

“I want you to kiss me, in front of them. That’s my prize, reward, whatever you want to call it. That’s what I want.”

A chorus of chuckles and teasing comments erupt from the rest of the men stood nearby, watching the scene unfold before them, curious to see how the Lieutenant’s going to handle this one

“Listen, I don’t know what kind o’ drinks you wer-” Ghost’s rough voice is cut off abruptly by the even rougher way you grab onto the chain of his dog tags and pull him in towards you, slotting your lips over where you imagine his are beneath his mask

Any comments from the peanut gallery are immediately silenced as the men of the 141 watch you, stood on tiptoes, only held in place by your death grip on his dog tags and your other hand holding onto his large bicep, making a mess of the Lieutenant’s balaclava as you continue to snog him through it, small smacking sounds from your lips and bated breaths from the men being the only sounds heard in the otherwise silent space

Frozen in place and eyes held open in surprise, you take pity on him choose not to torture Ghost for too much longer and release him from your embrace after one last sweet peck on the now damp fabric of his mask

“Fuckin’ hell, bonnie…” Soap is the first to breathe out, running a hand through his hair and not to subtly adjusting himself through his trousers. “I mean, I hate to be the one to get technical ‘ere, but I believe the lass asked for someone to kiss her, not the other way ‘round.”

Soap pointedly chooses to ignore the hard smack his fellow sergeant lands on his shoulder, grin widening as he continues to poke and prod at his LT.

“I jus’ don’ want ‘er losin’ out on ‘er prize!” He laughs, taking the smallest step in yours and Ghost’s direction. “Maybe if I were to-”

Whatever lame joke the younger man had planned at Ghost’s expense is cut short when in the blink of an eye, the Lieutenant’s hands are leaning you back against the side of the vehicle, one hand sliding into the hair at the base of your skull while the other is tugging his mask down before he’s finally crashing his lips onto yours

The Captain and his two sergeants really aren’t sure how long they stand there, watching the two of you, each one completly caught in a daze that they can’t entirely blame the alcohol on anymore, before the motion sensor lights in the garage are starting to turn off, letting the men know that they’ve been gawking entirely too long

It’s as the three of them are walking back to their respective rooms afterwards, that the thought pops into their heads…

Maybe they should start letting you win more often