#domestic!simon

[dmitriene]

cw: references to simon's past.

there's those moments amidst the deep night hour when simon riley wakes up from his troubled slumber, pulled out abruptly and shaken wholly, with cold sweat dewy on his paled, moonlighted skin, beading drops drenching in the linens below, sticky, wet to the point where it's itches against his shivering body, making him run away from the feeling, from the warmth of the bed and your curled body beside.

run from his ugly self, from the plaguing fear of letting anyone, you, see what he goes through, what he hides under all those grimy, scarred layers, trying to stay unbothered, to be a ghost, but if you couldn't see through it all, peel, you wasn't going to be with simon in the first place, and the moment his footsteps paddle over to the living room, you wake up.

simon sits on the couch, hunched over, the cushions crumpling under the sheer weight of him, and every line of his body, filled out with outstanding fat and muscle, is highlighted in distress, it's seen in the uneven, rippling line of his spine, the quiet bounce of his knee, starting to tap against the floor when his feet lands down, and the wet, choked gasp that heaves up from his expanding, contracting ribs, making you move.

it's not the first time he cries, always hiding from this feeling like a little kid, forcing the bubbling whimpers and stinging tears down, melting in the bile that fills his tightening throat, burning, never escaping, not like those salty, clear rivulets streaking down his warming cheeks, skin raw from the inside, where simon sinks his teeth in to silence all the sounds, until you lean in, draping your body over his quivering back.

holding him, you brush feathery, ginger touches over the slopes of his body, the rolls of fat, filled out with scars and stretch marks, that grow out from beneath the waistband of his boxers and cracking up towards his waist, where your fingertips rub in, caressing, feeling higher, over the tissued skin, sacred scars, your palm flat over the memory on simon's once skewered rib, and if you close your eyes, you can imagine the viscose feel of his blood.

if simon falls asleep after, it's only in the hold of your caressing hands, healing, he curls in your chest, head bowing in the crook of your neck, brushing atop your collarbones, he would've kissed you, drowned himself in ringing sounds of pleasure and desperate, borderline animalistic sex, but his eyes flutter heavily, paling eyelashes tickling over your tender skin, and he limps back to slumber, knowing he doesn't needs to run no more.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[empresskylo]

quick lil fic lightly based on this piece of fanart by @/umikochannart on twt

a/n: sorry this is so sort, just randomly had inspiration to write this

cw: ptsd, fluff

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader

wc: <1k

masterlist

The mattress under you sank as a body climbed in beside you. Simon. Stripped of his gear, he slid into the small bed beside you, his arm wrapping around you, pulling you close.

You sighed sweetly as he stirred you from your slumber, always happy to feel him pressed against you. He placed a kiss on the back of your head before falling asleep. 

It had taken a long time to get to this place with Simon. It was a long road to get him to trust you. So when he finally let you sleep beside him, you were surprised at how cuddly he could be. Since that first night, he refused to let you sleep in your own bed. Something about your presence calmed him. Helped to ease the constant night terrors. And you finally felt safe with him wrapped around you. You both were finally able to sleep through the night, something neither of you could do on your own. 

It must have been past two in the morning when you felt Simon’s fingers digging into your side. You slowly squinted your eyes open, rubbing them with your hand. You were pressed flesh against Simon’s chest as he cocooned you, his face buried in your hair. You smiled, closing your eyes to fall back asleep when his fingers dug into you again.

A small gasp left your lips. Simon was pulling your body into him, as close as he could, his hands pressing roughly on your belly as he tightened his grip around you. 

“Simon,” you said softly. You heard him grumble something behind you. You thought you had awakened him then, so you tried to turn your head to face him, pulling back from him slightly. 

You yelped as he forced you back against his chest, his arm hooked around you, trapping you in place. “Don’t leave me,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

You knew he was having a nightmare. Your hand went down to his, trying to pry his fingers from your torso, wanting to intertwine them with yours. 

You could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breathing picking up speed. “Simon,” you said again. 

His free hand rested across his face as he buried it further into your hair. You could hear small grunts escaping his mouth. 

“Simon, I’m right here,” you cooed, not wanting to startle him awake if you could avoid it.

His heart still pounded but his breathing began to mellow slightly. You used all your strength to roll over so your chest lay against his. God, this man was strong.

Your hands snaked up to his jaw, brushing your fingers lovingly against his stubble. “I’m right here,” you said again. You ran your fingers through his hair, his eyes fluttering open. His gaze instantly locked with yours, his eyes searching yours for answers. It took him a moment before realizing you had tears in your eyes as you stroked his hair. He realized he was having another goddamn nightmare.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked in a panic, his hand that still rested around you stiffening. 

You smiled and shook your head. 

His breathing was erratic as he looked at you, so much pain in his eyes. “I told you to leave,” he said in a deep voice, frustrated with himself more than anything. Simon was referring to the times he had told you to get out of bed when he started having night terrors. He wasn’t in control of himself during them and didn’t want to hurt you. He knew how dark those dreams could get. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he lashed out on you, even if it was unconsciously. 

“And I told you that wasn’t happening.” 

His thumb came up to wipe away the tears under your eyes, his hand resting on your cheek. You could see the worry flicker in his eyes as he looked at you. “It’s okay. I’m right here,” You said again before snuggling back up into him, his body encasing you, his hand resting on your back and rubbing small circles. Simon could smell your shampoo with your head tucked under his chin. He let you fill his senses. All of them. Your smaller hands wrapped around his chest, clinging to him just as much as he was clinging to you. You were the only thing that tethered him. You always brought him back. You trusted him more than anything else on this stupid planet. You’d be damned if you abandoned him while he was dreaming of all the terrible things he’s had to whiteness. 

You were already half asleep when you heard him whisper in your ear. “I love you.” 

[888888-88]

Been little too overwhelmed by work recently but able to do some sketches ✍️🎨

Im big sucker for domestic men 😭🧎‍♀️

And some peek for the bigger project 🫶

Coming SOON 💀

[whateveriwant]

Simon Riley rough sex this. Simon Riley hard kink that. What about silly sex with Simon, huh? What about fun, carefree sex? What about goofy, awkward, ‘Ouch, you're on my hair’ / ‘Oh shit, sorry, love’ sex with Simon? Huh??? Ever think about that?

Simon who trips and falls after getting his feet caught in his trousers. Simon who fumbles his words as he tries to dirty talk, because you just feel so damn good he can't think straight. Simon whose sweat drips and stings your eyes as he holds himself above you. Simon who attempts to keep a straight face after one of you makes a fart noise, but then he breaks, which makes you break, and then you're both just dissolving into a fit of laughter. Simon who accidentally elbows you in the head as you're changing positions. Simon who misses your lips as he tries to kiss you in the dark, catching the tip of your nose instead. Simon whose voice cracks super loudly in the middle of a moan. Simon who forgot to lock the cat out of the room, and now she's jumping on the bed with you. Simon who has to pause and take five minutes after he gets a bad cramp in his leg. Simon who grins and chuckles to himself as he cums, biting his lip as he's overwhelmed by a feeling of bliss.

And finally, neither Simon nor you really worried about finishing, because at the end of the day all you care about is having fun together.

[bluegiragi]

brief.

early access + nsfw on patreon monster!AU masterpost

[yawnderu]

Ex-husband Simon never truly goes away. 

Simon’s stomach twisted into a knot as he heard your muffled sobs, your warm tears seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt, holding onto him for dear life even if he’s the one responsible for your pain. 

“I hate you, Simon.” Empty words that still send an unfamiliar ache to his chest, his soul hurting for you. 

“I know, baby, I know.” He managed to croak out, his voice hoarse. The sight of the gold wedding band on his finger stabbed at something deep within him, reigniting the flicker of emotions he always tried to push aside for an amicable divorce. 

Ten years down the drain, your whole life reduced to nothing but ink and paper. Simon’s duty to the SAS and the 141 took up so much of his time, often only managing to be home for a few months out of the year. Missed holidays and celebrations, broken promises of trying to be more present. As understanding as you tried to be, everyone reaches their breaking point. 

“Give me some time, love. I’ll retire. Y’can get anythin’.” Perhaps it is selfish to ask you to wait, yet how is a broken man expected to give up on the only beacon of light he has amidst all the darkness and shadows? His highschool sweetheart, his beloved wife. 

“How long?” Your whispered question hit Simon like a blow to the gut, so much trust and fear held in only two simple words. He closed his eyes for a moment, his hands tightening around your waist as you still straddle him, nearly cuddling him up even if all you could do was cry. 

“After we scatter Johnny’s ashes. S’ gonna be a quick trip to Scotland, and then I’m all yours.” He paused for a moment, his rough fingers tracing over the band on his ring finger, his touch always gentle in your presence. Despite the ring being a constant reminder of your love and broken promises, it was always safely tucked under the thick material of his gloves. Simon’s way of keeping you with him, of having something that made him cling to his sanity no matter how much bloodshed those same hands spill. 

“Half a month.” He’s more explicit this time, his warm hand running up and down the length of your back, not daring to go lower despite how much his entire soul craves you. It’s a tender moment that gives him an inner sanctity, and he’s not looking into ruining it. 

His eyes flutter shut as your delicate arms encircle his shoulders, hugging his body closer to yours, the smell of tobacco invading your nose. Despite it all, you’re placing all your trust in Simon one last time.

[rusticfurnace]

domestic ghoap. again. (posted this on twitter last month)

[starryylies]

can we get baby fever simon when we tell him we're pregnant?!?

ੈ✩‧Simon when you’re preggo *ੈ✩‧

✰☺︎✰~ Bby fever: manifested to reality ~✰☺︎✰

🍼 Simon whose eyes betray him when tears flow out when you give him the news

🍼 Simon who falls to his knees on the ground kissing your stomach thanking you over and over for giving him such a blessing

🍼 Simon who gets right to it, finding baby supplies, trollers, pacifiers etc

🍼 Simon who buys a crib from ikea which leads to him cursing the instruction paper calling it stupid and badly explained

🍼 Simon who completely stops drinking infront of you, quitting it to release himself from the past.

🍼 Simon who makes you sit at home and relax like a pretty wifey so you don’t exert yourself

🍼 Simon whose praises for you are constant the entire day, from when you get up till when you sleep

🍼 Simon who gets very overprotective of you like a guard dog.

🍼 Simon who finally has the courage to visit his fathers grave only to look down on it and say he will never treat his kids like that

[heavenbarnes]

I want older bf!simon so bad Jesus CHRIST!!!

Cuddling with him and showing him funny tiktoks (having to explain the context of each one in painstaking detail) before he fucks me within an inch of my life

it’s beyond a joke at this point, i actually NEED him 🫶🏼

the end of the day is the best with older bf!simon when you’re both in bed. he’s sat back against the headboard and you’re cuddled into his chest.

his hand is against your back, rubbing gently along your spine. your hand is against his stomach, resting on the bare skin as your scroll through your phone.

tiktok time, simon’s limited exposure to social media.

“so he’s singing in chinese because he doesn’t want to apologise to his girlfriend-“

“is that actually him singing?”

“well no, he’s lip syncing it’s just-“

“so he can’t actually sing in chinese? needs’ta ‘pologise to his-“

“ok next one, si”

it goes on like this, you explaining every single trend and every single meme to this man that views the internet like he was born yesterday.

“so it’s framing it like a competition about being cheated on-“

“terrible competition”

“yeah i know but it’s a joke, and khloe kardashian is there-“

“who’s that? the blue guy?”

“no, my love, thats squidward-“

and in the end you naturally end up on the nighttime side of tiktok and you’re getting one that says something stupid like “ladies try flashing your man when he’s had a long day” or whatever.

suddenly he understands tiktok like he might as well have invented it.

“y’dont do that for me”

your looking up at him under a quirked brow as you shrug, “let me know the next time you have a long day and i will”

you can feel his hand start creeping around under your shirt and you’re trying to hide the smile thats forming on your face as you lock your phone.

“had a long day, sweet’art”

[elasticitymudflap]

"Hey scooch over, I need to rinse this!"

"come on Em, no one is THAT stupid-" my dad literally did this one week into living with my mom. he, too, has a phd.

[justanofficeworker]

🎀 Im just thinking about soft!ghost. Just him coming home from a long ass day and seeing you lounge on the couch reading a book. He just toddles over and falls onto you , just full body weight squish. Your just like “long day?” As you set aside your book and snake your arms around his broad frame. He doesn’t even speak, just a low “ mmmmmm” as he sinks into your neck for a much needed nap.

[dmitriene]

based on the ask i got in my inbox in september.

simon riley handles you carefully during the first sex after you gave birth to your child, the whole situation is overwhelming to you, the little bub that sleeps in her crib in the nearby room, his heavy cock splitting your drippy, tight pussy open as if new again, fondling at your sensitive, heavy breasts while you thrash and hiccup fragile mewls.

shimmering tears brimming at your lash line, clumping your fluttering eyelashes as you blink rapidly, pushing away the urge to roll your eyes back, the thick head of his cock slipping in, hugged snugly by your already fluttering walls, pulsing, scorching with their welcoming warmth and the gummy, gooey texture, clinging to every webbed vein around his shaft.

he's delicate, in the way he rubs a soothing palm against your chest, feeling the beat of your frantic heart, your supple skin warm to the touch, beading with sweat, as his chapped, thin lips plant soft, feathery kisses all over your face, catching the little crystals of your tears, as you keen just beneath his ear, tightening around his meaty cock that sheathes inside of you.

pooling strings of tacky slick, squelchingly wet as simon thrusts more slower and gentle than usually, rocking his hips forward, catching on every furrow of your brows, the swollen furl of your lips opening in a gasped moan, tiny and breathy from where your lungs burn, meeting every wet glide of his cock inside your spasming hole with a little gasps, each sunction sound of your pussy obscenely wet.

simon takes a good care of you when your mind goes muddled, fuzzy at the simmering heat you feel in your tummy, painted with stretch marks that he touches with a sweep of his fingers, cloaking you with his weight as he presses your lips together, kissing you with only a pure affection, each roll of his hips tantalizing, careful, as the calloused pad of his fingertip meets your twitching clit.

making your slick heat tighten around his throbbing cock, pulsing rapidly when you bow up from the mattress, tangled in the soft sheets, pinned against them with nowhere to go, as you hiccup and cry your sweet moans into his spit coated lips, eyes closing harshly when you come undone, soaking your thighs, the only sound in your ears is simon's purred praises.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[laughroditee]

Weird domestic shit the TF141 guys do that (playfully) irk you, as their partner:

🏷️ | Price:

Wears socks during sex.

Tightens all of the jars in the house too tightly so that you’ll have to ask him to open them for you. (Toxic chivalry.)

Enjoys giving you beard rash anywhere and everywhere he possibly can.

💀 | Ghost:

Kisses you immediately after eating onions.

Leaves the toothpaste tube strangled in the center with all the toothpaste bunched at the bottom.

You find bullets everywhere, including in the freezer.

🧼 | Soap:

All of his dirty laundry is placed directly on the floor, next to the laundry basket.

Cleans up his mohawk but then doesn’t clean up the fucking hair clippings out of the sink.

Always wants to cuddle you so bad when he’s sleeping that he will squash you and/or push you out of bed.

🧢 | Gaz:

Buys your favorite snacks… for a price. Or is it… “for Price?” You’re never sure.

Offers to make you grilled cheese but then burns it because he’s too busy flirting with you.

Insists on giving you mani-pedis, only they’re so very messy. You assure him that they look great.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Just Like Dad (1 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff, some humor, brief mention of pregnancy, canon-typical swearing, Simon is a girl dad

Word Count: 890

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Filling out a parent questionnaire leads to Simon having to answer a hard question.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad

“Daddy.”

 A small fist curls around the bottom of Simon’s shirt, tugging. He glances down, finding his daughter there holding out a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” Simon takes it from her, his gaze shifting to the black ink.

“It’s for school.”

It’s a questionnaire. Simons scans over the questions quickly before returning his gaze to his daughter. “Give me a second, love.”

Simon packs up the files he brought home from work. Grabbing a pencil, he strolls out to the living room, his daughter on his heels. Simon takes a seat in the middle of the sofa, placing the paper and pencil on the coffee table. His daughter snags a pillow off the couch, dropping it on the floor next to his legs. Sitting, she stares at him expectantly.

Simon nods toward the paper. “You need to practice your letters.”

She groans. “But it’s about you!”

Simon slowly slides the paper and pencil over to her. She pouts but takes up the pencil, the graphite tip poised above the first line.

“Name,” she says, glancing up at him.

“You know my name.”

She squints at him and looks back at the paper, taking her time to write each letter. She holds it up and Simon smiles. It’s stilted and a bit sideways, but it’s there. She asks several more questions like favorite food and color. Simon doesn’t understand the point to it but they’re likely doing a project on a parent.

“Job,” she says, expectant.

Job. His occupation. That’s a fucking complicated question.

“Military,” he answers.

She frowns. “How do you spell that?”

“Sound it out.”

She does so slowly, elongating each letter as she writes.

Simon glances over her shoulder and chuckles. “That’s an ‘i,’ darling.” He points and she aggressively erases her mistake.

When she finishes, she looks up at him. “Explain.”

Explain. Explain.

Explain…what?

That he kills people? That he negotiates the release of hostages? That he faces violence every day he’s on the job? That he sees some of the worst in people?

How the bloody hell does he explain all that to a six-year-old girl? How does he summarize the violence into a watered-down version that’s digestible enough for her, her teacher, the other students, and her school.

Simon swallows. “I stop bad people from doing bad things.”

She blinks. “Do I have to write all that?”

Simon barks a laugh. “It’s one sentence.”

She silently mimics him, shaking her little body in annoyance as she begins to write. Simon has no idea where the attitude comes from, but it’s likely from Johnny.

“Next question,” prompts Simon once the sentence is written down.

She hesitates and then turns in his direction. “Can I be like you when I grow up?”

Could she? Yes. But the very idea of her in the line of danger frightens him. It twists his stomach, knowing all the things that could befall her if she were to follow in his footsteps. Simon’s gut-instinct is to tell her “No.”

“Why do you want to be like me?” he asks.

She shrugs. “You’re strong. I want to be strong like you.”

“You don’t need to do what I do to be strong.”

“Uh, no,” she says, matter-of-fact, peering at the next question.

Fucking hell, she’s going to be an absolute hellion when she hits puberty. Sighing, Simon rubs at his temple. For some reason, he glances away from his daughter, his gaze landing on you in the hallway. With your hand cradling your slightly swollen belly, you watch on with an amused expression.

Number two. Will this one be like her? Wanting to do what he does?

“Daddy.”

Simon turns back to his daughter. She points at the paper with the tip of her pencil, head tilted slightly to the side.

He leans forward. “What’s the next question?”

“What does your day look like?” She grins up at him, ready for his answer.

Simon hears your soft laugh from the hall, and then your footsteps across the carpet. Your hand reaches out to cradle the back of Simon’s neck. On instinct, he lifts his arm, resting his hand on the small of your back.

“Go on, Simon. Tell her,” you tease, knowing that he’s struggling to form an answer.

“Do you put your mask on first?” The question is innocent but Simon laughs anyway.

“No,” he chuckles, gently taking the paper and pencil from her. “I kiss your mother first.”

Simon drags you in for a kiss.

“Ugh. Gross.” She makes a face, tiny nose scrunching up in disgust.

“Still want my job?” Simon presents the paper and she snatches up in her little fist.

“No thanks,” she sing-songs, stuffing the paper in her backpack, crinkling it up.

You hide your grin in Simon’s shoulder, and Simon tugs you closer. “Good save,” you murmur.

Simon presses his lips to the top of your head. “She has one of my masks.”

“I know,” you giggle. “Found it under her pillow this morning. I put it in your bag.”

“Was it covered in your makeup this time?”

“Had to wash it.”

Simon shakes his head in exasperation. He’s not annoyed. Just perplexed. He doesn’t understand why his daughter wants to be just like him.

It’s because she doesn’t know.

No. She doesn’t know. But one day she will. She might even change her mind.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @cinnabeanz @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @xxkay15xx @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

[toshidou]

can't stop thinking of domestic ghost learning how to crochet after he sees you practicing, large scarred, battle worn hands working away with a crochet hook and wool; not missing the way your eyes go fond as he joins you on the couch to crochet by your side. trying to suppress your giggle at the soft sounds of his frustrated grunts when he tries (and fails) to tie the slip knot for the 5th time in a row before he turns to you with a blank expression, arms extended in your direction.

what starts as slowly mastering little granny squares quickly evolves into working on whole projects; clothes, hats, face masks, stuffed animals. your house slowly fills up with both yours and his creations. although it's something you mostly do together, it wouldn't be uncommon for you to come downstairs as the sun rises only to find Simon hunched over a ball of wool, clearly awoken from a night of terrors and craving comfort from the repetition that crocheting provides.

he'd inevitably have to leave for deployment, but not without laying out a new cardigan he'd made just for you (a way he can keep you warm despite the thousands of miles that might separate you) or a little crocheted plush of himself, fitted with its very own little mask; even giving you the option of dressing it in either combat gear or his go to black hoodie and jeans. it leaves you teary every time, clutching his new creation to your chest and nuzzling the soft wool into your cheek, always knowing that his hands were made for more than just war and death.

and if the day comes you finally bring a child into the world, you better believe he's making them an entire wardrobe that matches the clothes he's already made for the two of you; holding the completed tiny garments up whilst you try your absolute hardest to not burst into tears at how small they look, knowing they're so lucky to have a dad who's going to love them so, so much.

[bluegiragi]

christmas miracle.

early access + nsfw on patreon

--

This comic was shamelessly inspired by tender by prettyunhinged on ao3. go ahead and leave the original author a comment and kudos if you haven't already!!