#soft! simon riley

[kruegerspillow]

sleeping with simon riley includes...

a bunch of coughing and groaning in the middle of the night (yeah... he needs to stop smoking)

random muttering and mumbling from him/you

nightmares. he will literally jump out of the bed which causes you to be startled sometimes (he offered to sleep on the couch due to his nightmares....)

his hands roaming around your body as if he wants to memorize every part of you (he does)

cuddles of course !!! it doesnt matter if hes the big or small spoon he just needs to be with you.

either of you falling off of the bed, at least once in a while

the blankets being left aside because simon says its gonna be 'too hot' (no, he just wants to be your personal heater lmao)

laying on top of each other. yeah, you might end up sleeping with your head resting against his chest.

HAIR STROKING. will stroke your hair until you fall asleep soundly

sigh... drooling. he drools a bit sorry to break it to you guys

a lot of admiring. he'll admire you as you sleep, its the only view that helps him doze off

FOREHEAD KISSES. either you or him. if he stirs awake he'll just give you a small forehead kiss before holding you closer to him (if thats even possible) and dozing off once more

nuzzling. he loves to nuzzle into the crook of your neck :(

tangled legs. his legs are gonna be intertwined with yours oooor one of his leg is going to be on top of yours.

kruegerspillow © 2024 — reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[ms-sasa]

Part two of

Roommate!Simon, who got grumpy after laundry day because one of the socks slipped in the dryer and shrunk significantly

Roommate!Simon, who was devastated because his special gift from you was destroyed and he almost cried after he found the sock in the dryer. (Though he would never admit it)

Roommate!Simon, who pouted for weeks until you managed to get him to spill why he was so upset.

Roommate!Simon, who gingerly confessed what had happened and remorsefully shows you the socks 'm so sorry, luv. Ya' put s' much effort in it' :(

Crafty!reader, who was sad but not because of the shrunken sock but because of the devastated look on Simon's face

Crafty!reader, who just got up and left for her room, leaving simon to think he screwed up and she was mad now.

Crafty!reader, who came back with a deep green pair of wool socks with the union jack knitted at the top 'here.. i made you another one'

Roommate!Simon, who almost cried again because he was gifted with another precious pair of soft _handmade_ pair of socks. 'yu'...t-thank you, luv'

[starsofang]

Simon didn’t like to hold you. He liked to be held.

At first, you didn’t understand why he’d turn his back to you in bed without saying anything. You thought you’d done something to him, or maybe he was in a bad mood. You couldn’t be any more wrong.

Simon Riley, an absolute brute of a soldier, was silently asking for you to be the big spoon. You nearly didn’t believe it when he finally brought it to your attention.

He was too embarrassed to ask you, so he’d resort to flipping on to his side and wait. And wait. Until he realized you didn’t catch the memo, even after many hopeless attempts.

In his mind, he thought being the big spoon would somehow convince you he wasn’t manly enough, as if his title in the service or his pure stature wasn’t proof enough of his masculinity.

To him, being held was a blanket of security. Where he’d always have to watch his back out on the field, both literally and metaphorically, he didn’t have to keep an eye out at all times with you. It was a chance for him to find solace in a person, and when he explained this to you, he was surprised to find you so willing.

And oh, when it happened, Simon nearly kicked himself for holding back on verbalizing it for so long.

The warmth of your arms when they wrapped around him from behind, your face buried between his shoulder blades, legs tangled in his, he thought that this was what inner peace felt like.

He was silly to think you’d ever be the one to judge him for what most deemed ‘unmasculine’. In all of his broad glory, he felt safe the moment you held him, like a child does when they feel a mother’s embrace except it was from someone he loved dearest to his heart.

And you? You found that being the big spoon was rather enjoyable when the man you’re holding was so damn comfortable to snuggle up to. It was a win-win for you both.

You just wished he wasn’t an idiot that left you wondering all those hopeless nights until the truth came out.

[bluegiragi]

couch potato.

early access + nsfw on patreon

[tojisun]

i feel like simon loses it when you murmur, “like this?” every time you ride him.

it’s not even the first time that you’ve ridden him—and he sure as hell would make sure that it wouldn’t be the last—but there’s always something so sweet at the shy curl of your question, your watery eyes peering up at him like simon isn’t ravenous for every inch of you; your scent, your taste, your touch—he’s hungry for everything that you are.

so when you ask him—

like this? timid and achingly soft;

like this? heart stutteringly quiet and meek;

like this? overwhelmingly intoxicating—

simon buckles and wraps his arms around you because, “yeah,” simon replies, voice rumbling in a ragged rasp. “jus’ like that, love.”

his cock twitches, pulsing, and he has to bite down at the inside of his lip to stop himself from reaching his euphoria. it’s too soon, almost embarrassingly so, but he can’t help himself. it’s like your meek question is a trigger for him, unravelling his body until he feels like he is left as mere threads of his ecstasy, stroked to its tipping completion.

yeah, simon repeats to himself, his thick hands planted on the fat of your ass, squeezing greedily, before hoisting you up to feel the delicious press of your walls drag along his cock. it is such an enveloping warmth; all feverish and soft.

how could you even ask him anything like he isn’t being unmade?

you hiccup, breathy and hitching, as you curl close to him. simon chuckles.

“that’s right,” he says, fucking you back down his length. “s’good, huh?”

all he gets is that familiar thrum of your muffled hum, and simon coos because he knows he’s hit that threshold that renders you nonverbal.

see? such a sweetheart for him.

[bitin-and-barkin]

STRONG OLDER MEN. I want to see a man, so rough and tough in the streets actually be a big sweetheart and SO nervous in bed. All flustered and whiney, rutting against your thigh like a one dollar whore. I need to see them overstimulated and crying from pleasure while you suck them off or eat them out. I want to see them be so scared about hurting you while they fuck you oh so gently, SO horny, but so afraid of hurting you. I wanna see one cry and whimper into your neck while they ride you soo well like a good boy <3 you let them cum as much as they want because they're being soo good for you (and they NEED that privilege cause they are soo sensitive and will cum so much) and they eat ALL of your praise up

[dxddyspup]

okay but if bf!simon or husband!simon is in love with you he would never keep his mask on during sex.

you've told him that it's fine. maybe that it even turns you on

but he just can't help but see it as disrespectful not to let his pretty girl see his face, ESPECIALLY because he's clingy and needs to be kissing you at all times.

smth about respect. smth about honor. whatever it is, you can't seem to convince him that it's okay so it becomes you're goal in your relationship for a few weeks til he finally does give in. (because he will always give in for his girl)

[maryangelex]

loser!reader x simon riley

loser!reader who’s hired by lasswel to help price with the immense amount of paperwork that he never gets to. who’s assigned to sit pretty at the beaten desk outside of his office. but I like the idea of reader not being the typical “sexy assistant” but more like loser girl frumpy sweater and thick rimmed glasses type of assistant who still gets these Kyle and Johnny riled up working extra hard and making dorks out of themselves trying to woo you but you’re just too oblivious to men’s advances. not simon though, he’s the one that’s the most awkward yet somehow effective? you get hired and on your first day, as you acclimate to your office with your matching pastel supplies that you so delicately organize across your desk to give this t-filled office a feminine touch, one by one the boys drop off their report files at your desk to be revised and handed over to price. the first one’s Kyle, who showers you in compliments that go way over your head, “sargeant Garrick sure is polite!” Is all you really think of it; kinda frustrating for him. the next one coming over is Johnny, who hands you his files with his eyes eating you up like you’re a bar of chocolate. Johnny makes you feel um, intimidated? it’s the way he’s got that look in his eyes that feels like he’ll eat you whole, like he’s got X-ray vision staring right through that bulky knitted sweater. It makes your cheeks turn beet red in embarrassment when he makes comments and one-liners to get you worked up. the last one to visit your desk that first day caught you off-guard. while you were turned around alphabetizing the manila folders in the file cabinet behind you, you turned around to the large apparition of a skull-faced man that might as well have been a hallucination because 2 seconds ago he was not there and a man that size should be impossible to go unnoticed. your heart jumps and gets caught in your throat when you turn around and see him; dark and massive and the only visible human feature in him are the dark brown eyes behind that mask. you greet him politely through a stutter as you return to your seat, and all he responds with is an extended arm with the reports in hand. you mutter a thank you, your throat constricted, and what you get in return is a grunt before he turns on his heels and disappears down the hallway.

you’re scared shitless of that man on your very first day.

little did you know, simon’s face under the mask was scarlet red and flushed hot the second he saw your innocent glimmering eyes behind your skewed frames, making him unable to get a word out and having no other option but to retreat.

[skyrigel]

Simon “Domesticated” Riley is my favourite.

Yes, he would kill for you and he would die for you but his affections and undying love isn't limited to oaths. It's boundless and endless.

He will cook for you, learn because he wasn't taught very good and he wants everything to be good for you.

He will sing for you, because you'd heard him in the shower and couldn't get past to fall asleep without his husky songs to make you fall asleep on his chest.

He will wash the dishes, side by side you. Laughing along as you dry the plates and using his hands at work to your own advantage to play mischief on him.

He will hear you, as you would continue to talk about everything because nothing was out of field, and despite you being a very seducing distraction, he's always trying his best.

He's a “my girlfriend, my wife” guy despite the other Task force guys teasing him about it, he doesn't mind holding your purse, instead he prods on it, he's always on his knees to tie your shoelaces, to help you out from those pointy heels. He doesn't mind being whipped, as Soap christened it, or smitten as Gaz chortled, because he is, as he should.

He's not patronising, despite being raised up to be one. He's gentle and kind and soft for you, and he's working on becoming a better man everyday for you.

He doesn't let his anger that's so unforgiving and terrible get the better of him, he's not a monster despite the blood on his hands as you've always told him so, he would pace around the lawn, sit in the grass, wash his face but he wouldn't let his anger be something you should be scared off, he wouldn't let it get between this holy thing called love.

He talks things out, understands your opinion, values them openly. 

He expresses everything even so it'd become difficult after being told to be stoic for so long, but he tries, always for you. 

He's always startled and flushed when you compliment him and he's trying to learn that you mean every word of it.

Masterlist

[scealaiscoite]

reasons for there to be only one bed ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍊 ꒱

¹⁾ they’re undercover as a married couple, and as such need to act like one

²⁾ there’s technically two beds available, but it’s freezing cold and everybody knows body heat works best

³⁾ it’s a camping trip, and one character’s forgotten their sleeping bag

⁴⁾ a character goes to their friend’s house after an emotional upheaval in search of comfort, and ends up staying the night - but refuses to kick the homeowner out of their own bed, resulting in the two of them sharing it

⁵⁾ in a roommate scenario, one character’s bedroom has been rendered unusable - and with the couch being unsustainable in the long run, they proffer sharing the one remaining bed as a solution

⁶⁾ there are two beds, but only one blanket

⁷⁾ a character’s taken ill, and the other party worries too much to leave them alone for even a minute

⁸⁾ in a fit of anger after a mission gone wrong, both characters sleep in the only available bed because no one was chivalrous to offer to take the floor

⁹⁾ a character’s had a nightmare, and needs company to feel safe enough to go back to sleep

¹⁰⁾ the weather takes a tumultuous turn, meaning a late night hangout has to turn into a sleepover when a character gets stranded there for the night

¹¹⁾ it’s a late night at work and when they both grow too tired to continue on, the only option is the lone office couch

¹²⁾ a threat’s been made against one/all character(s) involved, and so under the guise of safety in numbers it’s deemed safest if they stay together - everywhere

¹³⁾ one character joins the other for a late-night conversation, and ends up getting comfortable in their bed next to them - evidently too comfortable, as the char in bed falls asleep on the visitor and effectively traps them there

¹⁴⁾ there’s no bed in the shoddy refuge they’ve found after things went sideways, so when it comes time to sleep the only real choice is to stay close together

and, of course,

¹⁵⁾ it’s the last room available at the hotel after a long trip

[heavenbarnes]

thinking about older bf!simon that can’t get it up.

seriously.

friday night at the end of a long week, curled under his arm- not an inch of your mouth that his tongue hasn’t covered.

the palm of your hand has been working him over his trousers for what feels like the better part of an hour.

no dice.

“m’sorry, sweet’art”

simon looks spent, absolutely knackered.

“s’all good, we don’t have to”

he groans, utter frustration written all over his face as he picks you up to plonk you down in his lap.

“but i want to”

he wants to, he wants it more than he wants breath in his fucking lungs. his body just can’t hack it.

ultimate betrayal.

burying your face where his neck meets his shoulder, your hand slips between the two of you. gently stroking his soft cock in your hand, you feel the tension start to leave him.

“can still play with it a little, f’you want?”

the sound of your voice, the heat of your hand- simon’s hips jolt when you pull back his foreskin to rub over the head.

his breath stutters as his chest deflates, arm wrapping around your waist so he could slip his fingers between your thighs.

“y’good to me, sweet’art- jus’ like that”

[kruegerspillow]

simon riley who just needs to be understood. that's all. one whole jar of pity wouldn't do it, he needs you to acknowledge him. and, when you do, he'll surrender himself faster than he should.

The rain pours down heavily against the roof, the sound of pitter-patters humming throughout your house.

It had been weeks ever since Simon's leave and the sudden change hits you harder than a damn truck. It's just going to be a few weeks, he wrote down in the letter. But, you never really believed him, no. Fuck, you know he'd do anything (that includes lying) just for you to be at ease.

Though, the bed felt colder than before. Your place felt even more... tense, with the feeling of unease running through your body and the unusual, eerie silence. His job wasn't an easy one, and with the fact that his life is on the line, it made it worse.

Your heartbeat quickened as you looked down at your phone, scrolling through the messages and pictures Simon had sent the other day. You don't understand how soldiers could be so composed in the middle of the battlefield, including Simon himself. You'd be damned if you heard a single gunshot ringing across you.

Suddenly, the familiar sound of a car engine knocked you out of your trance. Your head perked up, a feeling of hope sparking up in your weary heart. Could it be him? You thought to yourself. He's earlier than usual.

You placed your phone on the table, gaze locking onto the front door as you leaned back against the armrest of the couch, a pillow pressed against your back. The sound of the engine eventually came to a stop, then—

Click.

There he was. Simon motherfuckin' Riley.

He took off his boots and placed them aside as soon as he met your gaze. The smell of rain and dirt lingered around him, but he didn't care anymore. Not when the love of his life is right in front of him, waiting patiently to be placed into his embrace. But, he's fuckin' exhausted, and he can't help but let the feeling of fatigue take over his body.

He closed the door behind him, walking towards you with a look of deep longing and care. His bags were left right beside the front door. Your eyes travelled over his figure, searching for any new scars or wounds.

"Bloody 'ell, I missed ya s'much." He murmured, his voice raspy and carried a handful of emotions.

Before you knew it, he plopped down onto you, head resting against your plump thighs, earning an amused gasp from you. His arms softly wrapped around your waist, slipping underneath your shirt before caressing your bare skin. You sighed in content, relaxing beneath him before your hands made their way to his hair, running your fingers through his hair.

"Welcome home, Simon." You greeted him, your voice filled with warmth and relief.

He grunted in response, burying his face between your thigh, causing you to nearly whimper in response. But you knew he ran out of the energy, having finished a tiring deployment. Your gaze softened at the sight before you. Sometimes, even the strongest souls get exhausted.

"Want me to make tea for you, love?" You softly whispered into his ear.

He shook his head, wanting to hold you just for a while (that's a lie. He'd go through the whole month burying his face into you) and you understood, staying silent as you embraced him. You let him do his thing and fuck he was turned on by that mere fact. But, for now, lust was long forgotten, buried away by the need of your comfort and warmth.

Your hands gently massaged his tense shoulder, feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch. Slowly, his vision fades into nothingness, for your touch has provided comfort even to the soul of the corrupt. Surrendering himself into sleep had never felt so... easy.

And, soon, he'll show you just how lucky he is to have you.

kruegerspillow © 2024 ➵ do not feed my work into ai, repost or translate my work. Reblogs are much appreciated ��ৎ

[yeetmyboi]

My lil brain cell just had a little thought about freshly being Simon’s wife and you get invited to your first outing with the bois and their birds and Simon gets to see a side of you he absolutely loves.

Like maybe it’s a small outing just for everyone to meet and get to know each other. You get nervous about meeting so many people at the same time, let alone some of Simon’s close friends and coworkers.

Perhaps you’re a bit self conscious about being a bigger gal, but it all deflates when you see you’re not the only one. Price’s wife, just as plush, is very welcoming and friendly. She pulls you into a tight hug, ‘welcoming’ you into their little ‘wives’ club and immediately introduces you to Johnny’s and Kyle’s significant others.

After the first hour, you find yourself feeling a bit silly about being so nervous and start loosening up. It all reaches a head when Johnny suggests a cheeky game of softball or kickball. (And of course it’s these trained special forces men vs their cute wives, duhh).

You’ve played sports in the past, finding you had a bit of a competitive streak. So, you’re not surprised that it resurfaces during what should be a relaxed game. Even the other wives get into it, playful trash talk and teasing ensues.

At one point, you hit the ball and manage to steal not just one base but two.

Simon can’t help but grin. He likes seeing the determination on your face. The look that he swears could move mountains.

Absolutely goes feral seeing you dive to avoid Johnny’s attempt to tag you out and touch base. Gray dust and gravel covers your outfit as you pluck yourself back up.

The whole thing turns him on. Seeing his soft bird have a sharp edge to her, a bit of grit to her softness. The duality of it all is enough to give this man something else to distract him for the rest of the get together

Definitely something he’s gonna have to show you the second you two are alone in the parking lot as the others leave.

Just a thought lol 🤭🤭

[musouie]

cw ⊹ ࣪ ˖ mention of/allusion to watersports

you and simon have this little game where he masturbates above you when he’s really pent up after overtime at the base. he’s on his feet all day, hardly has time to even use the lav, substituting meals for cigs, but the second he gets home all he wants is his sweet, little bird.

he’ll free his heavy cock, force you onto your sore knees, and order you to keep your head lolled back and mouth wide like you “often do” (the cheeky bastard). and then he’ll fuck his rough palm, humping into his hand while panting like a dog, pre dribbling down his thick shaft and into the blond curls at its base — and neither of you know whether he’ll piss or cum on your face :(

(“it’s better that way”, he smirks. “makes it more fun ‘cos you won’t ‘spect it.”)

and he’s bent on having fun, bent on reliving himself, getting lost in you — so if his pretty little bird even slightly closes their pretty little mouth, he’ll pry it back open with meaty fingers. work the rugged things into their jaw until it’s wider than it was before —

“be good f’me, hm? jus’ take it all down this pretty throat. you can do tha’, can’t ya’ … for poor lil’ me?”

and you’ll nod fervently, despite the ache in your jaw, the ever-growing dryness in your mouth. but it’s all worth it when his grip on your face slackens and his hold shifts into something akin to … tenderness.

he’ll cradle your chin, hold it like you’re something precious — something scarce, thumb running across your parched bottom-lip.

“tha’s it … jus’ like that,” he’ll murmur, and without warning, something warm’ll hit your lips, splatter into your mouth and down your chin.

it’s only after you risk a taste that you’ll know what it is.

“poor, ‘ungry baby,” simon’ll coo — all sweet words and a half-soothing tone — whilst massaging the fluid across your face with a dirty, calloused thumb.

he’ll look down at you with hooded eyes, blue turned black as he watches you wipe at your chin. “get back in ta’place, ‘m not finished with ya’ yet.”

masterlist <3

[bluegiragi]

puppy playtime!!

early access + nsfw on patreon

[frudoo]

Simon Riley kisses with everything he has—everything he is. He leaves you breathless long before his lips ever touch yours. Gently running his fingers through your hair, or cupping your face with one hand, thumb rubbing along your bottom lip. His honeyed brown eyes are so full of life as they stare into yours and it feels like he’s picking apart your soul just with his gaze. Just before you get the chance to break the tension, find some relief, he does it for you, closing the expectant space between the two of you. His lips part deliberately, gently slotting between yours with careful, practiced ease because he wants it to be perfect for you every single time.

Simon Riley kisses with nothing short of perfection; maybe it’s the military in him that makes him need to perform flawlessly, or maybe it’s the way you look at him like he’s human that makes him want to cherish you, convince you—or himself, though he’d never admit it—that he can make you happy. He’s obsessed with you, the softness of your lips, the taste he craves on a long, grueling mission. Perhaps that’s why he devours you when he comes back home, kissing you like his life depends on it, because it does. He suckles on your bottom lip like a newborn to its mother’s breast—you’re his life source and he’s drinking you up. You nourish him and don’t even realize it until he’s cradling the back of your head, pulling you in impossibly close.

Simon Riley refuses to pull away first, a low whine escaping his throat when you do part. You pant, desperate to catch your breath but all too willing to let him steal it again as his tongue slides into the gap of your mouth, running along your teeth. He’s uncaring of the sloppiness, immune to the feeling of slobber running down his chin. All that matters is you and every inch of that perfect mouth that tells him you’re his. No matter where his hands are initially, they’ll wind up beneath your shirt, trailing up your back and tracing mindless patterns on your soft skin. The skin that reminds him that there is a life worth living, even if you’re the only one that cares—and care, you do, in the way you suck his hungry tongue into your mouth, just as eager as he is.

Simon Riley, who was so afraid to love, finds it hard to adore you with anything less than his entire heart.