#two lieutenants🌪️

[oceantornadoo]

your weighted blanket (simon riley x f!reader)

part of this two lieutenants series but it’s standalone

—

“you know what i want?”

“wha’?”

“a weighted blanket.”

simon turned away from his bedroom desk to stare at you, his dark eyes squinting incredulously.

“what?! i think it’d help me sleep.”

“wha’ the fuck is a weighted blanket.”

you huffed a sigh. “it’s literally a weighted blanket simon. having weight pressing down on you helps you sleep, it’s scientifically proven.” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you laid back on his bed.

turning off his desk lamp, he made his way to his bed. he joined you on top of the covers, giving you plenty of space. keeping it platonic. not that he wanted to, but that was another thing.

“can’t jus’ have some sop lay on you?” the words hurt coming out, but it was the only thing he could say. desperately looking for a sign that you were talking to someone as you were so tightlipped about your escapades until after they ended.

“i’m on a man break. they all suck.” no one measured up to the unending care simon gave you, even if he was just a friend. just a friend who lets you come into his room every night, talking yourself to sleep. just a friend who never forgets your favorite body wash or candle scent on supply runs.

“they don’t know how to treat a woman like you.” his words echoed in the dark, ideas of what they meant bouncing around in your brain. “a woman like me?” silence. “don’t be mean, si.”

fuck he was so stupid. needed to watch his tone better, like gaz was always telling him. “dove, jus’ meant a smart independent woman like yourself. yer lookin’ for a partner and they’re look for a mother or a fuck. or both.” your jaw dropped. “oh. thanks.” his words thickened the air. no one had ever talked about you like that, like you were something to be treasured, not kept. like he respected you.

“if you really need a weighted blanket i-“ “yeah?” you sounded too eager, but you didn’t care. you turned towards him, catching his eye in the gleam of the base lights outside his window. “could be yers. if you want. strictly platonic.” he scratched his head, looking away. embarrassed. “yeah, platonic. course, yeah. that’s fine. good, i mean.” you needed to get your act together and stop sounding like a teenager, but he just offered to be your blanket. surely that was more than platonic.

“now?”

“sure.”

you sat on his bed like a dead fish, arms at your sides. you were not about to initiate what surely would be the most awkward non-cuddle session in your life. simon pressed one large paw into the mattress, hauling his huge body up on one arm. he moved down farther on the bed, his head parallel to your ribs. then, with the uttermost care, he shifted on top of you, hovering. waiting. “you can lay on me si, it’s okay.” he released his hands slowly, the full force of his body laying on you. 250+ pounds of pure machine, a body honed from years in the military. a soldier, a sniper, a lieutenant, now at your mercy, body covering yours completely.

“not too weighted for you?” you giggled. an actual giggle from his fellow lieutenant. “no, si. not too weighted.” your hand instinctively went to his hair before you could stop yourself. “is this comfortable? you’re on my ribs.” he grunted. it actually hurt like a bitch, your bone pressing into him through layers of fat, but he was laying on you and therefore could not complain. “you can move up, i won’t mind.” well, if you were letting him. he wanted to make the most of this blanket situation, this type of intimacy so foreign to him.

simon scooted up your body and laid his head on your tits. built-in pillows, one might call them. you hand went to his hair again, slowly scratching his scalp. “this ok?” you never touched like this, had never touched him like something precious. he grunted, a yes in “ghost” as you liked to call it. you continued running your hand through his hair, surprised at the softness of his locks. his face was against your breast, and usually you’d be embarrassed, but lines had been crossed and all bets were off. his body was heavy, sure, but the weight of it was comforting. all you could think of was him, not the annoying recruit from this morning, not the bad dinner you had at the mess hall. only the smell of the base shampoo and his natural musk, something uniquely him but not gross.

all simon could hear was your heartbeat. it had quickened when he first laid down, but now it was slowing to a comforting beat. you were here, you were breathing. the gunfire and the smell of bombs in his head meant nothing as long as he had you like this, in his arms where no one could hurt you. he could feel your body relaxing, muscles losing the day’s tension and giving themselves over to sleep. as your breathing slowed and you moved to a lower, more comfortable position on his pillow, he knew time could stop and all that would matter was you, right here, with him.

--

[oceantornadoo]

two lieutenants.

(simon riley x f!reader, all fluff)

two lieutenants🌪️masterlist

not supposed to happen, not really. but the higher ups are finding their morality (where was it all these years ago?) and want to pat themselves on the back for adding a woman to the team.

simon is prepared to hate you, someone taking his spot. this one thing he's done in his life well, the one family he can protect. it itches him in a place he can't shake, the thought of change, of a new person. someone who will stare at his skeleton ways and his gruff voice, someone who will judge but not understand.

but then he meets you, tinkling laugh with doe eyes. calculating in your military knowledge, respectful of the 141's history. never overstepping, never trying to take his place, simply wanting to learn. he tries to hate you, tries to dump sugar in your tea and hide your eye black, but you just laugh and make a face at the sweetness, drawing an extra makeup stick out of your cargoes.

he needs to hate you, but you wash his extra masks without asking on the days he can't touch them for the blood that's laced into the seams. you include his cigarettes on base grocery runs and pour over tactical maps with him until the wee hours, understanding his fundamental need to know everything, more than what's in the briefing papers.

you are prepared to be intimidated by the ghost, the killing machine without a name. you know you're the only woman on an all-male team, but even you can't work friendship miracles. then you meet him and he cocks his head and sizes you up, seeing you as a threat instead of a piece of meat. someone worth considering, not a sideshow, not eye candy.

you try to be scared of him, but how could you when he always leaves an extra tea bag in the almost-empty box? when he keeps hair ties in his front pocket because yours always seem to break in between missions. he listens to your stories and nods thoughtfully, not needing to preen and puff his status like men you've met before.

you need to stay away, but he takes off his gloves in front of you that first time and suddenly you can't. he tells you to call him simon and that he likes the way you say his name, your dissimilar accent coming through. he brushes stray hair from the nape of your neck during a desert mission, tucking it back into your bandana, and you can't remember why you ever intimidated by this man who makes you earn his comfort and care, but who gives it endlessly once you've got it. he's your simon and you're his partner in crime, and suddenly you two could never imagine a team without two lieutenants.

--

im not always into power/rank play i want to be RESPECTED

(don't get me wrong it still eats sometimes)

[oceantornadoo]

sleepy morning (simon riley x f!reader)

part 4 of the two lieutenants series...HORNINESS LEVEL 1000

tw: wet and messyyyyyyyyy MDNI

--

that had to have been the best sleep of your life.

no seriously. extra strength melatonin could not compare to sleeping with simon THEE “ghost” riley. you had never had such a broad, thick man on top of you. and you liked it.

now, however, you found yourself in a much more compromising position.

the sleep had started innocent enough, you both insisting it was a platonic arrangement, a cheap version of getting a weighted blanket. but you had shuffled in your sleep, and now your bodies were tangled. simon's head lay on your collabone, his mouth hovering over your clothed breast, emitting small sighs in his sleep. your nipples were aching at the prolonged stimulation, his breath changing the temperature and making them harden. his hands grasped you beneath your arms, thumbs brushing the sides of your tits. you didn't think it was on purpose, but you had been on the edge for hours.

simon nuzzled closer into you, feigning sleep as long as possible. his left thigh wedged between your legs, his right bracketing the outside of yours to keep you right there. his morning wood, clothed by his thin sweats, laid heavy against your thigh. he could almost smell the wetness between your thighs, the way you tried humping him when you were asleep. little, uncontrolled movements of your hips, up and down, chasing friction. he tried to stop his teeth from sinking into your clothed tit, the softness of it so tempting. you were right there, almost his, yet so far it felt like foreign territory. somewhere he's been plenty of times, unwelcome. he had to tread carefully. then of course, soap had the gall to knock.

"l.t.? yer on recruit training, started a couple minutes ago." simon groaned against you, providing even more friction to your tit. guess he couldn't pretend to be asleep anymore. "'m sick. cancel it." a pause, soap was unbelieving. when simon was sick, if anything, he coached the recruits with even more vengeance than usual. "yer sure?" simon propped himself up on his forearms, squishing you in between them even more. you looked up at him, a dream with your tired eyes and a bit of drool at the corner of your mouth. he laid a small kiss to your forehead, so small you must still be dreaming. "cancel it. 'm bedridden today." his gravelly morning voice must have been enough for soap, who he could virtually hear straightening up after leaning against simon's doorframe. "got it, l.t."

simon breathed a sigh of relief. finally, finally, he acknowledged you. "mornin' dovie. sleep well?" sleep well?! you had slept like the dead. "best sleep of my life, simon. might have to make this a regular thing." you joked, still unsure of the lines that had been erased last night. and that forehead kiss. "available whenever ya need, love." you were still tangled together, his cock still against your cunt. you bucked against him again involuntarily, the whisper of friction too light for you. you both looked down together at where you were almost touching, separated by two layers of fabric. "simon i-"

another loud knock. "what." simon gritted out. "seen the better lieutenant, ghost? we're supposed to run drills today an' i can't find her." it was gaz and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. simon looked down at you questioningly and you shook your head vehemently. "she's sick. contagious." gaz was choking back a laugh. he must have talked to soap before this. "alrigh', i'll tell price. get better, you two." fuck.

"shit, si, i'm sorry. should have slept at my own place i-" another forehead kiss this time, a bit longer than the first. he trailed his mouth to your nose, small pecks here and there. turning his head down, he nosed your jaw, inhaling the smell of your mixed scents. like you were two of the same. one.

"can i?" you were so far gone it took a bit for his question to register. you had tilted your head back to give him more access, a willing prey to your domestic predator. "can- can you what?" he moved down a bit more, cock moving away from your cunt. you unwillingly let out a whine at the loss of contact and he chuckled into your skin. "suck your tits, baby." oh. oh.

"yes, yes. please"

he laughed again, the sensation vibrating through your skin. his mouth finally made contact with your tit, mouthing at it over your t-shirt. thankfully, it was thin, so you can feel the slight suck and the ghost of a bite. he alternated between your breasts, hands rolling the other nipple he wasn't sucking. your shirt was wet, sticking to your skin, drenched in saliva. "simon, can you- please." the last part was a moan as he gave you a bigger bite. "use your words, lieutenant." he was rutting into the bed, cock chasing much needed friction. he didn't want to scare you but his need for you was bubbling over, a pot on the stove too long. "my shirt, ah, my shirt off."

he freed you from your shirt, the fabric drenched in his saliva, sticking to your skin as he peeled it off. your tits were wet and slightly bruised from his minstrations. marked.

"you like my marks on you?" you looked down, not caring about the unsexy double chin as you took in what he had done to you. keeping it platonic was done and dead, and you were going to take advantage of it.

"more."

a willing soldier, he dove back in, licking and sucking like he had been made for it. his right hand went lower, palm pressing against your wet pussy for some much-needed attention to your clit. you had never come from nipple stimulation alone, but you had been edged for hours while you were sleeping. the pressure on your clit was perfect, the wetness seeping through your sleep shirts onto his callused hand. he let go of your nipple with a loud smack, a string of saliva dripping from his chin. "think you can come like this, dove?" you nodded furiously, his desperate little dove. simon went back down to your abandoned tits and you gasped at the feeling of his bite. he pressed his palm harder against your aching cunt, virtually feeling the flutter of your wanting pussy, pleading for him. he rubbed it in circles, up and down, listening to your sounds to find a pattern you liked.

and suddenly he had it, your back arching as you felt that telltale spark at the base of your spine. simon felt it, your desperation increasing tremendously as you bucked into his hand, thrusting out your tits like a bitch in heat. "right there, baby. come fer' me, hm?" you nodded as he gave your tit one last long suck and pressed his palm right where you needed it, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. he lightly tongued your breasts as you came down, cleaning up his mess. "feel better?" you groaned, the reality of how desperate you had acted finally hitting you.

"they all know, simon. the whole base knows by now." he moved up until you two were face to face. so what if the whole base knew? you had been his since that first handshake.

"so what?"

--

guys this was so horny wowwwwwwwww ovulation hitting me fr

[oceantornadoo]

betrayal (simon riley x f!reader)

in the same universe as two lieutenants

--

"what the fuck, simon."

you slammed down a stack of papers on his desk. he tilted his head up, eyes moving fast as they read what was in front of him. leaning back, he crossed his arms and spread his legs in his desk chair, the picture of composure. "use your words, lieutenant."

you scoffed, unbelieving. "i put in a transfer and you deny it? we're the same rank, you shouldn't even be able to do that." he shrugged, eyes darting away. guilty. "don't know what yer talkin' about. same rank, remember?" you rolled your eyes, feet starting to pace his office floor out of anger. "i thought we were friends, simon." you stopped, the hurt swelling into your words. all your emotions hit at once. betrayal. sadness. you thought he'd be different. "and- and then i see this?" you swiped a hand angrily at your eyes, wiping away the tears before they formed. "what, you just want to hold me back? i want to be a captain and i can't be one on this team. you know that."

he knew that because of late nights in his room over tea, sharing deep secrets. you on his bed, him in his extra chair, whispers exchanged in the dark of the night. the trust you put into your fellow lieutenant was unimaginable, the weight of it immeasurable. your foolish mistake had come to bite you in the ass.

"dove, 's not what you-"

"don't you dare call me that." your finger up against his chest, accusing. his nickname for you too hurtful for you to hear right now. "lovie, let me explain i-" you turned around, heading for the door. done with this bullshit.

and then suddenly you were up against the door, simon's masked hand covering your mouth. he wasn't even breathing hard, the exertion barely making a dent in his stamina. he towered over you, eyes shining through his eyeblack and his simple black balaclava. the thumb of his hand covering your mouth brushed your jaw, a soothing motion to calm you down. "gonna be a good girl and listen?" his thigh was wedged in between your legs, mostly to keep you from bolting, but he used it to emphasize his words. you felt wetness pool in your underwear, your body betraying your mind. you rolled your eyes, but after seeing his facial expression not change, you finally nodded. he took his hand off your mouth, brushing your cheek before leaving it, his thigh forgotten between your legs.

"i denied it 'cause i'm a selfish bastard." your eyes widened in shock. confusion. were you right? "i just-" he took a breath, hand reaching to run through his hair before realizing he had his mask on. he yanked it off, throwing it to the side.

"i just wanted you to myself, ok? heard the team you applied for was gonna go dark for years in russia in an undercover op. and i can't-" his eyes seared into yours, both sets of pupils dilating in the moment. you understood.

"you won't lose me, simon." you reached your hand to run it through his hair, dirty blond strands easily passing through. you both stood there for a moment, taking comfort in the fact that this thing you two had was finally being addressed.

"i can't. after everythin', it's jus- not you too. can't lose you, dove." his masked hands cradled your face, glad your physical friendship boundaries were finally being crossed. you gave him a sad smile.

"i know you want captain. i asked 'round and there's other teams open. closer. was gonna tell you this afternoon but got interrupted." by you, choosing to believe he was like all the men before, who wanted to make you small so they felt big. by you, choosing to protect yourself first, not in the wrong but not optimistic either.

"ugh, you're the worst." fuck, had he gotten in wrong? this whole thing wasn't what he'd planned. the whole confession wasn't in the cards, and now he was paying for it. except-

except you were pulling him in for a hug, standing on your tippy toes so you could wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. his hands immediately rested on your waist, the feel of it so foreign and yet so right. this was the first time you'd ever embraced him like this, so open and emotional. he memorized the feel of you in his arms, just in case, always just in case, then let himself live in the moment. he dug his face into the crook of your neck, sniffing the scent of your contraband shampoo, the scent that chased him in his dreams and nightmares. his thumbs caressed your skin, drawing circles into your waist.

"yer it for me, you know? you see it now? but if you need to choose between me and captain, i get it." he waited for your answer with bated breath, squeezing you tighter in case you turned him down. in case it was his last chance.

you answered with a peck to the side of his head, making simon all warm and fuzzy inside. "you're mine too, idiot. i can still make captain without going to russia." finally, he relaxed. the hug had gone on for longer than necessary at this point, but he didn't want to let you go. slowly, you pulled back, making eye contact. "so when are you taking me out on a real date?"

--

this is for the girlies guys and pals who have always had to feel like they had to choose between a man and a career. with the right man, you deserve both! (i wouldn't know i'm just a hopeless romantic trapped in a college town but i'm trusting what the books say.)

[oceantornadoo]

the thing that works best for sleep is not melatonin, but an orgasm.

especially after hard missions, you find yourself raiding your vibrator drawer, fucking yourself to oblivion. sometimes it’s hard to keep the moans in, and that wall you share with your fellow lieutenant? it’s paper thin.

so don’t be surprised if he’s knocking at your door the next night you’re on the edge of orgasm. he might just let himself in…

two lieutenants🌪️masterlist

[oceantornadoo]

his favorite patient (simon riley x f!reader)

part 5 of the two lieutenants series...toothrotting fluff

--

"where is she?"

ghost thundered into the base hospital, all teeth and claws. the hospital staff scattered in his wake, avoiding eye contact. finally, a doctor approached, looking down at her clipboard nervously. "who are you looking for, sir?" he tried not to antagonize medical staff, but someone needed to get it together. "the lieutenant." he spit out. "right this way, sir."

the doctor pushed through the door to your hospital room, the sterile breeze drifting through ghost's mask. the doctor moved out of the way so he finally could view you.

you, who had taken two bullets to your left arm and yet still managed to complete the mission. had dragged gaz out with you, who was recovering in the room next to you. you were asleep, brows furrowed even in your sleep. he drowned out the words of the doctor, opting instead to move closer to your bed. "she's alrigh'?" ghost mumured, almost to himself. "she'll need some PT to regain range of motion, but she'll be okay, sir. she's just taking some much needed rest." he nodded his thanks, and the doctor made her way out, smiling to herself as she closed the door.

ghost took off his balaclava, setting it on the table behind him. he took a seat on your bed, dwarfing the small bed with his frame. he smoothed out the furrow between your brows, his gloves long forgotten back on base, abandoned the moment he heard you were in the hospital. "s'pposed to be end game, yeah? can't get shot on me now." his thumb traced the slope of your nose, trailing to your lips, down to your jaw. "my brave dove." his thumb traveled to your collarbone, brushing back and forth. he lost sense of time, entranced in the feel of your skin, the softness against his battle worn skin. almost half an hour had passed until...

"simon?" you croaked out, throat parched. "yeah, baby? feel ok?" he was so enamored with you, all doe eyes staring back at him. ghost was gone, the bloody work done, and simon was here to stay. you nodded slowly, still recovering from the events of the past days. "thirsty." he was up immediately, looking for water. he found a water cup a nurse had dropped off earlier, so deep in his trance he hadn't seen her come in and out. "go'on." he offered you the straw and you sipped, trying to go slow. he watched your throat move up and down with every sip. "better?" you hummed your appreciation. "you don't have any recruits to bother?" he gave you a sideways grin, one of his rarities. "you're more important."

you're more important. simon was here, sitting vigil at your bedside. he shirked his duties just for you. "why are you here, si?" he clicked his teeth, breaking eye contact for the first time he'd been in the room. simon stared at the clock, stared out the window. "ya don't get it, do ya?" he turned back to stare at you. you shook your head, brows furrowing again. his thumb jumped out and smoothed it before even realizing. "i haven't taken you out on that date yet, but y'r it for me. i'm y'r lieutenant, yeah?" you reached your uninjured hand towards him and he leaned in, letting you cup his face. "its all or nothing for you, isn't it?" he nodded. "hav' to be in our line of work." you gave him a small smile. "what is this, a proposal, riley?" you brushed his thumb over his lips. "let me know when your left hand is healed for a ring, baby." you laughed and it was the sweetest sound in the world to him. "my answer is yes. and a maybe to the proposal. you're on a trial period." he nodded again, nuzzling into your hand. "jus' let me take care of you, yeah?" you nodded, falling back into your hospital bed. "now i can sleep." he kissed your forehead, and all was right in the world again.

--

ugh i want a boyfriend

[oceantornadoo]

two lieutenants masterlist (simon riley x f!reader)

this is all crack and just a bunch of different love confessions with no particular order

tags: two lieutenants🌪️

the setup (start here!)

betrayal (angst, hurt/comfort)

a weighted blanket (fluff)

sleepy morning (smut)

his favorite patient (fluff)

put me to bed (fluff, sprinkle of angst)

missed you. (fluff)

ao3 link

extra non canon:

thin walls drabble

[oceantornadoo]

put me to bed (simon riley x f!reader)

part 6 of the two lieutenants series (can be read standalone)

—

“siii.” you knocked again. “simon, it’s meee.”

the door swung open and you almost stumbled through, the alcohol in your veins refusing to keep you upright. however, your reflexes won the fight for balance, right hand shooting out to grab at the door frame. you were face to face with simon’s pajamas, a relaxed t-shirt and sweats you’d never seen him in. it felt almost illegal, like this sight was meant for someone else. like you stole it.

“‘case you haven’t noticed, ‘s 2am.” his voice was low and gravel-filled. “i know, si. not even close to your bedtime yet.” the aching truth of your point, that he never sleeps before 3am, was softened by your drunk hiccup. you finally took the effort to raise your head, eyes locking onto his. he didn’t have his mask on, a sight you usually treasured sober, but now, it made drunk you mad. real mad.

“whatever, fuck this. jus’ wanted to say goodnight since you didn’t want to come out with us. with me.” you turned with a vengeance, stumbling in your going-out shoes as you made for your own room across base. before you could get too far, simon grabbed your arm, tugging you into his intoxicating presence. “had some paperwork to finish, dove. don’t get your panties in a twist.” you gasped. "i didn’t realize british people actually said shit like that. and", you punctuated this with a finger to his chest, “don’t think about my panties, riley. those words don’t exist to you.” he didn’t respond. typical man.

a few seconds later, he showed you why. he swooped you up bridal style with the gall of a military man who had to practice rescuing teammates in gear twice your size. he even caught your purse as it dropped to the floor, thick fingers wrapping around cheap leather as he settled all of you into place. “cheeky fucker.” he murmured under his breath, more to himself than to you. simon turned and locked his door, then strode down the hall like this was normal, everyday behavior. the swaying motion mixed with the drinks in your stomach and you gripped his shirt in fear that you’d throw up on. simon didn’t seem to care, prioritizing speed as he searched for your room. after a few minutes of charged silence, and prayers for a calm stomach on your end, he set you down with the gentleness of a man taking in a stray. all light touches, coaxing your keys out of your purse while keeping you upright as you swayed against him. simon opened the door and ushered you in with restrained arrogance, like he could tell you what to do.

“bed, dove.” instead of walking over to your bed, you gripped his bicep and held him in place. “no shoes. germs.” he chuckled, fingers ghosting over your cheek as he rubbed at your smeared makeup. “go’on.” you squeezed his arm as you bent down to take your shoes off. his hand found your lower back to balance you, but he was content to watch you struggle with your strappy heels. call it retribution for disturbing his night.

“can’t get ‘em off, pretty girl?” you shook your head, then remembered he couldn’t see you in the darkness of your room. “no…” he maneuvered you to your bed, ignoring your protests, and plopped you down, hands firm on your waist. “no light, si.” turning on the light would ruin this peaceful silence, would bring reality back into the mix. you weren’t ready for that, content to stay in this cloud nine as you sobered up and let simon take care of you. he answered you by taking off your shoes, one by one. simon was trying to treasure your sudden docileness, fumbling with your shoes as he thought of his next excuse to stay longer. maybe help you take your makeup off? he assumed you’d want to with that deliriously endearing mess of lipstick on your face. the image of you kissing someone at the bar arose unbidden in his mind, and he squashed it with a glare. unfortunately, that was when your hands had decided to explore his face in the dark, fingers tracing the lines of his anger. “i’m sorry. you’re angry. i just thought- but ‘sokay, i can do the rest. thanks for your help, l.t.” he jerked his head up at the nickname, a sudden nod to the context of your relationship, the two lieutenants of the 141. it felt dirty here, to put a light on all the reasons why this couldn’t happen.

“‘s not you, ‘s the shoes. bloody death traps.” he had finally finished the second one, slipping it off neatly so it wouldn’t dirty your floor. “what’s next?” you hummed in thought. “shower. no outside clothes in bed!” you ended with a cheer. simon wondered how you showered drunk all those times before him, then quickly regretted imagining you naked and wet. “come on.” he walked you two to your en-suite shower (perks of being a lieutenant, not that you were on base enough to take advantage of it). regrettably, he turned on the bathroom light, trying to ignore how your body scrunched up. “need my makeup remover.” you pointed to a blue container and he grabbed it. “i can do it-“ he genuinely shushed you with a finger to the lips, shaking his head. “show me.” he nodded to the unscrewed container. you took his fingers in your hand, dipping them into the oily balm. you moved them to your face, dragging them across your skin ungracefully. “then you kinda massage it in. make sure you get everywhere, can’t mess up my routine.” his lips quirked up at your sass. some things never changed.

simon moved his fingers around your face, rubbing off layers of foundation, setting powder, and everything in between. his free hand settled at your waist, keeping you steady under his touch. he took a pointer finger to your lips, dragging his callouses over your soft skin, memorizing the feel of it. he took care with your lashes, gently closing your eyes before rubbing off your mascara. he made sure to go up to your hairline, like he’d seen in the movies. simon riley didn’t know how to be gentle, but he’d try for you.

“now what?” the question moved through the still air as if breaking a trance. you almost flinched at the intrusion, having practically fallen asleep standing in his arms. “shower.” you croaked out, all soft and sweet. “can you unzip me?” he nodded even though your eyes remained closed, his hand on your waist turning you around until your stomach kissed the bathroom counter. using his clean hand, simon traced the bare skin above your dress before settling on the zipper. he brought himself closer, pelvis kissing your backside as he tried to control his body’s reaction. unfortunately, you noticed. he was starting to hate how visible he was to you, ghost gone to the wind.

“simon.” you rewarded him with a throaty moan, dropping your elbows on the counter as you pushed your ass into him. “please, please si.” he continued to drag the zipper down like he counted hear you, revealing each torturous inch of skin. “be good.” he growled, your spine straightening at the command. “lieutenant.” you were mewling under him, the dregs of alcohol making you all pliant. he didn’t want you like that for your first time together, putty in his hands. he wanted your bark and bite, which wouldn’t happen tonight. it didn't matter. ghost was a very patient man. “done.” you dropped your arms and the dress dropped with them, revealing your lack of bra and lace panties. here he was again, thinking of your panties. your eyes were still closed under the weight of the oil on your skin, giving him an unabashed view of your breasts in the mirror. perfect.

simon wiped his makeup-stained hand on his shirt, not caring about the marks it would leave. his thumbs met either side of your waist, digging into your skin and under your panties, pulling them down easily. you were wet between your thighs, proof staining your underwear. he sucked in a harsh breath at the evidence of your need, evidence it wasn’t all in his head. instead of pressing his nose to the source of your arousal, he left your side to turn on your shower. water running, he stepped back and put a guiding hand on your waist. “go’on.” you followed meekly, muscle memory taking over as you stepped into the shower. you tilted your head to the spray of water, clearing off your face. he chose to not close the shower curtain, opting to watch you clear the mess and open your eyes with a grin. “shower with me.” he shook his head, holding back a grimace as he watched the smile die on your face. "no, baby." always ruining things, like his fucking father. "then why are you here?" he shook his head again, regretting that the shower had sobered you up. regretting how he still hadn't closed the shower curtain, letting water spray on the floor as he drank in your body. regretting his clear lack of self-control when it came to you. "you know why." he closed the shower curtain and left.

he didn't actually leave. he was too weak for that. instead, he searched through your drawers, finding those shorts you always wore paired with his shirt you stole months ago and never gave back. it smelled like you now, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. the shower shut off, sounds of you brushing your teeth and putting on lotion floating through the air. he turned on your lamp and set out a glass of water, suddenly feeling awkward in your space. simon turned and there you were, water dripping on the floor, towel gripped loosely.

"i thought you left." he shook his head, forcing himself to gesture to the clothes he set out. instead of thanking him, you dropped your towel on the floor. simon hissed, sucking in the sight of your moisturized skin, the scent of it calming him. you, mostly sober now, trotted over to the clothes, putting them on nonchalantly. "if you won't fuck me, you can leave. i'm sorry for waking you up." lie. you both knew he was already awake when you knocked. simon had been texting soap for updates all through the night, knowing you were on your way back before you knocked. "c'mon." he ignored you completely, instead pulling at your covers to get you in bed. you rolled your eyes but followed his command, brushing past him as you got in bed. "g'night, dove." he turned off the lamp solemnly, no reflection of emotion on his face. "simon." he paused, holding his breath. "stay." you could hear him thinking in the dark. "not gonna fuck you. not tonight. it's more t' me than that." you smiled. "i know. stay."

--

i try not to write anything body size specific but i headcanon that simon riley is #thick in all the ways that matter and can lift anyone (even if you identify as a fat person or a tall person or anything in between) if he tries hard enough. i hope that sentence didn't take you out of the reading experience!!!

also i have no idea how military bases are laid out so ignore that