I Do Not Fear I’m In Love With Him

gentle cleansers, green tea, at home workouts, fruit bowls, face masks, spf 50, pink nails, jewelry always, hair masks, body milks, late night runs, sparkly claw clips, hair massages, lip serums, balanced salads, night routine, vitamins and supplements, sunglasses sun hat combo, princess treatment, floral bouquets, vogue videos.

Please I’m literally at work and this thought would NOT go away

Roommate!Simon Riley who sits in the bathroom while you’re in the shower.

The first time it happened he’d been so lost in his head he hadn’t even noticed the water was running. It was after work, late at night. When he walked in and heard your shriek, he was quick to cover his eyes, despite the shower curtain, fumbling for the door while a constant stream of apologies fell from his lips.

“Simon! Is that you?” Your voice was shaky, and he realized, just by the simple sound of your tone, that you weren’t screaming because he’d walked in, you simply just hadn’t known he was home.

“Yeah love, ‘m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.” His fingers nervously fiddled with the door handle, squeaking hinges reminding him to take his weight off of the old wood.

“No it’s okay, you just scared me is all.” You peeked your head out of the shower, dripping loose droplets of water all over the rug. “You can stay in here ya know. I wouldn’t mind the company.” Didn’t have to tell him twice. He was sat.

He listened to you ramble as he cleaned his bloody knuckles, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo with every breath. He found comfort in it, even found himself longing for the lingering smell of your hair when he was away. That’d never happened to him before, not since you came along.

He liked how the smells weren’t harsh, they were just you.

“Hey Riley! Hand me my towel please?” He turned his gaze from the crimson sink to face you, quirking a smile when he saw the way you clenched your eyes shut, soap suds dripping down your forehead. “Got soap in my eyes.”

An amused huff came from his nose. “I can tell.” Instead of handing it to you, he grabbed your jaw with one hand, bandaged fingers careful as they wiped from the corner of your eyes to the outer part and back again. It wasn’t necessary of course, but you didn’t need to get a perfectly clean towel soaking wet before you needed it. That would be silly.

“Thanks,” You couldn’t help how breathless you sounded, eyelashes fluttering open to see his stern ones focused on making sure the rest of your face was dry.

“Welcome,” It was gruff and short, but he meant it, truly.

After that, it didn’t necessarily become routine, but if you got home from work, and he was there, it was bound to happen. You just had so many things to tell him. Stories of rude coworkers- about how they tried to steal the cookies he’d bought you, but how you were determined to eat every single one of them.

He’d follow you around like a lost puppy, finding solace on the toilet seat when you finally managed to get your ass in the shower. He made fun of you once for how distracted you got, and after seeing the fake pout on your lips he couldn’t stop. Picking on you was his favorite past time after all.

He loves how you sing softly, and he queues away the songs your the loudest to in his head, storing them away to discreetly surprise you with later. The sound of your voice just soothes him, even if it’s not always on key.

Sometimes he’ll even tell you about his day too. It’s not often, but when it happens, you remind yourself to stay dead silent. He was like a baby deer, one wrong move and you’d lose him.

When he inevitably goes quiet mid conversation, you always urge him to continue. “C’mon Riley, I’m listenin’” He melts right then and there every time.

The towel is always in his hands once he hears the shower turn off, ready for you to grab whenever you’re ready. You always insist on doing the rest of your routine behind the safety of the curtain.

“I don’t mind leaving love,”

Another peek of your head and another puddle of water.“Simon Riley, finish telling me your story or I’ll murder you.” It was a pretty convincing argument. He’d obviously listen so he didn’t die. Not because the cute little angry crease between your brows drove him crazy or the way your eyes were stormy with determination made him feel a little horny.

It was always the small things with you.

“Alright you sassy lass, I’ll talk.” And so he’d finish his story, handing you whatever products you asked for every now and then before you reached your hand out for fresh clothes.

As he turned around to get them he’d hear a loud slam, the sound of bottles clattering and your quiet hiss making him alert. Before he could even say anything though, you’d counteract his concern.

“I’m fine. Just slipped on my fucking conditioner.” And oh if he didn’t belly laugh.

Now, sometimes, you’d follow him to the bathroom, and he’d let you. Those these were the moments where he wouldn’t get a second to speak. Because you’d talk, and talk, and talk some more, and he’d eat it all up like it was his last meal.

He’d go to bed thinking about the sound of your voice, bottle it up and take it with him when he had to be away for to long. Because a minute without the sweet sound of your presence was a minute to damn long.

i asked someone to do this for me once and they looked at me like i was crazy and said no :( (is this only cute in my head???????)

your first mission with simon ghost riley didn't go very well.

cw: smutty, ghosts a brat

the cell door you had been working to override had slammed in ghost's face, and at his attempt to open it, you could hear him mutter a curse under his breath.

"fuckin' hell."

"what happened?" you walked over to where he was, and once you tried to pull on the same door, you realized. you two were stuck in the cramped, dark and wet jail cell.

"fuck,” you exhaled and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"stop copying me, cunt."

"oh go to hell, ghost."

"no thanks, i'm trying to get as far away as possible from ya, baby."

you groan out in frustration and banged your head against one of the bars, the condensation sticking to your hair, and all ghost could do was chuckle at you.

"you're so fucking dense."

"eat shit," you hissed out as you swung a closed fist at his chest.

once you made contact, you knew that it was very possible it was your last moments before death.

simon crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked down at the floor while shaking his head, "tsk," he took a step towards you, "always gotta be so physical," he shoved you back, causing your body to slam against the brick wall.

and guess what? you shoved him the fuck back.

"if you think for one second," you shoved him again, this time pulling his shoulder strap down so he was at eye level with you, "that I'm gonna let you throw me around just cause you want to, you're fucking hilarious. you've got a lotta nerve to even think about touching me, let alone push me back when I've pushed you first-“

ghost grabbed both of your arms from the front of you and shoved them behind your back, pushing your tits out from your shirt and right below his face. he looked down at your cleavage before bouncing back to your eyes, "y'wanna know what I think?" he spat right down the valley of your breasts and watched his saliva snake down your shirt, "i think you like it."

you squirmed under his weight, under his eyes. "fuck. you."

"you. wish."

ghost wasn't an idiot. he could feel the way you were rubbing your thighs together, how your pupils were dilating by the second and the soft pants coming out of your mouth.

"I'm saying all this, baby 'cause I know, if I were to fuck you right now, you'd probably be the best pussy I'd felt in years. maybe ever. I'd wanna take you home and do it over and over again until you're gasping for a break. I'd feed you well. id take care of you. I would fucking love you until death. but that's not who I am, and that's sure as fuck not who you are."

you watched his eyes gaze down to your lips as he lowered his head to yours.

"why not?" you whispered.

"because, baby, I don't fuck women who don't want to. I like wet pussy, not scared pussy. I want it hard and rough but I don't wanna break you forever. and unfortunately, I'll bet you a million dollars that if I reached down and checked right now, your sweet pussy wouldn't be wet. not even close. right?"

you gulped as his fingers realized one of your wrists and snaked down the side of your thigh, "that's a lot of money."

he slithered his hand back up to your waist band before sneaking a finger inside, "isn't it?" you could barely hear his smirk through his words over the intense volume of your heartbeat. you knew for a fact, that someone just lost a lot of money.

as ghost swiped a finger down the middle of your panties, he groaned, "fuck, I'm gonna be bankrupt aren't I?"

"its a stupid bet to make after spitting on a woman's tits."

Reading glasses Simon.

Reading glasses Simon.

fluff and nsfw (my first crack at nsfw ever so pray for me). dividers from @gild-ui! CW: fem!reader, fingering (fem receiving), oral (fem receiving)

Simon doesn’t need glasses for day to day life - his vision doesn’t impair his job. but, when it’s getting dark out and he’s picked up a book he’s been meaning to read? he’ll break out a pair of reading glasses

he doesn’t wear them around you for a while, not out of shame or embarrassment. when he first started dating you he simply forgot about the book sitting on his dresser, he was too busy with you to pick up that dusty, thick book

but once you’ve settled into your relationship? you come across him one night after a shower, a sleek, black pair of reading glasses resting over the bridge of his crooked nose. they aren’t fancy, just something to get the job done

but they’re so charming against his scarred face, a perfect match with his stubble and short-cropped hair. and when dark irises, nearly black in the dim lighting of the bedroom, look up at you behind those lenses? it’s enough to make your knees go weak

Simon insists that he only uses them for reading, he can see your pretty face just fine. he’s got a roughed up, black case for them - neatly tucked into his bedside table. he wouldn’t say it out loud, but he loves seeing you walk around with his glasses on. he doesn’t care if you nab them from his bedside, he’s too busy admiring you

he’s had the same pair for three years, lost the last pair on a deployment - he doesn’t bring them with anymore. he smiles when you offer to buy him a new pair, but he shrugs it off, “S’fine, don’t have a reason to get new ones, love.”

at night, when the stars and city are closed out by thick curtains, Simon loves settling down with you in bed. after a life of not receiving love, these little intimate nights make his heart squeeze with adoration for you

while you’re unwinding, phone in hand, Simon has his book. reading glasses idly resting on his nose, he can’t help but glance your way - eyebrows slightly knit as he studies you. taking in your relaxed shoulders, steady breathing, the slight upturn to your lips as you smile at your phone

he can’t help it when he moves his hand under the covers, eyes going back to the page he was reading. rough hand settling on your thigh, he gives it a small squeeze - innocent

but when his hand shifts down towards your core, pointer and middle finger grazing the edge of your underwear, his loving touch becomes a little more intimate

thumb smoothing over the skin between your hip and thigh, his fingers dip past the thin material - all the while he’s still reading

just when you’re about to question him, playful smile tugging at your lips, his middle finger dips down - touch light as he rubs at your clit. any words that you had die on your tongue as you shift your hips

“Don’t let me distract you, lovie.”, he hums, voice gravely as he flips a page, “Go on, keep lookin’ at y’phone.”. he cracks a small smile when he hears a little whine from you, finger pressing a little harder, tight little circles against you as he keeps his gaze down - he’s read the same line about three times

he doesn’t care when you set your phone down instead, canting your hips up slightly to meet his touch. he can’t help it, soon enough his hand is dipping past your underwear - the heel of his palm pressed to your little pearl, his ring and middle finger simply smoothing over your lips

he has to bite his tongue, cheeks heating up a little when he feels your slick - as much as you feel good, Simon’s getting off on just feeling you, his pretty little thing that loves him unconditionally

and, as a man that thrives off acts of service, he can’t help himself when he dips his middle finger into you. the soft gasp that leaves you falls on deaf ears, his own groan rumbling in his throat as his eyes flutter shut

he’s holding back a little, gripping his book a little too hard while you squirm - as much as he loves making you feel good, he’s a little selfish. he’s a little greedy, doing this more so for himself. and if greed is a sin, then he’ll atone by worshipping your body

bending the top corner of the page he’s on, Simon’s quick to close his book. halfheartedly shoved onto his bedside table, he turns his focus to you - your legs a little twitchy and lips parted as he dips a second finger in, “Look at you, doing so good f’me.”. low, murmured words as he leans over, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. a small, gruff chuckle leaves him when he pulls his hand away, hearing you huff out a complaint. he’s quick though, one last kiss to your jaw before he’s pulling the covers back, “Don’t worry, love. I’m not done.”

moving to sit between your legs, he brings his fingers up to his mouth - a low moan rumbling in his chest when he tastes you on his digits

true to his word, Simon’s not done with you. reading glasses still perched on the bridge of his nose, he shifts to lay down against the sheets. moving your legs so your calves rest over his shoulders, he looks up at you, “Gonna be good, doll?”. a genuine smile on his lips when he hears you plead for him, and who’s he to deny his darling?

pressing a kiss to your clothed cunt, he pulls your underwear to the side - left hand holding your thigh while his right holds the thin fabric to the side. he loves this - the sight of you flushed and pretty for him, looking down at him. it makes his stomach twist with need, a warmth settling in his gut as he leans down

“Course you’ll be good f’me—“, he hums, lips pressing to your clit as he closes his eyes, “Always such a good girl f’me, aren’t you?”, he mumbles against you, deep voice dripping with love. eyebrows pinched as he groans, gently lapping at you as he presses his hips to the mattress. “Pretty little thing, always treatin’ me right.”, holding you a little closer to him as he grinds down against the bed

hearing your sweet gasps and moans sets a fire in him, and when your hands find their way to his hair and tug? sparks fly, a whine of his own resonating in his throat. despite his quiet demeanor, his reserved nature and curt sentences in public, Simon finds his voice in bed

grip firm on your thigh, his mouth settles against your cunt - thumb moving to your clit again, “Wanna see you cum, lovie—“, he murmurs, drowning against you as his hips writhe

you’re not faring any better, hands rooted in his dirty blond hair. between his hold on you and his mouth - his thumb making quick circles, it’s all too much. and when he glances up at you from between your slick thighs, reading glasses fogged up and slanted? the tight, drawstring tension in your stomach is close to snapping - Simon’s not letting up as he moves his left hand under your shirt

can you blame him? sweet moans tumbling from your lips and thighs squeezing around his head, his hand settles over your tummy - gentle, careful pressure as he holds you down. Simon would have a pillow under your hips if he hadn’t been in such a needy rush, but he’ll just do that next time

eyes half lidded as he presses a kiss your thigh, he’s diving in again - lips and chin soaked. he knows you’re close, so is he, the fabric of his sweatpants and the friction from grinding against the mattress pushing him to the edge. but when you give a sharp tug of his hair, thighs pressing against him a little too tight, he feels the temple of his readers snap

disconnected from the hinge, the right side of his glasses break and so does Simon - sweatpants ruined as he pushes two digits into you, loud moans tumbling from him as tries to push you over too

it’s not long before you’re following after him, your heels digging against his back as you ride out your orgasm. Simon doesn’t quit though, not yet - lets you ride it out against him, grinding your hips against his mouth, not that he minds

breathing steadying as a moment goes by, Simon gently moves out from between your thighs, a kiss pressed to each knee before he’s moving to the bathroom. a warm, wet towel in hand he walks back, leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, “Did so well for me.”, he hums, a soft smile on his lips as he gently cleans your thighs. the mattress dips with his weight as he settles back into bed, towel dropped to the floor - he’d get it in the morning

broken readers left in your shared bathroom as Simon holds you close

Simon Riley Nsfw Headcannons

- Simon loves cockwarming, especially after long, exhausting days filled with paperwork and meetings. He’ll call you into his office, have you straddle his lap, and sink down onto him, keeping you nice and full while he occasionally presses kisses to your temple.

- His British accent always gets thicker when he’s fucking you or when you’ve got him in your mouth. The longer it goes on, the harder it is for him to string words together. When your lips are wrapped around him, and he’s gripping your hair, he sounds even filthier, deep, rough, and almost impossible to understand.

- When he’s away on missions, he sneaks a pair of your underwear or a tiny lace thong into his duffel bag. Late at night, when he finally gets a moment alone, he’ll wrap it around his fist while he strokes himself, holding onto the Polaroid photo of you he always keeps tucked inside his vest.

- Turn on’s: High heels. You in heels is enough to have his cock straining against his pants. And they stay on during sex. No negotiations. Your laugh. Not just the soft ones but the full, unrestrained laughter especially when it’s at one of his god-awful dad jokes. He’s getting a boner on the spot. The way you smell. Not just your perfume, but you. Fresh out of the shower, skin still damp and warm, he’s burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply before kissing down your spine.

- At first, during sex he starts out with a mix of praise and filthy words, his deep voice spilling the filthiest things into your ear. But once he loses himself in the pleasure of you, his words start to slur together, coming out in broken mumbles that barely make sense. Until he’s just grunting your name, completely wrecked.

- Size Kink? Absolutely. No matter your height or body type, you always look small compared to him, and he loves it. The way his hands completely engulf yours when he pins them down? The contrast of his broad frame over your smaller one? It drives him wild. He’ll groan at the sight of your fingers twitching beneath his as he holds them down, whispering, “So fuckin’ small under me, love— mine to ruin.”

- Loves when you’re vocal, Simon needs to hear you. The little gasps, the way you whimper his name. He craves it. When you two rented a secluded cabin one summer, he took full advantage. Had you screaming his name while he had his face buried between your thighs, eating you out like a man starved. He made sure to fuck you against the cabin wall later that night, just to hear it again.

- You in his clothes, there’s something about seeing you in his clothes that awakens something possessive inside him. Doesn’t matter if it’s his hoodie drowning your frame or one of his shirts hanging off your shoulders. His brain short-circuits every time. He’s even gone as far as hiding your clothes just so you’ll be forced to wear his. And if he catches you walking around in nothing but his t-shirt? Yeah, you’re not making it out of bed for the next hour.

- Loves shower sex, calls the water ‘free lube’, though after one particularly enthusiastic round ended with him slipping and nearly taking you down with him, you had to get grips for the shower floor. He grumbled about it at first, but you caught him checking them out approvingly the next time he pressed you up against the tiles.

free chicken.

pairing. simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

the dim light of the briefing room flickered over the map spread across the table, casting long shadows. you stood close to simon, your shoulder brushing his as the team reviewed the details of the next objective. the tension in the room was lighter than usual.

soap was grinning, as always, but this time, it was contagious.

‘this one’s free chicken,’ soap said, tapping the map with the blunt end of his marker, a cocky glint in his eye. ‘no sweat. barely a challenge.’

you blinked, confused by the term, and turned to simon. ‘free chicken? what does that even mean?’

simon’s gaze didn’t leave the map, but the corner of his mouth twitched beneath the mask, a hint of amusement only you would catch. ‘it means easy. something we can take without a fight.’

you frowned, glancing back at the objective. ‘sounds too good to be true.’

he finally glanced your way, his eyes catching yours for a fleeting moment. ‘it usually is.’

something about his tone made your stomach flutter. like he was talking about more than the mission, his words carrying a weight you couldn’t ignore.

‘maybe this one really is easy,’ you suggested, trying to lighten the mood, though you didn’t quite believe it yourself.

simon’s eyes lingered on you, unreadable, before he murmured, ‘nothing worth keeping is ever easy, doll.’

your breath caught at the way his voice dipped low, soft in a way he never used with anyone else. your chest tightened, the words sinking in. before you could respond, soap cut in with his usual energy.

‘all right, enough flirting over there,’ he teased, jabbing his thumb toward the exit. ‘let’s grab this chicken before it flies the coop.’

you stepped back, cheeks warm, as simon shot soap a glare sharp enough to cut steel. but as you moved to gear up, you felt simon’s presence linger behind you, his voice low and meant just for you.

‘stay close,’ he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. ‘even if it’s free chicken.’

you nodded, the warmth of his words settling over you as you followed the others out. trap or not, you knew one thing for certain: you’d always stay close to him.

an. yes ik chickens don’t fly.

the desire to be in a relationship only comes around when you’re about to sleep, on the journey home alone, sundays, after the club, when it’s raining, winter, at the cafe, today, tomorrow and yesterday

"Have you seen that bigboy with a skullface??"

the true girlhood experience (fighting the urge to fall to your knees in the middle of a grocery shopping aisle because of a sudden wave of grief that hit you out of nowhere)