Julia

simon’s never been one for naps. never seen the point in them really, he’s spent too many years on high alert and ready to move at a moments notice to indulge in them. scoffs when johnny jokes about him not needing sleep. there’s a million other things i could be doing in that time, he grumbles.

but when he meets you, simon starts to see the allure.

he finds you curled up on the couch in the rec room one day tucked into your blanket and just stares for a moment. there’s a look of serenity on your face that he’s both captured by and in awe of. in fact, he’s a little bit jealous. he’s not sure what he looks like sleeping, but definitely not as a peaceful as you.

(johnny says he scowls in his sleep sometimes. even curses at him every now and then.)

when you and simon first get together he comes to find that one of your favorite pastimes is tucking yourself away in bed for a good nap. no harm in it, you shrug.

those words rattle around in his head the first time you ask if he’d like to join you. he blinks and scratches the back of his neck, asking if you’re sure about that because he’s ‘not exactly cuddly’ and probably won’t fall asleep.

“it’s alright. i just want you next to me.” simon bites back the urge to brand your name into his heart.

one hour is all it takes to change his perspective. suddenly, crawling into bed with you for a quick snooze becomes the most indulgent activity he could think of. simon’s quick to mold himself against your body, breathing in the tranquility of the moment. your breaths turned shallow not too long before and he’s shocked to find himself following you down the rabbit hole into a dreamless sleep.

it’s the vulnerability that gets to him. to lay in each others arms and slip away from the world together - it’s a level of intimacy he’s never experienced before and it intoxicates him. soon enough, he’s pulling you to the side during end of the day trainings, staring down at you with molten brown eyes. “i want to lay down with you after this.”

insists you’ve spoiled him, although you’re not sure how him finally getting enough sleep is a bad thing. but when he starts whining (if you could call it whining in that voice) that you should be laying in bed with him instead of doing whatever you’re doing, you start to think he might be right.

i love the fact that girlies will write the filthiest, most depraved smut about dark, intimidating and tattooed men—with fluffy bunnies, sparkling little stars and pretty bows as banners. oh, and soft pink as a colour accent on certain words.

sweet!simon | sex and other things

as you may notice, i'm lowkey done with capitals when i type they're just so so inconvenient and DISRUPT MY FLOW (unless i wanna get my point across like that) enjoy!

warnings: virgin!reader, simon actually being…sweet?, f!oral receiving, sex and other things (duh read the title)

word count: 0.6k

it's slow at first. deliberate.

he's got you spread out on your bed and by the look in his eyes, he's been starved for this. looking at you through low eyes like you're something so rare, laid out all nicely just for him. big hands on your thighs, thumbs stroking over your skin in a comforting way. like he can't believe you're real.

"been thinking about this for so long," he mumbles, voice rough and quiet. "thinking about how sweet you'd taste."

your breath stutters. he smirks that goddamn smirk, because he knows alright. he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

and then, finally, his mouth is on you. and it's devastating.

slow, wet, messy.

he's not shy about it at ALL. tongue working you open like he's got nowhere else to be. this is basically what he believes to be his purpose in life. to please you. every little noise you make just makes him groan even deeper into you, like he lives for the sound of your pleasure.

"fuck..." he murmurs against your core, voice shattered, "all of this for me, pretty girl?" he praises you, managing to pull a physical reaction out of you as you feel yourself dripping, leaking in arousal all over his lower face.

your hands find his hair without even thinking, tugging a little, and he loves it, groaning into you like it's the hottest thing you could've done. he grabs at your thighs when they start to tremble, spreading you wider and pulling you closer like he needs more.

it's absolutely filthy and he's obsessed.

he doesn't stop until you ride out your orgasm on his face, his grip on your thighs helping you to push through the intensity of it.

and after? you'd be lying there still catching your breath after this absolute MUNCH just ate you out with no mercy whatsoever, your legs still shaking a little, chest rising and falling. and he would just look at you with a stupid smirk like he's so fucking proud of himself. as if you looking spent was his most favourite view ever.

he would probably wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, but he'd still be grinning. maybe he even says something like "tastes so fucking good. knew you would." like it's nothing.

and then... he's already getting rid of his clothes - unbothered, hard as hell, dick literally leaking because he's been so into it. he's wanted to fuck you from the second he touched you but he was patient about it.

but now? after that? he has no patience left. it's non-exsistant.

he would definitely grab your face while kissing you messily, so turned on by the fact that you can taste yourself on his mouth. groaning into it, mumbling promises like "gonna fuck you so good, baby. gonna feel so good."

and when he finally pushes into you...? oh hellll you're done for.

the mix of low moans and gasps from him and whimpers from you make the moment so so perfect. him holding you hips, telling you "that's it. atta girl, jus' like that. taking me s'well."

he'd be such a praiser too. "my pretty girl. so fucking perfect f'me."

the sex would be slow at first, he needs to make sure it feels good for you before he focuses on his own needs and wants, but it wouldn't take too long before he's fucking into you like he can't help it. whispering filthy little things embellished with praise into your ear between kisses. staring into your eyes as he fucks you so good, watching you fall apart on him.

gosshhh im combusting at this thought rn...

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it’s okay to not be okay and still experience happiness

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

if my (future) husband doesn’t think about me when Cover Me Up is on, he’s not the one.

please lord, send me a kind, handsome, tall and older man who is in love with me and calls me his sweet and pretty girl. please please please please.

don't stress about that opportunity that fell through or that friend you lost or that thing you really want to happen but isn't. as long as you keep your chin up and try try try again, better things will replace your losses. i'm looking at my life rn and actually marveling at how every single thing i stressed about, whether it be an opportunity or a person, got supplanted w another thing that is so much better. it really is true that loss makes space for better things. these days i don't get sad when something doesn't work out. i get excited that i'm now open to so many other possibilities out there, so long as i actively seek them. you never lack. you just transition.

torn between wanting to be a beam of light, wild soul, big heart, bright smile, powered by the sunshine, braided hair and quietly beautiful, soft smile, cunning mind, gentle heart with those who earn it, sleek style, clean soul, hair blown out, rich, takes no shit.