Mechanic!simon Riley Headcanons

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.

prev. | mlist ✎ᝰ.ᐟ

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, but your apartment is the last place he visits before being sent off on an assignment.

‘Jus’ need somethin’ to tide me over, yeah dove?’

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, but when he’s away, his rugged and calloused hands don’t feel like yours, can’t get off unless he pictures you.

Above him. Below him. On your knees. On your back. In your mouth. Buried in your cunt.

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, but your apartment is the first place he visits when the mission is finished, doesn’t even bother going home.

And you answer, despite it being three in the morning.

“There’s my girl.” He breathes. Relieved. Dropping his bags on the floor before lunging forward to cup your face in his palms.

The claim makes you whine quietly, digging your fingertips into his wrists, arching on your tippy toes to meet his lips halfway. It’s ravenous, leaves your breath ragged, and lips thrumming with swelling blood.

He hoists you in his arms, burrowing his hands under your thighs and ass, pinching the flesh so hard it’ll bruise, but he can’t help it. He’s greedy. Selfish. Hasn’t quite coaxed himself down from the harsh realities of being ‘Ghost.’

“Ah—Simon,” You whimper, huffing hot air against his lips, “You’re hurting me.”

“Sorry, baby,” He smooths his hands, petting the backs of your thighs, “I just-”

The ‘missed you’ dies on his tongue, stops it from rolling off and filling the empty space between the two of you, but you know.

That night when he asks you to repeat him, tell him you’re all his, you don’t respond like usual. He tries his best to coax it out of your pretty lips orgasm after orgasm because he needs to hear it, but you don’t give him the pleasure.

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, so he has no other option but to accept it because you’re not his. The lack of acknowledgment eats at his skin, brutal talons gnawing at his flesh when you slowly stop responding to his texts.

Shows up at your doorstep anyway because you don’t get to tell him when this stops. When you answer the door, you’re all dolled up, a tight little skirt hugging your figure, lip gloss smeared on your lips like you have somewhere to be other than on his cock.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, glaring at him, “I’m busy.”

“With what?”

You frown, “I have a date.”

He snorts, pushing past you, making a show of taking off his boots and placing them next to yours, has no intention of leaving.

“Simon,” You sigh, closing the door behind you, “I don’t have time for this right now. He’ll be here any minute.”

The statement alone pinches his temples with irritation, but that’s when he sees it, one small hickey adorned on your neck, just below your ear. His vision narrows, tunneling red, nudging you against the wall with one swift movement, tilting your jaw to get a better look at it.

“The fuck is this?” He snarls, runs his thumb over the bruise, and makes your breath hitch slightly.

“Nothing.” You mutter quietly.

“Your little date give you this? Huh?” He grits through clenched teeth, grip tightening on your jaw, drawing dimples in your skin.

“None of your business.” You spit back, but it’s far too gentle to have any real bite like it always does with him, pup with baby canines.

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, but he seethes at the idea of another man inside of you, another man marking you as theirs when you’re his.

Sinks his teeth around the stupid mark, dragging sharp fangs against your delicate flesh, and sucks the skin viciously. Covers the ugly bruise with his own claim.

Fuck buddies with Ghost who tells you it means nothing, doesn’t want anything more than sex, but he presses you right up against your front door, so your date can hear him fucking you in two when he comes to pick you up.

‘Can yer little boyfriend fuck you like this? Huh, baby? Did he know jus’ how you like it?’

Fucks you messy and pretty, until your cheeks are tear-stained and your breaths are wrecked, hiccuping over your moans that’s he’s so mean, so cruel, asking you to say you’re his when he doesn’t even have the courage to say he missed you.

‘Be a good girl f’me, yeah? Tell me you’re all mine.’

And when you do finally say it, he carries you to your bed, fucks you slow and deliberate like he always does, like he really means it, and whispers the words against your skin.

@bbygirl9 @ailanbutterfly @amberbalcom14 @h0lydrag0ns

the vibe i crave in case any of you care 𐙚. ݁₊⋆˖°

STOP CARING ABOUT WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK OF YOU!!!!

NO ONE. and i mean *NOBODY* will EVER have a "right" or valid opinion of you! have they been through all the exact experiences and learnt the lessons you've been through? no!!

what they think and say about you IS NOT A REFLECTION OF YOU. everything they say about you is based on THEIR OWN past experiences and how they've been raised! its NOT PERSONAL. its NOT always about you.

for example: if someone wears a high crop top or a mini skirt/ shorts, some cultures might frown or be disgusted by that. but thats only because of the way they've been raised is to show no skin. its not about the person wearing the clothes.

so you need to get over yourself. go out into public wearing those clothes, be proud of yourself. you've been through so much and so have those other people. if they say something bad, don't take it personally. its about their life. not yours.

ITS NEVER PERSONAL.

so as long as it's not hurting anyone, go and live your fu<3ing life!

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.

╰﹒ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

OVERVIEW: Simon woke up to you sleeping far away from him in the bed so he pulls you back to him <//3

C/W: none just clingy simon missing u in his sleep (pure fluff) !!

W/C: 944 bubs

Simon shifted in his bed, feeling the empty coolness beside him. He reached out, wanting to feel your warmth, but his hand met nothing but empty sheets and bed covers.

"Love..?" He whispers faintly, his voice filled with a quiet desperation to find you.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Simon slowly opens them to find you there, on the other side of the bed, lying with your back turned to him.

He lets out a quiet chuckle at the position you're in, your legs flung out in a starfish, snoring the night away. It's a silly sight, but it cracks him up, and he can't help but chuckle softly.

"Baby..." Simon sleepily whines to himself, calling out to you. "C'mere.."

Simon gently moves closer to you, pulling on the sheets to free himself. You feel his arm encircle your waist as he pulls you towards his warm body, spooning you in his arms.

Your skin meets his, and the warmth from his body causes your heart to skip a beat. You feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, feeling peaceful and safe in his embrace.

As he holds you close, Simon's thoughts drift to you. He thinks about how soft he is for you, how you make him feel alive and whole, how he doesn't want to let go, ever.

You're his everything, his world, and he can't imagine life without you. He feels his heart swell with love for you, and the need to be close to you and hold you tight, to never let you go.

With you in his arms, Simon feels complete. He would do anything to keep you close, to love and cherish you every day for the rest of his life.

You're the love of his life, and he will never forget the moment he first held you close, feeling your heart beat against his own, and knowing that he had found his soulmate.

As he holds you close, Simon's body moves instinctively, nuzzling his face in your neck, wanting to feel your warmth, to be closer to you. He wraps his arms around you tighter, unable to bear the thought of ever being apart from you again.

The warmth coming from his body slowly roused you from your slumber, your eyes fluttering open as Simon's arms tightened around your waist. You could feel his heart pounding against your back, beating in time with yours, and your heart skipped a beat in response.

"Simon?" You called out to him, voice still slightly hoarse from sleep, and you could hear the smile in his voice as he responded.

"I'm here, love," he whispered, his voice low and full of love, and you could feel his body pressing up to yours, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His hands softly carressing your waist and hips. You felt his breath upon your neck, his heart beating in yours, and you felt a deep sense of peace wash over you.

"I love you," he whispered, almost inaudible.

As his arms wrapped around you, you felt a rush of warmth and comfort wash over you. His voice was low and gentle, and you could feel the love and intensity in every word.

You loved him more with each passing moment; each time he held you, each time he told you how much he loved you, and each time you felt his heart beating against yours.

"I love you, too, Simon," you whispered back, further relaxing into his embrace as you pecked his bicep that was hugging you close by your shoulders.

You could feel the love and intensity in every part of his body, from the warmth of his breath against your neck to the way his heart beat in time with yours. You knew that you would always be by his side, loving him and cherishing him for all eternity.

As you drifted back to sleep, his arms wrapped around you tightly, unwilling to let you go and wishing to always be this close. You could feel the love in every part of his body, and you knew that this was the love that could never be broken.

Simon pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck, his breath warm and soothing against your skin, and you felt a pang of love and comfort wash over you.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, unwilling to let you go even for a moment, and he held you against him, feeling your heartbeat against his chest.

"Goodnight, love," he whispered, his voice low and filled with all the love he felt for you as he cuddled you close.

"G'night..." you sighed dreamily and closed your eyes.

As you drifted off to sleep, with your head resting against his chest, Simon couldn't help the rush of affection for you. He knew that you were the love of his life, that he would do anything for you, and that he couldn't imagine a future without you by his side.

Holding you close to him, he felt your heart beating slowly and regularly against his chest, and he felt a deep sense of peace wash over him. Every fiber of his being told him that he loved you, that you were everything he had ever wanted in life, and that he would always be there to protect you, to love you, and to cherish you.

He whispers your name softly, almost inaudible, as he drifted off to sleep, holding you tightly in his embrace. The love and intensity in his voice, in his touch, and in his eyes, was overwhelming, and he knew that you felt it too.

navi / masterlist !

You take out your little tin of Vaseline, taking a small amount on your finger and bringing it to your lips. You feel Simon Riley’s large presence walk up to you. He leans one hand against the wall. He’s standing so close you could almost see his pupils expand a little when you looked up into them.

Your heart racing, you hold his gaze and rub your finger over your lips. Dip into the tin, back onto your lips. You rub your lips together.

“Can I have some?” Ghost’s gruff voice rumbles from beneath his mask.

“You want lip balm?” You ask, somewhat incredulous. He didn’t seem like the type.

He merely nods, never talking his eyes off yours.

“Okay.” You say, the word sounding more like a question. He lifts his mask just above his mouth. You go to hand over the tin. His hand comes out but instead of taking the tin, they find your chin, gently gripping you and pulling you closer. His lips land on yours, firm but a lot gentler than you were expecting.

He pulls back, rubbing his lips together. You blush furiously.

“Thanks, love.” He mumbles, pulling his mask back down. He walks away then as if nothing just happened.

TELL ME YOU LIKE ME

FUCK ME TO DEATH

LOVE. ME. UNTIL. I. LOVE. MYSELF.

Simon Riley wasn’t a man of many words, but his actions spoke volumes. And right now, those actions consisted of him sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, arms resting on his thighs, watching you like a man utterly engrossed in the most intense thriller of his life. His sharp, brown eyes followed every single one of your movements with laser focus—so much so that you had to stop and arch a brow at him through the mirror.

“You’re staring,” you mused, dragging a cotton pad soaked in toner across your skin.

Simon didn’t even blink. “Yeah.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?”

A slow shrug. “You do this every night, and it still feels like watchin’ a bloody mission unfold.”

You snorted, shaking your head at his dramatics. “It’s just skincare, Si.”

“To you,” he countered, tilting his head as you reached for your serum. “To me? It’s an operation. You’ve got phases, precise steps, different solutions. Looks like chemical warfare.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Simon, this big, lethal man, who faced warzones and threats on a daily basis, was utterly captivated by something as mundane as your skincare routine. He never complained—not once. In fact, you were convinced he could sit there for hours if given the chance.

As you dropped a few dots of serum onto your cheeks, his fingers twitched. You caught it immediately. “You wanna do it?”

He exhaled through his nose, pretending to contemplate, but the answer was obvious. “Yeah.”

You turned to him, holding out the dropper. “Be gentle.”

His bare hand wrapped around the bottle as he squeezed out a tiny amount. His touch was surprisingly delicate as he smoothed the serum over your skin with slow, deliberate motions.

“There,” he murmured, voice low, like he had just completed something of grave importance. “Good?”

You hummed, leaning into his touch. “Perfect.”

Simon nodded, satisfied, before leaning back to watch the rest of your routine unfold. His girl, in her element. Nothing in the world could pull him away from this.

The door slammed open—well, as much as it could with Simon catching it at the last second, his reflexes kicking in. You stumbled in, barely managing to toe off your heels, giggling at absolutely nothing. The room swayed around you, the effects of one too many drinks wrapping around your mind like a thick haze.

Simon, ever the patient man, just sighed. “You’re pissed.”

You blinked up at him, your pupils blown wide. “M’not.”

“You are.” He exhaled sharply, stepping forward just as your knees buckled. One strong arm wrapped around your waist before you could faceplant onto the floor. “Alright, c’mon, love. Let’s get you sorted.”

You melted against him, cheek pressing against the hard planes of his chest. “You smell good,” you murmured, voice muffled.

Simon huffed out a small chuckle. “Yeah, yeah.”

He guided you toward the bed, setting you down with an ease that made you feel weightless. As soon as your body hit the mattress, exhaustion washed over you in waves, your limbs heavy, your mind sluggish. But just as you were about to succumb to sleep, Simon’s voice cut through the haze.

“You gotta clean your face first.”

You whined, attempting to burrow into the pillows. “Don’t wanna.”

“Doesn’t matter.” There was no room for argument in his tone, but there was something else there too—something soft, something… fond.

Through half-lidded eyes, you watched as he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of cabinets opening and closing filling the space. When he returned, he had a small cotton pad in one hand and your bottle of micellar water in the other. Your sluggish brain could barely comprehend what was happening as he crouched in front of you, his touch unexpectedly gentle as he cupped your jaw.

“Hold still,” he murmured, voice low, as if afraid to startle you.

You hummed, too dazed to do anything but comply. With careful precision—like he was handling something fragile—he pressed the damp cotton pad against your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your foundation. His movements were slow, deliberate, like he was performing some sort of sacred ritual.

The cool sensation against your skin was oddly soothing, and you sighed, leaning into his touch.

Simon shook his head, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “Didn’t think I’d be doin’ this, but here we are.

You smiled sleepily. “Taught you well, huh?”

“That you did.” His thumb brushed over your cheekbone before he continued, working his way down to your chin, your forehead, even swiping a fresh pad over your lips with the utmost care.

When he reached your eyes, he hesitated. “Close ‘em for me, love.”

You did as he asked, feeling the gentle sweep of the cotton against your lids, ridding them of mascara and eyeliner. His touch never faltered, never rushed.

By the time he was done, your skin felt fresh, clean, and your body… impossibly heavy. Sleep tugged at you, lulling you into a warm, blissful state.

Simon sighed, brushing a few stray strands of hair from your face. “Alright, bed.”

You barely registered the blankets being pulled over you, barely noticed the way he lingered for just a moment longer, watching over you like a silent guardian.

But just before sleep fully claimed you, you mumbled, “Love you, Si.”

A beat of silence. Then, a quiet, barely-there response.

“Love you too, sweetheart…”