Im Still Losing It Over The "how Did High Schoolers Write 600 Word Essays Before Chatgpt" Post. 600 Words.

need an older man to hold me like this…

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…”

start over as many times as it takes 🩷

Simon Riley, the stoic and imposing type of man to try and hold back his moans in the bedroom. He's usually quiet, save for a few groans as his orgasm crests, but when it comes to you? oh he's a moaning mess.

It surprises even him, when he pushes into you for the first time and lets out a breathy moan he didn't know capable of leaving his lungs. You're just that intoxicating, though, just that right level of dangerous to break down the walls of a man like him without putting him on the defence.

He learns to let it be. Rather than bite his tongue and hide his face in your neck, occupy his mouth with your skin between his teeth, he moans into your mouth instead. He lets you swallow the noises he makes, take them into your body just as you're taking him deeper than you had thought possible.

And it only gets worse the needier he is. If he's been gone a while and deprived of your touch, Simon will come home and whine as you run your nails across his scarred shoulders. Straddling him, putting him in the spotlight of pleasures as you sit on his cock and take him inch-by-inch until he's balls deep inside of you and already on the verge of spilling inside of you.

He's a mess of moans and rambling dirty talk that you can't make much sense of, not when his cock is so deep and so thick that you're actively fighting back tears at the sheer stretch of him. How overpowering he is, how his strong corded arms lift you up and drop you back down onto his cock. How with each thrust you swear he breaks deeper into you, and hes the one moaning like he's already overstimulated.

His sounds become your favourite thing when he finally cums, filling you with himself even further, and between the choked moans of his orgasm, he tells you that he fucking loves you.

husband material amirite

butcher simon this, butcher simon that, but how about simon who shows up to the dog shelter every month with a couple hefty bags of high-end dog food and a baggy of toys because he’d rather his retirement paychecks go toward something more meaningful than bourbon and cigarettes.

or simon who sits in the kennels with the most misunderstood dogs at the shelter for as long as it takes for them to warm up to him, though it never takes long—there’s just something about him that draws the sweet angels in.

Simon Riley who needs a quickie when you bring him lunch while he's on base. CW : Housewife kink, bit of a breeding kink, dirty talk, hair pulling

You thought you'd do something nice for your boyfriend. Bring him a nice stroganoff.

You didn't think walking into Simon's office in a pretty little sundress and giving him a Tupperware of beef stroganoff would make him so utterly horny.

He couldn't help himself. What man could stand seeing his pretty bird acting like the cutest housewife for him and resist bending her over his desk to thank her?

"Can't look this good, baby" Simon growled. His hips snapping against yours with an audible slap. Over and over.

"I just-I thought it was nice!" you squeak over the sound of skin on skin.

"Oh it was, princess. It was so so nice of you. Being the perfect little housewife f'me"

"H-Housewife?!"

"Yeah, birdie. Gonna put a ring on your finger. Come home to you every night while you hold out a plate of hot food f'me"

You couldn't even think from how good Simon's cock was hammering against your gummy spot deep inside you. Small 'ah!'s coming from you with every thrust.

"You want that baby? Be my sweet wife?" Simon growled. a hand grabbing your scalp and pulling your head off the desk.

"Yes!' you beg, "yes yes, please Simon!" You practically wail.

"and then eventually, I'll fill you up nice and good with my kid. Get you all barefoot and pregnant f'me" Simon grinned wolfishly.

You felt the coil in your lower stomach tighten dangerously at that. The idea of being Simon's housewife, merely having to do the housework and get as many orgasms as you want.

It only took three swipes of Simon's thumb on your clit for you to tremble and cry out as you came.

"Tha's it. Good fucking girl, birdie" Simon groaned as you felt his hot ropes fill you. Patting your lower stomach with a rumbling chuckle

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

I wrote this while playing cookie run kingdom ngl to y'all.

in an isolationship

best friend's brother!simon riley who can't stop thinking of the way you tasted on his lips the night he pulled you into his room.

best friend's brother!simon riley who moans your name as he gets himself off, shooting a thick, heavy load of pearly white cum onto his stomach, wishing it was in you instead.

best friend's brother!simon riley whom you teased now everytime you came over to their house, short shorts or large shirts of his you'd steal from their laundry, leaving a pair of your lace panties in return.

best friend's brother!simon riley who wrapped the lace panties around his aching cock, desperate for you as he shoots another load into the pretty fabric.

best friend's brother!simon riley who glares at you from across the room now because you're such a brat, accidentally bumping into him all the time, teasing touches to his groin that would send a heat up his body and his blood rushing south.

best friend's brother!simon riley who was growing more frustrated his plan hadn't been working, as now he was yearning for you instead, not the other way around.

best friend's brother!simon riley who realized he was going to have to be the one to make the first move, or make you want him as much as he wants you.

best friend's brother!simon riley who would pull you against the ache in his pants, throbbing under the rough fabric of his jeans as your plump ass grinded against him.

best friend's brother!simon riley who unzipped his jeans, hips bouncing against your rear, reddening the skin, as he pumped you full of his thick cock, whispering filthy, lewd words in your ear

best friend's brother!simon riley who would cum before you, filling your tight cunt full of his seed, thick ropes of heavy, white cream that formed a ring around the base of his cock as he thrusted a few more times for good measures.

best friend's brother!simon riley who wouldn't let you come, leaving you on edge and whining, practically pleading for him to make you go stupid on his cock.

best friend's brother!simon riley who didn't care if you were his sister's best friend, he needed you, and he was going to have you, eventually. now that you were the one yearning for his cock to be buried in your weeping cunt.