Abandoned Factory ….

big fan of John “i know how to fuck my bird” Mactavish, and Simon “no, let me show you how to fuck your bird” Riley

pov: you just looked up from flirting with sgt. mactavish for the past half hour in the rec room wyd

Simon Riley pretends to be grossed out by you. Not like dramatically, but makes it obvious.

But he's actually in love with you.

You lick your lips and smirk up at him. "You look delicious today, handsome~"

He side eyes you. Wide eyed. "Fuckin' mental." But he's smirking behind his mask. And when you looked away he's looking you up and down to think of something nice to say back. He never did, because he didn't know how.

One time you came up behind him and hugged him tightly. You rubbed your face into his back and grumbled about college being the worst. And he's eyeing your arms, basking in the feeling of you against him.

He's not used to any physical affection, that's the whole reason. He wasn't shown much love when he was younger so of course it followed him into his adult age.

And he never tried. The women before you only used him and he did the same. It was something he was used to. And affection wasn't something he tried to do.

So maybe he started trying with you. And you don't notice it. (He thinks you don't, but you absolutely do and you're careful about it. Like carefully feeding a deer.) He starts to reach for you. Sitting on the couch, he's got his finger curled in your shirt. Driving, he would playfully slap your thigh, then sooth it like he was sorry, then leave his hand there.

You let him at his own pace. But you found that it you're talking and you reach for him, like his hand, he lets you take it and caress his knuckles.

He recognized that you were careful with him. You considered how he felt a lot of the times, and he saw that. Maybe that was why he fell harder for you than you realized.

Soon, he's pulling you into his lap so he could look up at you. He's pulling you in for long hugs. He's tugging your hands and putting them on his neck (you'd better scratch at his neck and back because he will never ask you to but he loves loves loves the feeling.) You've accepted that the man is kind of touch starved and will never voice it to you.

But he never stopped acting like a bully.

"Simon, you're so fuckin hot. I'd pay you to do filthy things to me." You stated so calmly that it made his eye twitch when he realized what just came out your mouth.

"Don't worry love, we'll find you that therapist soon." He shook his head with a sigh. And his heart leapt in his chest at hearing your laughter.

Sorry for abandoning you tumblr ily bbg i just suck at social media]

here's a shirtless robot guy

Who is left

Serial Experiments Lain (1998)

nsfw, mdni.

simon becomes an absolute dog when he sees you in his shirt.

cw: possessive simon, sex on carpet (ouch), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink (?).

simon is a good roommate. he’s organized, clean, pays rent on time, and minds his own space. the only thing is—roommate is hot. stupidly hot. you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend and he’s never once brought back a girl let alone mentioned one. you figured your little crush on him would pass like all the other (it does not). you start dropping hints that you find him attractive. like wearing your tightest tops, brushing your ass against him while reaching for a cup, even leaving one of your lacy thongs to mix in with his laundry. he never bites the bait. you start to think that maybe he just doesn’t find you attractive or even worse he finds you creepy. so you tuck your schoolgirl crush away into the cavity of your chest.

you close the washer with your hip, cradling your laundry basket back to your room. you hear the familiar turn of your front door lock letting you know simon is home from his morning gym session.

you pad into the living room to ask simon if he needed any clothes washed. simons back is turned from you when he begins to slip off his trainers, dropping his gym at the foot of the door.

“need any clothes washed? i’m starting a load up right now.” you ask eyeing the movement of back muscle underneath his compression shirt.

he finally turns to you and starts to respond “nah don’t think-“ before he snaps his mouth shut when he sees what you’re wearing. “that mine?” his voice gruff, it’s his army issued shirt that is long enough to cover your shorts. a deep green color that frays at the hem and has his last name in bold at the back of it. you notice he’s staring at the worn fabric waiting for an answer.

you look down, “oh yeah. sorry was doing laundry found this in hamper. my clothes are in the wash. hope that’s okay?” you sound apologetic like you just did something unforgivable. jesus christ what were you thinking wearing his shirt without asking. you shift trying to ease your embarrassment.

he’s on you in three short strides. making a noise between a growl and snarl. you don’t know how or when you both ended up on the living room floor. frankly, it’s the last thing on your fucking mind now that you’re on your knees cheek pressing into the shag carpet. you can feel the heat of his stare between your legs. you get a glimpse of your shorts and panties strewn across the floor leaving you in his shirt. you wait with bated breath for him to touch you. you wiggle your hips in a silent plead to get him to do something, anything…everything.

he gives the flesh of your ass a heavy smack that has you clenching around nothing. “be good now.” is all you hear before the sting leaves an angry red mark that you know is gonna leave you wincing for the next week. simon smooths a hand over the back of your (his) shirt making a noise in the back of his throat.

you hear shuffling behind you before you feel the head of him catch on to your opening making your mouth gape like a fish out of water. he groans at the contact, kneading the fat of your hips, before he presses in painfully slow with a hiss. you whimper into the carpet, fists balling, feeling hot all over. your cunt pulses trying to make room for him inside your womb.

“i know. i know, pretty girl. almost there.” simon bites back a hiss when you clench at his words. you think you might die like this. laid out on ugly apartment carpet trying to take simon’s cock. you could cry with relief when you feel simon’s balls meet your clit letting you know he’s all the way in. simon lets out a guttural sound bordering on animalistic at the sight of you speared open on his cock, last name across your back, absolutely crying for it.

he fists the bottom of the shirt to keep you still and eases his hips back just to sink back in slowly. the pressure in your navel hurts so good it’s starting to make you dizzy. simon sets a pace that has you trying to cant your hips back to meet his thrusts. he lays a heavy palm in the middle of your back, just under the boldened ‘RILEY’, keeping you pinned giving you no choice but to take what he gives you.

“prettiest fuckin girl i ever seen. gonna give this cunt the proper treatment she deserves, yeah?” he bends his left leg, somehow sliding in deeper. there’s no doubt that you can feel him in your lungs. “s’deep simon.” you slur, reaching a hand back to weakly press against his stomach. he chuckles at the act taking both wrists into one of his hands pressing them at the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch. you sob at the change in angle. your nipples being rubbed raw by the friction of his thrusts.

“needed this real bad, huh? don’t worry baby. i’ll make sure you don’t go without it again. wearing those tiny tops think i didn’t notice.” his voice rough and deep behind you. “uh huh.” you reply without a second thought, you don’t even care that you’ve been drooling into the carpet or that you’ve been caught. simon gives a deep chuckle at how pliant you’ve become just from some good dick.

he knows your close by the increasing volume of your sounds. he never lets up his pace determined to give you his all. “where?” he asks in a quick breathe. you take a few seconds to register his words. “huh?” you manage to squeak out. “where do you want me, pretty thing?” he says in an almost pained voice. the gears turn in your head before you speak up “inside. want it inside. m’clean. pill.” resorting to short clipped words. you beg, as if you have to, simon thinks.

your orgasm comes hard and fast leaving you sobbing out garbled version of please and simon. simon is not far behind burying himself as deep as your bodies will allow and comes inside with a pinched “oh fuck.” he pulls out with a pop and watches his spend leak down your slit leaving a small puddle on the floor that he knows he’ll have to scrub out later.

simon pats your backside affectionately. “don’t think we’ll be doing any laundry today” he says with a grin that makes you giggle. “yeah, don’t think so.”