Simon sighed as he let you dab at his face with a cotton pad. He sat on the toilet seat, with you between his legs. His hands resting on your hips while he looked up at you.

The British soldier put up a fight against you at first, but as soon as you whipped out the little pout and puppy eyes, that man was gone. He was soft for you, and often caved pretty easily if you asked him to do something. So that's where he found himself. With you pulling out your skincare items and doing your routine for the both of you.

As of right now, you were cleaning his face with some Witch Hazel. "Is thi' really necessary?" Simon grumbled as he glanced at the ground for a moment. "Feels weird." He added quietly while your fingers brushed over some his scars. A shiver went down his spine and his gaze made its way back to your eyes.

"You fancy torturing a bloke?" He huffs sarcastically while a small smirk forms on his lips. He gave your hips a quick squeeze before resting his head against your stomach. "You done yet? Or 're ya gonna keep smearin' moisturizer, or whatever the hell it is, on m' face?"