#but he’ll never tell simon

[m-1-8]

Simon loves’em

[s0fter-sin]

god the way ghost's voice drops when he tells soap, "you'll need to improvise to survive"

before that, everything he says is steady but when he acknowledges that soap'll have to do something outside his skill set, something he intimately knows to be difficult, his voice wavers

and soap does the same thing

when he's calling out for ghost on the radio, he's tentative, testing the frequency, then he's desperate; "ghost, this is 7-1, do you copy?”

then when ghost answers, he smooths out his voice; he hides the pain, the fear

they both try to hide things from the other to reassure them that they're alright, that they'll both get out alive

[whateveriwant]

I know I’ve already gone on and on about what it’s like to have a size difference with Simon Riley, but I’m sorry, I just will never get over how big and strong this man is.

Like I feel like sometimes his size gets lost on us since he’s surrounded by other tall, buff military guys all the time. But y’all, I’m telling you, this man is big. Like 6’4, 250+ pounds, big enough to eclipse the sun big.

With a man that big, it honestly doesn’t even matter what size you are because he’s always going to be bigger and stronger than you anyway. You can be tall, short, stocky, thin, whatever, and this man is still fully capable (and willing? 👀) of snapping you in half like a twig.

Are you worried about potential home invaders? Well, you shouldn’t be. One quick flick of his wrist and he’s breaking the neck of anyone who tries to threaten you. Did you accidentally lock yourself out of the house? Well, don’t bother calling a locksmith. There’s no lock left to pick after he’s just caved the door in with his foot. Do you have a really stubborn jar you’re struggling to open? Well, hand it over, love. He can crack that sucker open in half a second flat.

But Lord, don’t even get me started when it comes to all the ways Simon uses that strength of his in the bedroom.

Like when he tells you to sit on his face so he can eat you out. Don’t even try it with that nervous, hovering, “I’m too heavy, Si,” bullshit. You better sit your ass down right when and where he tells you to or he’ll hold you down by the hips until he’s had his fill.

Or when, after a night of heavy flirting and teasing, he’s got that look in his eye as he corners you against your entryway wall. Don’t be surprised when one moment your feet are firmly planted on the ground, and the next you’re lifted into the air, your legs slung over his arms as he drills into you like you’re his own little fuck puppet.

Or when he’s got you spread out on his bed, got your knees up by your ears, got the backs of your thighs burning in a way that’s matched only by how your walls have to stretch to take his thick cock. Don’t think he’s being mean or malicious when he sees your eyes well with tears but does nothing to change the way he’s fucking down into you. It’s not that Simon doesn’t care whenever you cry and quiver and plead with him to go easier on you, it’s that he knows the truth. He knows that, deep down, you love when he handles you like he isn’t afraid to break you.

[luminni]

Can’t stop thinking about how much Simon “Ghost” Riley loves his American girlfriend.

(sorry for this being a 3rd repost, I had an account called Lumi_bunsblog but that one got deleted for some reason so this is the new one now ig lol)

Unlike the other 141 boys he wouldn’t poke fun at you or tease you about the different words you use. Kyle loves to correct you,

“Whens the soccer game on tonight?”

“Its football love, not soccer, ‘cause you kick the ball.”

“You kick the ball in American football as well.”

“Yeah but...ours is better”

Johnny’s a tease

“Have you seen my swimming suit?”

“You wear a suit to go swimming?”

“I’m not calling it a costume”

“Well it sure as hell isn’t a bloody suit”

Even Price gets in on it by pretending not to hear you,

“Can you grab some chips from the kitchen?”

“Hm? Sorry dear can’t hear ya’”

“Grab me some chips!”

“Gunna’ have'ta repeat that”

“....crisps”

“There ya’ go, really outta speak up more sweetheart”

Never mind the fact he was right beside you on the couch.

But Simon, Simon is different. Never once has he corrected or teased you, to the point where its become a bit of a hindrance.

“Can you stop by the gas station on your way home?”

And he’ll just stare at you, an almost blank expression on his face, only the fidgeting of his fingers give way to what he’s thinking.

“The petrol shop Si’”

“Right.” 

Is it because he doesn’t care? Or maybe he’s too frightened he’ll scare you away if he corrects you? Whatever it is he’ll never say, but one thing is for certain, he’s absolutely elated when you start to pick up the British dialect.

You tell people your boyfriend is a leftenant instead of a luitenant and he’s looking at you like you hung the very stars in the sky.

Ask for a “wife beater” while pointing at the bottles of Stella Artois in his fridge and he swears his heart just skipped a beat (despite the crude connotations of the nickname)

Ask him to pick up ‘Maccies for you bolth on the way home and he almost causes a 20 car pileup because he has to hide his burning face.

Tell him you like the black jumper he’s wearing and theres three more in the online cart already.

And when you start swearing like a “proper brit” he’s ready to get down on one knee. He hears you mutter “bloody hell” from across the flat as you listen to news report an expected  10cm of rain for today and for the first time in his life he’s thanking god Manchester is such a dreary place.

You’ve become part of his life, he hadn’t scared you off, you hadn’t gotten tired of him. You wanted to be here, you wanted him. You’ve been here long enough to pick it up, you’ve spent enough time together even your words are beginning to match each other, and theres nothing in the world that could make him happier. So he’ll never once correct you or tease you when you ask to go on a vacation even if he’s blindly nodding along to your requests and scurrying off to the bathroom later to look it up and figure out you wanted to go on holiday with him. Cursing under his breath while he fishes his phone from the sink because he dropped it in his shock at the revelation you wanted to go on holiday with him. Give him two days and he’s already bought the tickets

[lovelyghst]

just thinking about how big simon riley is.

like him fucking you in missionary; the way his shoulders completely block your field of vision and his large hand planted right by your ear dwarfs your own by the masses. his meaty, veiny arm leading up to his panting chest, usually pressed fully against your own as it gets him so worked up to feel your tummy and tits, hard nipples and soft skin grazing his calloused build. the big man comes with big scars!!

speaking of scars, he gets so fucking weak in the knees and heart when you pay attention to his various marks scattered on him. he never tells you the full stories—rarely even a spec of the truth, most often—but he still gets a little flustered when you kiss them better.

simon can usually hold it together, but sometimes (all the time) he gets sooo hard and blushy when you touch and squeeze his biceps and feel up his abs. call him your strong and impressive man and he’ll have you on your hands and knees in the matter of seconds, shoving his dick in you from behind to cover up how pink his cheeks turned.

he loves coming up behind you in the bathroom while you’re getting ready, putting on your pretty lipgloss or adjusting the bow in your hair while he watches through the mirror like a quiet, curious dog.

seeing how the width of your shoulders only reach his pecs when you’re centered at his front, and christ, the height difference.

placing his large palms on your hips, one of them maneuvering to flatten out on your tummy and pull you further into him. he wraps his arms around your entire frame for the tightest bear hug ever.

call him cliché, but he has such an evil habit of comparing your hand sizes. it turns him on and makes you giggle, each and every time.

the one time you asked him to slip his arm around your waist and head in the crook of your collar for a mirror picture had resulted in your neck being sandwiched between his bicep and forearm, and long lasting marks on your hips from where they hit the counter repeatedly as he fucked you hard in a chokehold.

you just get him so riled up! but it’s okay, because he kissed your temple a lot throughout and afterwards apologized with cuddles for ruining your nice outfit and makeup <3

[oceantornadoo]

when you first start talking to simon riley, you want to check yourself into an insane asylum.

you like to think you’re cool, you’re chill, you’re nonchalant. but he takes eight hours to text back, sending you a “come over.” text at 7pm like he hadn’t just ignored you the whole day. you complain to your friends, of course, which is a terrible move when they tell you to drop him and if he wanted to, he would! and you think he does (want to), he’s just so insanely nonchalant about it. so the next time he comes over, chinese takeout in hand after not texting you back since 8am, you go a little crazy…

you open the door for him, stepping back awkwardly when he tries to peck your forehead. he practically shrugs it off, toeing off his boots before setting the food down on your table. “got tha’ dish ya like.” you nod, forgetting his back is to you. simon unpacks the boxes with precision from the bag, not stopping until it’s all laid out on the table. you’ve been quiet for a while, unusual since you’re the talker of the bunch, and that creeping feeling that’s been sliding up his skin finally sets its hooks in him. he turns around curiously, brows furrowing at the sight of you still standing by the door, biting your lip with a timid look and wet eyes. “love?”

you shake your head with a watery smile. “can we talk?” simon follows you as you walk to your couch, feeling like he’s been dropped into an op with no details. he doesn’t know what’s wrong, just that you’re hurting and he seems to be the cause of it. “i just…don’t get it. how you’re acting so normal.” you’re twisting your hands together. “somethin’ happen, love? got me confused.” you give him that small, weak smile again and it’s like you’ve stabbed him in the heart. “you- you barely talk to me all day and then you just come over here like it’s nothing. it’s just so hot and cold and i’m wrecking myself over it when it’s so clear you don’t care. i’m just so confused, si.”

simon runs through his memories. he texted you good morning, you texted it back, then he went about his duties for the day until he was finally free to ask about dinner. hadn’t even picked up his phone in the meantime, security risks or just plain busyness being the cause. “‘ve been busy, sweetheart. ‘s why i asked t’ come over when i was done.” you shake your head, biting your lip. “it’s the modern day, simon. everyone’s on their phones. i don’t think you’re as into this as me, and that’s fine, but i just want to know!”

now simon’s the one shaking his head, pulling out his phone. he might not be tech savvy but he does know this move from johnny, the fucker constantly complaining about his screen time. he pulls up the screen time tracker and turns it to you. “not everyone.” you’re a bit shocked to be honest. his screen time is ten minutes for the entire day. a few in the morning when he texted you and nothing until nighttime, when he texted you again. you’ve never seen anything like it.

“‘m not a big texter an’ we don’t use personal phones for work, so it’s jus��� a brick i leave at home or lug around. ‘s nothin’ on you. been thinkin’ about you all day, to be honest.” your mouth is open, honestly. any other man would have never shown you their minute-by-minute screen time, would have begged off the “busy” excuse while having been on social media for four hours. simon, by all standards, is genuinely different.

“so, you do like me?” he nods stiffly, gloved hands reaching for you. you slide into his lap easily, tucking your face into his neck to hide your heated cheeks. you’d even shed a few tears over this, how embarrassing. “‘course i like you, sweetheart. an’ im sorry if it didn’t feel like it. let’s have it out, yeah?” you nod into his skin and he takes a deep breath, pulling you closer to his heart.

from that day on, you compromise with phone calls. when he’s got a few minutes and you’ve hit a lull at work, he’ll call you. it’s better than any text in the world - hearing his gruff voice asking questions about your messy coworkers or dinner plans. not so nonchalant as you thought.

-

i wish this was from personal experience but unfortunately for me, it’s closer to the men not responding for days but having a screen time of six hours.

[machveil]

HEY IM BACK TO BOTHER UU

OK IMAGINE THIS

simon seeing how you always coo at babies you see in public (grocery store, shopping, park, etc) and he decides then and there that you WILL be the mother of his children. and like maybe he never even wanted kids but after this happens one or two times he is SET on it.

idk just a thought that i had to share!

I am listening so hard

Simon gets hit with baby fever hard, he doesn’t even know what baby fever is - he just sees you with chunky little babies and snotty kids and something in his brain goes off. he just gets the itch to make you a mom, the urge to buy those stupid little baby shoes that look so fucking cute and why don’t you have a baby now—

Simon isn’t subtle either, he’ll silently guide your shopping trips so you end up in baby aisles, little onesies and pacifiers on display. you don’t even have a kid, but Simon picks up a cute little ducky pacifier and sets it in the cart. “Simon? We don’t need tha—”, turning his back to you, he just sets off out of the aisle, “Might.”, he mumbles

Simon who empties your guest your room one day, paint buckets in hand. he claims to just be ‘redoing’ the room, also lovie, if a box for a crib gets delivered call for him - Simon will sign for it! he’s like a man possessed, just mutters something about, “Could ‘ave a permanent guest…”, and it leaves you chuckling. he’s even got the 141 over to help, Gaz helping Simon paint while John squared try to assemble the crib

Simon who acts shocked when you tell him you’re pregnant, pretends to be innocent, “Really? How could tha’ ‘ave happened?”. he’s extremely excited even though he’s keeping a straight face, but you can tell - his fingers are tapping against his thighs and he’s bouncing his leg a little. and what a coincidence, Simon somehow predicted you’d need a nursery! good thing he converted that guest room, right doll?

[quarterlifekitty]

I’m sorry this train just won’t stop

More Johnny and Ghost with Ghost’s selectively mute (edit; I originally labeled reader as non-verbal, but I was made aware mutism more accurately describes this!) gf

Soap loves it when Simon fingers you in front of him, movie totally forgotten, and lets him cum on your stomach when he jerks off. And seeing Simon wipe it from your pretty belly and put his fingers between your lips? Goddamn.

But you know what makes him feel over the fucking moon? When you hug him at the door when he’s heading out. When you say goodnight so, so quietly in his ear.

We all know that man is a dog. And now you’ve got him by the fucking leash. He’ll do anything to hear more of that voice.

He’s totally addicted. Now every time he meets up with the guys and you’re along, or he comes to your place for movie nights, he’s leaning down for you to whisper hi, Soap, or goodnight, Johnny. Two little words and he’s melting. And he starts unlocking more little bits— learning to prompt in ways that you’ll respond.

Instead of asking how you’ve been, what you’ve been up to, running his mouth the way his thumping heart is telling him to, he just asks “you okay?” So he can hear your sweet, quiet tone when you say I’m ok.

Makes him fucking hard. He’s never been so hard on so little before. Just two fucking words and he feels like he’s gonna pass out from his blood rushing down.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (141 x fem!reader, live together)

Beside you, Kyle is the first to wake up in the morning. He’ll pad towards the kitchen, enjoying the sight of you making your morning drink silently, before moving to stand right behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he grinds he bulge lazily against your ass. He just wants to feel your warmth, how nice your soft flesh press against his cock.

“Just want to feel you, baby. It’s so cold out here.” He’ll unabashedly slip his hands under your pajamas shirt, kneading your breasts and tugging at those sensitive buds, forcing you to stop brewing your drink because you might spill the liquid.

Kyle just want to get an orgasm from you, a gift for you two morning birds, he claims before succumbing to sleepiness and tuck himself back under the duvet, fully content with being the first man making you come undone everyday, and sleeps in 5 more minutes.

You know Johnny will drag you into the shower with him whenever he comes back from his morning jog. You chide him before he engulfs you in his embrace, lightheartedly calling him a stinky man and shush him to go shower first.

So his solution is hug you despite your protest, then pull you inside the bathroom together, stripping off your pajamas and his sports wear impatiently before jumping into the shower with you.

“We’re both stinky now, jus’ thought ye might need a shower too.” Johnny grins when you glare at him, shamelessly pretends he’s just ‘looking out for ye’ while his hands traveling across your body, groping and preparing you for his cock with his hard dick prodding at the small of your back. He’ll never hurt you, but as soon as you’re wet enough for his girthy shaft, he’ll pick you up, stretching you deeply and completely with the help of your weight, groans and growls at how good you are, how your precious pussy takes him so good, ignoring Ghost’s noise complaint coming from the other side of the bathroom door as he fucks you fast and feral, making you unable to care about suppressing your moans and cling onto him, let him keep scooping you in his arms and thrust into you till he empty his balls in your good little cunt.

Finally getting Kyle and Johnny pass out from the alcohol, John and Simon manhandle them back to the bedroom before entering the living room again. 00:13, a glance at the clock telling you it’s late in the night, but it’s just the start for the three of you. Retrieving a bottle of fine rum, John seats you between him and Simon, thighs touching with theirs as you all sip on the wine and chat quietly. “The boys will chug the rum like it’s some cheap beer, they can settle with those just fine.” John chuckles lowly and comments on the awful taste and drinking habit of Kyle and Johnny.

“Those bonkers will stick to your side the whole day and complain if they find out, old man.” Simon chimes in after huffing out a laugh at John’s words.

You snicker along with them, feeling fully content and relaxed with squished between two of your lovers, joking about the other two men you loved while the rum flows smoothly down your throat. Soon your composure slips after few nips of the wine, whining cute and groggily as Simon ravish in the kiss with you, tongues dance and tangle with each other in a slow pace, let him drink down all your syrupy moans and coos in rare gentleness, so John can slickens up your pussy with his lips and your juices, making sure you can accommodate their fat cocks later, and you can’t expect or plead him to sink his cock into you already until him and Simon can see your juices dripping down your soaked folds, praying them to fill you up.

The two men will treat you so well, worshipping their dearest girl in the world. Simon’s fingers and lips are always on you when John squeeze his fat tip into your entrance, gliding in and out slowly and heavily, so all those spongy spots of yours that can make you chant his name like a mantra aren’t missed out. When he put a load in you with a husky groan, passing you onto Simon’s lap and let you lean back on his chest, he’ll plant tiny kisses on your shoulder, murmur about how they love you—will protect you and keep you safe and sound—against your skin. Simon allows him to indulge in the heat and tightness of your pussy, grunting and praising you as he fuck John’s cum back inside you, making sure you take each drops of John’s seeds, like the reliable lieutenant he always is for his captain. The base of his length has formed a creamy froth the time he nips down slightly on your shoulder to muffle his moan, drenching your messy cunt with every bit of his release. “Atta girl.” His croon is added with John’s soothing voice “Yeah, been so good for us, princess.”

They both pick up the glass once again to finish the remaining rum, with you already drifting between your slumber and consciousness, listening to their small chatters as your own lullaby. You don’t know when they’ll finish drinking, or if one of them will nestle their cock inside your pussy again, just to feel your walls clenching down subconsciously, but you let yourself slip into a dream, because they’ll take good care of you, always do and always will.

[dante-mightdie]

simon riley is the type of man who people move out the way for

he had an aura, a presence. you’ll feel his looming shadow approach your back before you see him. most don’t even turn to look at what nightmare could possibly be behind them. opting for simply stepping to the side instead

it’s very convenient for you, to be honest. crowded areas are never a problem for you. standing on the busy train platform, a dozen people all pushing to get the one empty seat which became available when the doors opened. except when simon grips your hand tight, shouldering his way through people who part with little resistance

their necks will crane up to glare at the mountain pushing through them, bitter that they can’t say anything because… well, it’s simon

he’ll guide you in front of him, hand on the small of your back herding you over to the seat. standing over you with one arm holding onto the ceiling handrail on the carriage. gives you a wink when you smile up at him and mouth a ‘thank you’

he’s the first to get noticed at the bar too, arms caged around you on either side so people aren’t crashing into you. thankfully, everyone seems to have the good sense to stay out of simon’s way

a simple jerk of his head is enough to get the bartender scuttling all the way to the other end of the bar, ignoring all the other grumbling patrons who were definitely there first. nudges you forward gently when they finally come take his order,

“tell ‘em what you want, luv…”

you’ll never catch him losing aura points bae

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction To You Being Their Controversially Young Girlfriend

Warnings: Implied Smut, Legal Age Gap, Age Gap Relationships, Daddy Kink, Older Man/Younger Woman, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Possessive MW2, Degradation, Mention of Corruption, Mentions of Innocence, Mentions of Naivety, Praise Kink (M Giving), Implied Choking Kink, Angry Sex, Groping, Brat Taming, Man Handling/Woman Handling, Dumbification Kink, Gentle MW2, Rough MW2, Self-Consciousness, Mentions of Blood/Injury, Insecurity, Profanity, Pet Names, Fem Pronouns Used For Reader.

Ghost

Pretends he doesn’t care about the age gap, but he secretly does.

You’d never know it, but he worries that he’s roping you into a relationship – a long-term one at that – when you should be out, meeting guys, gaining life experience.

He also fears that, in some way, he’s corrupting you, that his selfish desire to keep you close to him will lead to you being targeted or you eventually resenting him.

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him otherwise, he’s still going to worry about you.

There are a few ways you can put his mind at ease, though. Namely of the bedroom variety.

More on this later 👀.

He spoils you silly, absolutely rotten. Anything that catches that pretty little eye of yours and he’s already got it gift wrapped. He feels it’s the least he can do after you’ve shown  him that life isn’t just an endless cycle of suffering – an infinitum of anguish – that he does deserve happiness and a chance at love.

Very gentle during sex. Unless you ask him not to be.

Expect a lot of praise in bed.

Many a night have you found yourself pinned under Simon, his mouth to your ear as he pants, moaning, telling you how you’re “Such a good girl, taking me so well,” while he fills you with long, languid strokes.

Other times, he’s not so gentle.

Oftentimes, usually as a result of purposefully making Ghost jealous, have you been pinned against a hard surface – one of convenience rather than comfort – with Simon at your back, the tent in his pants catching you.

His voice is deep, husking and carnal as he reminds you who you belong to.

“Like having your pretty little cunt ravaged by an older man, don’t you, Love.”

He’s very protective of you.

He sometimes construes your young age as innocence, naivete. Hence, he never lets you out of his sight when you’re out together.

Scary dog privileges.

Absolutely feral, down bad for you: you only have to do or say the most minimal of things to make him melt, to become a slave to his adoration for you.

That being said, he’s paranoid that one day you’ll see him as he views himself and leave him for someone better – someone you deserve. Someone younger.

He’s damaged goods, you still have your whole life to live. And yet you stay with him, promise him that he’s the only man you’ll ever love.

As stated earlier, Simon can be persuaded of your dedication to him via special, particular means.

However, if you play into his insecurities, even to get a rise out of him, he’ll pounce on you, grab your wrists and pin you to a wall, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him.

And, beneath dark lashes and darker eyes, he makes a promise to you.

“Oh, you think a younger lover can pleasure you like I can?” he says, his head tilting. “Don’t you worry, Darling. I’ll fuck that idea outta that pretty little head of yours until the only thing rattling around in there is me.”

König

Somewhat insecure in your relationship. Especially when he gets disapproving glances and glares from passers-by when they note the very obvious age difference between the two of you.

But, his love for you can overcome any measure of anguish, social or otherwise.

He’s the gentlest giant you could ever hope to meet, both in and out of bed.

When he feels like it.

He treats you like you’re innocent and pure, shielding your eyes from graphic scenes on TV and gruesome stories in the newspaper.

Sometimes he has to remind himself that you’re a fully-grown woman, even if you are younger than him.

You send him absolutely feral whenever you wear his clothes btw.

Seeing as any one of his shirts could be your nightdress, he calls you his “Minnie Maus”, and treats you as such.

Pls sit on his lap, he’ll only be able to die happy once you do.

He fears judgement from others whenever you enact PDA, so to make up for his lack of willing to be physical with you in public, there isn’t a moment where you’re without him at home.

Extended periods of time in your presence tend to send him a bit…funny.

A little bit silly.

And by silly, I mean there’s a single thread of humanity keeping him from tearing your clothes off at any given second.

Especially if he’s seen a younger guy looking at you earlier in the day.

One of the few times he’ll get physical with you in public is whenever he catches someone looking at you with a glaze over their eyes he knows all too well.

He approaches you from behind, slipping a pythonic arm about your waist and pulling you into him.

Only now does your admirer look away, leave the premises entirely, once they catch sight of König’s gargantuan proportions and the rabid look in his eye.

Once you get home, he’s on you before you can even shut the door.

It’s times like these that König doesn’t feel insecure about the age gap between you.

Because he knows, no matter how little you’re willing to admit it, that nobody will ever be able to make you scream and cry and tremble like he can.

“Did you like that boy’s attention earlier, Maus?” he says, his eyes cattish and voice serpentine. He bears down on you, his hand about your throat as the other travels under your skirt.

“Is my love not enough? Are my affections wasted on you?”

His eyes glint in the dim light of the bedroom. His teeth look sharper – primal – in the low glow of the bedside lamp.

“No matter. I’ll make you remember how much you need me,” he presses into you. The bulge between his legs feels far too big for you to take.

“Inch by bloody inch.”

Valeria

You’re her little Angel, her Goddess, the light of her life and her reason for living.

That does not exempt you from her teasing, however.

Sexual or otherwise.

She’s particularly fond of randomly grabbing your backside when she’s walking past, or smacking it so hard that you yelp and she’s grinning from ear to ear.

Even if you use your puppy-dog eyes on her, disobedience is not accepted under her roof.

In fact, trying to wriggle out of any punishment she has planned is enough to make her grab you and pin you to a wall, her grip unrelenting as she sucks and bites your neck, leaving harsh red marks and a sense of helplessness as she does what she pleases with you.

“Don’t go fucking around behind my back again, Chiquita,” she tells you, her nose touching yours and her eyes black. She brings her knee between your legs, pressing into you.

“Or next time I won’t just stop at your throat.”

She loves dressing you up in the finest clothing money (and a ghastly reputation) can buy.

She thrives on having you hanging off her arm like a dog on a leash; she gets to show you off to her subordinates and business partners who know they’ll never even have the thought of having a chance with you entertained.

Valeria’s mood can fluctuate in bed.

Sometimes, she treats you like a common whore she found on the street, fucking every ounce of rage, hate and venom into you until some part of you’s left bleeding as Valeria’s panting on top of you, her lips to your cheeks as she kisses your tears away with a whiplash-inducing gentleness she seemed incapable of minutes ago.

Most of the time, she’s loving and kind, putting your needs above her own.

Sure, she still teases you, makes you work for her love and dedication, but you know she’d do anything for you.

You can tell in her tone as she tells you of how she would “Scorch the earth if only to find a fragment of you in the wreckage.”

You disappearing or being taken from her is her biggest fear, and at night she holds you tightly against her chest, your buffer against the world she would sooner see in flames than relinquish you to.

Price

He’s so father-coded fr.

He calls you his little girl, his Princess, Love, Darling, Dollie — anything that highlights your fragile nature.

Shows you off to his friends just so he can show them what they’re missing. He adores the feeling of you curling further into him under the eyes of his task force, the look in their eyes relating something savage, primal, as they look at your bare thighs – the pinnacle of which shadowed by John’s shirt – and watch something they can never have, never touch.

John hides his insecurity well, but he does secretly worry about the age gap.

Especially when he watches younger men looking at you in ways he does.

The difference being that, while they offered you the world and would give you nothing, you are John’s world.

When you can tell John’s feeling worried, comforting him is a surprisingly easy task.

A kiss to the temple and the promise that he’s the only man for you is usually enough to put his mind at ease and make his face break out into a smile.

On the rare occasion it isn’t, however, alternative methods are at your disposal.

E.g. screaming John’s name into the night as your nails drag down the expanse of his back, bodies scorching as he brings you to tears with his touch and his unrelenting pace.

He will absolutely hold his rank/age over you when he’s like this, no longer a point of contention or shame for him as he tells you he’s the “Only one who can make you whimper like a fuckin’ dog,”

“Such a good girl for me, my good little cocksleeve,” he rasps in your ear as he bounces you on top of him, his hands about your waist, preventing you from fleeing or falling off.

“God, you’re so beautiful — so— fuck— gorgeous.” He’s panting, gasping, growling.

“And all mine.”

Horangi

You’re the only thing that matters to him.

At this point, he only remains as a military contractor to ensure that he can keep you in the style to which you are accustomed.

Calls you 자기야 (Jagiya – Honey, Darling).

His favourite thing to do is sit you between his legs and wrap around you like armour.

In case you couldn’t tell, he’s highly protective of you.

You can make him do absolutely anything — he’s at your beck and call.

You can get him to buy you anything if you give him what he likes to call ‘kitten eyes’ eyes.

Even if you’re being a brat, he remains calm and treats you like his little angel, his sweetpea.

Unless you push him too far.

At which point, he won’t hesitate to tame you if you try your luck.

He’ll have you bent over his lap, holding you down with his forearm as he turns your thighs and backside red-raw with the slap of his belt.

“Don’t start crying now, 자기 — you brought this on yourself.”

He never fails in the aftercare department, though.

Always filling your head with words of affirmation as he bathes you, carrying you to bed and tending to your skin with soothing creams and soft touches.

Hong-jin goes super feral crazy when you call him 오빠.

A common honorific used towards any man older than the person using it.

Even if you don’t understand the implications of it, Hong-jin does. And yes, it does tend to make him a bit silly.

Silly enough to know that he’s not going to last long and needs to get home ASAP to deal with…something.

Which he also makes your problem, pressing messy, desperate kisses to your lips as he tries to get his shirt off, your hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat skyrocketing.

“I need you, (Y/N),” he says, breathless, almost growling. Yet, his eyes are wide, pleading. A doe-eyed prince with the aura of a wolf king. “And I’ll have every inch of you.”

Alejandro

Pre-established passionate lover.

One who is fiercely protective over you.

If anyone — and I mean anyone — catcalls you, makes passes at you, or even looks at you in the wrong way, Alejandro makes sure to enact righteous fury upon them.

He’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re 110% satisfied, regardless of context.

You want a new wardrobe ? It’s done. A new car ? All yours. You need Alejandro now and it can’t wait ? Why, how can he say no when you whine like that, when you tug at his sleeve and tuck your head against his shoulder.

He calls you “mi Princesa” and makes sure everybody knows you’re his and he’s yours.

A thorough lover is how you might describe him.

Especially after he’s so willing to bend you against the nearest surface to get you off, no matter the time of day.

You can bring him to his knees with just a look. Turn him from the most respected soldier in his department into a feral wolf.

Which, if you play your cards right, can end very well for both of you.

Alejandro likes to play a game whenever you’re riding him.

He grabs you by your hips and anchors you on top of him.

“Let’s see how long you can hold on for, mi Corazón,” he says, flashing you a sultry smile before he’s bucking into you at the pace of a mechanical rodeo horse at full speed.

“Holding on” can mean anything from not being pounded off Ale’s hips to staving off your orgasm for as long as you can.

Failure to do either is when you see Alejandro at his most wicked. When he’s all teeth, a shark’s grin, his eyes dark and his voice low as he tells you that he needs to “Train your endurance. How else are you going to take me again, hm?”

Needless to say, you’ll be lucky to be able to get out of bed the next day.

Rodolfo

His heart beats only for you. And as a result, he treats you like royalty.

As he should.

You want it ? You got it. 

In abundance.

You have the best of everything and Rudy loves nothing more than seeing your face light up when you receive one of his many gifts.

That, and having you sat on his lap, raking your fingers through his hair as he tells you about his day.

He omits the more gruesome details, fearing he’ll taint you with the blood on his hands if he doesn’t.

Speaking of lap-sitting, it’s your one-way ticket to an eventful afternoon with Rudy.

Cockwarming is his go-to, your legs wrapped about his waist as he fills out reams of paperwork, pressing kisses to your shoulder and telling you “What a good girl you’re being, mi amor,”

Be prepared for a tidal wave of praise for doing the bare minimum.

It doesn’t matter if Rudy’s topping or bottoming, he’s going to let you know how you’re making him feel, how nobody will ever ensnare him like you do.

“I love you,” he rasps, eyes half-lidded and skin glistening with sweat as you take him.

“I love you, I love you so much–” He growls, back arching into you as you catch a sensitive area. His chest is heaving and his eyes are dark.

“I’ll never let anyone else have you.”

Graves

This guy was made to have a controversially young girlfriend.

Calls you “Babydoll”, “Babygirl”, “Little Lady”, etc.

He unironically refers to himself as “Daddy”.

E.g. “You were eyein’n up that necklace for a while, Darlin’…” His hand slips to the crotch of his jeans, rocking his bulge into his palm.

“Maybe if you ask Daddy real nicely, he’ll get it for you.”

He’s actually very caring. He’d buy you the world if it meant seeing you smile.

He never expects anything from you in return.

He just can’t pass up the opportunity to have you in his arms, to touch you.

Graves can tend to go overboard with the gifts, though.

Calls you “young thing” when he’s feeling humourous.

On the flip-side, he can (and will) use your age gap against you. Like Price, but more Southern.

He’ll be very condescending when he’s mad, tending to use terms that undermine how intelligent and capable you really are.

“If you’d just listened to me and gotten it through your tiny head that I’m doing what’s best for you, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

On the flip-flip-side, he uses your age gap as a jumping-off point into…dubious activities.

#1 dumbification kink enjoyer.

He’s a switch with top lean, what can I say.

“Can’t do anything without me, can you, Sweetheart.” It’s not a question. His eyes are too serious, too stern, for it to be. He’s  pounding into you, hands either side of your head, caging you beneath him.

Between his panting, he presses a wet, uncoordinated kiss to your lips.

“I’ll make sure you can’t even think without me by the time I’m done with you.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad

[3amfanfiction]

Thinking about you telling husband!simon that you want a divorce. You still love him just as much as the day you married him but you can’t take the constant fear every time he’s gone on deployment, wondering if you’re about to become a widow, if his enemies have caught him, if they know about you.

Simon stays silent, listening to you. You think he understands, that he agrees. You take his silence as assent that you’re on the same page.

He holds you while you cry, telling you it’s going to be okay. You’re his strong girl, you’re gonna get through this, he’ll always be here for you.

When you’ve finally exhausted yourself you don’t even fight as Simon ushers you into the bathroom, using a cool wash cloth to wipe your face and help you get ready for bed. He pulls you under the covers and takes his place behind you, knees bent into yours, arm wrapped around you with his palm on your chest, fingers just barely touching the base of your throat.

You can accept this. One last night of comfort before the harsh reality of morning. You sear it into your memory to get you through whatever the days ahead might hold.

The problems start next morning

Simon acts like the conversation last night never happened. He was up before you and got breakfast ready. You woke to the smell seeping into your room.

When you make your way into the kitchen Simon just greets you with a morning lovie and a bussed kiss to your temple before going back to the stove. The same thing he’s done dozens of times in the past.

When you remind him of the conversation last night he shrugs it off. You’re allowed to have your feelings but I made a vow. You’ll be my wife until death do we part.

This is the theme for the following week. Simon continues to act as if nothing has changed. He goes to the grocery store to pick up food. Cleans the bathroom when Saturday rolls around. Fucks you until you’re seeing stars. Shh shh love, I’ve got you. I know. You’re just scared. It’s okay. I’ll always be here.

Finally you break and ask him flat out why won’t you leave? I broke up with you. I don’t want to be in a relationship with you anymore Simon! I can’t be in a relationship with you any longer!

Simon just pulls you into his arms, tucking you under his chin.

I’ll never let you go love. I am your husband and I’ll keep being your husband until the day I die. And you best believe I’ll be finding you in whatever passes for the next life too. No don’t cry sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.

Next || Story Repository

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

When it comes to sex with you, Simon Riley doesn’t fuck you- he worships you.

Fucking is for the people who’d come before you. Emotionless one night stands, with people he never gave a second thought. Trysts that never meant anything beyond the bedroom. But you? Oh no, he doesn’t fuck you.

He’ll kiss you, deep and slow, his mouth moving against yours in an agonizing way. His tongue will explore your mouth, tasting you, groaning against the feel of your lips against his.

His eyes will undress you before his fingers do. His deep brown irises will take down your entire body, burning the image into his brain before he has his way with you.

He takes his time with you, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of your body as he undresses you- memorizing the feel, and taste of you it like it’s the back of his own hand.

He pays special attention to the spots that rile you up- the spots that have your pretty eyes rolling into the back of your head. He’d be lying if the sight didn’t make his cock twitch every time.

He’ll never let you cum around his cock first- oh no. He wants, no needs for you to come undone around his fingers, or his tongue before he’ll put his cock anywhere near that tight little hole of yours.

He’ll lap at you like a man starved, addicted to the sheer taste of you- never not leaving you a moaning mess beneath his tongue. You’re his to savor, and he’ll gladly fucking do it every time.

His eyes will never leave yours as he thrusts himself into you. He needs to watch what your reactions. It’s a fucking drug and one he’s beyond addicted to. He’ll groan, moan, whimper whatever sound he can muster at the time to let you know JUST how much he enjoys your wet hole clenching around him.

He’ll always make sure you cum first. He’s a man of great stamina and will be damned if his baby doesn’t cum around him first. The sight of you reaching your release always being what sends him over the edge.

And he’s the KING of aftercare. Always massaging your sore limbs, kissing the forming bruises that now litter your skin, and holding you closely as you drift off to a peaceful slumber.

Simon will never tell you this, but at times when the man’s feelings particularly feral, after you’re asleep he’ll lean down, his face close to your hole as he watches your combined juices leaking out of you.

To him, you deserve to be worshipped. You are the love of his life, his muse, his holy fucking grail, and you deserve to be treated as so. And if that means getting on his knees for you and making you come undone in every way possible- goddamn will he do it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: apologies for the spam posts the last few days. cod has once again engulfed my brain.

[whateveriwant]

SFW Size Difference HCs with Simon

F!Reader, NSFW version

He loves to use your head/shoulders as a resting spot. All the time you’ll be cooking, sorting through the mail, etc. and he’ll come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and place his chin on the top of your head to watch what you’re doing

After you drive his car, you always have to remind yourself to adjust the seat back for him. You can tell when you’ve forgotten because the next day his knee is all bruised after having bashed it against the steering wheel

You’ve discovered kissing him is easiest when you’re elevated somehow (e.g., sitting on the kitchen counter). Otherwise you have to work around tippy toes and neck strains

Of course, you’re no stranger to using step stools/ladders to grab something that’s high up. But now that you’re dating a literal giant of a man, he’s become your personal slave that you make fetch things that are out of your reach

That being said, don’t get on Simon’s bad side because he will use his height to his advantage. You mouth off at him? Have a bit of an attitude with him? Yeah, he’s hiding your favorite snacks on the top of the fridge

Because his hands are so much bigger than yours, you can never interlock your fingers together when holding hands. You just have to settle for palm against palm :(

Don’t even worry about your feet potentially getting tired around him. The moment you start to complain about your sore feet, he’s immediately picking you up and carrying you either bridal style or piggy back (I wanna be his lil backpack)

“His” jumper? Nay nay. Our jumper, because you’re constantly raiding his closet to wear his shirts/sweaters like dresses

His size makes him like a human furnace, so whenever it’s cold, you just need to shiver a little and he’s unzipping his coat to let you nuzzle against him

Every time you go to a restaurant that has high tables, he jokes about getting you a booster seat like a little kid (but he secretly finds it adorable when you kick your feet back and forth when they don’t reach the ground)

99% of the time, he’s the big spoon when you cuddle. And though he would never admit it, that 1% of the time when the roles are reversed are actually his favorite 🥺

Concerts are a blast for you because you get a great view from your perch on his shoulders. As for the people standing behind you, well… Let’s just say it’s a good thing your boyfriend knows how to fight

[geneviveleocardius]

simon “ghost” riley taking care of you on your period

i’m on my period babes, i’m dying

he’s soft on you on those days

simon notices the signs before you do—your mood shifts, the way you hold your stomach, the sudden craving for sweets—and starts preparing without a word.

he isn’t the most verbal about it, but his actions scream i’m here for you. your favorite snacks appear on the counter, a heating pad is plugged in, and there’s a cozy blanket waiting on the couch.

he’s surprisingly patient when you’re irritable. if you snap at him, his first instinct is to check if you’re okay rather than react. he’ll raise an eyebrow, give you a soft, knowing look, and say something like, “feeling rough, love?” his tone is gentle, never teasing, and he makes sure you know he’s not taking it personally.

if your cramps are bad, he’ll sit behind you, pulling you close against his chest, his large hands resting on your stomach to rub gentle circles over the ache. his touch is warm, grounding, and it works better than the painkillers.

simon doesn’t shy away from talking about it, either. if you need him to grab something for you at the store, he’ll do it without hesitation, though he might tease you just a bit when he gets back: “thought about getting the whole aisle while i was there.”

he’s more attentive than usual, paying close attention to what you need. whether it’s water, tea, or just some space, he’s always a step ahead.

“you don’t need to tough it out, love,” he’ll remind you when you try to act like the pain isn’t bothering you. “let me help.”

if you’re in the mood for comfort, he’ll sit with you through whatever you want to watch, even if it’s something he’d usually complain about. he’s quieter during this time, more affectionate, more present.

simon’s teasing doesn’t stop entirely, though—it’s his way of keeping things light. when he sees you curled up in bed, he’ll smirk and say something like, “the queen demands chocolate again?” but he always follows through.

at the end of the day, his priority is making sure you feel cared for. he might not always say it, but the warmth in his eyes and the way he handles everything so effortlessly tells you exactly how much he loves you.

[beanlot]

simon riley, who’s trudging through the sand, leaving the chopper. his darkened eyes, usually surrounded by smudged ink, has been diluted by sweat; the scorching three-week effort of travelling through mexico, and long before that, the confines of the dingy underground bunker they’d used as a command post.

his eyes squint harshly in response to the sunlight, pupils dilating when he sees your figure in the distance.

his wife, holding his little girl in her arms.

sometimes he feels like a failure. absent, unable to provide - no matter how much you tell him you signed up for this, marrying a man who served; no matter how much you try to reassure him that it’s fine he’s missing his child’s first steps or words.

he hates himself for it.

“look, it’s daddy!” you whisper excitedly, gently bouncing the little human in your arms as he approaches. his eyes have softened, a contrast to their usual aggression.

“hey there, my little angel..” he murmurs, clearing his throat as his hands cautiously take her from you. her eyes are big, bulging with surprise, and quickly glassing up with fearful tears.

great. the cherry on top to let you know you’re a shit father, riley.

“oh, i don’t think she likes the mask..” you murmur, trying to calm her down as she starts bawling in his arms. but he’s quick and selfless, gloved fingers reaching for the hem of his balaclava and slowly peeling it off.

“it’s just me, angel. daddy’s not scary, hm?”

“simon-“ you quickly look around, noting the disorientated faces - because he’d never taken his mask off so carelessly, it wasn’t just habit or a way to hide the torture, but it was second skin.

“it’s fine, love.” he reassures you, because for the second time in his life, he needs to figure out his priorities. and ghost, was starting to go further and further down the list, especially when he looks at his daughter; her big eyes, ones she’d adopted from you, scanning his face with amusing confusion.

she looks like an alien this close up. she’s probably wondering who the frick is this guy?

“see, baby? it’s just me..” he whispers, his desire to protect her strengthening when he feels little hands start touching his eyes.

it makes you laugh. fuck, you’ve been staring with love-heart eyes for ages now.

with your help, he’s sliding off a glove, and tenderly tracing your jaw. he missed this, your skin under his fingertips, his thumb tracing the dark bags under your eyes.

“you’re alright? everything been going smooth whilst i’ve been gone?” he murmurs with concern and doting, “getting enough rest, love?”

“i’m okay. it’s part of the job.” you nod, because you knew what you were getting into when you had the conversation, how long it took just to muster up the courage to say i think i want a baby. you knew what motherhood meant, for you and your marriage.

he admires you for it. and he’ll get on his knees and worship the ground you stand on for providing him with a beautiful family, a warm home when he needs it.

and quite frankly, someone who puts him in his place so effortlessly.

“i missed you, c’mere.” he murmurs, burly arm wrapping around your shoulder and enticing you into his chest, careful not to squish the little one. you’d sway side to side, your heartbeat cudgelling against your chest with his scent; he doesn’t smell that good, but you’re grateful that he’s just here, grateful enough to be smelling his dehydrated sweat and grime.

i missed you too, handsome.

“she’s perfect, ain’t she?” he whispers, letting you step back. his eyes are fixated on his little girl, pupils dilated with adoration; the little eyes stare back, but go to curiously analyse the surroundings not long after.

he breathlessly laughs, watching as the little hands tug at his badge. “looks just like you. thank god..”

you playfully nudge his shoulder, sighing. he looks like he’s daydreaming as he scans her - chubby cheeks that have ate well, little strands of hair, thick lashes that blink in bewilderment as she looks around.

but she’s definitely got his bitch face. she looks like she’s judging all the grown men in here.

“had a talk with the lads, and there’s some discussion about me coming home.” he states, his fingers delicately stroking the back of his little girl’s head, feeling the soft fluff. “permanently.”

“what..? but you love.. but this is al-“

“i know, love. but i just can’t.. be out ‘ere whilst you raise ‘er alone.” he pauses. you know he’s right, it wasn’t devotion that had him stuck to you like glue during the end of your pregnancy, or the birth. it was pure luck.

he wished he could’ve been around to watch your bump grow, sit there each morning whilst you retched into the toilet. he needs to be the man you deserve, the father his daughter deserves.

“i wanna be there, for ‘er and for you.” he murmurs, hand reaching out to graze your cheek affectionately. you missed the scorching heat of his palm, the callousness of the jagged scars tainting it.

it was time for him to pack his shit, scrape away all the baggage and gruel from al-mazrah and las almas. and instead, bathe in the intermingling body warmth of his wife, under the sheets on a thursday evening. praise her for the fine woman she is, kiss at the stretch marks on her hips and stomach from the beautiful life she’d created. sit beside his child as she bashes shapes against the toy sorter angrily, pretend to eat the plastic food she gives him.

it was time for him to forget ghost, just for now, and be simon riley.