#cod ghost mw2 x reader

[dependante]

Ghost MW2 / Reader

Cee prompt, compt as one might say even.

Simon Riley/reader

CW's: none that I can really think of!

Wc: 2,400+

"You wanna switch?"

You scowl and tighten your grip, refusing to acknowledge the man in the seat next to you. It's only been 6 hours and he's already driving you crazy. The stench of cigarettes has already permeated the small musty cabin of your truck, despite his small mercy of rolling down the windows when he lights another up. 

"No, we've only got a couple hours of daylight left. I’ll switch when it gets dark." You say.

He lets out a noncommittal hmm at that and takes a drag instead of a worded answer.

You would fucking kill for some new music, the silence of the truck is stifling, but one more repeat of the two CDs you had (Santana's greatest hits- a gift from your dad and boyz ii men) would drive you both insane you think. The radio too staticky to really enjoy out here, and there was only so much npr one wanted to listen to. The last playthrough ended abruptly when the Santana cd was restarting and with more than necessary force Simon had popped the cd out the player and into the back seat, out of reach. 

Asshole. 

Why you had agreed to drive the man three states over is beyond you.

He’s not bad company, quiet, with a good sense of humor and patience but, you barely know the him and the last minute request from your friend meant you had scrambled into a road trip with an absolute stranger. 

–

“Please! It'll be this one time you know I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate!

You sigh into the receiver, looking out the peephole again to the mass of a man currently at your doorstep, wearing a balaclava? You move away from the door before you hiss into the receiver.

"You have this HUGE man at our door unprompted at seven in the morning and asking for you. This is crazy!"

You've begun to quietly pace the small expanse of the living room heart still pounding from the sudden wake you had. You'd rolled out of bed to the pounding at the door only to yelp at the sight through the peephole. Apparently, he had heard you as the man paused before gruffly calling out for you to call your roommate. 

Should've called the cops instead, you think grumpily. 

"Simon's cool I swear! He’s military, we’ve been talking for a year now, I just didn't know he’d be coming in. He's got no transport and flights are bad right now-"

What him being military had anything to do with trustworthiness was beyond you but she certainly had a type it seemed.

"No shit, it's right before the holidays." You say.

"Exactly! Listen you can call John, he's a friend of his- he’s the one that introduced us! He can vouch I swear."

You sigh, pausing in front of the door again. You liked Johnny, you trusted his opinion. He was a new addition to your roommates' roster but he was at least tolerable. 

Sans the mohawk.

"Alright alright, fine, but if I die it's on you."

"Thank you! We'll be waiting for you guys to get up here. I'll Venmo you the gas total."

You hang up before opening the door to the man behind it. The man, Simon apparently, stands in your doorway, backlit by the early morning oranges of the rising sun. He's tall, and you crane your neck up to look him in the eye, trying to appear stern.

"You almost gave me a heart attack."

His eyes scan you slowly, burning through you and you suddenly remember the little amount of clothing you sleep in.

"I assumed she would've called to let you know." He says monotone.

"Well you assumed wrong."

“Can I use your bathroom?”

–

"Between the mask and the smoke I don't know how you even fucking breathe." 

You see his jaw flex out of the corner of your eye. He wordlessly rolls down the window farther and tosses the half-smoked cig out the window. 

Not very eco friendly but you decide not to comment, having already obviously pushed his buttons. 

The mask was interesting. He had partially pulled it up in the apartment before you both left to formally introduce himself but had quickly pulled it back down as you left the apartment. A bit nerve wracking as you considered the fact he was most likely hiding his identity, but in for a penny in for a pound and some change you guess.

It's boring and the drive is long, your eyes fight to stay open as the cross state backroads you're taking seem to stretch on and on forever. The occasional jolt of a shitty road or bout of convo is the only thing keeping you present. No aux in your rust bucket unfortunately and now no Santana.

Upon seeing your lovely ride Simon had in fact not been impressed. Even less so by the mile meter. 

You've asked Simon several questions so far. How did he know John, how long had they been in the force together, what was being British like, everything. All of his answers entertaining but vague with details, particularly the questions pertaining to his job which made sense, but only made you more eager to prod much to his annoyance. You learned he was a part of a special ops group high up in military and that they were currently both on leave, unplanned. John had flown out first to see your roommate and Simon had only decided last minute to join, having told no one and unaware that they had gone states over. 

You couldn't quite get a straight answer on how the man knew your roommate. Oh so subtly you were trying to figure out if you were in the clear to flirt with him without potentially crossing a line, but again, he was frustratingly vague with the exact nature of their relationship. You really should’ve just outright asked if they’d fucked but you weren’t quite sure you wanted to hear that answer. 

Finally, the sun had begun to set and as you pulled into a gas station for a quick refill of gas and a moment to text your travel status. You swapped positions and Simon settled into the driver's seat. 

It didn't take long for you to nod off, kind of worrying considering that you could always be murdered by the man in the seat next to you. (He had brought his gun, you’d seen it briefly before he pushed it under the passenger seat of the truck, emptying the clip and setting it beside the gun. State laws and all.) But what could you say besides that you were an idiot and bored. Plus vote of confidence from John and location tracking makes it probably less appealing to murder you. 

–

You sleep fitfully, never fully falling asleep but still managing to let hours pass by in an unconscious state before you’re finally and fully awoken by the rising sun. You groan and stretch, popping the ligaments in your feet before reaching for your phone in the glove compartment. You note the faint playing of the radio. He must've gotten lonely, or bored. 

"I'm hungry," you state, not looking up from your phone. No new developments to be seen, just a stray email and message from your mother.

"Slim jims in the back, picked 'em up last night while you snored away."

"I don't snore and gross? Why would I want to eat that."

"Go hungry then."

He's teasing, you can hear the smile in his voice and as you finally turn to look at him disapprovingly you realize you can also see it. See him. Huh.

"You took off your mask?" You can't help but ask. You wonder what changed. 

His lips thin in a line before he shrugs.

"Got gross. No reason to cover up out here."

"Ah."

You almost wish he'd cover back up. Simon had already been attractive with just his sharp eyes and mouth and now? You can't help but subconsciously try to make yourself look a bit better, sit a little taller. God-god, get a grip. First man you've been slightly interested in for months and you're losing it. Not to mention the non-answers you had received about his connection to your roommate and their relationship. You hoped to get there soon. 

"I'm looking up a place and we're stopping. Gotta give you the full americana experience don't you know?" you say smiling.

"Right, no proper British breakfast here. You yanks couldn't even replicate if you tried."

"Oh my god yanks? Are you all trapped in the 1800s?"

"Just pull up somewhere already."

"Aye Aye Cap'n."

"Lieutenant."

"Whatever you say sir." You laugh.

A slight shiver and adjustment at that.

Oh.

Yes, you hoped you’d both get to your destination soon.

–

You end up stopping at a travel stop -slash novelty store -slash restaurant which works out incredibly well as you send Simon to fill up the tank while you change in the bathrooms and peruse the small gift shop. Everything is old and gimmicky, trying to sell you on a western fantasy with belt buckle fridge magnets, small boot shot glasses and of course, mood rings. You're debating getting a keychain pocket knife or ring when a hand grabs your shoulder and you startle. 

Simon. 

He towers over the racks and you in the store and looks down in amusement. His mask is back on you notice.

"Are you going try to make me jump as much as possible."

"Yes."

"It's not that funny" you say.

"Neither was forcing me to get the gas." 

"Aw boo hoo, here put on this mood ring" you grab the largest size and yank Simon's hand up from his side, pulling it into your palm as you shove the ring down on his pinky. His other fingers are too large. It definitely hasn't caught your attention at all. Especially not the way his hand dwarfs yours or the way he'd pull the stiff wheel of your truck. Definitely not.

"What does purple mean?"

"Huh?" You tune back in.

"The ring is purple."

"Oh let's see, it means"- you turn to the chart.

"It means you're buying breakfast."

"Bullshit."

"No seriously."

��Lemme see” he says, slipping off the ring and trying to peer at the small chart behind you.

“Nevermind that, you owe me some fucking breakfast for a multitude of reasons. Besides aren’t you loaded or something?”

He looks at you incredulously.

“When has working for the government ever made someone a rich man.” 

“Yeah yeah, fair point” you say, “Go look at the menu I’ll be over there in a second.”

“Don’t make me wait too long or you really will end up paying for yourself.” Simon says before stalking over to the door that separated the store from the dining area of the travel stop. You grab two mood rings and head up to the counter to pay before a CD wall catches your eye.

Oh yeah, there will definitely be some new music added to the next leg of your journey, Simon be damned.

—

The food’s ok. 

Average breakfast for a good price. Despite his earlier shit talking, Simon had damn near ordered half the menu. Made sense, he was a big man after all. His earlier chattiness seemed like a fluke now in the midst of the general public, and by chatty you mean not intimidatingly silent as he was now across from you. 

You finish eating before he does. Occupying the time on your phone and occasionally glancing up to look at Simon before quickly going back to your endless scrolling. 

He would watch the doors and people as he ate you noticed, scanning them before looking at you awkwardly everytime. No such thing as subtle glances with him.

His jaw flexed as he ate, mask pulled up only enough to reveal his mouth. He had a strong chin, stubble, he must not have shaved the last couple of days. 

"Have you texted and let them know our eta yet?" Simon asks offhandedly, still scanning the room as his jaw works. 

"Uh yea, when you were getting the gas."

"Good, you have Johnny's number?"

"No, just my roommates, why?"

"You should have his number just in case, tell me your number and I'll text it to you"

You tell him your number and wait for his slow thumbs to send the message. His phone is something other than Samsung or Apple and it amuses you.

"I'm surprised you have a touchscreen phone at all."

"I like pictures, this phone is better for that."

"Oh yea? What kind of pictures?" you ask, leaning closer and raising a brow conspiratorial. He chuckles.

"All the kinds you can imagine, gets real lonely in the field."

"You've got Johnny haven't you?"

"Who said I wasn't sending beautiful photos of the country side as well?" He leans in, matching your position.

He's close enough that you can feel a slight bit of warmth emanating from him, the smell of drip coffee strong on his breath. 

"Fair, I'd also be sending pictures to Johnny if I were you. He's a handsome man and fun to boot" You state. 

He chuckles, staying just as close as before.

"Well you've got his number now don't you?"

Your face feels hot, whether it's from the proximity or line of conversation who's to say.

"Maybe I should, mind giving me some privacy in the truck so I can take some photos?" You ask.

"Hard to imagine one needs privacy to take a couple photos of trees." 

"You'd be surprised."

Simon gives a nonverbal response, a small hm while his eyes burn through you. You swear he takes a split second glance at your lips but you aren't sure. You look away and it feels like losing.

He leans back, the trance broken and leaving you flustered in its wake. Time to cool off, you think.

A moment of hesitation, before you lean across the table to pat your hand on top of his.

"Why don't you go change, and I'll go ahead and start the car."

He clears his throat and agrees, you get up and grab your bag before turning back to him.

"Oh, I picked up a new cd for us by the way. It's top country hits." You smile and head out the door before he can react.

_

[gloomica]

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

[soleilapproves]

Older boyfriend Price who is absolutely DISTRAUGHT over the fact that you don’t care about marriage because you think he’s over it.

Note: this one has no smut but it has mentions of sex and sexual relations so interact at your own discretion.

Masterlist

“What the fuck do you mean by you don’t want to?” If Price had been any louder, anyone outside his car would’ve been able to hear him.

It had been a few months into your relationship with Price after almost a year of being friends with benefits. You weren’t sure how your arrangement changed over time but you were glad to be with him as he valued you a lot.

“I mean, think about it. You’re like, what? 40-“

“I’m 37, love”

“Right, yeah, I just think that it doesn’t really matter as long as we’re having fun together. Honestly, I thought you’d agree,” you said before taking a bite out of your burger.

Price could only watch you in shock. Sure, your relationship started on the basis of sexual benefits but when he did think of the future all he thought of was you. Even if you were a generation younger than him, he had never felt such synergy with anyone before. It was a connection of a lifetime - emotional and sexual.

“So you don’t give a shit about marriage because you think I don’t care about it.”

“Kind of. If I’m gonna get married I need my partner to be on board too, don’t you think?” He sighed at your reply. You looked up at him, confused and cheeks full with your dinner as you grabbed the plastic cup of coke.

His heart swelled at the sight. It was like looking at an innocent chipmunk. To think that the same face looked fucked out an hour ago awed him but he couldn’t let himself get distracted by your unintentional seduction.

He grabbed your drink and put it back in the cupholder. You were about to whine but he grabbed your face and pulled you close, noses almost touching.

“You-“ peck “-are the most wonderful thing to happen to me and I’ll be damned if I don’t tie you down with me in the future.”

Your face heated up. You had swallowed your food not too long ago but your mouth felt like it had gone dry.

With your face in his hands he continued. “I’ll have a rock on your pretty little finger before you know it.” He left a longer peck on your lips this time and pulled away.

What you didn’t know was that he already had a ring for you. It was stored away in a hidden drawer in his desk, waiting to be worn by you.

In fact, he had brought it just a month into your relationship. He wasn’t religious but he knew that a person like you was the blessing of a lifetime.

[amaranthinespirit]

husband!simon riley follows you around like a lost dog 24/7.

whether it be in the comfort of your own home, or out in public, the man is basically your shadow. like a moth to a flame, he is the moth and you're his flame.

it doesn't matter where you saunter off to, chances are, he's stomping right after you. Around your house, he's following you to every room.

need the bathroom? keep the door open, he'll lean against it with his arms crossed over his chest, either watching you silently or tapping away on his phone.

cooking in the kitchen? he's hovering over your shoulder. you can't count the amount of times on one hand you bumped into his broad, brutish chest, stepped on his foot, or, definitely not on purpose, whacked his groin with a small pan. still, he never learns.

watching TV in the living room? you best bet he's going to sit his big ass right next to you. even if you're on the single person armchair, he'll squish you into the armrest if it meant being next to you.

showering? not without him because he'll join you, and find a way to release pent-up need at the same time, that is if you aren't already stressed that day, then he'll just wash your hair and run a relaxing bath for you to soak in peace afterwards.

In public, people give him weird side glances, numerous occasions where you've had concerned folks tap you on your shoulder and give a small point over your shoulder, to which you reply sweetly with the biggest smile on your face, "oh, that's just my husband!"

he keeps a thick finger hooked into the waistband of your pants, or shorts, or looped in one of your belt loops to keep you near him. since you're much smaller than him, it can be easy for you to get lost in big crowds, and this just assures simon that you're never out of reach.

it's a funny thing to watch for the guys to watch, observing their lieutenant follow you around aimlessly like a big puppy, eyes soft as he gazes down at you, sharpening when another person approaches or observing.

you think it comes from never being able to control his surroundings, his obsessive need to keep you safe, more so now that you have a wedding ring on your finger, forever tying you to him. not physically, but he wouldn't hesitate to if it meant keeping you safe.

[simonz-angel]

“fuckin’ look at me.”

the growl of words bounces in your mushy skull, watery eyes blinking till pretty crystal tears drip down the apples of your cheeks.

you’re lost, fluttering eyes fighting the fog, the way he reaches into your guts. it has you struggling and gasping.

yet, when simon’s fingers curl tight round your jaw, thick digits pressing dimples into the fat of your cheeks, you finally start to snap into reality.

“yeah, baby,” he laughs down into your face, teeth glistening in the soft bedside lamp. “i’m here, i’m here.”

and it’s not a sweet coo, it’s a harsh taunting, a mere joke to him to watch your eyes cross, and roll.

“t-too much, si, n-no” and it’s a broken, desperate cry, hands violently pawing at the backs of his thighs when he shoves himself meters into you.

you can feel every ridge, every vein, the way the tip of his pretty cock lays sweet frenchies against your cervix. and he stills, letting you really accommodate to the mere length, the width of him.

“let me see your pretty eyes, baby,” he huffs, breath heavy against your face in a way that does nothing but suffocate you. “you tired? you done?”

and your silence speaks for you, eyes bouncing back and forth from pupil to pupil. you can’t focus, the tips of your toes digging deep into his calves almost angrily.

it feels too good, in a way that has you squirming up like you’re under some spell.

“that’s what i thought,” he coughs up in a laugh, taking you by the lips aggressively. he lets his tongue open you up, and he explores your mouth carefully, hips pulling back as he readies himself. “now just be pretty for me and take it, yeah, hun?”

ion even know, this is so fucked 🤦‍♀️ send mama requests.

[sigh-tofm]

when they come home drunk…

… price

- thinks it’s important that he loudly tells you he’s married while you steady him upstairs to bed. points to his ring incessantly, slurs on and on about his perfect wonderful wife with the big ass and soft tummy. you roll your eyes and can’t help but smile when he doesn’t let you hold on to his arm to support him. something about protecting his virtue for his wife, as if you’re not standing right beside him. proceeds to lock you out of your own bedroom when you finally get upstairs, telling you his wife will be home soon so he can’t have a strange woman in their bedroom (but still remarks on your wonderful ass). you decide it’s too early in the morning to persuade your drunk husband to let you in, so you go down to sleep on the couch. you wake up with price sleeping soundly on the floor beside you, having gone to find his wife when she never showed up in his bed the night before.

… kyle

- gets sappy and apologises for being away. loses all concept of time when he’s drunk, says he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to be away so long, he was thinking of you the whole time, the guys pulled him along and he couldn’t say no. while he’s on his knees at your feet, pressing his face to your thighs and mumbling into your marbled skin, almost making you lose your balance with his fervent apologies, you gently remind him that you were the one who made him go out with the boys because he needed to unwind after a stressful weekend of combat drills, and that he had left with them less than two hours ago. he refuses to hear and only hugs your thighs closer, so much so that you have to support yourself on the wall. turns out all he needed to relax was you.

… johnny

- is horny. almost starts drooling when he eyes you at the top of the stairs, after struggling to close the entrance door for a good minute, causing you to investigate what made all the noise. gets a wild look in his eyes when he sees you in just his t-shirt and makes you scream and giggle as he chases you back up the stairs and to the bedroom. being absolutely shitfaced, he has the coordination of a tranquillised moose and stumbles head over heels across the floor, catches his foot on the doorway and narrowly misses the edge of the dresser with his head as he falls. still, his little soldier is courageously tenting his pants when you worriedly lean over him and he gets a good look right into the collar of your shirt.

… simon

- is emotional and clingy. can’t get enough of you, won’t leave you alone. you can’t make out half his words when he’s had this much to drink (and the mancunian in him breaks out too, making it ever harder to make out the words), but you play along, smile and nod and let him sit on the closed toilet seat and talk and talk while you do your night routine in front of the mirror. so lucky to have you, luv. how could’a lug like me get a pretty one like you, luv. his melancholy statements of love become comfortable background noise for you as you remove your makeup and apply moisturiser. lets you wash the sweat and grime of the day off his face with a washcloth, closes his eyes while you massage your floral-scented moisturiser into his skin, never once stopping his little speech. ambles after you out of the bathroom, holding on to the hem of your shirt, when you’re all finished and ready for bed. his devoted mutters only let up when be falls asleep next to you.

[leafavleo]

GHOST uses to workout quite frequently, because of his job in military. He never admits it loud, but he likes to be in good shape. He likes the glances that you’re sending him when he’s taking off his shirt on purpose to present you his muscular back, covered in black ink tattoos.

There’s only one thing that he hates during his daily routine — push ups. He doesn’t know why he dislikes to do that workout, it’s just happen. He prefers other exercises, but while he’s at home, without the gym equipment, it’s just what’s left for him to stretch those arms muscles more.

But fortunately, recently you’ve got an idea of how to make this workout more pleasant for him. You find yourself on the floor, underneath Ghost while he’s grunting and sweating. It’s not what you think it is, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t making you feel in a certain way.

You like the view from down there. He’s shirtless and the only piece of clothing that he wears are the grey sweatpants. The way he’s looking and sounding makes you want to wrap your legs around his waist and just keep him down.

“Don’t try to give up, because you’ll squish me.” You giggle once Ghost makes another push up, giving you a quick kiss in meantime.

“Not gonna, doll.” He says back in breathy tone, pushing himself back up. He grunts again and lower himself down, giving you another kiss.

You make this exercise quite enjoyable for him.

[joonieskinks]

simon ghost riley is sometimes a little blunt (warning: smut)

You adore him for who he is, but it still unnerves you with just how blunt he can be at times.

It usually happens privately with just you:

“In about 5 minutes, I’m gonna eat you out.” He says as you are in the middle of The Goblet of Fire on the couch. You almost choked on your popcorn.

Or you’re doing laundry in the morning. “We need pineapple juice next time we’re out, want you to enjoy swallowing next time you’re suckin me off.” Jaw dropped.

He does it in front of the team too- and sometimes it’s even worse:

You accidentally dropped your lip balm onto the bar floor while fishing it out of your purse and bend to pick it up.

“Haven’t seen that angle in a while, dove. It’s been too long since we done doggy.”

It’s a never-ending series of eyebrow raises when Simon decides to open up his mouth and you’re around, needless to say. You brunt all of the embarrassment and the deep blushes, Simon couldn’t give a shit. He didn’t even clock it when John, Johnny and Kyle would all give him shocked looks. Man just owns it. Completely unbothered.

“Youre wearin the skirt you wear when you wanna get fucked. That your goal?”

“Simon!” You hiss, you can feel the red hot heat rush to your face.

But he just stares back at you, waiting for your response. You can hardly believe how composed he is when his Captain is right there glaring at him.

“So?”

“I need another beer.” John excuses himself, he can’t even look you in the eyes right now. Kyle joins him shortly after making a run for it, but you’re left with a quiet Johnny patiently waiting for you to respond. Eager, almost. Joy.

“You can’t just say things like that in public, especially not in front of your friends!” You lecture, pulling down your skirt in the process.

“Why? If you wanted to fuck, you could’ve just said so, love. Give me 2 to down this pint and I’ll meet you in the toilets, yeah?”

“Simon!” You smack his thigh.

“Can I watch?” Johnny asks excitedly.

“No!-“ “Fine.”

Johnny’s face lights up while yours gives Simon a death stare.

“Do you want it or not?” You roll your eyes and throw your purse over your shoulder.

“You two are ridiculous.” And they watch you walk away.

Simon only shrugs, pounding back his beer before coming after you. Doesn’t make a difference to him if he fucks you here and now or at home and later.

“… so is that a no?” Johnny asks with puppy eyes.

[orbitganymede]

baby daddy simon who dated you for a year before you got pregnant, you’d gone through most of the pregnancy alone, him being deployed 3 weeks after you found out and gone until the very last month of it. the both of you had tried at keeping the relationship together, but the distance and loneliness got to you, you’d been fine when it was just you but now with baby, you can’t let the father go in and out of their life. he wasn’t very happy with the decision to end your relationship, in his mind you were together forever now, tied together by this beautiful thing you two created, he didn’t even want children before you told him you were expecting but his whole world view changed when he realized that he not only had you to protect but a baby as well.

but you’d moved out against his wishes, finding a small flat you like and making it home for you and baby. he would come over sometimes, when he could, and spend some time with baby but honestly he felt more like some glorified uncle, would be convinced he was nothing to this child until he saw those brown eyes staring back at him, the ones that are so completely his, and he comes to the conclusion that this isn’t gonna work.

he starts small, coming over once a week instead of every other weekend, takes the two of you out for dinner instead of letting you cook or ordering in. stays late enough that you offer him the spare bed in the guest room, even with the distance you’ve put between yourselves, you can’t help but care for him, knowing nobody else will.

then he puts more pressure on you, making sure you see just how valuable he is, taking night shift feedings and waking up early with baby when they’re fussy. he offers to take baby for the night so you can go out with your friends, do things you haven’t been able to since baby’s arrival, even pays for a spa day for you to really relax. he stocks your fridge, full of the snacks you love and a bottle of wine for the hard nights. he buys and sets up new decor in the house, finally gets you the pretty white vanity and a new washing machine that doesn’t squeak. he really just does what he considers ‘husband duties’, things that he should have been doing this whole time.

and when you don’t budge on the separation, he goes nuclear, “no, love, i haven’t seen your birth control pills”, “look how cute this baby is, remember when ours was that small, sweetheart”, “you’re so stressed darling, let me help you” which basically means you end up getting rawdogged within an inch of your life, condom long forgotten, one of simons hands held over your mouth to muffle the sounds you’re making. he just hopes he’d tracked your cycle right, that you’re actually ovulating, because you can’t possible refuse his ring after having two of his babies right? you wouldn’t do that to him, would you pet?

[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.

[koling2345]

Just Simon with a cute new recruit. NSFW

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Lieutenant! Simon who: Thought you'd be just another recruit, until he saw that you were such a cute little bird. So obedient and pliable, always listening to what he had to say without refuting it.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Never even looked at any recruit in a different way until you arrived on base. The way you looked at him with sweet little eyes and called him 'Sir' was almost a symphony in his ears.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Loved it when you asked him for help with something on the base, sometimes purposely disappearing with things, only to see you coming after him to find out where that item was.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Made a point of training you, he never let any other superior do it. Not even Johnny. Simon wanted to be solely responsible for your success, or rather, he wanted to be solely responsible for giving you orders. And watching you obey them.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Started glaring daggers at any other soldier who looked at you. Not only that, but any soldier who even spoke to you or flirted with you was magically given a month's worth of hard duties. What a shame ;(

Lieutenant! Simon who: Was in charge of you at the gym, giving you several repetitions of exercises, never passing up an opportunity to put you in some positions that were a bit... Lewd, to say at least. Always keeping a close eye on every exercise you did, his eyes roaming over your body as you knelt down to stand up when you finished a set. The sight always made his pants a little tight.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Always gave you heavy workouts, tiring you to the limit. Just to make sure you'd get tired enough, then he'd have the excuse of helping you to get your bearings. Putting a hand on your lower back. Sometimes even being bold enough to put his hand on your waist, pulling your body against his in an attempt to help you. And if you were really, really tired, he could carry you on his shoulders. No, it wasn't an excuse to stare at your ass and thighs, feeling your body pressed against his. He swore it was just his good intention, he just wanted to help!

Lieutenant! Simon who: Would let you sleep in his room, there was a storm and the base was without power, you didn't want to be alone because you were scared. And he wouldn't let you be alone after learning that you were afraid of thunder, poor thing. That night he wrapped you up in his sheets, pulling you into his lap as he comforted you.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Helped you forget the fierce storm outside, pumping his thick fingers into your pussy, slipping in and out of you, scissoring and curving inside you. He made you come once, twice, three times, enough to make you tired and sleep on his lap, in the mess you made on his thighs, and he didn't care. In fact, he was proud to see the mess you'd made, that he'd given you.

Lieutenant! Simon who: After spending one night with you, he refused to sleep in separate rooms, so every night he dragged you to his room, at which point he already considered you his cute little thing. Normally, he would hold you all night with a death grip, so don't even try to escape.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Couldn't sleep peacefully until he'd buried his cock in you. Sleep only came to him after he had slid his thick cock into your wet folds, deep into your tight warmth. Slamming into you without mercy, he swears that his lullaby is your whimpering sounds under him.

Lieutenant! Simon who: Was mean to you, used you until he had his fill. It didn't matter if you'd already come for the thousandth time, he didn't care, because he went after his own pleasure, he would pound into you all night if he wanted to.Even if you were whimpering underneath him and saying you couldn't take it anymore, he'd respond with:

“You can and you will.”

[bi-writes]

ok ok how about mute?ghost who you aren't sure if he's actually mute or if he just chooses not to say anything. you hear a different answer from everyone you ask. (18+)

ever since mexico, wouldn't say a fucking word.

nah, mate, he's been zipped shut since he enlisted.

heard it was a mad accident.

what you mean? heard him telling off privates not even a year ago!

well, since you're a certified yapper, and ghost can't (won't) tell you to shut up, you make him your living diary. whenever you see him around, you sit next to him, stop by his office, hop up onto his desk and talk to him. you tell him about your day, about the recruits that bother you the most, about the meals in the mess hall being worse on saturdays than on mondays (fuck, you'd think the weekend would put some pep in their step, no?).

but gosh, when ghost finally had you seated in his lap with your pants around one ankle, you really weren't expecting to hear him.

pussy-drunk, tongue out, hands gripping your ass as he listens to the wet smack of your thighs against his, and that's all it takes for him to let out the filthiest groan you've ever heard, enough to make you spiral, see red-hot stars, to shake and cry until you're cumming and babbling and even more incoherent.

when they talk about ghost, you still keep your mouth shut. you're still not sure if he talks, fuck if i know, is what you say.

but if you suck his cock just right, you're certain he's singing.

[stargirlstabber]

imagine the task force 141 falsely accusing you of being a traitor to the team. knowing your biggest fear, they use it against you. water. water, where your feet can't touch the ground. water you can't see through. at first it started with waterboarding. then slowly but surely they threatened to drop you into the pool. into the dark, deep pool. even john, who was like a father to you before, didn't help you. no. not at all. actually, he was the one who stepped into the water fully clothed, dragging your crying and squirming form with him into the bloodcurling liquid. your tears blended in with it while you we're screaming, practically begging that you were the wrong one. that you'd never do something like that. but they just stood at the edge of the pool, watching their captain almost drowning your terrified self. how would they react, when they get the information that you really weren't the one...?

[manicrouge]

'I'm too old to do anythin' like that now,' Simon says, shaking his head.

'But daddy,' whines the little girl standing in front of him, her small hands tugging at his black t-shirt, 'mummy was telling me all about how you a- and my uncles used to save the world and I wanna learn cause I wanna be just like you!'

He lifts his head, spying you standing in the doorway with a bright grin on your face. 'What you tellin' her that for?'

'Because she wants to know how to beat the boys in the street when they're having water fights,' you say, 'thought your military experience would come in handy.'

'They're always laughin' at me,' she pouts, 'and sayin' I can't fight cause I'm a girl.'

There's a switch that is flipped at her confession and when he looks to her and then raises his head to look at you, you swear you're looking at the Lieutenant instead of your husband.

'Is that so?' he asks, to which your daughter nods her head quickly. He holds his hand out to her and she takes it happily. 'We'll teach them to mess with a Riley, ey sweet pea?'

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Simon Riley who has got it BAD for seeing you wearing his dog tags.

Something utterly primal within him awakens whenever he sees his tags dangle from around your neck, dipping in between the valley of your breasts. You like wearing his tags? He’s fucking done for.

Absolutely fuckin adores when you ask to wear them. Won’t have to ask him twice. Hell, he wont even let you ask. He’ll just throw the chain around your neck the second he’s home from deployment.

No matter how innocent you try to play it, anytime he sees you wearing them his cock hardens in his pants almost painfully.

Will almost beg you to ride him in bed, aching for the sight of you on top of him- aching to see his tags slapping off of your bouncing breasts.

Loves to yank the chain, either pulling you in for a deep searing kiss as he rams himself up into you, or railing you from behind as his tags slowly imprint their mark onto your neck.

Will always stare at you in awe, your breasts covered in his cum with his dog tags falling lazily across your chest. He’s got more mental images of that particular sight in his brain than Simon will ever care to admit.

He hardly ever gets himself off, but when he does, you better believe it’s to the picture of you lying naked in bed with his tags on you. It’s his absolute favorite fucking picture.

Needless to say all rational thoughts go out the window the second his tags slip over your head. Just wear the damn tags for him… okay?

[callsign-datura]

"simon, simon, simon," you call, and his eyes snap from the paper work in front of him to yours. pretty eyes staring at him with the most love he's seen from anyone in years and for a moment he wonders how he got so lucky to have you.

-----

"simon, simon, simon," you babble, the hand around your throat loosening as he croons at you to be quiet. he doesn't want you to, he just loves chastising you, the pathetic and embarrassed look on your face making him fuck you harder. yet again he notes the affection in your eyes as you pant and moan, blow pupils focusing on his face as his body shifts above you. his hips hitting yours repeatedly, thick cock spearing you over and over again as the force of his thrusts sends you further and further into that pit of ecstasy. he grunts at how tightly you grip him, tilting his head to pepper loving kisses over your face.

"fuckin' love you," he mumbles, pushing your legs back closer to your chest with a single calloused hand, pinning your knees together to enhance the feeling as he rails you. "say it back."

"love you, simon! love you so much, please, harder," you whimper, the eyes he loves so much fluttering shut as you tilt your head to the side.

"that's fuckin' it, baby. moanin' for me." he complies, fucking you harder. his thrusts become ruts as he chases his high, keeping his hips angled just right to hit that spot inside you to get you to gush around his thick cock. "come on, baby."

"gonna cum, si," you whimper. "please, make me cum,"

and he does. he makes you cum so hard you can't even hear what he says to you, the dirty whispers he mumbles in your ear as he pounds your tight cunt. it doesn't take him long to cum with you, cock pulsing before he cums, filling you up to the brim and fucking you for a bit longer just for good measure. his thrusts slow, and he relaxes on top of you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

"simon, simon, simon," he mocks softly, a low chuckle leaving his throat as you whine and swat him.

your simon, he thinks. yours. always and forever. yours.