#simon and reader

[spookypete-94]

Beastie: Chapter #3 GhostXFem!reader

Slow burn, following MW2 storyline, eventually branching into my own. Warning for canon COD violence and language.

Part two

Part one

word count 2,186

Once they had Hassan, the plan was to stop at the Las Vaqueros base and regroup to be able to speak with General Shepherd and Laswell to plan a meeting where everyone could speak with, to, and about Hassan.

The entire helicopter ride back to the base was quiet. Y/N had awkwardly moved past Ghost to get out the door of the truck in the back... Ghost seemingly to refuse to go first. He had a knack of making her blood run cold constantly, his owl eyes refusing to blink or move off of her. She stepped down off the truck running towards the helicopter, looking to put distance between him and her. Alejandro helped her in first, next taking Hassan in. She had grabbed his shoulder pushing him down into the seat of the helicopter and strapped him in. Hassan had grumbled a few things at her but she ignored them. Soap choosing to sit on one side of Hassan and Ghost on the other. She took this opportunity to move to the other side of the helicopter, using the bag on Hassan's head to block Ghost from looking at her, feeling a little more laxed from being watched.

Alejandro sat next to her.

"Sure you're ok?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah," she gruffly nodded.

"We have medical back at base that can check you out to be sure."

"I really think I'm alright." she said looking up at him.

Alejandro sighed in frustration, "At least go, get checked out and make sure. You hit that truck pretty hard."

Finally she let out a big huff, nodding at him. "Fine." she said.

The rest of the ride was quiet, no one choosing to say anything in front of a kidnapped terrorist. It seemed to take longer for them to get back to base. She either did not realize how far away they had travelled, or her nerves making her impatient to land. Her knee slightly bouncing up and down quietly, grateful as she could see the base approaching.

The med bay was not very large, it seemed to be the size of a exam room in a clinic. She sat on the make shift cot as one of the medics checked her over.

"Wrecked a truck huh?" he asked her, Spanish accent running thick into his English.

"Yes," she said feeling his hands poke and prod her face, she figured he was looking for broken bones. Thankfully none of them hurt as he did, only towards her nose that had bounced off the airbag. She spoke in Spanish trying to show respect since he was willing to check her over.

"Well nothings broken..." he ran a flashlight across her eyes, "don't think you have a concussion... Headache at all?"

"Slightly, just enough to be annoying." The medic slid her some ibuprofen and a glass of water.

"If you feel worse, come back quickly, but honestly think you're going to be fine."

She nodded, standing up from the bed. "Thanks," she said opening the door and walking out. In the hallway into the main area of the shop of the base she met Alejandro, who was on a phone handing it out to her.

"Laswell," he said handing it off to her heading to the other's that still had Hassan tied to a chair awaiting orders still.

Holding the phone up to her ear, she spoke out to Laswell.

"Still there?"

"You wrecked a truck??" Laswell asked, her tone rushed.

Y/N sighed, something she was getting really good at on this mission. "I did, kept them from abducting Hassan from us."

"I sent you over there to assist, not to get yourself hurt or worse, killed."

"I had it under control," Y/N picking up an annoyed tone, surprised Laswell was talking to her this way.

This was Laswell's turn to sigh this time. "You've always been so stubborn."

The conversation seemed to of lighten a little making Y/N chuckle, "You're the one who hand picked me, you knew what you were getting into. What's the plan here?"

"Alejandro has a location in the desert, just waiting for Shepherd to be able to talk, sounds like you'll be heading out there shortly."

"Alright then, see you on the computer?"

"Yes, no more accidents."

"Yes Ma'am," she said flatly hanging up the phone walking back to Alejandro to return it to him.

"You good then?" He had asked her as she handed him the device.

"Solid." she said nodding smiling at him.

" 'Ey Lass, took that pretty well?" Soap asked walking away from Hassan, leaving Ghost to stand over with the other Vaqueros.

"Head like an anvil," she said said, earning chuckles from both men.

"Let's get headed out," Alejandro said, making everyone scatter. Some sticking with Hassan, others getting into vehicles.

"No driving for you," Ghost said stepping in front of her blocking her from the square body Chevy. "Get in the passenger seat," he said jerking his head towards the other side.

"I wreck a truck one time, and no one will let me drive?"

"Could have a head injury still," he said flatly, "stop arguing and get in, or stay here."

Wow, she thought her eyebrows raised, his attitude pissing her off. She turned to look at other vehicles seeing they were all occupied, leaving her to sigh and sulk to the other side of the truck, getting in with him.

The ride was quiet as they drove further into the desert, their convoy only a few trucks, but still intimidating enough if the man power was needed. Finally, they arrived, parking the trucks in a half circle to have enough light. Y/N grabbed a tote out of the back of the truck, the one with her laptop to be able to video in Shepherd and Laswell. She set the laptop on the tote not too far off of where Hassan would be sitting.

"There," she said sliding it to Graves ,"should be set up now." The live feed starting to activate showing her Laswell and Shepherd. Y/N stepped aside, over towards the truck she arrived in to stay out of the way. Alejandro and Soap brought Hassan out of the truck, forcing him into the sand, and removing the sack from his head.

"Ya'll got a clear picture?" Graves asked out to the other two.

"Crystal," Shepherd said.

"All set," Laswell answered right after.

"Do you speak Arabic?" Hassan asked

"No," Graves said instantly

"Farsi?"

Graves looked around like he had to think about if he did, "No." he then said quickly.

"Of course not... Then I'll speak your bastardized medieval English because you are uneducated street dogs."

Y/N couldn't help it and rolled her eyes.

"You brought a woman here?" Hassan asked noticing her. This made Y/N look at him harder, she wanted to spring forward and say something to bite back.

But before she or anyone else could say anything, Ghost's large figure walked over and blocked Hassan from looking at her, his arms crossing, and puffing his chest out... but more importantly it was Ghost's quiet way of intimidation, begging Hassan to say something else about Y/N.

Y/N burned her eyes into the back of his head, this gesture leaving her awestruck. Maybe he wasn't as rough as she thought he was? She watched has his hand leaned against the truck to better balance himself in the soft sand. She finally looked at his arms, realizing he was tattooed, his muscles strong (she already knew that but... seeing it up close is different right?) veins spidering their way around, showing her that he had been doing this line of work for a long time.

Y/N had a hard time hearing the conversation now since the wall of a man stood in front of her for her protection, but she could make out enough. "I don't care who he got the missiles from, I want to know where they are going!" she could hear Shepherd demand. This made her brows furrow, How could he not care to know where he got them from? the voice asked in her mind. Coyotes began to cackle, almost like they were there to show Hassan they were there to take him next.

And just like the random howls of the coyotes seemed, Hassan began yelling in his native language.

"I either want this bastard in permanent custody or looking up at the God damn grass!!" she heard Shepherd yell. Laswell could be heard explaining to Shepherd about how killing or keeping Hassan is an act of war and he needed to be let go.

Graves then picked up the laptop bringing it next to the truck that Y/N and Ghost were standing next to.

"Actual, let me finish this," his tone pleading.

"There is nothing I would like more, but Laswell is right. Without proof we need to turn him loose and see where he leads us."

Y/N blinked hard, looking down at her feet, then looking back up at Ghost who had turned around to look at her, clearly feeling the same way about this. Soap who was also upset about this approached the laptop quickly. All the work and men who died today, would be at the cost of nothing.

"He's right here, you can't be serious." Soap growled.

"I'm afraid I am, son." Y/N internally rolled her eyes into the back of her head, finding the use of the word of son to Soap over kill, like he was condesending Soap for feeling angry about letting Hassan go.

Ghost grabbed ahold of Hassan's phone off the truck. "Did we get anything from his phone?"

Laswell was then looking through the phone dump she had. "Affirmative, we got a hit."

"Now, take him back and let him go." Ghost nodded to Alejandro who recovered a smirking Hassan. Alejandro picked him up roughly walking him in Ghost's direction, Ghost slipping the phone back in his pocket. She felt the breeze of Hassan walking by her as Alejandro shoved him into the truck force near harsh. Soap got into the other side, Hassan in the middle while Alejandro sat on the other. Graves got into the drivers side, prepared to take them to God knows where.

Y/N gathered up her laptop heading towards the tote.

"You can go with them," she said looking up at Ghost.

"I'll stay with you," he said waving them on, watching the group drive off.

"You didn't have to," she said on one knee looking up at him gathering her cord and laptop to put back into the tote.

"And leave you to the coyotes? Nah," he said. His tone sounded a little softer to her then it had all day. She had a small smile on her face. She picked up the tote, but Ghost took it from her sliding into the back of the truck. "Thanks," she said feeling idle since he took her work from her.

They both got in the truck, doors slamming. He started the truck and headed back towards base. It was a few minutes before anything was said, making her think the drive back was going to be total silence.

"Was still a stupid fuckin' move," he said eyes still on the rough trail in front of them.

She looked over at him shocked he was still talking to her, but even more at the change of conversation. "Would you of done something differently then?" her tone taking on a higher pitch, but still firm. Her next statement lower, sounding like a warning, "You got something you want to say, say it."

"Shouldn't of been you," he finally said after a few quiet seconds, even though it felt like minutes to Y/N.

"Excuse me?"

"Shouldn't of been you, should of been me or Soap." He said looking over at her finally. Her breath hitched, but she refused to let him think anything otherwise right now.

She tried to understand how to take this, finally offense setting into her. "I'm not some little bird."

Simon diverted his eyes back to the road.

"You don't get to call it a stupid fucking move if you, or Soap would of done the same thing." Her tone still matching her last statement looking at him appalled.

"Yer' right... Sorry, it wasn't stupid, just it shouldn't have been you."

This statement confused her more.

"Why?"

"Just... just leave it, sorry I said it was stupid," his voice growing rougher, starting to be annoyed with her. She huffed, wanting to say more, but still not wanting to agitate the large man further.

The rest of the ride back to base intensely quiet, her head burning with further questions. As soon as the vehicle slowed down, she had the door open and was out of the vehicle before Ghost even had it in park. Door slamming behind her as she headed inside towards the base, leaving Ghost behind. Her plan was to head to the cot in the little room Alejandro had gave her to catch some sleep from the never ending shit show that was the day she just had.

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[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife

You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap

“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for

The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him

That one smile and he was done for

“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.

“Think that was my wife.”

“Yer what?!”

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife

Well, everyone apart from you apparently

He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves

Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case

Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course

By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway

“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”

By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and himself into you

You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing

“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand

“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book

“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips

“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch

“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him

Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses

“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind

“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white

“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”

Series masterlist

[mcntsee]

me when I reach the angst part of the angsty fic that I specifically chose for the angst

[l0velysmut]

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

[lovelyghst]

simon’s not a virgin by any means, but the first time he sinks his thick cock into your tight, sweet little cunt, he absolutely loses it.

the sugary tone in which you gave him permission to fuck you after he asked, begged you so nicely, like he was even deserving of it.

how he has to bite down on the rugged knuckle of his fist when he presses the head of his cock to your soaked cunny, failing to stifle down his groans but already too fucked-out to care whatsoever once he bottoms out (or at least as much of his cock he’s able to fit in).

the way his name spills from your puffy lips when he finally starts to move, just barely an inch in and out with each ‘thrust’ because you’re just so fucking warm and welcoming and he doesn’t want to separate from you for even a split moment.

how your fingertips lightly graze between the divots of his flexed, pronounced abs, nails raking over his skin with a softness no one has ever shown him. he’s turning greedy for you; needs more and more.

you turn dumb in a matter of seconds. so dumb, in fact, you haven’t even noticed he finished inside you the instant his cock was fully sheathed within your tummy, and how he’s already coaxing out his second load to join the first one fucked deep into your womb.

and you can’t even blame him, considering he was fucked utterly stupid from the moment he set eyes on you :(

[damnibreathealot]

first post! (kinda shit!!)

big dick simon 'ghost' riley who fucks you stupid by accident!

✎ cw: stomach bulge. no use of condom. mentions of female genitals but no gender!

simon doesn't actually mean to fuck you dumb. it's just that his cock is too big – way too big. he knows his cock size is above average and it's one of the reasons why woman avoided him in the past and rejected him. also because of his ridiculous, frightening aura...

he doesn't even know how he managed to get so lucky with you. the way you take his cock so well, letting him slip it in. inch by inch. he rubs your clit to ease you up, to help you accommodate to his size a lot better and when he gets your sign to let him continue.

he drags his hips back and forth. his tip kissing your cervix with ease slow thrust. he makes sure to be gentle with you, he knows how big he is, and he knows that you can't take it quick at first.

he peppers you with kisses while drawing 8's against your puffy clit. he pays close attention to your expression, noticing your already fucked out face. tears building up in your eyes, eyebrows furrowed, mouth wide open, letting out plenty of moans.

he chuckles, "barley did anything to you and you're already out of your mind."

he moves his hips a bit faster, feeling the familiar clench of your cunt wrapping around his cock. he groans as his cock forming a bulge in your stomach. he grabs your hand and makes you feel it. he does this every time, and it never fails to heighten your arousal. he rubs your clit faster along with moving his hips faster until you both crash from your high.

[sunni-stuff]

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Reader who gets pregnant off of a one night stand with some soldier during armed forces day, showing your appreciation for his service a little too well.

You had a support system, friends who joked about you having way too much fun, hence your predicament, others already offering to buy things for the baby and your parents who couldn't be happier to meet their grandchild.

But what about the father?

Well, it's not exactly like you could track him down. Fuck, you didn't even know the man's name, only how he made you feel, his filthy words strumming in your ear, big hands tight around your waist, hips slamming away in a desperate chase.

Let's forget how you leg-locked him.

When your daughter was born, everything changed, and time slowed down. She was a quiet baby, barely crying or having any outbursts like a normal child would but outspoken in her own little way. That chunky thing came out of the womb with a glare. Brown eyes staring down anyone and everyone but you.

That's something she definitely got from her father. You vividly remember how his umber eyes watching you from across the bar. He was like an eagle waiting for the perfect moment to strike his prey. A perfect soldier.

So, you named your daughter Adira in memory of his strength. That's one thing he could have.

Adira loved to be by your side. Her chubby cheeks pressed into the nook of your neck, holding you close with strength of a thousand babies. Your clingy little thing was a koala, always by her mommy's side, never straying far no matter how curious she got. When she learned to walk, her favorite thing became to hug your leg, especially while in stores. She hated people, wearing a tiny scowl whenever customers passed by tucking herself closer to you.

Maybe it was a good thing her father wasn't around. Having to compete for her first words would've been a bloodbath.

You spent two years in bliss. The fact that you were a single mother an afterthought to raising what you considered a blessing.

With Adira's second Christmas coming up, you wanted to do something special. She loved trains and found them absolutely amusing, often mimicking the honk as she ran around your apartment. Thankfully, there was a train ride for kids around the park during this time of year.

Here, you stood in line, bundled up to the nines. Big poofy coat, warm gloves, and fuzzy boots. As the crowd moved, Adira clung close, arms wrapped around your leg, glowering at any passerby with an annoyed look on her rosy cheeks.

That one was new. Maybe something else she got from her father.

The two of you took steps in tow, keeping Adira close and comfortable as the train came into view. Her expression shifted, excitement palpable. "Twain!" She squealed, jumping up and down.

Before you could respond to Adira's childlike joy, a man bumped into you by accident, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He turns to look at you, blue eyes meeting yours, but you were too focused on the weird ass Mohawk on his head.

People wore still those?

"Sorry bout that lass." The man starts to apologize, a Scottish accent lacing his voice.

That breaks your stare, laughing awkwardly to mask your wandering gaze. "Oh no, it's fine. You should be careful. you might slip on ice."

He nods, giving you a kind smile. The Scottish man starts to leave, but the look your kid was giving him sent shivers down his spine.

Little Adira was giving him a fierce stare down from behind your leg before ultimately cutting her eyes at him as if he were merely a nuisance.

"Next in line! Mctavish!"

The man doesn't stay after that. You assume that it was him they were calling with the way he hurried off. Hope he doesn't fall, seemed like a nice guy.

Soap can't help but do a double take when be gets to the front. The little rascal was wearing his Lieutenants face, hawk eyeing anyone who dared got to close. It was like looking in a mirror.

He nudged Gaz, making a gesture to look back without making it obvious. "See the lass and her bairn in line?"

Gaz gives him a raised brow, looking back for a second before turning around. "There's a lot of kids with their mother's, Johnny."

Soap glances back, double checking to make sure you were still in line. “The lass with the wee one—she’s got the same wicked look as Lt. You cannae miss her.”

Gaz rolls his eyes but humors Soap by looking once more, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on a little girl already mean-mugging him from a distance. He swiftly turns around, blinking in surprise, trying to comprehend what he saw. "Uh..."

Soap only nods in agreement. That was Ghost's face, on a kid no less. He wastes no time, elbowing Roach and getting him to look back as well, leaving the other Sergeant in the same shock as Gaz. "That is not a face a kid should have."

"Agreed." Gaz added, shuddering at the thought.

"Where's the cap?" Soap asks, the train ride no longer feeling like fun now that he’s discovered the jackpot.

"Market place with Lt. for cigs," Gaz knowingly remarked, remembering that Price had run out on their way here.

"Well, let's go show them a Christmas miracle," Soap shot up from his seat all too eagerly.

The sergeants just got their Christmas present.

[frogs-crackcorner]

It's nearly one am when Simon stumbles out of the bar. The team was in Berlin for an operation but they had wrapped that up yesterday. Their flight home wasn't scheduled till the next day so they had decided to enjoy the sights and activities. And you can't visit the beer capital of the world without getting a pint, Soap had pointed out. So they stopped by the pub. One pint turned into two, two turned into three. Now he was, staggering down the streets of Berlin with only one goal in mind.

He needed to get home to the missus.

Simon didn't get very far away from the bar before Soap noticed his absence. Soap gently steers him back to the bar. Simon loosely swats at him.

"She'll be u'set if 'm naw home," Simon slurs at him. Soap chuckles and nods.

"I know. But you canny just waltz out on us," he says, pushing Simon into a seat. Simon huffs and begins to stand again, wobbling just a bit.

"Sit yer ass down. We'll call the missus, right?", Soap offers. After fumbling his phone for a minute and trying to get the password typed in, Soap helps Simon call you.

"Hi, honey. How is it going?", your voice rings through the phone. Simon gives you a drunken grin.

" 'llo love," he slurs. You giggle at his love drunk expression.

"Hi baby. Had a bit to drink?," you chuckle.

"He near tried to walk himself home," Soap shouts to you. You laugh harder. Simon wrinkles his nose at Soap, still displeased with being kept there.

" 'm sorry, love. I won't be home in time for dinner," he rumbles. He looks so sad. Big brown eyes staring down at the phone, lip poked out in a small pout. You wipe a tear of laughter from your eye.

"Oh honey, I think it's past dinner time."

[hidingwhere]

Husband Simon Riley who has scared the shit out of you so many times and so badly that on certain occasions you’ve almost cried.

He doesn’t do it on purpose; he swears. He’s just so silent when he moves that you don’t even realise he’s right behind you until you turn around and let out a loud scream.

One night, you’d gotten up in the middle of the night to go to the toilet. You couldn’t be bothered to turn the light on in your on-suite but as you were washing your hands, your saw a massive figure in the doorway. You let out a blood-curdling scream, only realising it was Simon when he switched on the light and looked at you as if he were crazy.

However, when he saw you tip your head into your hands and saw your shoulders shake, heavy with emotion from fear and shock, he knew he had messed up. He gently pulled you into his arms, carrying you back to bed and apologising profusely.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you that bad.”

“Should’ve spoken so you knew I was there, yeah?”

He makes it up to you eventually and promises to start speaking whenever he walks behind you in the future.

[7s3ven]

tatted! simon motorcycle shenanigans

TATTED UP! Simon Riley who lets you turn him into a colouring book. He doesn’t care how you colour his tattoos, he just wants to see the scrunched up look of concentration on your cute face.

“What colour do you want?” You murmur as you glance at your numerous eyeshadow palettes. Simon wants to say black or grey but he sees the way you eye the pink palette for a moment too long.

“… Pink.” He finally answers, his gaze focused solely on your bright smile.

You find joy in colouring his arm with various shades of pink and purple as he watches. “Look, so cute.” You murmur, eliciting a low laugh from Simon.

“Yeah.” His voice rumbles, “You wanna colour the rest in?”

BONUS

“Aye, LT, you got your tattoo redone or what?” Jonny can barely hold back his laughter as he looks at Simon’s arm. The previously edgy tattoos were now adorned with feminine colours and glitter.

“No. Just making the misses happy.” Simon doesn’t really care for his teammates’ reactions because the memory of your smile is enough to block out Jonny’s cackles.

[quarterlifekitty]

Lately I’ve been getting a kick outta the idea of Ghost having a girlfriend that Johnny is painfully interested in (tale as old as time). But she a lil neurodivergent and selectively mute (edit; I originally labeled reader as non-verbal, but I was made aware mutism more accurately describes this!). She’s comfortable enough with Simon that she’ll talk to him when they’re alone, but she won’t say a word to Soap (she doesn’t talk to the other guys either, but you know that Johnny chooses to take it so damned personally).

The worst part is that Soap will say shit to her, and she’ll give Simon her little signal so he can bend down and she can talk to him so fucking quietly. It’s like they speak a different language and Simon is the interpreter. And it’s so infuriating to him because shit like this will happen.

“Ain’t you looking a right picture, bonnie— that dress new? Fits ye like a damned glove, sweetheart.”

You tug on Simon’s sleeve so he can lean down. Soap is rocking back and forth on his heels, anticipating an answer. He’s down so bad, he doesn’t even care that he’ll hear it from Simon’s lips and not yours. You whisper for what feels like minutes on end.

“She says thanks.”

“God damn, L.T.— you know she fuckin’ ‘ad to ‘ave said more than that!” He whines indignantly, Simon smirking. Simon knows all about his little crush, and chooses to let the lad suffer. His time will come when you’re ready.

This goes on and on for months on end— and you know what? It’s hard for Johnny to jerk off to the image of you wedged between him and Ghost when he has no idea what you sound like, moaning or otherwise. You can probably see him half hard in his jeans every time he heads home from a movie night with you and Simon.

“G’night, L.T. Night, hen.” Soap’s almost all the way down the walkway when he hears something almost inaudible over the ambient sounds of the night.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

Now that’s gonna keep his fantasies fed for weeks.

[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

[rememberwren]

Thinking about how when you’re drunk—and I mean really drunk—you get it in your head to catcall men. They could use a little harassment. When you reach that point, your friends immediately know it’s time to cut you off, acting like the Secret Service as they usher you out of the bar and towards the Uber. But they couldn’t anticipate the group of men standing outside the bar swapping laughs and smoking.

Of course you pick the scariest one of the lot and:

“Hey!” you shout, half giggling. “Hey—you, in the mask!”

The man turns. You can’t see his mouth with the surgical mask in place but you can tell his eyebrows are raised. He’s fucking huge, towering over his counterparts (who are nothing to sniff at), thick and strong. His head cocks in silent question.

“Can I get your number?” you shout, licking your friend’s hand when she slaps it over your mouth. All your friends rush to brush the guy off, but he’s already ashing his cigarette under his boot, slipping his hands into his pocket, and crossing the street quietly.

He stays a healthy distance away, aware of how it looks: a man his size approaching a group of young, inebriated women. You think he’s come to harass you in return, or maybe just to mock you—either way you are stunned silent, mouth agape, eyes wide. He’s so much taller up this close.

“Got a pen?” he asks.

He only approaches then, shoulders hunched to make himself appear smaller and innocuous. He takes your hand in his own and writes his phone number on your forearm.

When you wake up hungover the next morning, his number is there on your arm along with a reminder that you hadn’t been able to see in the dim lighting of the parking lot: XXX-XXXX—S. Drink water.

[mcntsee]

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

[lxvvie]

Simon doesn't think he's ever tasted something so good in his fuckin' life before.

He didn't know what he was in for this time when he got back from deployment, and nicotine and whiskey ain't got shit on this. Poor bastard can't remember the last time he had something so good invade his senses like this.

You said you had a treat for him, made him lay down, and promptly sat on his face, and Simon was fuckin' gone. Don't know what the fuck possessed him but he took one whiff and was instantly hooked.

Simon feasted on your cunt like a man starved. Tongue, lips, fingers, you name it. Anything to get his fix, anything to make you moan.

Anything to make you cum.

Didn't let up for shit, not even to breathe, and when you voiced your concern while whimpering and trembling, Simon didn't give a fuck and still continued to love on your pretty cunt because where the bloody fuck are you going?

Shut up. Shut the hell up and let him make you cum, sweetheart.

Actions have consequences. Shouldn't have made him feel so bloody good, shouldn't have poked at the beast, and he'd be damned if he didn't think this was the best post-deployment gift he's ever gotten. Better than the nicotine high or occasional pity wank.

Fuck, it's been so long and he's absolutely disgusting about it.

And Simon's aware of it all, the way his cock is so hard it's bloody painful and leaking in his pants, the way you're grinding on his face, smothering it and fucking his mouth (don't you dare stop, either), and how his everything is consumed by you. You coat his stubble, fill his nostrils up with your scent, his tastebuds are fired up—bloody hell, need he explain more?

Simon could die a happy man right now, and what would his gravestone say? Here Lies Simon Riley, Died Eating Cunt.

He'd chuckle if he wasn't too busy at the moment. Shit, he probably did if the way you're moaning is any indication. That felt good, didn't it, sweetheart?

It's your turn now to say his name like a prayer and believe in him just as he believes in you.

And it's the best fucking thing to ever bless his ears.

--

Turning Simon Out: Part I and Part II.

[readwritealldayallnight]

“Since you’re always stealing my water bottle, I got you your own. Look, even got it in your favourite colour!” You announce proudly, setting his new bottle down on the counter.

“S’not my favourite…” he murmurs barely loud enough for you to hear, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s saying it aloud.

“What’s that, Si?”

“Black’s not my favourite colour.” He replies more steadily this time, surprising you with his answer.

“Oh. Really?” You clarify, to which he gives you a single curt nod. “I just thought- I mean everything you wear is black.”

“S’true.” He agrees, tilting his head to one side, as though he’s considering this for the first time himself. “Never really thought ‘bout it, but suppose it was, ‘til recently.”

“Why? What’s your favourite colour now?” You ask, curious to know what changed for him to have a new favourite colour all of a sudden.

Simon comes around closer to where you’re standing, leaning down enough to be face to face, gazing straight into your eyes as he holds a single finger up and points towards your eyes saying:

“Those right there, love. Most beautiful colour there is.”

“Also I’m probably still jus’ gonna drink from your bottle.”

“Simon, NO.”