#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.

prev.

next.

[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.

[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:

[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.

[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 in 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 his cock 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

[maskedbyghost]

when simon wakes up in a hospital, the last thing you expect is for him to grab your hand, pull you close, and say, “hey, there you are, love.” his voice is so soft, so sure, it leaves you speechless. you stare at him, half in shock, because this is ghost—simon riley, the one person who’s kept every feeling locked up.

“simon, do you… do you remember anything?” you ask, testing the waters.

he blinks, looking at you with confidence. “of course, i remember. you’re my wife.”

you freeze. his wife? this is new, and you’re not sure where he got the idea, but before you can correct him, johnny walks in, taking one look at the two of you and biting back a grin. he leans in, whispering to you, “maybe just… go with it for now, eh?” he’s got that teasing glint in his eye, and something tells you there’s no harm in humoring simon for a bit, if it can be helpful for his recovery.

so, you go along with it. and to your surprise, simon doesn’t act confused—in fact, he’s more open with you than he’s ever been. suddenly, he’s holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world, always looking for you, keeping you close, calling you “love” or “darlin’” in front of everyone. he’s even got that soft smile every time you catch his eye, one that makes it hard to remember this isn’t real.

the team’s amused but supportive, playing along with the whole story. simon keeps asking you little things, like what your favorite meal is, or how you usually spend your days when he’s away, as if filling in gaps in a life he believes you share. you find yourself answering with things that feel so genuine, and the way he listens—focused, attentive—feels more intimate than anything you’ve shared before.

one day, you’re patching up a minor scrape on his hand, and he just watches you, eyes soft, like he’s memorizing every detail. “i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. it’s so genuine, so open, that for a second, you forget it’s all just part of his memory loss.

then, one night, he pulls you close, resting his forehead against yours, eyes serious. “do you ever think about us?” he asks softly, like he’s trying to get at something just out of reach. “how we’d be if things were… different?”

you’re not sure how to answer because there’s no script for this. “sometimes,” you admit, feeling a pang of something deep and unspoken. and for the first time, you’re almost grateful he can’t remember—because maybe, just maybe, it’s the only reason he’s letting himself be this vulnerable with you.

as the days pass, you start catching little glimpses, small things that make you wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on. he catches you watching him once, and instead of asking why, he just gives you this little smile, one that feels like he’s in on the secret. and just when you’re starting to think this is all some kind of twisted dream, he pulls you aside.

“i know i’m supposed to remember,” he whispers, “but i don’t want this to end. not yet.”

it’s in that moment you realize the truth. he’s been aware all along—he’s been pretending just as much as you, holding on to this fragile, temporary illusion because, maybe, he needs it just as much as you do.

--------------------------------------------

hii!! i'm backkk!! send some requests plsss, byee <333

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving

[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.

[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.

[ghouljams]

Absolutely cannot have fresh shaved/waxed pussy around the 141 boys.

Soap will cry over it, mourning the loss of your bush and "talking his girl(your pussy) through the loss" ie fingering you until you're soaked and sore as punishment.

Price will make it his mission to give you beard burn, shaking his head like a damn dog while he's eating you out, scratching the hell out of your pussy and thighs with his beard. He's trying to bleach the damn thing you just know it.

Ghost is the worst. Taking the opportunity to leave his dental imprint in the soft flesh surrounding your clit. He's going to bite until you're sobbing just to see the dimpled marks he's left.

At least Gaz is sweet. Pressing little kisses over the newly shaved/waxed skin, giving your clit soft little licks and pulling back to rub his fingers against your clit with gentle praises. Until you realize he's been doing that for the last hour, giving you just enough to keep you making those nice breathy noises but never giving you more. Maybe you should try Soap again...

[khioneee]

simon’s first instinct was always to protect you—before himself, before anyone or anything else. whether in dangerous situations or small, everyday moments, his reflexes kicked in without hesitation. every action was a subtle yet undeniable promise: i’ll always keep you safe.

sidewalk rule? it was non-negotiable. he always made sure he was between you and the street, shielding you from traffic. if you drifted too close to the curb, his hand would find the small of your back, guiding you firmly to his side.

“stay here,” he would murmur, his tone gentle yet resolute, as if daring the world to try anything.

whenever the car came to a sudden halt, simon’s arm instinctively shot out in front of you, bracing against your chest. the seatbelt should’ve been enough, but he never trusted anything more than his own reflexes.

“you alright?” he’d ask, his hand lingering just a little longer, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

in a crowded space, simon always led the way, carving a path with his broad frame. his hand would stay on yours or at your back, making sure you stayed close. and on a full train, he caged you in without hesitation, using his size to shield you from the press of strangers. his arms rested casually against the poles, but his stance was clear—no one would get too close.

whether you were climbing into the car or walking through a door, simon’s hand would always reach out to guide your head, ensuring you didn’t bump it. in the kitchen, he’d gently tilt your head away from open cabinets, all without thinking. it was pure instinct—small actions that spoke louder than words.

one night at 3 a.m., a car backfired down the street, the sound tearing through the stillness. before you could even react, simon had you pinned beneath him, his body shielding yours entirely. his heart raced, convinced it was a bomb. even after realizing it wasn’t, he didn’t let go, whispering against your ear, “i’ve got you, lovie.”

you could wear whatever you wanted—simon never cared. he wasn’t possessive, but confident. no one would dare glance too long in your direction, not with him at your side. and if anyone was foolish enough to try, one sharp look from simon was enough to make them think twice.

with simon, protection wasn’t just instinct—it was devotion. in every gesture, every glance, every step, he ensured you knew: your safety will always come first. because to simon, loving you meant keeping you safe—always, no matter the cost.

[beloveds-embrace]

Telling Ghost/König you are too heavy for him to pick up or sit on his face, and he doesn’t say anything at first so you think he just accepted it even if your heart kinda twinged a little in pain because you know you are just not skinny enough-

Only for him to send you a video the next day: in the gym, looking mighty hot in a compression shirt and sweatpants just a touch low on his hips, and lifting a bar with ease. On a closer look? The weighs attached to the bar weigh far more than you do. And he so easily maneuvers and controls and manhandles it…

Between the heat curling in your stomach, face pink and thighs clenched shut, you almost miss the incoming text.

Never too heavy for me, doll.

[majinbangus]

You're sprawled on the couch when he comes in the room, eyes zeroing in on you instantly. He doesn't give you the chance to greet him, stalking up to you as if you're his prey. Which, in this moment, you probably are.

It's not hard to tell he's still in that soldier headspace he gets stuck in sometimes. He looks tired. Stressed.

You're about to get up and ask him what he wants, what he needs, once he's looming over you, but the words die out when his hands shoot out and start squeezing your breasts.

You don't stop him, but you do laugh a little, incredulous. "What are you doing?"

"Fluffin' your tits." He's gruff, both in tone and groping. "What's it look like?"

"That's not how- nevermind." You chuckle and fondly roll your eyes. "Why?"

"Cuz they're mine," he says as if that's reason enough, and you suppose it is.

He let's go to get on the couch with you, batting your legs open to settle between them. The man practically flops on top of you with enough force to push an oof out of your lungs, but you can tell he's careful not to crush you entirely. His arms shove underneath your body, squeezing tight as he nuzzles his face against your newly fluffed breasts. You bring a hand up to scratch the back of his scalp the way you know he likes, and he sighs, melting into your body.

"Just like a big baby." Your chest bounces with silent laughter, and he gives a little sleepy warning nip to your clothed breast.

"Stop gigglin'. Tryna nap."

You almost laugh harder. He's not dispproving your point, but if this is what he needs, who are you to deny him?

"Alright, alright, I'll let my soldier rest." You calm yourself, softening your voice. "And I'll be here when you wake, too."

You know you're forgiven when he grunts and presses a kiss to where he bit.

[mcntsee]

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

[tojisun]

sugar daddy simon but he doesn’t know how this arrangement actually works so sometimes, in the middle of the night, you get a wire transfer.

you would always send simon a message regarding the recent activity on your account; what once started as, “hi mr. riley, it seems like you have made an incorrect deposit into my account,” turned into, “????” because of how frequent it got.

sometimes, simon has legitimate reasons — “i want to see you tomorrow,” or “i’m taking you to the bahamas this weekend.”

but often, his reason is just — “i’m thinking about you.”

this one makes your heart churn the most, and you insist on returning the money back to him because thinking about you isn’t worth five-thousand pounds directly transferred into your account. but simon insists; says you’re too good for him so you deserve more than he could offer.

(“but i’m a jealous man,” he grunted in your ear when he had you bent over his island. “so yer mine, aren’t y’kid? all mine?”

you moaned out your yes’s, nodding and crying out that no one does it better than him. that no one could ever compare; no one could come close.)

he is… an odd man. you love him, in spite of.

you still remember the first time this whole wiring money happened, and after his comfort and placations, you had at least offered to meet up with him to make his deposit worth more than his thoughts about you, but simon had just…

> Oh. I’m out of the country.

yeah. he’s your strange dork. your beloved daddy.

(you’d kill for him.)

[deargaz]

i do usually stick with the idea that simon’s got some insane stamina and can go for multiple rounds but something about simon being spent after one round is just so hilarious to me.

in his defense, your tight cunt’s, well, too greedy — sucking his poor cock into her until he’s all drained out and just laying limp on the bed, trying to catch his breath, fearing for his life too maybe.

“you’re tired?” you asked, the genuine innocence in your voice making him grumble, his hand gesturing you on top of him. not your fault, anyone would assume this big guy’s got more in his store.

“not really been doin’ all this before meetin’ you, love. don’t have the time in my job.” he panted softly, calloused hands gripping your hips as you settled on top of him.

“but you have time for me?” you smiled. his heart skipped a beat, and in that moment, he had decided that if he’d die like this, this was the best way.

“fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon is aware of his size.

Ever since he’d shot up a foot and began towering over his teachers in school, he’d grown used to the surprised looks and stares that sometimes followed his large stature.

It wasn’t something that bothered him. Honestly, it came with too many advantages for him to care whether it led to more eyes on him in public spaces or having to duck through shorter entry ways.

It wasn’t something he spent much time thinking about either. He was just tall, all there was to it.

Until you came into his life.

Until suddenly the size difference between you two wasn’t just something that wandering eyes would notice, but apparently something to be envied.

He notices the way other women keep stealing glances over at the two of you, as Simon effortlessly lifts you in his arms, sometimes holding you up against a large muscular shoulder, as you reach to pick the best looking apples off the branches at the orchard. Those women are fidgeting with their baskets as their partners attempt to climb short ladders and shake loose some of the fruit, unaware to the way their ladies are all imagining what it would be like to be in your place right now.

He notices the way a young woman in the grocery store blatantly stares at the way he casually plucks the jar off the very top shelf that you had been straining on tip toes to reach. He drops it into your shopping cart with a smile, watching as the woman’s gaze shifts to the difference in your hands as he interlocks his fingers through yours.

Even you can’t help but to notice the way a group of mums giggle and swoon as your mountain of a man casually untangles the bunch of balloons that had gotten caught in a tree, returning it to the young boy who was celebrating his birthday party in the park you two had been strolling through.

Oh yes, Simon’s large size came with an endless list of advantages.

But the very best parts of his stature, the toe-curling, heart-racing, slick producing advantages to his size, well, those were kept between you, him, and your bedsheets.