That moment when, you feel pressured and then hopeless to the point that you feel like drowning in anxiety about the future and you can't even talk to someone about it without sounding needy, desperate, inconsiderate, selfish, and all those other things.
You won’t lie, you spend the next few minutes just standing in the doorway, watching the spot where the car Simon had gotten into, disappeared. Riley stayed by your side the whole time, letting you scratch his head absentmindedly. Only when goosebumps rose on your thighs, and the first neighbors left their houses, did you move back and closed the doors, a heavy sigh leaving your lips.
As you looked around, a frown took over your face. You were alone. In your boyfriend’s house. With his dog. That thought made you look down, and you smiled at Riley. “So? What do you usually do when he’s gone.” You didn’t expect anything to be honest, maybe a confused head tilt. But instead, you watched as he turned around and sat down in front of the door, looking at it. The quiet chuckle that tumbled from your lips filled the space as you crouched down beside him. “You wait for him, hm? Well, this time, you won’t be waiting alone.”
As if he understood what you said, he gently knocked his head against yours, before standing up and trotting toward the bedroom. You quietly followed, growing tired once again, and a day in bed sounded like heaven, but when you entered the bedroom and watched as Riley curled up on Simon’s side, you noticed something resting on his pillow.
With a frown, you climbed onto the mattress and picked up the folded piece of paper, chuckling once you saw the chicken scratch Simon must call handwriting. But it fit him.
Heya love,
‘know it must be weird being here alone right now, and I’m really sorry I had to leave. Not how I imagined our time together. Feel free to explore the house, nothing’s off limits. You can also use my PC to game and if you’d like, stream. I removed the pin, so you have free access. I also left my card in the kitchen. Please use it if you need to buy anything. Riley is easy, he’ll let you know if he needs something. If you don’t want to take him out, the kids from the right hand neighbors love to take him on walks and play with him, I already let them know that you may drop by. I also asked…someone…to keep you up to date as much as possible, so don’t be surprised if you get texts from a random, American number. I hope I’ll be back soon.
Thinking of you, always,
Simon
You smiled, reading through it, before pressing a soft kiss to it and putting it ion your nightstand. Then, you cuddled up with Riley, and fell asleep. Your heart lighter and a smile still on your face.
Next Part | Coming Friday the 4th
A/N: I know it's not much, I'm just so freaking tired (and relieved).
Also, let me know if you want to be on the perma taglist! Just say if you want all of COD or specific characters. Although I mostly post Ghost.
Soft kisses pressed to your bare shoulder roused you from your sleep. You were still in Simon’s arms, his chest pressed against your back, as he held you tight, and it should’ve been a blissful moment. You should’ve been able to turn around, smile at him, and kiss him, but before you even had a moment to enjoy it, dread filled you, and you remembered what was about to happen.
Before you could stop yourself, tears began to roll down your cheeks, and silent sobs shook you. “Love…” Without saying a word, you turned in his arms and buried your face in his chest. “I don’t want you to go.” He sighed, his arms tightening around you. “I know…and I don’t want to go. But I’ll come back to you, I swear.” You glanced up, tearfully looking at him, before slowly nodding. You had no other choice but to believe him.
After a few more minutes of cuddles, Simon reluctantly pulled away, leaving you with a forehead kiss, before he went and took a shower. For a bit, you just listened to the water, trying your best to ban the images of an injured or even dead Simon from your mind. But soon, the images got the upper hand, and you decided that just staying in bed would only make it worse.
With a heavy sigh, as if all of this would only now really happen, you got out of bed, pulled on one of Simon’s shirts, and padded to the kitchen. There was little you could do, but you could at least send him off with a good breakfast. So, you got to work, cooking whatever you could think of, even if it was way too much. You’d just pack it up, so he could bring the others the leftovers.
But the routine of cooking just made you get lost in your mind again, and before you knew it, silent tears hit the counter, as you stared at it. You didn’t even hear him enter the room, instead getting startled when two strong arms wrapped around you. “I’ll be fine, luv. I’ve always been fine, that won’t change, yeah?”
Quickly, you wiped the tears away, trying to finally put a brave face on, before turning to look at him. “Yeah…I’m sorry.” Simon smiled, pressing his lips to yours for a quick peck. “Don’t apologize for worrying about me. ‘t’s been a long time since someone has. Well, aside from the boys.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the last time, although curiosity filled you at his words. Simon immediately noticed, his smile turning sad. “I’ll tell you when I’m back. For now, let’s eat. I have to leave soon.”
You spent breakfast sitting on Simon’s lap, barely touching your food, only eating whatever Simon fed you. Once done, you accompanied him to the bedroom, where you watched him get dressed for a bit, before you also reached for your clothes, but he stopped you. “What’re ya doin’?” You frowned, glancing from your clothes to him. “Getting dressed? I’m not taking the train in just your shirt.” He smirked for a moment before pulling you closer by your hip. “I…I wouldn’t mind if you want to stay here…wait for me.”
You felt your cheeks heat up, but quickly nodded. “Yeah, I’ll wait for you. And take care of Riley.” Your eyes drifted over to the pup that had been following you around the entire morning. Simon chuckled, placing another peck on your lips. “Good.” Then, he continued to get dressed. Meanwhile, you went back to the kitchen and packed up the leftover breakfast and put everything in a bag.
Too soon, Simon was pulling on his boots while you stood beside him, not knowing what to do. So, you just watched. Watched as he tied the laces, as he stood back up, as he grabbed his mask and stuffed it into a pocket, as he turned to look at you. Before he could say something, you held out the bag. “For the guys…the leftovers from breakfast.” He nodded with a smile before gently placing the bag on the floor. Then you were in his arms.
“I’ll have Laswell keep you up to date.” You nodded against his chest, trying your hardest not to cry. “I also left my card on the kitchen table. Use it to buy whatever you need, yeah? And I mean whatever.” You nodded again, barely paying attention to his words, at least not until he started to pull away.
Immediately, panic filled your veins, and you dug your fingers into his shirt. “No! No, please, I…just a bit longer.” Without a word, he pulled you closer again, burying his nose in your hair. And you stayed like that until a honk startled you. Simon sighed, pulling away a bit. “Tha’s Johnny.” He looked down at you, gently cupping your cheek. “I love you.”
Three words. You’ve been so good at holding back, but those three words broke the dam. Tears filled your eyes. “I love you too, Si.” But when he leaned down to capture your lips with his, you stopped him. “N-No…it…it feels like a goodbye kiss. And…we’re not saying goodbye, just see you soon, right?” He smiled, almost grinned, and nodded. “Yeah…see you soon, love.”
With those words, he picked up the bag, pressed one last kiss to your forehead, and opened the door. After one last glance at you, he walked to the waiting car, and you watched him, awful scenarios filling your head. Before you knew it, you yelled his name and watched as he turned around to look at you, before sprinting to him.
The bag fell to the ground as he caught you, immediately capturing your lips with his. As your legs wrapped around his waist and you got lost in the feeling of him against you, you didn’t care that you were kissing him in public. In full sight of his neighbors and his teammate. All you cared about was that he was here and that he was kissing you.
When you pulled apart, he smirked as he brushed his nose against you. “I thought you didn’t want a goodbye kiss.” You smiled at him. “That wasn’t a goodbye kiss, it was a see you soon kiss.” Simon chuckled, connecting your lips again for a short moment, before he walked back to his front door. Only when he stood in the doorway did he set you down.
“I’ll be back soon, wait for me?” You smiled and nodded. “I’ll be here.”
Next Part | Coming Monday the 23rd
A/N: Honestly...I completely forgot what was going to happen when I was writing the smut for the last parts. Hit myself with some surprise angst lmao.
Also, let me know if you want to be on the perma taglist! Just say if you want all of COD or specific characters. Although I mostly post Ghost.
sfw + nsfw + plot + simon riley x fem!reader
wc: 1.3k
wanting independence, you buy a home. yes, it was a fixer-upper. but, who said your neighbor couldn't help?
pt. 2
home depot was...
something else, you described it.
could barely look around without a man coming up and seeing if you needed help or wanted to ask you what you were doing that you needed such tools; just a sander and a bauer drill.
"sugar, what are you doing with such tools? your man ain't here to help ya out?" the employee said condescendingly.
fucking men and trying to mansplain shit.
you were trying to be polite, "uh, sir, i'm fine. just trying to look around-"
"how about you come back with your man? he'll know what to get for whatever you're doing, alright sugar?"
you just stared at him. stared at him because who has the audacity to be misogynstic in the 21st century?
see, you were about to tell him off, shout loudly that he should go fuck off and stick his fist somewhere where it doesn't shine.
until a very familiar, a very deep voice was directly behind you.
"honey, you find what you needed?"
simon.
you turned around to find him, a little too close for people who just met the day before. shoulders directly in front of your face and his eyes on the employee who just wouldn't leave you the fuck alone.
also, honey?
your mouth was slightly ajar, but you closed it and nodded your head. "yeah...i did." you said, looking back at the employee.
the employee who was as stupid as ever, decided to start talking again. "you must be her husband! see, i told her to wait for you to make sure you got the right tools and whatnot, but-"
"now why the fuck would you do that?" simon's voice was dangerous, but oh-so tranquil. like he knew the employee wouldn't think about doing this again.
the employee just blinked and stuttered his next words a little.
"what was that? because the next words out of your mouth better be an apology to my wife."
my wife. goddamn did that sound good coming from his mouth.
"a-ah, yes, i'm so sorry ma'am. very sorry, my apologies." that apology was quick and certain as he walked away from both of you.
a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding left you as you turned around to your neighbor. "god- thank you so much for that. he would not leave me alone."
"just being a misogynistic prick." simon rasped, his eyes went to the two tools in your hands.
"drill and sander? fixing that porch o'yours?"
you smiled up at him, "yes sir, that i am. i know we only exchanged a few words but you were right. i am really excited to fix this house." his eyes darkened ever-so-slightly at the 'sir'. you didn't know what that was about.
you looked at his hands; empty. "what are you here for, then?" you asked.
"nosy neighbor." he said gruffly, but there was an upturn in his lips. "just here for trash bags. out of them."
you nodded, the silence filled the isle. a comfortable one. until- an idea struck you.
"want to help me out a little, simon?" you asked, a pleading tone in your voice.
"oh lord." was all simon said before getting swept up in your home depot shopping spree.
‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵
he helped you put the planks of new wood into your small car, along with the two tools and nails you'd purchased.
"i'll meet you back at your house." simon said, closing your trunk.
you raised an eyebrow.
"you wanna help with this home renovation?" you say, perplexed at his assertion.
"wouldn't be good neighbor if i didn't help, would i, love?"
jesus fuckin' christ, his accent and rough voice could probably make you come on the spot-
you just laughed a little, "whatever you say, simon. i'll make us some coffee, because lord knows we are going to need it."
he gave you a look, his eyes. they say a lot. they're pretty, and tell a story. you just don't know what story.
‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵
back at your house, you stepped through the door with simon trailing behind you. you both got home at about the the same time, since his car was basically following yours.
the sigh that left his mouth was disgruntled.
"jesus christ, woman, are you sure you're livin' 'ere?"
you planted your hand at your chest, a mocking shock of offensiveness. "don't be mean to my house! it's a work in progress. she just...isn't furnished yet."
he opened your fridge. "nor stocked with food yet." he said, closing it and looking at you with a look as he tilted his head.
you tilted your head back at him, hands on your hips. giving him the same look.
"don't get bratty with me, honey." he said, using the nickname from earlier on you, the way he said it was rough. "get some food in here." he said before walking around your island to sit on one of chairs you did have.
you rolled your eyes and started making coffee.
‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵
music played from your speaker sat on your driveway as you and him pulled the old, rotten boards up and threw them in a pile.
after that, the real work started. fresh, new wooden boards, nails and your drill and hammer. sweat dripped down the sides of your temple as you and simon worked hand in hand, surprisingly. he needed nails, you knew which ones. you needed a piece of wood, he was already handing you one.
you and him were about seventy-five percent done, when you went into the house to wet two rags and came back out with them, handing one to simon. "i underestimated how fucking hot it would be out here." you swore, putting the cold, wet rag on your forehead, which felt absolutely heavenly.
simon laughed. a small, but full laugh, as he put the wet washcloth also on his forehead, standing up to see the progression. "oh, look at that. almost done, aren't we?"
you smiled at him then looked at the porch, yes, the porch was almost done. first home change and it looked pretty fucking nice.
you spoke, "20 bucks says we get this done today."
simon immediately retorted, "how about a beer says we get this done today? cause i ain't takin' your money, love." he says with a small smirk.
"but, i was going to pay you for helping me-"
"and tha' money would end up back in your hands. not taking money from you. today was nice, and i offered." simon said with a tilt of his head.
you sighed, your shoulders shrugging a little. "okay, if that's fine with you." you stretched and put the washcloth back on your forehead, letting it rest there for a moment before pulling it off. "let's get this porch done, then." you said with a small, tired smile.
‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵
the sun was setting before simons and yours eyes. what a pretty view. you and him shared one last beer of yours as you promised to get more at the store later on in the week.
you and him sat on the two steps that lead up to your new porch. you gave the last of the beer over to him, "thanks for your help today, simon. it was really fun. very neighborly of you."
he laughed and shook his head as he downed the rest of the beer, "no need for thanks, just happy to help. don't do much, so it was a nice change of routine for an old man like me."
you rolled your eyes, and shoved his shoulder lightly, "bee-keeping age." you reminded him.
as he gruffly chuckled at your statement, your phone pinged. you grabbed your phone out of your pocket and saw it was from one of your friend from college, ava. a simple text of 'how's that house doing?'
you smiled at your phone and opened the camera app. without asking him, you took a picture of you and him with the new porch in the background, you smiling and simon holding the empty beer bottle as his forearms rested on his knees. catching simon off-guard.
"thanks." you said before sending the picture to your friend, a small brazen smile on your face.
simon just laughed, mumbling the words, "cheeky girl."
A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you felt his tip push into you. Your face scrunched up at the stretch, and Simon immediately stopped. “Want me t’stop?” His voice was strained, as if he was holding himself back from just thrusting into you completely, but you just shook your head. “No…no, just…ha.”
Your eyes opened as you felt him press his forehead against yours. “’ll take it slow. Tell me to stop and I will, yeah?” You nodded, a small smile spreading on your face as he leaned down and gently pecked your lips, before pushing a little more of himself inside you.
Every now and then, he had to stop and give you a few moments to adjust, where he tried his best to distract you with kisses and dumb jokes. He was so close to bottoming out when he hit you with the worst one. “What did one boob say to the other?” You groaned, although you were smiling. “Simon…don’t.” He just grinned. “If we don’t get support soon, people will think we’re nuts.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head with a huge grin. He took that opportunity and thrust the rest of himself inside you, a loud groan falling from his lips, as you just gasped at the stretch.
“Fuck, love…y’feel so good.” You couldn’t help but clench around him, your nails digging into the skin of his back. “Si…ngh…” He nodded, pulling out a bit, before softly thrusting back in. “’s okay love, just get used to - fuck…get used to it.” Simon groaned quietly as he continued his slow pace, but the moment the first moan left your lips, he tensed and his hips stuttered for a moment.
“’s it feel good?” You nodded, clawing at his shoulders. “Faster…please.” He immediately picked up the speed, thrusting into you and making sure to angle his hips so he always hit that one spot that made you gasp.
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with your groans and moans. You felt Simon everywhere. His lips against your neck, his chest against your nipples, his hands roaming your body and his cock so deep inside you, you swear you felt it in your throat.
Meanwhile, Simon had to do everything in his power, not to cum. Ever since your first clenched down on his cock, he had been right on the edge. But in his minds, there was no way he would cum, before you. And when his fingers finally moved down and started to circle your clit, he knew he had you right where he wanted you.
“There you go, come on, cum for me.” Everything inside you tensed, before it suddenly exploded. A strangled moan escaped you, as you clenched down around Simon’s cock, your heels digging into the mattress below you.
Simon slowed down slightly, gently fucking you through your orgasm, as he himself drew closer to his own release. “Where? Where d’you want it, love?” The question confused you for a moment, your brain still foggy from the orgasm, before you realized what he was talking about. “I-Inside.”
After a few more thrusts, he stilled inside you, burying his face in your neck with a quiet moan. And the two of you stayed like that for a few moments, entangled, both basking in the afterglow, before Simon slowly pulled out, smiling as you winced. “’ll be right back.”
You watched from the bed as he disappeared into the bathroom, before he came back with a wet washcloth. Gently, he spread your legs again, before quickly cleaning you up. Once he had returned the washcloth to the bathroom, he laid down beside you and pulled you into his arms. “Sleep tight, love.” You mumbled something incoherent in response, already half asleep, and the worries of the next day forgotten. At least for now.
Next Part | Coming Friday the 20th
A/N: There we go. I hope it's good and I hope it's not too obvious that I don't write a lot of smut. Also, I think I'll have to do something about the tags, most of them aren't working? I'll think of something!
Also, let me know if you want to be on the perma taglist! Just say if you want all of COD or specific characters. Although I mostly post Ghost.
You barely saw him at first. He’d come out of his room to do laundry, and you’d occasionally spot the back of him as he’s leaving for work, but otherwise it was like living with a ghost. A large, moody ghost who seemed to think eye contact was an unforgivable breach of privacy.
So you did the obvious thing, and coaxed him out with food. You’re lonely, he seems nice enough, and he’s also just conveniently there. It’s no big deal to make something that smells really wonderful when he’s home, and hope he’ll take the bait.
It takes three whole entire dinners. Two delicious meals without so much as a stir from his room, and you’re just about to give up on the whole scheme, when you’re finally rewarded with a tousled head poking out of his room on the third attempt.
“Want some?” you immediately pipe up, giving him an encouraging smile while you scoop noodles into your bowl. Realizing your mistake, you quickly relocate your gaze back to the food, so as not to scare him off.
Cmon, take the bait. Come on out, kitty. You know you want it.
Silent as ever, your massive roommate indeed emerges to fill his belly.
A soft, “Thanks,” is all you get for your efforts, but it thrills you. You sit there practically vibrating with glee, trying to play as cool as possible while you both eat and purposefully don’t speak to each other. There’s just chewing and silence, and the quiet clatter of spoons and forks, and you love it.
The next day, the contents of your personal grocery list have magically appeared in your refrigerator. The meat you needed, vegetables, your special milk for your cereal. Bemused, you step over to your pantry and verify that, yes, he got the dry stuff too. You weren’t planning to cook anything fancy two days in a row, but hell, if he’s around again tonight, you might as well.
But he’s not around. You don’t see him again for several weeks, never even got a text that he was leaving. You were just starting to make progress, and now it’ll all be erased when he returns. You lost your one window of opportunity for building trust, and it’ll be back to silence, back to emptiness, back to being strangers.
But to your surprise, when he does finally come home, he meows at you.
Not officially. Not in, like, actual cat language, but he drops his bag by the door and responds to your quiet greeting with a heavy sigh, and, "It’s good to be back.”
You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face, so you quickly hide it by staring at the TV.
He joins you for dinner the next time you cook. And the next. Groceries pop up like spring flowers, anything you write down, even if it’s snacks he never touches.
He starts hanging out with you while you cook. On the other side of the counter at first, looming like a dark shadow, just listening to your music and offering answers to your small talk.
You keep it light. Keep it friendly and easy, and entice him over occasionally to taste what you’re making. He starts lingering closer, letting the kitchen light touch him, leaning against your side of the counter. The scary side.
And then one day he tells you a joke. Just completely out of the blue, “What do you call an angry carrot?”
“Uhh…” you pause peeling carrots for a second, trying to wrap your head around some scenario where this is a legitimate question, because surely he's not about to tell you an actual joke. “I dunno?”
“A steamed vegetable.”
You return to your carrots with a delighted laugh. He's being friendly, he's making jokes! Best not comment on the progress he's made, because you don’t want to scare him off.
Good luck with that.
He starts following you around like an actual stray cat. You can’t bear to close the door on him, so he’s just always there, hanging out in the doorway, telling you little bits about his day while you brush your teeth for bed. He doesn’t talk a whole lot, prefers to listen to you yap, but he’s shut in his room less and less.
Except for the bad times. Simon goes through phases where he recluses himself again. Sometimes it’s only a few hours, other times it’s days, but he occasionally needs time to himself, and you don’t mind. You still get a thrill every time he appears again, metaphorically meowing at you and rubbing up against your leg.
God, you wish he would. You could use some good leg rubbing, actually.
Is he the rubbing type? He’s never made a pass at you, never touched you at all, and even the times when you’ve hung out together in your room, he always stood politely in the doorway. Always turned his head to the side when you’ve had to open your underwear drawer or spilled sauce on your shirt and had to strip it off. He’s just like that, always aware of your personal space and his, uncomfortable about the two bubbles touching without warning.
When it finally happens, it's you who's surprised.
You've just halted mid-step in the middle of the kitchen, staring down at the corner of the cabinets because you swear you just saw something move.
When all of a sudden, and actual mouse scampers across the floor, doing erratic zig zags like it's too scared to decide where to go, and all you can do is scream because it's coming right for you--
A thick arm clamps around your stomach, and your feet abruptly lose contact with the floor. You've completely lost track of the mouse, you're just frozen in shock from the fact that your whole back is glued to Simon's side, and he doesn't even bother to hold you up with both arms as he swivels around searching for where the mouse went.
"Thanks," you squeak, patting his forearm as a signal to put you down. "You're really strong, holy shit."
He grunts like he doesn't agree. "Doesn't take much to lift somebody."
Your feet touch back down to the linoleum, and you just hope your hot face isn't too evident. "Right, uh huh. Cause I could definitely lift you."
"Probably could."
You eye him skeptically, all the way from his socks, to the always-mussed hair at the top of the mountain. "I don't feel like throwing out my back, but thanks for the offer."
"I wasn't offering."
It's just small talk. Regular jokes, with his usual deadpan delivery, but you swear there was something he meant to say in those words. You try to discern them, gazing up into those brown eyes that don't mind meeting yours anymore.
It's hanging in the air, the thing he meant to say. You don't want to try and guess. It's too risky, and you might hurt yourself if you get it wrong.
"What is it, Simon? What's wrong?"
His eyes stutter for just a second, like he's ripping himself out of a train of thought. "I think you should hide in your room while I find that mouse."
Stupid, cockblocking mouse.
You don't sleep well that night. You keep thinking about your quiet roommate, end up having to jerk off at two in the morning just to get a little bit of relief, and your sleep is fretful even after that.
You ask about the mouse the next day, and he swears he not only caught it, but released it in the woods a mile away. There's absolutely no telling if he's pulling your leg or not, so you just drop it, too absorbed in the questions that were haunting you all night.
"I'm not good at... fucking."
Your head snaps up, staring wide eyed at Simon's troubled expression across the table. "What?"
"I've never been with a woman before. At least, not... like this. Wager I'll make a fool of myself, so I might as well get it out in the open."
"Oh. Um." Your heart is pounding, your mind whirling to comprehend how you got here so suddenly. He looks so scared, holding himself rigidly into place without so much as blinking, and you're taking far too long to answer at this point.
"I'm good at it," you finally tell him, hoping it sounds more comforting and less like a brag. "We can figure it out together, if it's something you want to do."
"Okay."
It takes a little while to get there. Some time to find a natural moment to take his hand in yours, for him to return the gesture by wrapping his arm around your waist and bringing your body over to his. But then his hand finds the back of your neck, and he's definitely not a beginner at kissing.
You've wanted it for so long, imagined it so often, that the press of his body against yours almost feels familiar. The seeking movements of his lips, the soft breaths coasting over your cheek. It's quiet and slow, in the corner of your shared kitchen.
He tucks your body into his, lets you saturate yourself in each second of this moment while you both learn the way the other likes to kiss. You end up in your bed soon after, just for the sake of comfort and lining up your mouths a little more conveniently.
It's easy to lose yourself in the safety of him. Your body feels at home in the muscled softness of his, in the thoughtful, patient movements of his hands exploring under your clothes. It feels like he's belonged to you far sooner than today.
His first time isn't perfect, but he makes up for his inexperience by taking his time. Laughs at your breathless, "a hole is a hole" statement, and insists on exploring with his mouth and fingers first.
Simon makes the prettiest noises when he finds your wetness waiting for him. He seems to enjoy the feeling of it on his fingers, sliding them in and out so carefully, studying the textures inside you. He tastes his own fingers, less like a scientist and more like a little kid who's discovering new flavors in the sandbox.
He makes a sound then, a warm, rumbly one, and then pulls his fingers out of his mouth to lean down and find your clit with his lips.
A hole is a hole, but there's something special about whispering little cues at him in the dark, and the way he efficiently adjusts himself, ever the dedicated soldier. A hole is a hole, but you cum like that, with your roommate's strong hand gripping your hip, and his mouth accomplishing exactly the motion you need to draw a slow, brain-melting orgasm out of you.
"Yeah, just like that," you pant a few moments later, shoving his face away from your oversensitive pussy.
Summary: Your water breaks, and the strongest, deadliest men on Earth suddenly forget how to function.
Rating: Hilarious chaos with heartwarming panic and big brother energy (plus one very protective husband)
Masterlist
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Soap (Johnny McTavish)
He’s the first one to scream.
You were just standing in the kitchen, eating frozen grapes, when your face suddenly scrunched. Then came the sentence that would send him into orbit:
“Um… I think my water just broke.”
Johnny blinked. “Broke what?”
You stared at him. “My. Water.”
“…OH BLOODY HELL.”
He spun in three full circles before grabbing his phone, keys, your hospital bag, and accidentally—his tactical vest.
“Johnny!” you shouted. “You don’t need your combat knife!”
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT I NEED RIGHT NOW!”
Ends up driving you to the hospital with one hand on the wheel and the other clenched around yours like you’re defusing a bomb. Tears in his eyes. Keeps whispering, “You’ve got this, love. You’re so damn strong. I’m right here.”
He does not leave your side. Not for water. Not to pee. Not for God himself.
---
Price (Captain John Price)
If he’s the dad, he’s prepared. Had your hospital bag packed two months ago. Knew the signs. Has a backup plan. A spreadsheet.
But the moment you say, “It’s time,” that man goes dead silent.
You: “John, did you hear me?”
Price: Nods slowly, blinks once.
You: “…Are you okay?”
Price: Already lifting you like a damn princess. “Yeah. Yeah, just—f**king hell, it’s happening.”
He becomes hyperfocused. He’s the one timing contractions, double-checking your breathing, adjusting your seatbelt, coaching you the whole way with that deep, calming voice:
“You’re doin’ perfect, love. Deep breaths. Almost there. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
And when it’s finally time? He kisses your forehead and whispers, “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
---
Gaz (Kyle Garrick)
Gaz is a mess. Like, heart pounding, phone upside down, nearly calls 911 when you say, “My water just broke.”
“Wait—wait, like, now? Now now???”
“Yes, Kyle.”
“Okay—okay! Don’t panic. Don’t panic. One of us has to stay calm, and you’re kinda busy!”
He accidentally forgets the hospital bag, then comes sprinting back five minutes later with four bags, unsure which one’s the real one.
At the hospital, he’s pacing like he’s awaiting a mission briefing. Texting 141 updates every 30 seconds. Even crying a little.
But the moment the baby’s out and he hears that first cry?
He breaks. In the softest, happiest way. “That’s our baby, love. You did that. I can’t believe it. You’re f***ing incredible.”
---
Ghost (Simon Riley)
Says absolutely nothing for the first thirty seconds. You tell him you’re in labor, and he just stares.
Then, suddenly, moves with terrifying speed.
Throws on his hoodie. Grabs your bag. Guides you to the car like he’s in a tactical op. Voice low, calm, deadly precise.
You didn’t think he could be gentle, but he holds your hand like it’s fragile. Sits behind the curtain with his head against yours, murmuring quiet things between contractions:
“You’re not alone. I’m here, yeah? Not goin’ anywhere.”
And when the baby’s born? He chokes on a breath and whispers, “Bloody hell... they’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
Then he holds them with big, calloused hands and rocks like he was born to do it. Doesn’t say much, but you catch the tear slipping down his cheek.
Bonus: The Rest of the Team
They show up at the hospital like a squad of worried uncles.
• Soap brings a giant stuffed bear and immediately cries.
• Gaz holds the baby like it’s made of glass and won’t stop taking photos.
• Price stands in the corner with arms crossed, eyes watery, whispering, “Takes after their mum.”
• Ghost stays quiet... then sneaks in a baby hat he knitted himself and pretends he didn’t.
Y/N: Fight me!
Simon: Look at the size of you. What are you going to do? Kick my ankle?
*later*
Price: Why is Simon crying on the floor?
Soap: Y/N kicked him really hard on the ankle
You know that thing some married couples do where the husband takes a bite of cake and mouth-feeds the chewed part to his wife? Simon definitely does that at your wedding and some of 141 collectively lose their minds.
⸻
The cake was good—light, sweet, touched with something rich like espresso—but you barely tasted it.
Because Simon took the first bite. Not with a fork, not like a gentleman. Just lifted it with his fingers, slow and sure, eyes on yours as he bit into it.
Crumbs clung to his lips. Frosting kissed the corner of his mouth. He chewed slowly, jaw tense. That wolfish calm he always wore—under control, but always on the edge of something primal.
From the table nearby, Soap called out, “Oi, better be a clean split or there’s gonna be blood!”
Laughter. Glasses clinking. Someone whistled.
But Simon? Didn’t blink. He kept chewing, and locked eyes with you.
You leaned in slightly. Narrowed your gaze.
“Was that the last one?”
He didn’t look sorry. Just kept chewing. Shrugged, eyes glinting.
“You said you were full,” he said around the bite, voice low, half amused, half taunting.
You huffed, eyes flicking to the now-empty plate. “That was before I saw you licking the damn fork like it was divine intervention.”
That made his lips twitch.
Then—because he was ridiculous, and feral, and somehow the softest monster you’d ever loved—he leaned forward, chewed a little slower, and pulled you in by the chin with two fingers.
Mouth to mouth, he pressed the rest of the bite to your lips. Chocolate and salt and heat. Your breath caught.
You let out a startled laugh against his mouth. “You’re disgusting.”
“You wanted some,” he murmured, smug. “Open.”
You did. Because you were a little disgusting too. And because the way he was looking at you? Like the reception, the cake, the crowd—none of it existed. Just you, and his hand on your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like you were his favorite thing he’d ever tasted.
From the 141 table, a violent cough.
Soap, choking. “Jesus Christ—”
Gaz: “I think I just got pregnant.”
Price didn’t say anything, but you could feel the weight of his stare. The kind that said this is still a public function, son, even if his mouth twitched like he was holding in a smirk.
You swallowed.
Simon pulled back just an inch. His thumb wiped a smudge of icing from your bottom lip and, without looking away, he brought it to his own mouth. Licked it clean.
“Good?” he asked, low, rough.
You nodded, dazed.
“Thought so.”
Soap leaned into Gaz, muttering loud enough to carry: “They’re gonna shag on the damn cake table.”
You turned slightly, still breathless. “You’re just mad no one’s feeding you.”
“I’m mad I can’t unsee that,” he said.
Gaz: “You’re lying. You’ve replayed it twice.”
Price finally chimed in, cool and dry: “You feed anyone like that on my birthday, Riley, I’m pulling your funding.”
Simon didn’t even glance at them. Just pressed his palm to the small of your back, ring flashing, and leaned in until his lips were brushing your ear.
Simon, while having a solid amount of sexual experience, has just never really done the whole relationship thing. He knows what he's like at work, he knows what he's like with friends, he knows what he's like in bed, but Boyfriend Simon? No clue who that guy is.
So when he falls hard enough for you to actually be convinced to give it a try, he just assumes he'll wear the pants in the relationship. He always wears the pants, so why would it be any different in this context? Not like a Whole Thing, like he's not picturing a lifestyle in which he's the big dominant man and you're submissive, obedient ... it's more like he just pictures himself taking care of things.
You picture it differently. And he is shocked by how much he loves your take on things.
"Simon, go wash your face and I'll put some moisturizer on you, you're getting a little dry." "We're having what you want for dinner tonight and I don't want to hear another word about it." "Just sit down and rest for a minute, I can handle it."
There are all these little things that you say and do -- little ways that show that you care, and that you think about him -- that all add up to something much bigger. It all makes him realize that maybe Boyfriend Simon is someone who can rest. Perhaps he doesn't need to be constantly, relentlessly in charge and on alert. Maybe this way, he can be cared for.
Of course, the feeling translates to the bedroom too. With his previous hookups, he'd always taken the lead. Strong hands putting his partner where he wanted them to go. Never too rough, never too demanding, but focused on his own pleasure, just like he always assumed the other person was focused on theirs.
Not on your watch.
He felt like he was being torn in two the first time you knelt before him and put your hands on his belt buckle, intention clear. It was like he was being split between the Simon he knew better, the one who might have greedily pulled down his jeans, tipped open your lips with a thumb on your chin and slid deep inside your hot mouth until tears rolled down your cheeks, and the Simon you'd somehow pulled out of him. The one who was too in love to imagine using you like that.
He told you as much that night. He stilled your hand over his belt with his own, his voice sounding strangled as he murmured, "Don't have to do that, love."
"Of course I don't have to," you'd told him. "I want to."
And you did. You unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his jeans then put your soft, warm hands on his hips, just under his shirt, and pushed his pants down, along with his boxers. You took his cock in your hand first, using slow, languid strokes, then gazed up at him.
“Is this ok?”
He began realizing, when you took him into your mouth only after he said yes, that this wasn’t him using you. It was clear in the little muffled whimpers you made as you pulled him close enough for his tip to hit the back of your throat and in the way your free hand gripped his thigh, like you were the one who needed grounding — you were enjoying this too. This was just another way for you to care for him.
Now, after days and weeks and months have passed of breaking down and rebuilding, learning and growing with you into something he never knew he could be, he trusts you. He values your judgment, he believes you what you tell him. If you think he needs to rest, he will. If you lead him, he'll follow.
Whatever you want, whatever you need, whether you let it be known with words or glances or your hands on him, guiding him, steady and sure ... now, Simon listens.
sfw + nsfw + plot + simon riley x fem!reader
wc: 745
wanting independence, you buy a home. yes, it was a fixer-upper. but, who said your neighbor couldn't help?
pt. 1
fallen off trim. messed up brick. peeling paint. rotten boards.
a hand ran over your face as you stood in front of your house.
your house!
excitement trumped all of things wrong with this place. yes, a lot of work was needed. yes, you'd probably spend more renovating the thing than you spent on buying it, but c'mon!
you were a 22 year old woman, fresh out of college, and bought a house. that has to account for something.
you walked up to the small porch, just enough to fit two chairs and a table in between them, feeling the boards under your feet. creaky, one board is molding, the other is somewhat- broken. a small smile fell on your face.
you couldn't wait to get to work.
‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵
everything you had from your dorm fit into your small, beaten up nissan altima, so unpacking was an insanely easy task. a regular black mattress frame and a mattress, one box of your clothes, your toiletries fit into your backpack, and the rest of the house was bare.
it looked sad.
but, it was all you had. you were supposed to start your new job as a barista on monday, so you had about three days to work on what you could with the house before you had limited time in the day. it was almost five pm, so you made your way out of your house and started making a long list of things you needed to re-do.
looking up and down at your notepad and the view of your house, you started writing.
paint, wood, trim, a drill, paintbrush, grinder-
"didn't know someone moved in next door." a raspy, deep voice ground out.
you whirled around fast as your heart jumped out of your fucking chest. your eyes landed on a towering hulk of a man, his elbows on his porch railing, leaning over ever-so-slightly, a lit cigarette between his pointer and middle finger.
his house was directly next to yours, looked way better, but you could take a couple of steps and be in his yard.
you tried calming yourself, "you scared me." you laughed lightly at the man, smiling somewhat, but nodded, "but, yes, i just moved in. literally today."
he grunted.
you blinked a couple times, before asking, "what's your name?"
"simon." his voice was flat, your smile dropped a little. you exchanged your name, trying to get out of the silence. you looked back to your house.
he didn't seem like he wanted to say anything else, so you started writing more things down.
you definitely needed a lot of power tools-
"ain't 'cha a little young to have a house, love?"
your pulse jumped at the 'love'.
you looked up from your writing pad and rolled your eyes at him as he took a drag of his cigarette, "you're making assumptions about me when you met me, like two minutes ago?" you retorted, a hand on your hip as you looked at him.
he ran a hand through his dowdy blond hair, before stomping out the cigarette, "just observing, y'look too excited for that fixer-upper of a house." a side of his lip a slightly turned upwards, not fully a smirk, but definitely not a smile.
"i'm actually twenty-two, thank you, old man. can a girl not have independence?" you eyes ran over him again as he stood to his full height, jesus christ, the man was collosus.
"old man? thirty-three's old now?" he said, his eyes raking over you in a way you are certainly overanalyzing.
wait- thirty-three? fucking eleven years older? talk about a dilf. it would be fitting if he had a child, but it didn't look like he did. you doubt he'd be out here talking to you if he had a kid of his own.
you pushed that thought away and laughed a little, "considering you are bee-keeping age, i'd consider you old."
an eyebrow turned up lazily, "i'm not even going to ask what that means."
you snorted and shook your head.
he nodded his head toward you, "i'm going back inside, have a good night, neighbor." his voice was scratchy, with a lilt of teasing behind it.
"you too, neighbor." you replied with the same tone. a small, gruff laugh left him before you heard his door close.
you smiled stupidly as you finished writing your necessities down.
tomorrow, you'd start the real work. maybe with the help of someone, who knows?
Summary:After a quiet, sweet date, you kiss Ghost goodnight—only for his smartwatch to loudly alert him (and you) that his heart rate is going wild. Turns out even the most silent, composed man can’t hide when he's completely smitten.
Simon didn’t say much during the date—but he didn’t need to. The way he opened doors for you, pulled your chair out, and quietly placed his hand on the small of your back when crowds got too tight said more than enough. You talked, he listened. And every time you laughed, his lips twitched like they were this close to smiling.
The man was calm. Still. Like a statue wrapped in a hoodie and mystery. Unbothered. Unshakeable.
Until you kissed him.
Just a soft, sweet goodnight kiss outside your apartment. You leaned in, nervous but hopeful, and pressed your lips to his, and his hand twitched where it rested on your waist. A sharp inhale, then total stillness.
Beep. Beep-beep-beep.
You pulled back, blinking.
“What was that?”
Simon stood frozen. His smartwatch vibrated on his wrist, the little screen flashing:
ABNORMAL HEART RATE DETECTED
Current BPM: 127
Try to remain calm.
“…No fuckin’ way,” you whispered, gaping at the screen like it just betrayed the nation.
His ears were bright pink. “It’s—it does that sometimes.”
You gasped, grinning. “Simon. Did I literally make your heart race?”
He groaned, tipping his head back like he wished the ground would swallow him whole. “Bloody thing’s oversensitive.”
You stepped closer, teasing. “You sure? Or do you just like me that much?”
He didn’t answer. Just stared at you, half-murderous, half-helpless. Then—beep-beep-beep again.
“Oh my god.” You laughed and cupped his face, planting another kiss on his lips just to watch the number spike again.
Current BPM: 132.
He pulled away with a grunt. “You tryna kill me?”
“Nope,” you chirped. “I just want your watch to start playing romantic music next.”
“…I’m disabling the damn thing.”
---
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