Simon very much is a member of the clean plate club. It doesn’t really matter what it is, he’ll eat it. He’s a big guy and has to hit his calorie count to maintain his build, especially if he’s bulking. But he also intimately knows the fear of not knowing when his next meal will come or what it will be. He has food preferences, of course, but if you put in front of him and he can tell it won’t kill him, he’ll just hork it down.
With others he absolutely food guards. Do not put your hand near his plate unless you want him to break your wrist.
Because he knows food insecurity he definitely has some habits from his childhood that are hard to ignore. Will just cut off pieces of rotten veg/fruit if he deems it necessary. Will see the bread mold and just toss out the pieces he knows are obviously bad. Yes he has given himself food poisoning this way. Cant stand to let food go to waste. I imagine he gets into canning/preserving as a hobby when he’s off duty. He’s meticulous about it, too. Knows he’s risking much more than food poisoning if he fucks up.
I do think he has a habit of having food stores. He’s not supposed to, but he’ll store crackers, peanut butter, MREs, and other non-perishables in his barracks cause it eases a very real concern he has in his chest. He’s doesn’t leave wrappers or opened food so it’s never really a concern. He doesn’t even have a real plan to eat it, it simply calms his mind that if he ever needs it, it’s there and no one else’s can take it.
I also think it plays into his love languages. If you give him food it kind of hits him in his chest, cause you could have needed this, but you decided he should have it instead. If he notices you like something he’ll scoop it off his plate and onto yours, he won’t make a big deal out of it but he won’t take it back. Makes your plate first and wants to watch you take the first few bites to ensure you’re actually eating. Probably keeps snacks you like in his pockets and hideaways in case you complain. Contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t want to eat your leftovers cause what if you need them later? He would much rather package them up to ensure you’re actually eating can have them if you want them.
Read the Modern Warfare: Ghost comics yesterday and they poked my brain in some spots. They inspired this, because yes Simon sexy; big man makes brain go brrr but what if Simon says no?
Warnings: heated make out session, not proofread and it's late so it sucks
Simon moans under you as you kiss him, the sound making your body ache with need. It echoes in your ribcage making your heart flutter and frantically beat against your ribs, trying to get to Simon.
Your bodies are pressed against each other and you already feel lightheaded when you haven't even taken your clothes off.
But Simon is shirtless and all that skin under your hands drives you insane while you're making out. Tongues lazily intertwining, rubbing together, creating that delicious friction that makes you pant.
Simons pupils are blown wide as he looks up at you on his lap. You can feel how affected he is by you as well and it increases your desire tenfold.
You think you'll go crazy if you don't get the clothes separating you two out of the way. Your entire body is calling out to the man under you and you need to do something about it before you lose your mind.
Slowly you move your hand over his pecs, dipping your head to follow that path with your lips and tongue, marking his skin while you're at it.
Simon makes a sound that's half a whimper, half a moan and it makes you bite down on his pec which in turn gets an actual whimper out of him.
You look up at him and he's thrown his head back, watching you through almost closed eyes, burning you with his desire.
His chest is heaving and his harsh pants of air are actually audible. You have never seen him so wrecked before and you can't wait to ruin him when he moans your name. And your hips twitch in response.
Th reaction only seems to fuel his desire more and he bites his lip trying to stifle the sounds he's making.
Your hand continues its path down his tummy towards his pants where your reward awaits. Your heart speeds up as you get to his waistband.
It's such a tiny moment you would have missed it if you were less aware of every single movement of Simon.
Just for a second he goes stiff and then relaxes again.
Your hand stills. Your eyes trail up from his crotch again to meet his eyes. There's a tightness around his mouth that doesn't sit well with you.
He's the picture of relaxation, but it's not real anymore. His eyes are wide open, you can see the muscles in his arms flex, even as he keeps them down, seemingly open and relaxed.
You sit back on his thighs, ceasing all other movement.
"Tell me, baby.", you gently encourage.
Simon shakily exhales, puts his hand over yours, that's still sitting just over his waistband and moves your hand back up to his chest.
You can feel his heart hammering under your palm and it doesn't feel like desire anymore. It feels like a hectic little animal being chased. It feels like anxiety and slight panic.
He stays quiet, not moving a muscle and you match him, gently stroking your thumb over his skin, scooting closer again, so you're not half bent over from where you tried to get to his zipper.
"I don't... I'm sorry, 'luv.", he whispers roughly and you smile. A sad smile but it's gentle and you can feel Simons heart slow down under your palm at your smile.
"It's okay. No need to apologize."
His other hand finds your neck and he draws you in until your foreheads touch and you can feel his shaky breath on your lips.
One of your hands mimics his, while the other one stays on his chest, his skin warm and scarred against yours.
Gently you squeeze the back of his neck. "We're okay." You whisper and you can feel him finally relax again.
You know there's so much he probably feels like saying but as he so often does he lets the silence speak for him.
Luckily you've gotten fluent in Simon's silence over the time.
"I don't care, baby. I only care about you being here with me. My needs can be taken care of in other ways. We don't need that to be close. We've got our own ways."
Instead of answering, he kisses you again and you arch your back so all of you is pressed to him.
It has nothing of the desperation of earlier even if the heat is still simmering deep in your belly.
It's all comfort and closeness now.
He cups your face, as if you're the most precious thing he's ever held and you smile into the kiss.
"How can you be so... so... good?", he asks. If you didn't know him as well as you did you would have missed the way his voice sounds slightly choked up.
"I love you.", is your simple answer and he shakes his head.
"I don't get it. Why are you not sick o' me? Why haven't ya found someone who can do normal shit."
You smile, peck his lips and try to pull back, which turns into him holding you close and deepening the kiss before you attempt to pull back again. He doesn't let you and you grin into the kiss. Finally he lets you go, both of you laughing quietly.
"I will never be sick of you. I don't need anything but you. And you are enough, exactly as you are, right now in this moment. You've always been enough."
You can see his eyes widen as your words hit him, his hands find your hips and hike you up a bit more and then he hides his face in your chest, his arms around you, chrushing you to him
If the way his fingers dig into your skin is slightly painful you don't comment on it. You bring your arms up and hold him just as tightly.
Tags: Soft Simon, family man Simon, reader is AFAB coded, writer is POC and AFAB Nonbinary, non-descriptive birth mention, reader has no descriptive features/bit mentions, breeding kink, dirty talk, very quick writing, reader is higher rank unspecified
Word Count: 647
Both SFW and NSFW under the cut, Minors and ageless blogs DNI
-Simon has a T-dick, but it is referred to as a dick
For context: reader is a higher rank than Simon, Simon and you met by Price asking you to help on a mission for 141; it was basically love at first sight. You and Simon got along very well and had quite the amount of similar experiences that bonded you two together. Together you guys got help and grew together, no doubt you made it official. Here you guys have been together for seven years, and out of the seven you guys were married for three
-Let's say Simon was able to use his bone marrow to make sperm (it actually doesn't exist yet but one day though!) and impregnate you. Simon is trans in this, and you both are trying the needle fertilization
SFW HEAD CANONS
Simon brings up children first. Given his trauma, you confirm that if he doesn't in fact want kids you are fine with that. You love him so much; it truly doesn't matter what his decision is.
Simon contemplates/thinks on this for a while, months even
Simon brings up the conversation again and tells you that he would love to have children with you and that it will work out.
Simon and you do research for possibilities on how you could be impregnated
Turns out, there was an experimental trial about turning bone marrow into sperm for fertilization
The trial is for people who can't conceive, people with other issues, same sex couples or couples like you and Simon
You and Simon decided to give the trial a go. You two did all that was asked and needed to do and all you could do now was wait.
A few months go by and on base and a shipment came in and it's for you and Simon, it included syringes, and the proper directions of use.
Simon wanted to wait until you started ovulating to have maximum effect.
That being said you and Simon meticulously planned and kept trying
Months go by and finally you start showing symptoms of pregnancy: morning sickness, fainting spells (on really bad days)
You and Simon haven't noticed because there were several missions that needed to be completed and required a shit ton of paperwork to be done
Some new recruits were gossiping, and it eventually reached Captain Price. Price decides to bring it up with Simon and you.
You and Simon go to the med bay and lo and behold you are pregnant!
Simon is beyond thrilled and excited because now, he can prove he's a better man and not his father's son.
NSFW HEADCANONS
Simon starts to really feel it. The urge to just breed you
Simon keeps touching your belly as fuck you
"Yeah, I make you pregnant ye? Parent and have all my kids? Just for me?"
From then on you were constantly bent in all angles being fucked until no other thought existed
Each thrust and each desperate thrust as a gleeful smile stays on Simon's face
Pregnancy Progression and Birth
Your pregnancy progresses and as so, get bigger however you don't have any complications!
You were induced into labor; that baby did not want to leave
Grueling hours go by and finally the baby is born! (HORRAY!)
The baby is healthy weighing in as a whopping TEN POUNDS AND THREE OUNCES
Simon cries; so in love with you and his beautiful baby
To him nothing is more amazing than this moment
A/N: This is my first time writing stuffs, especially for a fandom, please be kind! Thank You for reading!! (Also, you can choose the gender of the baby!!)
Summary: Simon can’t be a father, and he wont allow you to make the mistake of letting him be one. Gender-neutral reader BUT reader is pregnant. Angst train ahead!
next
Simon always knew he was a piece of shit. He knew it when his dad shouted it when he had dragged mud into the house as a boy. He knew it when he escaped his house to join the army. He knew it when he sat at the funeral for his family and couldn’t shed a tear. But this really takes the cake.
You had clearly gone out of your way for this. A nice dinner prepared for the both of you. His plate given a heaping helping of the meal you had worked over. Had even offered him a few fingers of that fancy bourbon he liked, though he noticed you didn’t bother to pour yourself any.
The same way he notices that you push your food back and forth. The same way he noticed the way you keep glancing to him before staring back at your vegetables like they wronged you. He knows you want to say something to him, but he doesn’t prod you about it. The same way he doesn’t ask about the mornings you’re out of bed before him, sick in the bathroom. The same way he acts as if he doesn’t notice the way you’ve began to switch out your wardrobe. Willful ignorance on his part. After all of this he still doesn’t know if he does it for your sake or for his.
“Simon.” His name feels like a hammer, shattering the fragile peace of the evening despite the careful tone of your voice. He looks up, mouth full of roast and mashed potatoes.
“I’m pregnant.”
He doesn’t respond. Not externally at least. He can feel the way you watch him, trying to catch any hint of what he may be feeling. But Simon has lived his whole life guarded. It was a miracle you had wormed your way through the first time.
“What are you goin’ to do about it.” He doesn’t even swallow his food, doesn’t wipe his mouth before he asks the damning question.
He can see the impact of the words. The way you sit back and the heavy blink as your eyes cut away.
Not us. Not him. You.
“I… I don’t know. Thought we should talk about it.” You begin, but he can see that he stole the air out your lungs. You curl into yourself, placing your fork down and staring at the center of the table.
“It’s mine?”
Simon can see the way your brows furrow. The way your hand clenches your water cup as if you’re considering smashing it. He almost wishes you would break the thing over his head. Knock some sense back into him.
“There’s no one other than you, Simon.” And he hates how honest you sound. That it’s true. That despite the person he is, there was never a doubt in your mind. It’s Simon. It’s always been Simon.
“Is it still early enough to get rid of it?”
Simon knows he has never had the most gentle way of speaking. But even he can tell that his words are harsh. The way you breathe in deeply, the way your lip trembles before you harden your face. As if you have to shield yourself from him. He never wanted to be the person you had to defend yourself against. But he doesn’t know how else to keep you from making this mistake.
“I… you… is that what you want?” He can hear the way you struggle to form your words around the knot in your throat.
“Not made for that sort of thing.” He finishes his food and nudges his plate aside, dropping his crumpled up napkin atop it.
“You could be.” He sees the hope in your eyes. You want him to be a better man. To engage in this conversation, to be open with you. But he can’t. Not like this.
“What?” He almost snorts as he says the word, watching the way you jerk back at the harsh sound. “Want me to build a crib, take them to football practice?” His words are mean, meant to pierce you. “Would just fuck it up.”
He’s already getting up out of his, no, your seat. He hears you scramble after him, stuttering and trying to catch him as he makes his way for the front door. His wallet and keys are in that dumb little bowl by the door that you thrifted months ago. His jacket hung up on the hooks he had installed for you. He snatches them up, stuffing his feet into his shoes just as quickly.
“Simon- wait, hold on!” You manage to grab his elbow and he turns to look at you. Tears are already streaming down your face, snot threatening to drip down your lip. “Wait- I just need a second- we can talk about this.” You still try for him. Try to make space for him.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” He says as he pulls himself free of your grasp, as if it doesn’t feel as if he’s tearing his heart out by the root.
“I don’t care what you do. Keep it. Get rid of it. Just keep me out of it.” His words are final as he shrugs on his jacket and shoulders his way out the door. He doesn’t even turn to see you one last time.
Summary: Simon is trying to get his shit together. Reader is gender neutral but is described as being pregnant.
Previous... next
Ghost doesn’t want to talk about it. He won’t talk about it. He can’t.
So he does what he always does. He disappears. He’d like to say he returned to base, hopped on the first plane to whatever hell the government decided he should be in. But he doesn’t.
He’s on leave. A leave he was almost excited to spend with you. Three weeks of laying in your home. Three weeks of lazy mornings and late evening. Three weeks of being wrapped up in your embrace.
There’s almost a part of him that wants to be angry that you managed to ruin that.
So no. No dangerous missions for him. Nothing he can dive head first into. Nothing to distract him from his decision to leave. He heads back to his shitty, cold, empty apartment.
It’s not at all like your home. Your home has fluffy blankets on all the couches. Your home has a bed full of pillows. Your home has mugs in every color and design. Your home always smells warm. Your home has you.
He has a mattress on the floor. He has a singular arm chair that nearly tilts every time he sits in it. He has plastic cutlery from the last place he ordered out from.
His apartment was simply meant to be a place he stayed when off work. A place he hardly ever saw the inside of, and it showed. Four crackling walls and a roof with suspicious stains that he never bothered the landlord about.
He could have been with you. Laying in your lap as you scratch his scalp while you catch him up on whatever show you’ve been addicted to this week. He could have been wrapped around you, stealing bites of your cooking. You both could have been wrapped up in your bed with the soft duvet, getting carried away.
But instead, he finds himself sitting in his shitty armchair with a shitty can of beers for company. The only noise is the TV, playing a match he’s not paying attention to. He’s nearly smoked through his entire pack of cigarettes, his ashtray overflowing. It’s not bringing him any sense of calm, simply dries his throat and makes his lungs burn.
He figures he deserves this after what he’s done. He was never meant for the soft life you made for yourself. He always knew it, but he had been selfish enough to try and fit himself in anyway. It had been so easy, you made it easy. And maybe that was his fault, letting himself be convinced that he could have that, that he could be the type of man that had lazy mornings and home cooked meals.
He couldn’t be that man. And you deserved someone who could, he knew that. Out of every doubt he had, he knew you deserved more than he could give you. He wanted to believe that the brightness inside of you would snuff out whatever dead thing he attached to you. You deserved to move on, to forget every trace of him. It was what was best, that he was certain of.
So he falls back into his routine. He wakes up at the crack of dawn. Runs his way to the gym and works out until he’s sure he’s burst every muscle fiber in his body. He stops by the shops on the way back, picks up whatever bullshit he needs and pays in cash. In the evenings he might visit the seedy bar that’s a few streets over. Maybe he’ll even entertain the eyes that wander his way, even if the pleasure only lasts for so long.
He meanders through his day, avoiding his personal phone like it’s a bomb, wishing his work phone would ding for anything at this point. He’s even take an escort mission at this point. Put him on babysitting duty, if only so he has something else to focus on other than his choices.
His time off is nearly up when he finally sees you again. He’s stuffing change into his pocket, two paper bags in his arm from his latest grocery trip. It’s just enough to hold him over for the next few days before he gets to go back to base. But when he looks up you’re there.
The first thing he notices is that you look exhausted, dark bags under your eyes and your lips twisted into an unfamiliar frown. You’re dressed in a bulky sweater and soft pants, your bag tossed over your shoulder as you trudge along.
His first instinct is to assume you came looking for him, and the emotion that arises in him is too confusing to parse out on the street. But you don’t know where he lives, wouldn’t know this shop in particular is between his gym and his cold, little place.
He’s frozen as he watches you. Still as pretty as the day he left you. Even with the stress weighing your shoulders down. Stress he dropped on you. He watches you walk up the street until you enter a building. He has half a mind to follow you, but then he sees the building you enter is a clinic.
He turns back around to enter the shop once more. He needs another pack of beer.
Simon likes to have his business and privacy. Part of the reason he doesn’t give tidbits of his life to others is cause they’ll always ask for more. But I see this backfiring in the most hilarious way. You’re very interested in minding your own business, real “don’t ask, don’t tell” vibes. And Simon is trying to figure out what insane shit he has to say to get you to ask more questions. Cause he can see the curiosity in your eyes, can see the slight way they narrow when he says something just a little to the left. But you don’t ever extend the offer, and he’s not going to offer it without prompting. So he’s playing this game where he’s trying to bait you into more and more conversations.
Arguing with Simon has to be a unique type of annoyance.
I imagine he’s not much for yelling, unless he perceives there to be a grave danger to your or his safety in some way. But he’s definitely standing there with his face kind of balled up, like he’s annoyed by the whole thing, unfortunately that’s just his face. He has a smart mouth and definitely says things that irk you. Definitely hits you with the whole “no need to yell” line or “don’t know why you’re so mad”. Things that immediately turn your bitch meter up to one hundred.
Next problem is that once the argument starts, he doesn’t want to back down until there is a concrete solution. Doesn’t want you to wander off or shut a door on him. It makes him unbalanced when you’re pissed at him. So it makes him poke and prod until there is something tangible for him to do. A task, a gift, or words for him to say to make you forgive him. Because of that, he’s often constantly trying to solve the problem instead of really understanding why it was there in the first place.
He gets better at it eventually. Realizes when he’s pushing too hard. Often making an excuse for a smoke break so he can step out and clear his head instead of crowding you. It’s usually better once there’s been some space and you both can start from a new angle.
John and Simon both enjoy Brat taming in vastly different ways.
John Price really does enjoy taking an unruly and bratty person and turning them into a model citizen. He wants a perfect pet that he can spoil, but he knows training is needed to get there. So his methods often involve a list of rules and expectations along with a list of punishments. You know exactly what you are supposed to do and what will happen if you don’t follow through. He isn’t doing funishments, you fuck around and you find out. Definitely is having you writing apology letters, giving you chores to do to make up for your actions, expects you to carry out punishments with grace and dignity. Also believes in abstinence, he’s getting off sure, but you aren’t. You’ll crack long before he does. You aren’t going to embarrass yourself or him and he makes sure of it. He knows you’re acting out for attention, so he isn’t going to give you the reaction you want. Will make you kneel perfectly still beside him while he ignores you, tells you it’s because you need to “think about your actions”. When he finally approaches you, makes you say exactly what you did and why you did it. He knows you’re a dumb baby, needs help finding your words, so he’ll be patient. Will wait you out, honestly. When you finally admit that you’re acting up cause you need to cum, that you need to feel wanted, he’s able to calm you down and promise you that you don’t need to be bad to get those things. He’s generous with rewards, he wants to spoil you. So be good and let him.
Simon Riley on the other hand? He thinks it’s fun when you’re bitchy. He’s both bigger and badder than you, he can handle it and give it back twice as hard. You aren’t embarrassing him because it’s not possible. He can and will turn any situation around on you. Will ask you in public if you’re “actin’ like this cause you need some dick?”, doesn’t care who’s around. He knows why you’re acting out, knows that you just need to be held down until you stop thinking and can be sweet again. Likes it when you’re crying that it’s too much and trying to run, because he’ll just pull you back. He knows what you need, so just let him give it to you. He’ll put up with your attitude to an extent because he really does enjoy the way you snap your teeth, cause your bark is always sharper than your bite. You and him both know that he lets you get away with your behavior cause it amuses him. But the second you step out of line he’s quick to choke you by your leash and demands that you get your shit together before he has to help you. That is your one and only warning. He doesn’t particularly care how you behave towards others, he’s not kissing anyone’s ass either. Might correct you if it’s someone like John, that’s about it. But you aren’t going to bite the hand that feeds you, at least, not unless he wants you to.
