#husband!simon

pairing: husband!simon “ghost” riley x pregnant wife!reader

summary: your husband loves feeling your pregnant stomach, finding different, creative ways to do so

masterlist!

you currently stood in the kitchen, finishing up dinner for you and simon to eat. your husband had just arrived home, giving you a kiss and your baby bump a kiss before heading upstairs to shower the day’s filth off him.

simon always knew he wanted to provide for his future wife and children, so he spent many of his younger years training, getting promoted to higher ranks in the military. he wanted to work hard now to give his future family the life they deserved. he didn’t want them to go through even a little bit of what he had to endure growing up. he would die before he let that happen.

the man felt his heart sink at the sight of you being so nurturing towards him, cooking a meal for him to come home to, you wearing some of his old clothes. you looked really fucking pregnant, belly looking a lot bigger than it should. your poor legs needed breaks from walking and standing because they still weren’t used to the extra weight, swollen feet having to waddle you around everywhere you went.

when your husband knocked you up 7 months ago, you were expecting to have a big baby. simon was over 74 inches tall, being 230lbs of pure muscle, while you were several inches shorter than the man, tiny body often covered by his large one. you started showing around 3 months, excitement filling both of you. it was around 5 months where you both started being a little concerned, your womb growing at a faster pace than normal. people started thinking you were already in your third trimester with how big you were looking!

after a doctor’s visit, you and your husband’s nerves were relieved, the doctor reassuring the baby was okay and just bigger than normal, an eye looking at simon, who was smirking to himself.

he walked down the stairs in your house, arms coming to wrap around your pregnant belly. you leaned back against the man, missing him since he left this morning. your eyes closed as he kissed your cheek, making his way to that sweet spot on your collarbone.

“ya look so beautiful, luv’. m’ pregnant wife wearin’ m’ clothes?” he kisses you again, “cooking m’ food after a long day of work?” another kiss, your knees buckling in his grip.

you turn to face him, bringing your lips to his. you had to stand on your tip toes to connect your lips, simon lifting you by the waist to help you. “knew this would make you happy, si!” you kissed your husband again, “we both really missed you when you left this morning,” you say, hands moving to your belly, “so wanted to do something for you.”

you didn’t miss the look in the man’s eye, him dropping to his knees in front of you, big hands on your stomach. although your stomach appeared huge, simon could still fully cover a good amount, your heart swelling at the thought of him holding your future child. “tha’ right, sweetheart?” he says still looking up at you, hands roaming around your belly.

you could only nod at the sight, feeling a heat build in your core. your pregnancy hormones made you so fucking horny sometimes, your husband not helping your case.

he noticed the shift in your legs though, feeling your skin heat up from his touching. he kissed your baby bump some more, “daddy loves you so much,” occasionally leaving him. god, simon loved feeling your baby, dreaming of the day he gets to actually hold the baby.

“is somethin’ wrong, mommy?” his eyes peer up at you, your pussy throbbing. something about seeing the large man on his knees, hands on your body, calling you mommy, you were doomed.

“wanna be touched, si,” you were blunt. you didn’t feel any embarrassment, shamelessly pushing your front into the man’s face more.

he grips your hips, stopping any movement, “needa eat first, mommy. don’ wan’ ya and the baby hungry, do we?” his fingers would definitely leave marks on your skin. with a reluctant head nod, simon kissed your stomach again, rising to his feet, kissing you next.

after you finished dinner though, simon had you laid across your kitchen island, knocking a few things off. he just made you cum for the second time, claiming you were, “the best dessert a man could ever have.”

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Simon never, ever thought he would be in love with someone, marrying with her, and then making a baby with her. Hiss teammates thought he would die alone. And so is he. He wasn’t a man for love or relationship. His grumpiness, stubbornness wasn’t a thing that girls loves. Or he thought so.

Because there he was, holding a small baby girl in his arms. So, so small compared to him—His large hand was covering baby’s head— She was so beautiful with her chubby cheeks, her mother's hazel eyes, and her blonde hair. He had fallen in love again. This time to his daughter.

He swayed her back and forth, caressing her soft, silky hairs. Mumbling lullabies he learnt from his wife. The sun was shining brightly through the window of the nursery. The curtains were fluttering and falling as if they were dancing in the warm, summer breeze that came through the open window.

Her hazel eyes locked to her daddy, smiling with her toothless mouth. Simon melted, kissed the baby's neck with a deep sigh. Earning a happy squeal from his loved one. He chuckled deeply. The baby was so awake and energetic for this early hours of morning, but he needed to go work. He was already late about an hour.

He sighed. With quiet footsteps, he walked out from the nursery with bundle of noise in his arms. Got inside of the massive bedroom. Only to see his lovely wife sleeping soundly in bed. He placed carefully baby girl to bed, next to her mommy. She immediately squealed reaching to touch her mommy’s cheeks. He can’t help but smile at such affectionate view. His favorite activity was watching his wife. Now another one added on his favorite activity list. Watching his daughter. He couldn’t be any happier.

His thoughts got cut with a loud scream from the baby—because her mommy wasn’t playing with her— And causing Y/N waking up with groan. Simon shushed baby girl.

“Why’re ya wakin’up your mommy, sweet cheeks?” He asked. Caressing her blond hairs.

Soon, Y/N opened her eyes. Looked around with sleep drunk mind. Simon laughed in his deep voice. “G’morning m’love.” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss into her hairs. Y/N smiled, melting into her partner’s small kiss. She looked around as her eyes adjusted to the light.

“Huh, what’s this noisy baby doing in my bed?” She asked. Caressing baby girl’s chubby cheek. She immediately grabbed her finger and tried to suck it. “Hungry monster.” Y/N turned to Simon while lifting the baby to her arms, positioning baby to her chest.

“Aren’t you late to work, love?” Baby’s mouth sounds filled the room.

“Yeah. M’late and need to head base. But you and her making it’s impossible.” Simon said, huffing to her hair. Y/N chuckled. Caressing his strong bicep, that placed on her tight. This was a routine morning both Simon and Y/N loved so much. Affectionate family interaction.

After a while Simon had left. Leaving sleeping baby and wife on king sized bed. Two girls hugged to each other. Y/N’s arm protectively around baby’s tiny body. Shielding her from every threat. Her breath hitting the baby's shiny hair.

And baby girl, snuggled to her mommy’s comfort, holding her necklace with her tiny fingers. Dada’s smell still on bed made them fall asleep quickly. Before baby, when Y/N lay next to Simon, she had fallen asleep quickly. Her sleeping problems would melt away. It was the same after baby girl had born. But now baby was the same with her mommy. Sleeping quickly because of daddy’s scent on bed and pillow. And sleeping peacefully till afternoon. Just like her momma.

They had no idea that Simon were watching them through camera. Smiling like an idiot, caressing their faces through the phone in his hand. The two girl had no idea, how Simon loved them. They had been his world. And he would never let anyone’s finger laying on them.

18+ mdni.

OOPS. (SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x nympho!reader)

someone told him once that dreaming is a language. when he married you, he found that to be true. there's something poetic about being awake but feeling like you're in the most wonderful dream, accompanied by a goddess who's mystical and divine.

and you swear that beneath his tough exterior, there's a halo around his beating heart

because he hasn't been to work in days. and it's all because of you. you kiss his neck, tell him how sexy he is, and he loses time as soon as your pretty little pussy is wrapped around his huge dick, milking him for everything he's worth.

he nearly gets fired because you take him as if you're a pure-hearted spellbound minx. a venus flytrap that's insatiable and loving. and he never complains. never uses it against you. he married you because he wants you to bury your heart inside his. wants you to get lost with him in those awake-time dreams.

you are his muse.

his doll.

Love your writing btw TY

thinking about getting a little too drunk w husband!simon… (pt. 2)

like i said before, he’s on you the second you get home.

he keeps up the gentleman act for a short while, carrying you up to the front door with your heels in his opposite hand. he shushes your rambles and babbling on the way, even though you sound so cute doing it. he even reassures you that you still look pretty whenever the insecurity passes through your drunk little head.

“baby, is my makeup messed up?”

“of course not. stop worryin’ ‘bout it.”

anything to keep you calm and docile. the neighbors don’t need to hear how much of a mess you are.

all the while, though, his mind is just racing, eager with what he’s going to do to you.

sure, he’s not really mad. a little annoyed, a lot possessive, but mostly horny if anything else. he secretly loves when you get like this— too drunk and out of your mind to think too much. you come completely out of your shell then.

the way you eyed him up as you sipped on the drink he’d hand you. the way you wrapped your arm around his neck and pulled him down to whisper how horny you were— how you needed him to fuck you. it was too much for him to handle all at once. even moreso when you saunter off a few seconds later, giggling like nothing had happened.

yeah, he’d been waiting for this moment.

as you two make it past the threshold, he set you down softly, allowing you to stumble a bit as he locks the door behind you. you try wander off, eager to get away before he gets his hands on you, but his patience is already so thin. this game of look-but-don’t-touch was far played out.

he’d pull you back into him with a grip of insanity, silently smirking at the way you gasped into his touch.

his strength was always something that amazed you— the way he could pick you up and toss you around without breaking a sweat. it was something his years of military service and industrial work had awarded him. something that lay just dormant under his buttoned-up polos and fleece-lined jackets. now, though, instead of being for the country or a hard-boiled employer, it was for you and you alone.

“you acted out tonight, huh?” he’d question, voice gruff and deep against your ear. the chuckle that accompanies that sentence is anything but disarming— just another example of his frustration.

“did i not give you all the attention you wanted? is that why you needed it from all those people?”

his breathing picked up there in an almost animalistic way, mimicking ragged pants more than breaths. when he got this worked up, it almost felt like you had been corned by a predator— like you were it’s prey. the meal it had watched and waited for all night. it was exciting.

“no you didn’t, baby,” you replied cheekily, tilting your head back to rest against his shoulder, “and i got dressed up so pretty too.”

you relished in how his big, bulky arms rested around your waist, veins pulsing and strained under his skin. he held you like a vice, his grip growing tighter with the way you were teasing him. even with your drunken vision, you knew how much power he held over you right now.

“guess i should make up for that then, huh?” he chided into your neck, lapping his tongue over the soft, sensitive valley that rested there. you hated how well he could read your body— how he knew exactly what spot to lick, kiss, suck. it was second nature to him. he argued you had the same knowledge too though.

the second his lips smash yours is the one in which you melt. being bratty had it’s merits— the biggest one being your husband’s amusement. after a while of being chased and catered to though, you’d start to crave the moment when he’d grow tired with your behavior. then, and only then, would he remind you of your place.

the kiss is a sloppy one. plush, firm lips parting against one another. tongues dancing with mouthfuls of saliva and the lingering taste of alcohol. the way simon brought his hand up to your neck, forcing you to your tippy toes in the midst of it only made it worse.

before you knew it, he had you bent over your stairwell, far too eager to make it up to your bedroom. the dress you’d once struggled to keep down was now hoisted up to your chest, exposing most of your perfect fucking body.

your panties were pulled down to your ankles, sopping in arousal and the runoff of you and your husband’s past four orgasms.

normally, he would’ve taken his time— been more attentive. there was rarely ever a time he fucked you without at least tasting you first. but this was one of those times. he was too horny to even prep you, instead taking the sight of your dripping pussy as enough.

“look at you, lovie,” he taunted, running two of his fingers over your sopping entrance. “you all wet and sloppy from pissing me off?”

it was almost intoxicating for him. the way your heart-shaped ass presented so nicely for him. the way you trembled slightly as he overstimulated you, barely keeping yourself upright against the plush carpet stairs as another orgasm ripped through you. the way you called his name like a prayer, apologizing, pleading, praising— anything your muddled little mind could muster.

“please baby, it’s starting to hurt.” you sounded like a whimpering dog, voice sliced by the sheer force of his thrusts into you.

“nuh uh,” he’d answer, pushing the breathy noise from his mouth as he rutted towards another orgasm, “this is what you wanted, right? you can take it.”

he’d move his hands then from their grip on your breasts further down to your waistline then, jerking you towards his thrusts without a second thought.

if you looked down, you were sure you’re see his cock brushing against your tummy. it was something he’d show you when he had you on your back. he’d press down on both sides of your stomach, fucking up into you with that pace he knew could make you squirt, and he’d taunt.

“look baby. look at how deep you’re takin’ me.”

you felt that way now— like you could squirt from the sheer intensity and power of him. from the grip he had around you, or even the heinous shit he was whispering in your ear.

“you just don’t know. i was two seconds away from fuckin’ you in front of all those people.”

“i should’ve made cum in the middle of that bar, huh? mark my territory that way.”

“awh, you’re cummin’ again? go ahead baby. there’s ten times more after that.”

but that wasn’t even the worst of it. eventually, he started talking in the ways he only would when he was really fucking gone.

“to think, those dumb bitches actually thought they’d take you home tonight. gettin’ an eye full of what’s all mine.”

“my pretty fucking wife,” he’d say, taking a pause to groan out as he burried himself in your walls, “i’d do any-fucking-thing for you.”

“kill any bastard with their eye on you.”

it was in these moments that you’d try not to take his words too seriously. you were sure he didn’t mean them— just drunken, lust-driven rambles.

if only you knew just how truly devoted your husband was. not just to getting you off, but to so so much more.

alright, i’m done holding out on this one! thank you so much for the ask, as well as the love and support on my writing! this is so so much fun.

summary: when simon finally comes back home from deployment, he makes sure he spoils you in the best way possible. *wink wink*

warnings: cursing, teasing touches, husband!simon needs a warning of its own UGH, filthy car sex, messy pussy eating, wet noises, missonaryyy, filthy nasty dirty talk, we already know simon has the mouth of a sailor hehe

wc: 2.8k

notes: first of all, i wanna give a big big big shoutout to @suimon because without her AMAZING FUCKING PHENOMENAL works of art, i wouldn't have gotten out of my writing funk and they truly have inspired me 🫶🏼 second of all, i was on twitter and came across this spicy video and it basically helped me create whatever this is 😭 enjoy !

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it wasn’t that you didn’t want to go out tonight. in fact, you’re ecstatic to go out with your husband. it’s only been two days since simon has been back from being deployed for almost one month. he had spent the two days sleeping and getting up to eat when it’s necessary, only to go back to sleeping. you didn’t care about that. you were just happy that he was back home. safe. alive. on the third day, he surprises you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

your husband simon has never been the type to enjoy costumes and "crossplaying"--he misunderstood the term cosplay and argues with you when you correct him--but seeing your face light up when you suggested he be the Darth Vader to your Padme made him cave. every year is the same, truly. you scroll on Pinterest and find a "cute couple costume babyyyy" and you pout up at him, and suddenly he's dressed as some goddamned masked character from a show or movie he'd never seen. last year--through teary eyes and cunt full of cock--you asked him to be the Iron Man to your Pepper Pots. through the haze of his desire he'd mumbled an agreement. this year you were so kind as to ask him before he'd been balls deep inside of you. your look was just the same, bashful and full of wonder. your husband would give you a kidney, so of course he doesn't draw the line here.

so, here you were on Halloween night seated on your silly little porch waiting for trick-or-treaters. he's fingering through the buckets of candy in search of another sour one when you swat his hand away, eyes glaring at him. he gruffs at you, muttering like a damn child while he places them down and steps away. "this is silly," he comments mostly to himself, thinking about how easily he lets his sweet little wife boss him around during this time of year. you're beaming though, and he can't help but feel his heart strings tugged when he catches a glimpse of you happily rearranging your costume as trick-or-treaters approach. you giddily run over to your husband, dragging him to the front of the porch to greet the newcomers.

A pink tint dusts your husband's cheeks as he relishes in the excited gasps and giggles from the children as they grasp at candy and cheer about his costume. he's always been uncomfortable with such innocent attention, but he can't lie about how loved it makes him feel to step into this Pickett fence life with you. the little ones run off with a rushed goodbye, cheering for your husband once more, and Simon pulls you in close to have you place chaste and gentle kisses along his lovely costumed face.

When Simon Riley asks you to be exclusive with him, he’s ready to marry you.

With all he’s been through, Simon doesn’t take starting a relationship easily. It probably took him a while—maybe a number of years—to get to know you, just being friends with you, and just being comfortable with your presence. If he knows he’s okay with dating you, the man does it knowing that you are someone he’s okay with marrying eventually.

With that said, don’t be surprised if within less than a year of dating him, Simon asks you out of the blue if you’d like to move in with him or if both of you should just get… married. He’s a man who prefers to plan ahead, but sometimes when the perfect timing comes, he will jump at the opportunity.

Simon’s a straightforward and practical man. Not at all a man of grand gestures, so the “proposal” wouldn’t be a bending-on-one-knee thing—he had a good feeling and he just blurted it out. It might have been after you two had an intensely satisfying lovemaking and he felt really connected with you, or it’s been a while since he saw you due to work and you’re just having a good, chill time with him, laughing and enjoying being with each other.

The urge just came to him as he’s just adoringly looking at you, feeling how much his heart is filled with love as he commits every little detail of your visage in his memory. Once he feels that way, the rest comes easy:

“Would you marry me, Luv?”

———

pairing: husband!simon “ghost” riley x wife!reader

summary: fuck the space! you need your husband back

part 2!

part 1, definitely doing more harm to you

masterlist!

a/n: requests are open!! been having bad writer’s block :(((

“soap m’ tellin ya,” simon begins, taking a sip of his beer, “never seen ‘er so upset.”

the british brute decided to call his mate when you kicked him out, asking him to meet at their local bar. “be there soon, ghost.” johnny didn’t miss the troubled tone in his lieutenant’s voice, so he knew something serious was going on.

both of the muscular men were two beers deep, now working on their third— just teetering on the brim of tipsy. it sucked being so big sometimes.

“she’s been in ‘tis rut for multiple days. m’ tried and tried to help ‘er out, but nothin’,” simon continues, eyeing his wedding band. he brought his right hand to fidget with the jewelry, “it got so bad tonigh’…”

a pause— silence consuming them, becoming a part of the conversation. simon struggled to resume, still in disbelief himself about what happened just a few hours ago. he took another sip of his beer, maybe more of a long gulp, then, a deep breath, “she started hittin’ m’. thought m’ sweet lass was gonna hurt ‘erself.”

johnny, sharing his lieutenant’s disbelief, couldn’t stop it from showing on his face. the scottish man’s eyes widened and his mouth fell agape, “hit ya? y/n hit ya?” you wouldn’t even hurt a fly, how could you hit your husband?

the man nodded, confirming, “couldn’ believe it either soap, but tha’s not tha point. we both know she didn’t cause any pain.”

finishing the last drops of his beer, simon slammed the empty glass on the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. the thud from the glass caused stares from onlookers nearby, but a scary, threatening glare from the brit made them turn away.

“tha point ‘s that she got so stressed out, it lead to ‘er havin’ a total breakdown. m’ didn’ know how to help ‘er, johnny. m’ sweet wife…” the larger man started to trail off, his rambling quieting.

the scott hated seeing his mate upset, never seeing his lieutenant in such a perturbed state.

johnny let a few seconds pass before trying, “ya gave ‘er what she asked for. tha’s all ya can do, LT,” finishing his beer now, “ya did everythin’ right.”

ring. ring. ring.

simon’s phone started vibrating, the ringtone barely audible over the bustling crowd and music at the bar.

both men glanced down at his phone on the table, your caller id flashing across the screen, “m’ told ‘er to call when she needed m’.”

johnny smiled at his mate, patting his back, “go help yer wife. i’ll cover us.” “thank ya, johnny. for everythin’.”

the military men gave a final head nod to each other, your husband answering your call on his way out, “hello? luvie’?”

simon was frantic, long strides getting him to his truck, “are ya there? m’ comin’ home to ya.” the brit waited for a response, turning his radio all the way down to hear.

he almost missed it, the subtle sounds of your sobs, “can hear ya, hon. shhh, it’s alrigh’. yer husband’s comin’,” he coos, trying to console you.

“s-si!” he heard you hiccup out. “yes, sweet’eart. m’ ‘ere.”

“i’m s-so, so sorry,” more wailing left you, “i can’t believe i hit you, kicked you out— oh my gosh, si, i’m sorry.”

simon imagined what his wife looked like, body curled into itself, hands tugging at your poor hair. he knew you would have the worst headache after all this crying.

“sweetie, it’s alrigh’. know ya been strugglin’ lately. jus’ wanna help ya-” “exactly, simon! all you’ve tried to do is just help me and i keep p-pushing you away! i’ve been a terrible wife to you,” you interrupted him, voice trembling when it raised, “you’re such a caring husband, a-and i treat you like shit.”

“luvie’, please. m’ almost home,” he took a left turn. only two right turns before he makes it to you, “let m’ take care of ya.” you cried out to your husband, “si.”

when he entered the front door, he saw you in the same spot he left you— right in the entrance way, though, you were sitting on the floor now, back against the wall.

he frowned at the revelation, “oh, m’ sweet fawn,” stepping towards you, the familiar creak of the hardwood under his size 13 boot. he scooped you into his strong arms, guiding your legs to wrap around his built torso, something you’ve done hundreds of times before. encircling your arms around his neck, you placed your head onto his chest, “s-simon. i’m sorry.”

you felt him slither his hands along your spine, the deep shhh’s rumbling from his chest encouraging your cries to assuage. “yer husband’s gotcha, sweet’eart. m’ ‘ere.”

he walked you both to your shared bedroom, sitting on the bed with you still in his hold. he let you rest in his arms, still gliding his hands up and down your back. he would let you start when you were ready.

a couple minutes passed, then, “i don’t really know what’s wrong with me.”

you leaned away, hand fiddling with your wedding band, a fidget you and simon apparently shared. your husband’s hands moved to either side of your hips when you leaned back, a soft squeeze and “go on,” encouraging you to proceed.

“i feel so useless, si. i haven’t been able to get out of bed, help around the house— i- i haven’t had the energy to do anything! all my projects are forgotten! my days are wasting away! i’m w-wasting myself away,” you were getting worked up again, your husband frowning when he watched you pull at your strands of hair.

promptly grabbing your hands to stop your actions, he brought you back into his hold. “the world f-feels like it’s eating me, simon. l-like i’m sinking and can’t swim up.”

“luv’, didn’ know ya were feelin’ like tha” he kisses your forehead, “we’re gonna get ya help. m’ promise.”

over the next few days, that’s what your husband did— he spent time researching for a high-rated therapist that would accept your insurance, scrubbing your body clean in your shared showers, cooking you meal after meal, cuddling with you. your husband even drove you to your therapy appointments, “m’ so proud of ya, luvie’,” when you’d return, littering kisses all over your face.

he monitored your medicine, assuring you consumed it at the correct hour every day, picking up your refill prescription when it ran out.