Ginevra

(CW: mentions of death, childhood neglect)

She’d barely loved before, never been loved before either. Starting with a father who hated her and a mother too busy surviving him, she didn’t find love later in life either. She was always bullied or the replaceable, unexciting one in the group. Even her friends might not have mistreated her, but they reciprocated her overflowing devotion with disinterest or pity at best.

She might as well go to the army. None better to die for their country than someone no one will miss. She kept to herself mostly; there wasn’t any point in exhausting herself with people who would never care.

Somehow, amidst dozens of others, though, Simon noticed her. Maybe it was some sort of magnet, joining two souls who didn’t say much, who hid in their shells. He’d come sit next to her. He’d speak a sentence or two of small talk. Occasionally, he’d give her his portion of a cookie or apple. She ignored him. Once, she lost her cool and snapped at him to fuck off instead of toying with her emotions. She had no energy left to let herself be hurt again. Simon seemed to understand. He’d back away, but unlike what she expected, it was always to give her space, not to abandon her. After a day or two, he’d be back.

She loved him before she even became acquaintances. It crept up on her, soft and sweet. It was like being blindsided by summer. One minute, she was barely surviving a blizzard. Frigid winds around her flayed her to the bone and froze her frail heart. The next, she was consumed by the blazing passion of a love so warm it brought her to life.

She was wise enough to know better. Years had taught her cynicism addressed as common sense. Which is why it bewildered her that she never truly saw Simon’s love for Johnny coming. She’d observed all the signs, of course. She was a soldier, and a good one at that. It didn’t take a genius to see that Simon talked and laughed more with his teammate than anyone else. But there was other evidence her brain gathered no matter how much she tried to turn a blind eye.

She noticed the way Simon’s gaze lingered on Johnny and the way Johnny’s lingered back. She saw the way they’d sit close and brush against each other— innocent to a clueless eye. She observed the subtle way Simon’s entire body bloomed like a flower before sunlight when Johnny was around. She somehow caught Simon leaving Johnny’s room. Her breath caught when she realized Simon pulling his mask on outside the door meant he’d let Soap see his real face— something he wouldn’t let anyone else do.

But her own longing for him had blinded her to that final conclusion, the slotting of the puzzle pieces together. It was easy to persuade herself that Simon’s kindness meant he loved her in that way. Her affection-starved heart was so easy to persuade that maybe something good was finally happening to her. She hadn’t accepted the truth. Rather the truth had slammed itself on her like a tsunami.

It happened right before a mission. She’d gone to secure her equipment, and she walked in on Johnny and Simon. Their lips met in a tender kiss, and their arms clung to each other in case it was their last. “I love you,” Simon whispered. And her world was devastated. Her ears were ringing, her eyes a blur. Her head pounded while her heart was charged with agony like she’d never felt before. She stumbled out too far gone to hear Johnny whisper his love back.

She had two choices. Her or Johnny. Johnny or her. The mission had gone wrong… drastically. Johnny didn’t know he’d stepped on a mine while downloading files. All he knew was that time was ticking, and the enemy was closing in. She stepped a bit too close. She could feel the trigger plate under her feet, and that mattered more than the slightly judgmental look Soap gave her.

“Why don’t you start heading out? I’ll wipe the computer and be right behind you.” Her voice was shaky, barely more than a whisper. Soap didn’t think odd of it. “Sure, lass. Don’t take too long, eh?” He patted her gently on the head. Her heart bled a little. How she wished she could hate him!

Soap left her behind so easily. But she told herself to be grateful. Simon’s affection would have soured into hatred if she was the one who made it out alive. And maybe it would be easier for him to look back fondly at her if Johnny wasn’t eaten up knowing she’d given her life for his mistake.

She wanted to tell Soap so many things as he disappeared out of sight. She wanted to tell him she wished he were dead. She wanted to tell him she wanted Simon to know she loved him. She wanted to tell him she wished them well, that they’d share the love she’d longed for, that it would grow into love she couldn’t even dream of. But it was imperative Johnny didn’t know. Simon would— she knew him well enough to be sure he’d figure it out. But maybe that would make him love her a bit more. And that had to be enough for her.

(fluff and smut. MDNI)

The first time he asked you out, he was a nervous, melting wreck. His friends, watching from a distances, guffawed at the sight of the huge man hunched over to match your height a bit better.

When you started dating, trying to hold your hand was a whole tactical operation for him. He’d had a thirty-step strategy, and you smashed it in one second when you slipped your fingers between his. Simon instantly squeezed your hand to get more of your warmth.

Your first kiss, just outside the destination for your second date, excited him a bit too much. He stammered and folded all over himself trying to hide why he couldn’t go outside for a few minutes. When you figured it out, you turned your head with a smile to preserve his frayed dignity.

He came much too quick for the first few times you had sex. It took you edging and training him to extend his stamina. But how could he control himself when he had such a lovely woman wrapped around him? To be fair, he was a trooper; and he’d go several rounds to satisfy you even if it made him cry and whimper so prettily in overstimulation.

He’d turn red every time he asked you for affection. If you complimented him, he’d almost hide his face. You figured it out and initiated even harder. For one thing, you knew he’d have a hard time asking for love himself… and it was fun to fluster him. Oh my god!— don’t even get started on the day you took control. He almost busted the instant you pushed him against a wall and caged him between your arms, one hand pinning his huge ones to the wall. When you both went out, it was you talking for him sometimes because he just couldn’t find the words.

Even after you dated and were long married, Simon crushed on you— and he crushed hard!! He’d stare like a blissful fool at the littlest things you did. He could listen to you for hours. For him, the honeymoon period never ended. He never stopped aweing at the fact that he’d ended up with someone as wonderful as you.

Oh, and he still sometimes needed a few minutes to calm down after you kissed him ;)

Slight mentions of domestic violence and sexual assault

Growing up, he had plenty example of what a man should not be from his dad.

So when he began to date and became a father himself, he held himself up to a good standard and then he raised them higher.

Never did he raise his voice or hand on his wife or kids. He respected his wife and modeled it so his daughters knew what to expect from a man and so his sons knew how to be one. He’d spend time with his family, getting to know them not just treat them like side characters in his fantasies. He'd take each member individually out on dates and spoil them. There wouldn’t be any punishment for being imperfect, only discipline when doing something harmful and gentle teaching to guide his kids. He’d be emotionally vulnerable and mature so his family would be able to lean on and be close to him. His kids would grow knowing it’s okay to have feelings and there’s a way to handle them properly.

With his wife, he’d always be tender and loving. He’d show consideration for her needs and boundaries. When she was weak, he’d be stronger to support her. And when he needed, he’d let himself rely on her too. He was always holding her or telling her how much he loved her. He’d leave notes for her. He’d remember and plan for important dates. He’d take an active interest in things she liked. He valued the people in her life. When they had sex, he’d never selfishly focus on his own pleasure— nor was he selfish towards her at any other time.

No toxic masculinity in him. He’d worked hard to unlearn the harmful patterns his past had engrained in him. If his kids wanted to paint their nails or dress up, he was right there strutting to living room with them to show his wife. If his kids wanted to build something, he’d… freak out a bit that they’d get hurt, but he’d guide them age-appropriately anyway.

His kids weren’t perfect. Sometimes they’d break rules. They sneak out for drinks. They’d get bad grades. One wrecked his car. But there wasn’t ever a time they didn’t know he’d have their back. They’d always have a home in him and his wife.

When his son got into a toxic relationship, he let him cry his heart out, then gave the ex-bf a talk that chased him out for good. His daughter came to her parents, breaking into tears as she told them about a family friend’s inappropriate behavior. Simon had known him for a long time, but there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation as he put that man in jail. He didn’t tolerate other people doing or saying anything misogynistic, rude, or harmful towards his family. And you can bet he avoided it himself. If he screwed up, he’d apologize straight and change his behavior.

(CW: smuttttt! MDNI)

He’s worn to the bone, and all he needs is you and some deep sleep. He’s covered in dirt and questionable fluids, so he doesn’t even look at you as he goes straight to the bathroom. You understand. He needs to be clean, desperately needs to wash off all traces of the Ghost he’d been and slowly ease into his body again. You knew it would take maybe an hour or so before he was sufficiently himself to be able to meet you. And even then, he’d need more.

The instant he was ready, though, he zoomed in on you like he was possessed. It was like his body was on autopilot, unstoppable in its tracks leading to you. “Love—!” Was the only thing he managed to choke out before his lips and hands were all over you.

His tongue swiped into your mouth; his hands grasped your body nearly close enough to bruise. In his desperation, he’d forgotten everything but trying to convince himself you were still alive, that you were real, that you still loved him and were right there. He planted kisses down your body. He wound up on his knees to kiss your feet. And then, he looked up at you and begged, “Sit on my face, gem.”

Soft, thick thighs wrapped tight around his ears— he pressed them even closer together— and eyes obscured by the full weight of you resting on him, he was finally able to drown out the army. No more loud noises, no more pressure of life or death, no more grime, no more mask. His mind and body were focused only on you, devoted to your satisfaction.

He ate hungrily, savoring the taste of your pussy. You moaned above him. Your fingers dug the headboard till he pried your fingers off and brought them to his hair instead so he could relish the sting of you tugging it in overwhelm of the pleasure he was giving you. He let out a loud groan when you began to grind on him, and he dug his fingers into your ass to encourage you to use him more.

You knew his routine. It took him a while to shed the weight of his job. So you’d definitely be here a while. Then, when you lifted off his face, soaked and trembling, he’d wash you both up. He’d curl up in your arms, face pressed to your bosom. He’d sleep a long, long time. And finally, when he woke up, you’d have all of Simon back.

(CW: smut. MDNI)

And she’s trying her hardest not to thirst over him. He’s a good looking man, peering down curiously at her. He’s got the height difference she deserves. His body is strong and just the right balance between soft and muscular. He’s covered in veins… all the way down (she got to see when he stripped for the exam). And his scars, hidden under gear and mask, just make him hotter.

Outwardly, she was perfectly professional. But inside, she wished she could trace those scars with her tongue before swallowing his cock down her throat. It was with a perfectly blank face she had to assess his dick and assure him he was in peak fertility and in the higher percentile fore size and girth.

At one point, she was dressing a slight wound on his collarbone. As her fingers brushed against his neck, she wondered what it would be like to choke him. She pictured his teary eyes gazing up ever so pleading into hers as he thrust up into her in cowboy. Her pussy clenched thinking about how pretty she could make him moan and whine, how sweet his begs for her to let him cum would be. And she’d tighten her hold on his airway, letting go only once he’d filled her up.

She’d checked his blood pressure, and his forearm lay tantalizingly in front of her. His long, thick fingers that could fill her up. Oh, she knew a man like that was good with them. He could probably make her squirt. He’d stuck his tongue out for one part of the exam, and she almost moaned at the thought of that lapping against her. His lips were at the exact height she could have just leaned in for a kiss…

Snapping out of her daze, she caught him watching her. She startled, knowing he’d probably read her thoughts. He didn’t seem put off, though, just a bit amused and rather turned on. Her boldness spurred. She leaned close enough for her lips to brush his ear. “Ever thought of wearing a collar, Lt.?” She murmured. Simon’s body tensed, and he swallowed hard. “Depends. You offering to put one on me, Ma’am?”

(CW: sexual themes)

And right after sex, he pulls off his penis and throws it away. He sees your terrified(?) appalled(?) expression and immediately reassures you: “Don’t worry, honey! I can grow a new one if you wanna go another round!” He seems to take pride in the fact his refractory period is shorter than other slugs, so you won’t have to wait all the way till the next day to have sex again.

Thank you to my followers and others who’ve liked, reblogged, and commented on my posts. Reading comments especially makes my day! Y’all are so much fun! Here’s a toast to all the stories we’ve shared and to the ones ahead 🍞🧈

(CW: Smut. Orgasm control, overstim, cunnilingus, femdom, mommy kink)

Except it’s reader enforcing it.

Simon had canceled too many dates, had made too many excuses. You reached your last straw when he went and forgot your damn anniversary.

Simon was in hell. He’d groveled on his knees, finally realizing the depth of his mistake. He’d shown up consistently after the night he’d found you sobbing and packing your bags. Extra dates, gifts, almost incessant cuddles. But part of you was still bitter.

He wasn’t sleeping on the couch. No, he’d graduated past that a few weeks ago. But you hadn’t let him anywhere near your pussy yet. Simon had respected your boundaries. Even when you drove him nuts on purpose, dressing in the sluttiest clothing you could muster, pleasuring yourself in front of him but not letting him touch, even kissing him till he was all heated then pulling away. He tried jerking off. The best result he got was a pathetic dribble of cum and no real pleasure. His dick and balls were all swollen, and he was so pent up. Your body had him spoiled. What can he say? He was obsessed with you, and nothing was quite as good without you anymore— especially sex.

Finally, you had mercy on him… kind of. This was another ploy of yours to torture him, and Simon knew that. But he was desperate enough to play your game.

You’d kissed him till both your lips were wet and swollen. Then you dragged him to your shared bedroom. He’d pulled you on top of his face. As eager as he was to finally sink into your perfect pussy, he wanted to make you cum a few times first.

Works for you. You’d turned around and sat your whole weight on his face. While he ate you out like a man starved, you riled and teased his cock. He was almost ready to burst by the time he let you go.

“Poor baby. You’re ready to have a nice, good cum, aren’t you?” You mocked. “Y-Yes! Please, m-mommy.” Simon stuttered. The word slipped out. “Good boy.” You began to jerk him off. Your movements were quick and rough. Simon writhed and jolted at the pain mixed with pleasure. His hands came to grasp at yours. “Ah, fuck, pleeeaaase!” He begged like a prayer. He knew he couldn’t hold it, but his orgasm wouldn’t be anywhere near satisfactory unless he was in you. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you cum in me.” You chuckle. He squeezed his eyes shut in relief. His body sinks back into the bed, reassured. He didn’t noticed the glint in your eyes.

The pleasure builds up again. His eyes gaze up at yours, and his body freezes at the peak. True to your words, you straddle him, fast as lightning, and let him cum inside.

But it’s only the tip. His orgasm shoots through him for a brief second. Then, it crashes into a ruin. You smirk and moan at his milky cum coating your insides. You lift yourself off him so you can finger and spread it all over your pussy. Simon freezes then bursts into sobs.

“Shh, don’t worry, love. We’re not done yet.” You say as you slip the oh-so-sensitive and flushed head of his penis into your cunt. Simon’s body jolts like he got shot. “I’ll let you cum, again and again and again. I’ll even let you do it inside me. But just remember: just the tip.”

Simon being needy after deployment

Shy Simon

These men have been through war and torture. Yet somehow, none of that has scared them quite as much their wife driving them on a two-wheeler. The bike swerves at ungodly angles, and the men’s breath hitch. Their knuckles are white, their buttholes are clenched shut from the tension. They turn to god for the first time in only he knows how long to pray for their lives to be spared.

Blissfully unaware of their terror, their wife chatters on. Every once in a while, she lifts her hand off the steering to emphasize her words or point something out. Their souls leave their body and narrowly miss sinking all the way to hell in those moments.

All sorts of filth spits from their mouths at the 360-degree traffic. No one pays attention to the rules, not even the policemen. People walk mere centimeters from whizzing vehicles, and those vehicles race in tangled lines around each other. The soldiers can’t count the number of times it seemed like they’d inevitably crash.

Yet, somehow, they make it. When they get off, skin pale and legs trembling, their wife doesn’t seem fazed in the least. “What’s wrong, love? Wasn’t the traffic great?! It’s not usually this calm!”

Fucking you in missionary, gazing into your eyes with his body shoved up against yours isn’t enough, so he hikes your legs over his shoulders and presses deeper inside.

Kissing you goodbye isn’t enough, so he comes back for another kiss… then another… then another. Thirty seconds later, he’s got you caged against the wall, devouring your mouth. It’s so easy and messy, the way his tongue delves into your lips and the way he sucks at your spit.

He starts on his stomach to give you oral. You’re lying down with your legs parted. But it’s not enough to taste you; he needs you taking over all his senses and suffocating him. So he flips you around and seats you on his face like a throne before returning to eating you out.

Being in the same house isn’t enough. When he has a day off, you can’t count the number of times he molds his body against yours or touches you in some way.

“Fucking perv.” You mutter as he deeply inhales your scent before returning to his business.

“Fucking perv.” You repeat when you realize that wasn’t enough, so he went to your bedroom to jerk himself off while smelling your panties. Maybe even that isn’t enough either because next thing you know, you’re riding him, his mouth gagged with your panties and savoring the slight flavor.

more of Simon being needy for you

(cw: smut, puppy play, dom-sub dynamics). MDNI.

What’s the point of a guy so gigantic, so muscular, so big in the dick; but all he can do is follow around mob boss reader like a big stupid puppy? She put him to some use at least being her guard dog.

Who only does whatever she tells him to. If she tells him to jump, he’ll jump, then remember he’s supposed to ask how high and get confused mid-air and trip over his big clumsy feet. His obedience is unquestioning. Her word is law, so if it means breaking others, so be it.

Who is loyal to only her, has eyes only for her. A rival tried to lure Simon to his gang with suitcases of money. The next morning, she showed up to her office with his and his henchmen’s corpses waiting inside. Simon smiled, all pleased, like a dog who’d fetched a ball and was now wagging his tail for its owner’s approval. She made him scrub the stains by hand as she yelled at him for two hours. “You fucking bloodied my office, Simon! What if the police had caught this and put me in jail?!” Dumb puppy was hard the whole time.

He’s so pathetic he begged for her to sit on his face to relieve her tension after a really stressful time. But he came in his pants twice just from eating her out, so she punished him by making him hump her leg like the mutt he was. When he whined at the overstimulation, she muzzled him with her panties.

Dumb puppy doesn’t know how big he is. He’s constantly bumping into things or knocking them over. Once, cheeks red, he muttered a “M sorry” to a corpse he’d just tripped over. Upon realizing 1. the corpse was dead, 2. the corpse was an enemy who’d dared to steal your territory, and 3, you were glaring holes through him, he turned even darker crimson.

His lack of awareness is worse when he’s slamming into you with that huge cock. You’d looked so god damn gorgeous with your ass up for him. He’d barely located your hole and begun thrusting stupidly like he was in rut. He’s unaware that you’re barely holding onto your sanity. You just feel so good, and he can’t help but get all messy. He covers you with droolly, hot open-mouthed kisses from how fucked-dumb he is. Then, when he’s done filling you up, he’ll lap it out of your pussy like a dog.

People are surprised he doesn’t just… rebel. He’s twice her size and width. He could pick her up with just one arm with ease. He’s all scar and muscle— not someone who needs to prove himself. And yet, he wears a collar with her name engraved on it.

Sequel to this

More Simon x dom! reader smut

Just thinking about Simon’s wife, who’s been sexually abused. So whenever things get heated between them, she freezes or fawns because of her trauma.

Simon knows how the world is towards women. He knows how he appears, big and threatening even though he’d never harm an innocent person. He’d especially never lay a hand on or so much as yell at his wife.

But trauma is trauma, and she still can’t get over the memories or the emotions that come with it. It clings to her like a leech latching onto skin and ripping blood out.

Simon:🎵 Tell me why ain’t nuthin’ but a mistake

Price: now, Number Five

Makarov: 🎵 I never wanna hear you say

All of them together, harmonizing:🎶 I want it that way

(cw suggestive and violent themes. MDNI. This is based on the MW4 trailer)

After Soap’s death, Price went off the rails. He was breaking rules left and right, and spilling blood like water in an effort to find… revenge? Closure? He’d gotten so bad that Ghost, of all people, was sent to take him down.

It seemed everyone had given up on him. Even the worst of the lot said he was too far gone. Now he was a fugitive from his own team. Not that he cared. He had a mission to complete, and it didn’t matter if everyone else abandoned him. The fewer people, whether friendly or hostile, around to slow him down the better.

Price traversed the lonely, dark trail he’d set out on; but it looked like a guardian angel had gone before and cleared it for him. Out of nowhere— a tip here, a lead there. A shot in the dark that saved his head from being blown off. Sometimes, he’d reach his target only to find them dead with a literal bow tied to their body. He’d never been able to trace the messages. Nor had he caught the shadowy figure retreating after saving his life. Not a single trace of evidence got left behind with the corpses. And corpses there were— tons of them.

She watched him through the cameras she’d bugged the place with before he arrived. She cackled in delight at the stunned look on his face. He almost darted in circles around the scene. She’d sent him an encrypted message telling him the men he sought were at X location. When he arrived, she’d already dealt with them. Death was later on the list; first, she’d interrogated them, milking them of every bit of information they contained, even information Price wasn’t seeking. She had a lot of fun toying with her prey before finally putting them out of her misery.

His jaw tightened at the bloody sight, and she sighed happily. She knew he didn’t give two fucks about her methods: Price was almost as depraved as she was. No. This was about the new glint in his eyes, the fire that started to burn through every atom of his being. His eyes darkened; his hand went to his knife. This was his mission, and someone had dared to play god with it. She could see his resolve to make whoever it was pay hell for that, and it just set her off more.

She’d had her eyes on the older man for a long time. Price had barely ever noticed her. After all, she was a nobody. Just some small cog in the machine of war and world domination. She wasn’t a threat— didn’t look the part either with her big frames, baby face, fluffy hybrid tail, and cute clothes she wore to work. Then the fallback happened, Price went to the dark side, and suddenly he was ten times more appealing. She was dripping for his darker, fuller hair, sprinkled with white. He’d aged, but looked more daddy than father now, in a way that had her thighs and cunt squeezing around nothing. She burned for the darkness that had overtaken him. She dreamt about him, violent, filthy dreams. And, like a cat, the best way for her to show her love was by presenting him with corpses.

In the present, she feverishly rubbed herself. Her thighs were slick at the sight of him in all his glory. She froze to gasp as he abruptly looked right at the camera. Then, she leaned back and smirked. Her prey had sniffed her out. And soon, he’d be hunting her back.

Simon freezes and gazes up at his foreign wife with puppy eyes 🥺. All he did was take the last chip from the bag.

Dumb puppy-coded Simon

And like in Faultlines by mirrormauve (Excellently written. That fic was delicious.) Simon is covered in scars from both his traumatic childhood and dangerous career. ATP, he doesn’t know his scars because there’s too many to keep track of. He hates the idea of having a soulmate because he feels too damaged and believes they’d hate him too for all the shit he involuntarily put them through.

Except, with a twist not in that fic: his soulmate has had a terribly traumatic childhood too. She doesn’t gaf because she might as well add all the scars and trauma to the list.

(CW: Smut, fluff. MDNI)

It shows in the way he present for everything important in your life. It shows in the way he brags about you to everyone. It doesn’t matter how ordinary or how much of a disaster you may seem to others; as far as he gives a fuck, you’d probably hung the moon. It shows in the way encourages you even when you don’t believe in yourself. It shows in the way he’ll hold you close in those firm arms of his when you’re breaking down, because he’s there to be strong for you till you can hold yourself together.