simon x reader smut/comfort? poor Simon has mommy issues :(

cw: mommy kink, forced orgasm, dacryphilia (crying), comfort, afab reader

You know exactly what Simon needs when he gets back from a long deployment. Sure, you make him dinner, run a bath, check him over for any new wounds, but what he really needs is for you to take care of him.

His hair has grown out a bit and is sticking to his forehead with sweat, his chest heaves with labored breaths, tears prick at his eyes, and those beautiful sounds get punched out of him as you ride his cock brutally.

“Ah- ah- fuck, love. Please.” 

His hands are bruising around your hips, pads of his fingers digging into the fat of your ass, but he knows better than to try to force you to stop through strength alone. That would lead to a punishment, and of course, Simon is a good boy.

“Look at me.” you order, gripping his face and seeing the absolutely pussy-drunk look in his eyes. You’re not even sure he’s listening, unable to focus as he tries desperately not to blow his load in you right now as your ass slaps against his thighs, ruthlessly fucking him. “Don’t you fucking come, Simon.”

Those words always have the opposite effect, and tonight it brings him to the edge so fast he lets out a noise you’ve never heard him make before. Pitiful.

“Fuck! Shit- mommy! Mommy, please. Please let me come. I can’t-”

Tears stream down the corners of his eyes as he squeezes them shut, and you can feel his thighs and abs tensing beneath you. Maybe you were just feeling cruel, because you don’t slow down, no, you tighten around his cock and chase your own release without apology.

He feels so good. Thick and long enough to reach every good spot inside you, punching your g-spot so hard you’re spilling slick down his balls, making a mess of wet noises in the room. You’re already close, finally filled with something other than toys or your fingers now that Simon’s back, but just as you feel yourself about to tip over that edge, a guttural pained noise comes from his lips and you feel him jerking underneath you.

“No, no, no, no, no…” Simon begs, coming so hard he nearly goes blind, toes curling, back nearly coming off the bed as he holds you down on his pulsating cock, filling you up with a thick warm flood. It’s so much that you can feel it leaking around the vice grip your pussy has around him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, mommy. Please, I’m so sorry.”

You’re in shock for a moment. Simon has never come without permission, not since the first time you realized he was into this sort of stuff. And he looks so genuinely upset that it makes your heart squeeze. Tears flowing, begging for forgiveness, still shaking from the orgasm that wiped out most of his brain cells. He looks so sweet, you just can’t bring yourself to punish him.

The only thing you can do is wrap your arms around him and shush him quietly, fingers petting through his hair, his cock still half-hard inside of you and twitching.
“It’s alright, baby. You did such a good job for me.” You coo, pressing several light kisses along his hairline, the cool salty perspiration wetting your lips. “My good boy.”

His thick arms go around you, holding you close enough that it’s almost crushing, hiding his face against your neck where you can feel his tears still pooling against your skin. He doesn’t say anything, you just let him hold you and cry while you tell him how much you love him, that he’s safe. And afterwards you clean him up, press kisses against his flushed cheeks, and you let him sleep with his ear pressed against your heartbeat. Your good boy.

Something about the fact that both Price and Ghost have such a daddy vibe to them but in completely different ways just gets me. Like Price (being the creepy old man he is) just wanting to take care of his girl, whispering praises to her as he fucks her nice and slow, being careful to stretch her open on his fingers first, telling her how pretty she looks taking his cock, how shes such a good girl for him.

and then Simon? Simon is bullying himself into you from behind and pressing your face down into the mattress, fucking you with such rough thrusts that you’re sure there will be bruises on your ass tomorrow from where his hips slam against each cheek. and he gets off on how you cry when you’re overstimulated from the millionth orgasm he’s wrung from you, cooing mockingly at you, ‘don’t cry about it. ya wanted this, love, didn’t ya? so take it like a big girl.’

Simon Riley x Reader

Teen!au

tw: drinking, mild swearing, kind of sad, self indulgent and stereotypical

“Do you have to record everything?” Simon grumbled as you set up the camera on your rickety old bookshelf.
“I want this played at our wedding.” You replied with a smile that never ceased to make Simon’s heart skip a beat. ‘Wedding’. Simon Riley was going to marry you. You said it like it was just a fact of the universe, and maybe it was.

He watched as you finally stepped back with a slow pace, hands out like you were waiting for the damn thing to topple over. Then you turned back to him, eyes glimmering in the low light of your bedroom.

“C’mon. Dance with me, Simon.”

And how could he resist?

So you slow danced in the dark, music playing from a CD player just soft enough so that your parents wouldn’t hear. It was hardly a waltz, but it was perfect in every way that mattered. Two teenagers swaying back and forth, filled with the kind of love that people write poetry about. He looked into your eyes and saw it all there laid out in black and white. A wedding. A house. A few kids running around. More than anything he’d ever thought he could dream of with the kind of upbringing he had.

With a heavy feeling in his chest, Simon pulled you closer by the waist, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead and shutting his eyes like he could stay like this forever if only the world would let him.

Simon glanced over as you fumbled with that dreaded camcorder again, this time trying to make it sit straight on the dash as the car rumbled underneath you. The angle was off, sat askew even after your repeated meddling. You didn’t seem bothered by it as you sat back in the seat, hair blowing in the wind through the opened window. He couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you looked with the sunlight dancing across your face.

“What’re you up to, love?” Simon asked, casting you a suspicious look out of the corner of his eye. You giggled, that little laugh you did that always meant you were up to something.

“This is a physical record of the fact that I’m in love with Simon Riley.” You said into the camera, beaming. Simon rolled his eyes, but the smile that tugged at his lips betrayed how fond he was of your dramatics.

He was about to say something back when he noticed you shift, pulling your upper body out of the car window, your hair fluttering behind you.

“Hey! I’m in love with Simon Riley!” Your voice called out to the entire street. Simon’s eyes went wide and his hand shot out to yank you back into your seat with a decisive pull.

“What the hell was that about?” Simon complained, his face tinged a light shade of pink. You were in a fit of giggles, clearly pleased with yourself. God, you were gorgeous.

He huffed, shaking his head at your antics and feeling a strangely warm sensation in his heart.

“What am I s’pose to do with you, sweetheart?” He muttered under his breath.

You leaned over the console and smacked a big loud kiss to his cheek.

Your fingers fumbled around with a string of flowers, tongue stuck out the side of your lip and eyebrows scrunched in deep concentration. Simon watched on, hands leaned back against the grass and ankles crossed in front of him. It was a nice spring day, clouds floating above in abstract shapes and a light breeze rustling the trees in the background. There were distant sounds too, a football practice of ways off, but close enough you could still hear the shouting.

“That a daisy-chain?” Simon asked as he watched you pluck another flower from the ground by your leg.

“They’re dandelions.” You replied back, earning an annoyed sigh from Simon that only made you smile.

“Smartass.” he grumbled, bumping his shoulder against yours. You laughed, that soft yet bright sound that could scare away even the darkest clouds.

“I’m making a flower crown. Don’t know if there’s enough flowers in the whole field to fit around your big head, though.” You teased with a bit of a mischievous look in your eyes.

“My head’s not that big.” He deadpanned.

You lifted up the camera from the grass, facing the viewfinder towards the two of you as you pressed your cheek against his.

“Bigger than mine.”

“That’s because I got more brains than you.”

You gasped dramatically and turned to look at him with offense. The low rumble of Simon’s chuckling settled in the air around you.

“That’s it. No flower crown for you.” You stated firmly, unable to prevent the grin that spread across your lips.

It was dim, only the light of your bedside lamp glowing through the small space of your bedroom. Simon glanced at the camera with obvious trepidation.

“I don’t know what I’m doin’, love.” He said to you, voice a soft vibration against your side.

“That’s alright. I won’t show anyone. Promise.”

And he believed you. Trusted you with his life and his impending embarrassment all the same.

A slow breath through his nose preceded the first few notes of the piano, his thick fingers working with hesitation and lack of ease. The melody was unmistakable though: Clair de Lune.

Even through the soft lighting, the camera picked up the sparkle of your eyes as you watched him, like the best moment of your life was watching Simon Riley clumsily play a song on the piano for you. He had that concentrated look on his face, refusing to look over at you in fear that his embarrassment would swallow him whole if he did. Still, he did it for you. Always for you.

“Who’s the girl?” Johnny asked, settling down beside Ghost on the couch, watching the scenes play on the old tv in the common room. The soft murmuring of your voices through the dark was cut short with a press of a button.

Ghost’s voice was gruff and quiet when he answered.

“No one. Pass me the bottle, Johnny.”