Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ mdni - more vacation - smut
Simon left the windows open last night.
He’s not sure what possessed him to take such a risk. The vacation flat may be on the third floor, picked for the view over the beach and shoreline, but the height is not something that would thwart someone with an objective. A mission to kill.
A person like him.
He supposes he left them open because he wanted to watch the thin cotton curtains wave in the breeze. He wanted to smell the salt and hear the birds. He wanted to memorize the sunrise’s painting across your bare skin, the broad strokes and dappled splotches of dawn that turn you into a living canvas, a work of art. The prettiest one he’s ever seen.
You’re hardly covered by the sheet, on your side, one arm above your head, the other stretched out towards his side of the bed. You slept like a dead woman last night, gone to the world, lightly snoring and tossing in the small hours. He stayed up for most of it, tracing the slope of your nose with his fingers, counting your spots, birthmarks, moles, the whole lot. You’re usually a light sleeper home, your subconscious skimming just under the surface, ready to wake you at a moment’s notice for the baby, an instinctive driving you to hover on the edge of deep sleep.
He says he’s not sure what possessed him to let the sun in so early this morning, but deep down, he’s aware of the farce.
He wants to catch it in the light. The small angular sapphire on a gold band, the one he slipped on your ring finger last night while you were lost in your dreams. It’s a simple thing. Unremarkable even. Unobtrusive, as it should be. It doesn’t call attention to its size, or you, or who may have put it there, but it sits so naturally, like it’s always belonged.
He slipped it on six hours ago and well, he’s tired of waiting for you to see it for the first time.
He pulls you into your body, little spoon to his big, and tugs the hand wearing his ring into his, carefully shifting your knee forward. You sigh.
“Simon?” He kisses your shoulder, your neck.
“Go back to sleep sweetheart.” The thick of your ass is plump at his hips, hard cock settled in the cleft between your cheeks.
“What’re you doin’?” You yawn, still not able to really open your eyes, and he nudges at your temple.
“Just a little cold mama, there’s a bit o’ a draft in here.” He traces down your slit, pleased to find you already wet, probably from when he played with you clit earlier this morning. He hefts up on his arm, lining up with you before slowly pushing his way inside your body. You’re wet and warm and perfect, and he groans into your neck, weaving his fingers between yours. His thumb strokes over the stone in your ring, cock still and sitting in your wet pussy. You moan.
“Ah-“
“Feel good?”
“So full.” Your lashes flutter. He kisses your cheek.
“Be good for daddy, sweetheart. Keep those eyes closed, stay nice and still. Keep me warm.” He’s savoring the moment, dragging it out, practically edging himself, waiting for the second you truly wake up and realize what he’s done, what’s happening.
You whine. He slaps your ass, lightly, enjoying how you jiggle and ripple afterwards. The sun tired you out yesterday, effects still lingering, and he rubs a soothing palm over the swell of your ass, shushing you. “My sweet girl, look’t you. Keepin’ my cock warm, hungry for it even in your dreams.” You whimper, clenching, and he starts to move, dragging in and out of your heat, holding you too tight to his chest. Your mouth hangs open in a permanent gasp, fingernails sinking into his thigh.
“Oh my god.” He directs your hand onto the pillow in front of your face, his fingers locked on yours. Another thrust, deeper this time, enough to make you squeak, and then he whispers in your ear.
“Open your eyes mama.” His heart is a sharp staccato, frantic snare drum rolling through his head. He waits, and waits, slowing the roll of hips until your brow furrows, confused at the stall of his pace.
The curtains wave, picked up by a breeze, and the sun skitters across the foot of the bed, slowly spreading up the mattress, over where he’s sunken deep inside you, to the pillow, your face, your hand.
The sapphire sparkles in the morning light.
A beat. Then two. The blood pounding in his ears-
“What… Simon… wait… did you-“ you’re babbling, confused, stunned, and he pulls away, almost completely, before bludgeoning back inside your pussy until there’s no room left, and your back arches.
“That’s a ring, sweetheart. My ring, on your pretty little finger.” He thrusts again, snapping into you with a snarl. The ring is clouding his vision, the clutch of your pussy trying to milk him deep into your womb. “My ring, my babies, my wife.” The plural slips, future plans laid bare, but he distracts you with teeth to your shoulder, playing with your clit, persistent, frenzied pressure screwing your face up until your eyes are clenched closed and he’s fucking you so hard his hips slap against your ass with a shuddering, satisfying sound.
“Daddy- fuck. ‘m gonna come,” you pant, spine curling, and he cups your jaw. He’ll never not be able to look you in the face now, he’ll always need to see you, watch you, drink in every expression like they’re his salvation.
Maybe they are.
“Good girl, there it is, come for me, come all my cock.” You choke, you cry, keening in his arms, sweet kitten turned feral, and he bands a forearm around your chest as he rocks in and out, faster and faster, meeting you blow for blow, release spilling from him and into you, a reaffirmation of the bond you’ll carry, he’ll carry, for the rest of your lives.
“This is crazy.” You’re holding your hand up, staring at the gem glistening against the backdrop of turquoise sea. “You’re insane. You know that right?” He barks a laugh, tugging you down onto the blanket.
“I do know.” There’s sand in your hair, sand littered across your collarbone, sand on your nose. He feels insane right now, sitting by your side, studying the ring he gave you, his ring on your hand.
Fuck. It makes his cock hard. Fills that ache in his chest, the ever present one that he’s had since the day he saw you on the sidewalk with his baby wrapped to your chest. Wild instinct that demands he possess every single inch, every breath.
You’re the moon. The silver light on the desert in the darkest hours of the night. The one gentling the primal deep of the darkest waters, pushing and pulling them in a rapturous tide.
He’s the sea. You’re the moon.
He glances around the beach. Finally. He overheard you and Cami giggling about skinny dipping the other day, and latched onto your admittance that you’ve never done it, but always wanted to try. “We’re alone.” You blink.
“Okay…”
“Want to skinny dip?” Your eyebrows raise, and he gives you a small half smile. There’s a little excitement in your eyes, balanced with caution.
“What if someone sees?”
“No one will.”
“But if they do… you’ll be okay with someone else seeing me naked?” His vision ebbs in red.
“No one will see us.” He doubles down, and you snicker.
“I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t… if someone saw you naked they’d probably call the zoo for an escaped anaconda sighting or something, they’d-“ He rolls to his feet, snatching you by your waist, walking towards the tide. You shriek. “Simon! Put me down!” With one hand, he rips your bottoms away and pulls his down simultaneously, before flipping you into the surf, careful to keep his hands on you even as you go under.
When you come up sputtering, you’re trying so damn hard not to laugh, affixing fake outrage on your face like a mask that won’t stay.
You’re so fucking cute.
He tugs the top free, and then you’re both standing naked, floating in the crystal cool water, rolling with the waves. Your feet leave the ground with each peak, and Simon swims after you when you’re on top of one, wrapping you up in his arms and turning on his back.
“I’ll drown you.” You protest, but don’t attempt to wrestle free.
“Mama you couldn’t drown me if you tried.” The two of you float there, toes to the sky in the sea, his hand on your waist, tethered, until your fingers are wrinkled and he's kissed each and every one.
it's feminism and gay rights to have an m/m/f pairing because women deserve to have two boyfriends and guys should have gay sex with each other
someone send me their thoughts about ghost being a gross little perv 👀
SIMON "GHOST" RILEY Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3, (2023)
the floorboards creak under his weight, his knees burning n his joints aching from the weight of his muscles being pressed against the hardwood.
“baby,” his voice comes out low, but not low with its usual rasp and usual deep tone, its whispery and whiney. you can see the pout in his lips from where you sit at the edge of his bed, the slump of his broad shoulders, he looks so pathetically desperate.
“what is it, si? hm?” you cock your head at him, the gloss of your lips shining under the dim bedroom lights as they tug into a sweet unknowing smile.
he sighs, eyes slipping downward n he fidgets with his fingers softly fighting to come up with words. simon can feel his cheeks burn in a blush, embarrassment trickling into his bloodstream.
“give me something, anything,” he laughs, voice cracking under the need that stirs low in his stomach. “please, i need you.”
you nod slowly as if processing his sweet words, yet you know exactly what he deserves. and he’s not going to like it very much, but what comes easy? without pain there’s no pleasure.
“come here then, love.” you grin, eyes never leaving the big hunky man kneeling at the floor.
he’s a good boy, palms pressing against the wood as he crawls his way to you slowly. his knees drag the floor, neck arching to peer up at you as he continues his journey forward.
you can see the tendons in his neck stretch and flex, and with the way his lashes flutter you can’t help the excitement that fills your belly and soaks the cotton of your panties.
“right there’s perfect, honey,” n on command simon comes to a stop a couple feet in front of you, settling back on the heels of his feet as he watches you impatiently.
“unbuckle your belt.” he follows your instructions, hands pulling and tugging until he can feel the material hugging his hips untighten. “show me yourself.”
his jaw ticks as if he was shy, but course he listens and pulls his jeans under his ass letting his cock fall free and brush against the pretty blonde trail that lines under his bellybutton.
“being so good for me today,” you giggle softly letting the words hang in the air between the two of you. “touch yourself, simon.”
his smile from the sweet praise falls, brows falling into a deep furrow that wrinkles the skin between em. “w-what? no, no-”
“do it.” you warn slicing through his voice, the soft of your voice turning stern as your lips scowl ever so slightly.
his face reads nothing but disappointment but he’s a good boy n he’s going to listen no matter what, even if the night took a terrifically depressing turn of events for him.
his hand wraps around the length of himself slowly, shoulders dropping in a deep breath as his begins to stroke his cock slowly. he can’t help the way his skin warms under your eyes, this is deeply embarrassing, yet he complies and continues.
his free hand balls up against his thigh, eyes fluttering as he catches your gaze within his. his eyes flicker across your face, the pretty red of your lips, the lively look in your pretty eyes and its sad how he can already feel the twist of his stomach.
his stomach collapses, chest rumbling as a soft groan purrs off his lips. his head drops back slowly, eyes rolling into the back of his head. he’s been pent up all day and the feel of finally being able to get off has him folding.
you watch his hand speed up, pretty pearls of precum beading up at the angry red tip of his pretty cock. you unbutton your shirt slowly, the fat of your breasts concealed under the thin lace of your bra.
“look at me, simon.” you whisper and he complies, head falling forward wide eyes scanning down the tanned skin of your supple tits and the smooth skin of your belly.
his lips curl as he chokes out a sweet whimper that hits your ears and tickles in your lower stomach. “fu-huck… you look so beautiful.” his mind is all over the place, picturing and painting pictures that have his balls drawing up with an impending release.
“goddamnit, please, baby. help me,” his pretty begging makes you laugh softly, you can tell how close he’s getting, hand moving quickly against himself, from tip to base with soft squelches that follow his rapid hand.
you pull your bra under your tits, letting them spill out for his greedy eyes before you set your perfectly polished foot along the length of his flexing thigh. his fingers wrap around your ankle before you can feel his nails pierce through the skin, leaving small crescents in the wake.
“i’m so close, c’mon,” his words come out in a deep growl before they end in a pitch that heightens into a sweet whine. “let me cum, mama, please.”
you can’t say no to whiney begging that leaves his bitten lips, eyes darkening as you peer down into his flooding eyes, tears lining his waterline. “go on, baby, you gonna cum for me?” ⊹˚ ₊‧ 𝜗𝜚
think sum1 needs help… ✌️
BTW if you've unlocked simp!simon then good luck trying to get out of bed.
Once he leaves the tough guy act around you you got yourself a 6'4 leech with abandonment issues. Bro is a boa constrictor in bed, NEEDS to touch you somehow to sleep no matter the temperature otherwise he'll puke, and don't get me started on nights he got flaring anxiety from the nightmares, which are often.
Man will wake up and walk with you to the bathroom like a kicked kitten if you gotta pee on a bad night. And if you want any privacy you gotta kick him out to wait by the door otherwise he is standing next to you the whole time half asleep cuz he's a weirdo.
If you tend to wake up earlier than him for whatever he refuses for you to do your morning routine somewhere else. You're chilling on your phone, putting makeup on, stretching, that's fine, do it in the room. If you try to tell him that you're loud or that you need music in the morning no argument works. Play your music as loud as you want, turn on whatever light, open the windows, his sleep doesn't matter he needs to see you around in the morning, there's no talking him out of it.
If anything it's his favourite time. To be woken up by you doing such mundane tasks, feeling all safe. If you're passing around the bed he'll sneak an arm out and snatch you for a couple minutes (actually half an hour wake up early or you'll be late) cuddle.
All I need is for someone to gently cup my face and tell me I'm not as doomed as I feel.
my favorite form of love is being loved without feeling like i was begging for it
simon’s never been one for naps. never seen the point in them really, he’s spent too many years on high alert and ready to move at a moments notice to indulge in them. scoffs when johnny jokes about him not needing sleep. there’s a million other things i could be doing in that time, he grumbles.
but when he meets you, simon starts to see the allure.
he finds you curled up on the couch in the rec room one day tucked into your blanket and just stares for a moment. there’s a look of serenity on your face that he’s both captured by and in awe of. in fact, he’s a little bit jealous. he’s not sure what he looks like sleeping, but definitely not as a peaceful as you.
(johnny says he scowls in his sleep sometimes. even curses at him every now and then.)
when you and simon first get together he comes to find that one of your favorite pastimes is tucking yourself away in bed for a good nap. no harm in it, you shrug.
those words rattle around in his head the first time you ask if he’d like to join you. he blinks and scratches the back of his neck, asking if you’re sure about that because he’s ‘not exactly cuddly’ and probably won’t fall asleep.
“it’s alright. i just want you next to me.” simon bites back the urge to brand your name into his heart.
one hour is all it takes to change his perspective. suddenly, crawling into bed with you for a quick snooze becomes the most indulgent activity he could think of. simon’s quick to mold himself against your body, breathing in the tranquility of the moment. your breaths turned shallow not too long before and he’s shocked to find himself following you down the rabbit hole into a dreamless sleep.
it’s the vulnerability that gets to him. to lay in each others arms and slip away from the world together - it’s a level of intimacy he’s never experienced before and it intoxicates him. soon enough, he’s pulling you to the side during end of the day trainings, staring down at you with molten brown eyes. “i want to lay down with you after this.”
insists you’ve spoiled him, although you’re not sure how him finally getting enough sleep is a bad thing. but when he starts whining (if you could call it whining in that voice) that you should be laying in bed with him instead of doing whatever you’re doing, you start to think he might be right.
i refused to stay buried because i love you why are you running