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danibee33 · 4 months

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Ending 2023 with thoughts of bodyguard!Simon x Reader

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*4k+ words

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“Absolutely not.”

Dark eyes bore into yours through the mirror’s reflection, followed by a dismissive roll when you poke your bottom lip out, doing your very best to give the horribly broody man a believable pout,

”Pleeease?” You beg, turning to face him, “For one hour, just to see the ball drop- come on, I’ve never seen new year’s in Times Square!”

“No.”

Your pout turns downright petulant at his immutable tone, his eyes still fixed away from you- which, for whatever reason, makes you all the more upset. But the better question is, are you really still surprised?

Simon Riley had been your bodyguard for two years now, at the behest of your father, no matter how many times you tried to refuse or how many you fired, another one would just show up the next day. And never once had he been soft on you, never once had he actually entertained your spoiled demands-

But, in his defense, none of your previous bodyguards lasted for long, none of them had balls enough to actually handle you, but that was until you met Simon.

From your first meeting with him, you knew he wasn’t going to be an easy target. For the first few days he had been more like a shadow than anything, silently following you, only ever communicating through gruff, monosyllabic commands even when you goaded him relentlessly. He never took the bait, not once. That was almost reason enough to fire him in your mind, if you had to live with the man, he might as well be somewhat entertaining.

But again, maybe two months into your arrangement, he managed to surprise you-

Ok, you’ll admit, you were being particularly insufferable that day. You had to be moved again, taken to some off the grid, stupid safe house again, because there had been chatter of an attempt on your father’s life, and yours. Again.

”This is ridiculous.” You grumble, throwing your duffle bag on the ground, “The last thing I want on New Year’s fucking Eve, is to be playing Little House on the Prairie with you-” – you huff out a sigh when he breezes past you and your incessant complaining– “Does this shithole even have electricity?”

You’re promptly cut off by the kitchen light flickering to life, illuminating the cozy space around you- not that you would ever admit you think it’s cozy-

“Shocking.”

Again, he steps around you, not close enough to touch you - no, never - but close enough so that the air fills with his scent. It’s not necessarily a warm smell, you think it’s more spicy– wait, what are you saying? Ew, stop. –

He’s annoying and frustrating and the way he towers over you is also mildly a nuisance in its own right, because he just takes up so much fucking space you feel like you can’t breathe.

“Phone.” He grunts, looking down at you, only proving your point.

“Excuse me?”

“I know you have a second one. Hand it over.”

Oh.. the audacity. You cross your arms, squaring up to him- it didn’t matter that he could probably, definitely, break you in half, you really weren’t scared of him. Why would you be when you’ve seen way worse than some overgrown goth guy in a skull print balaclava? Real mature..

“Ya know..” You give him a dazzling smile, stepping just a bit closer, “If you say ‘please’, I might give it to you.”

Simon says your name, curt and gruff as always, a low warning in voice you’ve never heard before-

“Don’t.. Call me that.”

You didn’t like your name, because it reminded you of your deadbeat mother. What kind of asshole names her daughter after herself and then leaves anyway?

You’ve reiterated this time and time again, and still, time and time again, he uses it- almost like a little jab of his own, payback for all the silly names you’ve tried to get him to answer to.

“Phone.” He says again, his eyes flicking up to study the wall behind your head.

Reaching into your coat pocket, you pull out your burner, waiting for him to reach for it before jerking it away, “Ask nicely..”

This time he steps forward, his body crowding yours- he’s unnaturally warm, the expanse of his chest stretching the black long-sleeve with every calculated breath. And when he leans down, craning his neck to be at eye level, you no longer see the dismissive, unwavering indifference in his eyes as before. They’re burning, dark and bright at the same time, copper flecks glinting back at you,

“You think this is a game, Gemini?”

“I think it’s a paycheck for you, Ghost.”

You spit his old callsign with the same dripping disdain as he had said your longtime nickname, though, it’s hard to deny that you like the way it sounds in his brassy accent- Mancunian through and through.

But more than that, you think at this moment you’ve never seen so much emotion be conveyed just through another person’s eyes. They widen, his pupils constricting harshly before dilating again, a soft puff of air tickling across your face as his calm, cool facade momentarily cracks. You clench your jaw, unwilling to break eye contact first, instead watching as he collects himself, his eyelids settling lazily and the bright amber of his irises dulling-

“Yes, you are a paycheck. Is that what you want to hear?”, he’s still so close to you, his warmth becoming unbearable the longer his words burn into you, branding themselves on your skin, “You’re an entitled goddamned brat that’s gotten everything served to her on a silver platter, did you want to hear that, too? Or are you the only who gets to run your-”

Before your brain can catch up to what your body is doing, he’s already caught your wrist mid swing.

Fucking christ, were you actually going to slap him?! What’s wrong with you?

Simon’s giant hand wraps all the way around your arm, entirely unfazed by your lame attempt to retaliate. The man didn’t even flinch, didn’t have to look away from you- and for a fleeting moment, you swear you see amusement shining through his eyes,

“Careful, Gem..”, he’s almost whispering now, reaching down to pull the phone from between your fingers with his free hand, “Don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish.”

You come back to the present with a smirk on your lips, thinking about how your relationship with Simon changed after the safe house. He challenged you in a way no one had dared to before, and there was something about him putting you in your place that also changed the way you saw him.

He wasn’t so much your skulking shadow now as he was an extension of you- you stopped ignoring him, stopped arguing against everything he said (ok, maybe not everything, you couldn’t make his life too easy..)

Instead, you started wanting to include him in your life, and with every firm decline from him, it drove you all the more to do exactly that. His presence comforted you, and as time went on, you noticed the imperceptible shifts in his own demeanor towards you. Now he walked closer, opting to guide you through a crowd with his hand hovering at your lower back, or if he deemed someone too close, he would gently maneuver you to his side with a wide palm on your waist-

Eventually, he even got comfortable enough to exchange in your banter, more than willing to give as good as he got.

And you know it’s silly, god, it's outrageous and horrifically cliche, but you found yourself thinking about him more and more; more often you would just watch him. Sometimes sparing a glance to see his eyes already on you, notice how they always only linger long enough to make you wonder before moving on, turning his attention to something else.

It drives you mad. But, that’s just Simon.. You might be more than a few years younger than him, but you weren’t naive. You couldn’t fool yourself into thinking he might see you romantically. That’s actually absurd-

You storm into the oversized hotel closet, pulling the doors closed with a huff when he doesn’t even blink in your direction- always so focused.

Hm.. Fine. You’ve pushed him before, might as well try your luck again.

A smile pulls at your lips at the thought. So maybe you weren’t naive, and you didn’t hate your bodyguard anymore, but you never claimed or promised to have changed your bratty ways-

—---

When you step back out into the room, you don’t see Simon right away, but you hear his voice from the next room in the suite- probably on the phone. But, that’s good, gives you time to apply your favorite lip stain, a rich wine color that compliments your skin tone beautifully, before you see him round the corner.

And for the second time in your tenure with him, you watch his eyes widen at the sight of you. Your body hugged in soft velvet, the all black mini-dress fitting more like a second skin, accentuating every single dip and curve, and the way you left it unzipped in the back gives him the most tantalizing view of your figure underneath,

“Would you mind helping me?” You ask, giving him a wide-eyed look in the mirror, “Please?”

“I told ya, we’re not goin’.”

You shrug your shoulders, straightening the diamond-studded choker that decorates your neck so prettily, “Are you going to stop me, Simon?”

He moves with steady, slow strides and you have a hard time not gawking as he closes the distance, his frame dwarfing yours in the reflection, “‘M not doin’ this with you again, Gem.”

A quiet gasp parts your lips when you feel his fingertips on your lower back, the calloused skin causing a ripple effect of hot chills to rush through you as he pulls at the zipper, “I don’t know what you’re talking about..”

The intensity behind his gaze feels tangible, the way you watch him follow the line of the dress, eyes dancing over your bare shoulder and neck, “Don’t be daft, sweetheart.. It doesn’t suit you.”

Another, breathier, sound escapes you when you feel those same fingers higher now, grazing over the smooth skin there to pull your hair out of the way. And maybe, you could convince yourself he’s just being thorough, maybe even believe that he doesn’t enjoy the goosebumps that breakout under his touch, or how the way he watches you so intently is only because you look ridiculous, staring back at him with an embarrassing mix of shock and lust and confusion-

He finishes the task, but when he doesn’t move away, and doesn’t take his eyes off you, you’re reminded so much of that night in the safe house. Locked in another agonizingly silent tug of war, both of you pushing and pulling to see who would back down first. Testing all the limits, every boundary.

“Thank you.” You hum, smoothing your hands over the rich fabric, needing to do something to break the tension without outright losing, “What do you think?”

“Wear whatever you want, Gem..” Simon shakes his head, stepping away from you like he only just realized how close he still was, “Still not goin’.”

Without missing a beat, you fluff your hair one more time, refusing to let him see the way your eyes slip shut at the lingering smell of his cologne before sauntering to the next room where your coat is hung.

“Gem.”

There it is.. You smile at the unquestionable authority in his voice, your name spoken as a warning. Maybe you should tell him how much you like it when he gets like this- no, right now, you just need to focus on grabbing your clutch and room key. Stealing glances here and there to see him holding the newest paperback novel in his hands. But, you also know he’s not reading.

So, he wants to play, too.. How perfect.

Without a word, you head straight for the door, only just getting it cracked open before it’s slammed shut, Simon’s hand splayed out over the dark wood,

“I’m not in the mood.” He grits out, refusing to meet your eyes.

“Get out of my way.”

A sinful chuckle tumbles from behind his mask, a sound that simultaneously has you clenching your thighs and seething with anger in one fell swoop,

“Or what?”

You turn to look up at him, the height difference between you still overwhelming, no matter how high your heels are-

“Or you can find another paycheck. You’re my bodyguard, Simon, you’re not in charge here and I want to go out. So, you can either do your job and keep me safe, or leave.”

His arm is still propped against the door over your head, the very corners of his eyes crinkling and the black fabric over his mouth twitching. HE’S SMILING? All right, maybe you do still hate him, or at least you can hate him right now. With both hands on his chest, you attempt to shove him back, to move him, to do something, anything. But you might as well be trying to move a brick wall for all the results your struggling gets you.

“Let. ME. OUT.”

On the last word, he moves with frightening speed to hold both of your wrists in one hand, the other wrapping around the nape of your neck, “Enough.”

Suddenly, you’re looking up at him, his fingers firmly cradling the back of your head, your chest pressed tight against his. It causes you to blank, every ounce of fight draining out of you as you grow docile in his hold,

“Why do you have to make this so fuckin’ difficult, Gemini?”

—-

Simon’s practically panting above you, his self-control teetering on the very precipice, your proximity doing absolutely nothing to quell the insatiable feelings he’s had for you.

He’s done so well, never once letting himself slip after the safe house. He always, always maintained the self-imposed professional boundaries, if anything, he’s prided himself on his unfailing dedication.

Be it in the military, or now in his retired life, where he had the most unfortunate fate of being hired by your father. He remained unshakable.

Until you.

You had tested every single limit he ever knew he had, and then some. And when he pushed back, you relented, though you never truly gave him a moment of peace. No, of course not, why on earth would you possibly make his job easy?

But then, months turned into a year, and that turned into two, and slowly, everyday, he felt parts of himself he hadn’t thought existed anymore coming back to life. Parts that he thought died with every person he loved and lost, and it scared him to experience those feelings again. And as if that weren’t bad enough, he had somehow fucked around and fallen for the one fucking person he most definitely should not have.

But, in longer than he can remember, he’s smiled again, and laughed, and the world didn’t look so gray anymore with you in it. You were a pain in his arse, you complained and griped so fucking much, and yet, he’s never met another person apart from Johnny who actively chooses to see the best in humanity. And he’s loathed himself for hoping to introduce the two of you one day-

You’re still looking up at him, with those same eyes he’s dreamed of a thousand times, and those lips so sweetly parted, fuck.. You would look so beautiful underneath him-

“Simon..”

His eyes flutter closed at the sound of his name, tongue darting out to wet his lip, the tip greeted with the thin fabric of his mask instead. He forces himself to breathe, inhale - exhale - inhale -

Fuck it.

In one smooth sequence, he releases your wrists, using the now free hand to tug the balaclava off his head entirely. And as much as you would like to fully study every feature of his face, a face you’d never seen- it’s hard to think of anything when he sweeps you into a kiss so hot and bright it steals the breath from your lungs. Your heart races, but you think you feel his doing the same- his arm circling your waist, pulling you closer, your bodies molding together like they were always meant to be that way.

“Does this mean we still can’t go?” You smile against his lips, teeth clacking when you feel him do the same, only his laugh is full of reverence and exasperation,

“Fuckin’ hell, Gem.. shut up.”

Simon leans down, wrapping his big hands under your thighs and hoists you up without so much as a heavy sigh- it’s enthralling, and something you’ve never experienced; to have a man willing and able to lift you like it’s nothing. But he does it without ever breaking your kiss, walking you blindly toward the main bedroom and savoring every moment he gets in between.

Finally, you’re forced apart when he lays you on the fluffy, white comforter- getting his wish of seeing you lying beneath him, your hair fanned out around your head, your lips kiss-swollen and your cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of pink. It’s better than his dreams and wishes and fantasies, so much more perfect than anything his broken mind could possibly conjure up.

“You’re so bloody beautiful..”

The admission seems to shock him as much as it does you, looking up at him from this angle. And for the briefest moment, it sends a wave of insecurity washing through- having him studying you so intently. But just as quick as it comes, it’s gone.

How could you ever doubt yourself when he’s looking at you like that, deep brown eyes raking over you slowly, thoroughly, the angular jaw you’ve only seen in glimpses clenching and relaxing over and over-

You sit up, scooting to the edge of the bed so you could let your hands roam languidly up the breadth of his torso, eyes following the path until they meet his again, “Please kiss me..”

That’s all he needed to push you back down into the mattress, this time nestling his hips right between your legs, his cock straining against the dark dress pants, his body desperate for stimulation, desperate to feel you-

“I’ve thought about you like this..” He coos, planting kisses over the corner of your lips, moving down your jaw and neck, “Thought about how fuckin’ gorgeous you would look under me.”

His words alone cause you to whine, biting your lip the lower he goes, “But.. you never said anything-”

You gasp when he bites the fleshy swell of your breast, laving at the tender spot until there’s an angry purple mark left behind,

“Couldn’t.”, he lifts up again, hiking the thick material of your dress up to sit around your waist, “You were just s’posed to be a job, a paycheck,” the sound of your tights ripping fills your ears, his voice growing huskier at seeing the dark spot already soaking through your underwear, “Fuck-”

A lewd moan is ripped out of you as he too quickly repositions himself, kneeling beside the bed in order to pull you right to edge, burying his nose and mouth against your cunt- tonguing at the growing wet spot like it might be the last thing he ever does.

“Mm..” He growls, looking up at you, “Can I take these off, love?”

Could you actually be dreaming? Because it sure as fuck feels too good to be true, having a gorgeous man’s face settled so perfectly between your thighs, so close to getting exactly what he wants, but he’s looking at you with those stormy, pleading eyes,

“Please?”

Your head lolls back into the blanket, “Yes! Holy fuck, Simon- yes- ah-”

Needing no more prompting from you, he has your underwear off and his mouth on your pussy with terrifying efficiency, lapping at you with deep, resonating groans- fingers digging into the fatty parts of your thighs just hard enough to feel good, just painful enough to elicit more shrill moans and whimpers from you.

“You taste like heaven, babygirl..”, he croons, slipping two thick fingers inside you with ease, “Already so wet f’me, hm? Thought about me like this a time or two, have ya?”

You nod, your hips bucking as he slowly thrusts his digits a bit deeper every time, the tip of his tongue working your clit,

“C’mon. Use your words, Gem.”

And you really want to use your words, because you have so many, very choice, words for him, though you don’t imagine any of them are what a respectable young woman should be saying- but you also never claimed to be ‘respectable’ exactly. So instead, you tangle your fingers through his honey blonde waves, tugging and pushing to get him back to that sweet spot,

“Yes.. God- yes..”

He adds a third finger, and the sting of him stretching you makes your eyes water, but the pleasure it brings afterward has the unbearable coil deep in your belly ready to snap, “Simon..”

Fucking hell. He could come for you just like this if he’s not careful..

He’s better than that though, pushing his own feverish desire aside so he could have the privilege of you coming on his face- “That’s it, baby..”, he suckles at your bundle of nerves, eyes trained on your heaving chest, lost in the way you sound, in the way you taste, the way you smell-

When you finally fall over the edge, it’s violent and drawn out, your jaw falling slack and your muscles contracting- thighs struggling to clench shut around his head until they fall limply to the side, your brain lost in a beautiful, blissful haze. Only forced back to the moment when he flattens his tongue, cleaning you up with one slow, long stripe.

He raises up, crawling over you once again, his stubbled cheeks glistening, the sight of his dimpled smile etching itself into your memory- and you can’t help it, you reach up to cup his cheek, grinning back at him,

“You’re so pretty, Si..”

The half slurred compliment makes him laugh, but it’s not a mean or condescending sound, no, it’s sweet and wonderful, and you think you’ll always crave the sound of it; crave his touch, crave him looking at you like this.

“That right?” He asks, eyebrows knitting together as he lifts you so gently, unzipping your dress so he can pull it off completely.

You tug at his belt, your senses coming back to you and your body already begging for more, “Mhmm..”, you hum, watching him unbutton his shirt to reveal a sight worthy of being put on display at a museum. He’s impeccably built, just as you always imagined, bulging muscles defined by soft lines and mouth watering swells and dips, his body carved by years of hard work, littered with scars, silvered and puffy- each one telling a different story.

And for a moment, he allows you to trace your fingers over them, over all the parts of himself he’s deemed ugly and unfit long ago- but seeing the adoration in your eyes could almost make him believe otherwise. Make him believe he wasn’t this Frankenstein’s monster of sorts, torn apart and put back together with pieces that just never seem to look quite right.

He stands only long enough to push his pants and boxer briefs down, but when he settles over you again, you see the hesitation in his eyes, see an uncertainty behind them that seems so out of place for him. Because you’ve never seen your bodyguard hesitate even for a second, his every move, every decision, has always been without question - exuding confidence and prowess unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed.

But for you, in this moment.. He waits. For you, he’s cautious and tender, allowing you full control-

“Simon..” You frame his face in your hands, pulling him down for a long, languid kiss, “I want you.. Please.”

—---

You watch Simon’s fingers intertwine with yours, moving slowly above you as you stay nestled against his side. It’s an idle movement, just him studying the way his hand moves with yours, comparing the size of them, his heart beat solid and strong in your ear-

“Shit-” He exclaims, leaning over to grab his phone from the nightstand, “Come on.”

Too suddenly, you lose his immense warmth- watching in confusion as he clambers out of bed, tugging on his pants,

“What?” You look around the room like you’ve maybe missed something, his hand grabbing yours again, “Simon- what’s going on?”

“Get dressed-”

“Why?!”

He leans down, capturing your lips with a smirk, “You wanted to go out, right?”

——

A small, very shallow, part of you is only slightly angry at the fact that your gorgeous dress is still laid in a heap on the hotel room floor as Simon guides you through the crowd- but, it’s quickly swept away by the feel of his arm around you, the warmth of his jacket draped over your shoulders shielding you from the chilly New York air.

You watch the towering digital clock countdown as you go, your eyes bright and your smile wide, New Year’s Eve in Times Square-

It’s just as otherworldly as you imagined, the energy of the crowd infectious, the lights and sounds, the music, the people, it’s spectacular.

Simon stops, pulling you to stand right in front of him, his arms caging you in protectively, lovingly, holding you against him as the faceted ball begins to drop. And for a split second, it’s like the world goes silent, and all there is the feel of his embrace, his scent, his voice. Him.

And you won’t know this, he won’t tell you for years to come, but he doesn’t watch the ball for a second- he doesn’t notice the people, or the lights, the music, all of it fades away when he looks down at you. No, there would never be a more glorious sight than you, your smile, your skin flushed and glowing- nothing could feel as good as your hands holding him, nothing could possibly be better than the way you look up at him as the clock strikes midnight.

Nothing will ever compare to the feeling of your lips on his, the taste of your smile, the deafening roar of the crowd, the confetti and snowflakes that catch in your hair-

“Happy New Year, Simon..”

#bodyguard!ghost #cod fandom #simon ghost riley #reader #new years eve #smut smut smut #also on ao3 #sorry but I love them #call of duty #Simon Riley is a giver #you can’t change my mind #bee writes #happy new year

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