#simon ghost x reader

[dmitriene]

simon riley started eating better when you two got married, surely he was bulky far beforehand, full of muscle mass that ripples in his body at every twist and bend, wide shoulders and beefy thighs, but with you doting on him and keeping an eye so he could eat well both at home and at base by carrying the adorable lunches you make him, he can't stop but enjoy the homemade goodies you feed him.

that's when he starts to gain much more fat, and simon ain't a type of man to feel insecure about something, especially not about his body that brings nothing but awe in people when they notice how big he is, and with couple of layers at his sides and tummy, he feels even more comfortable than he's been before, his chest gotten bigger under tight working shirts, stomach bulging just a bit when he relaxes from his stance.

gotten soft, both body and soul, there's no way he skips the meals that steam of love you make him, always something cute decorating the plate, different figures made of vegetables or fruits, a smiling face made of ketchup, pasta of different shapes and colors, cute toothpicks, you pour your time and soul into pleasing simon, shower him in your boundless care, and he's always grateful.

simon thanks you properly, spearing your tight pussy on his meaty cock, his soft underbelly grinding against your stomach when he pins you into the cotton of sheets beneath, his body enveloping yours with warmth and sweat, as you cling to his broad shoulders, scratching gently at the uneven skin there as he humps your squelchy hole, thrusts sloppy and deep, fat, weeping tip of his twitching cock always catching onto your gooey spot.

he's got the meal, and he's got the sweetest dessert, creamy cunt right between your supple thighs for him to feast after.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[evilgwrl]

SIMON IS PRACTICALLY FERAL FOR YOU

Wherever you go, this man is next to you, one hand always touching you.

You’re showering? Ok so is he. It’s not his fault you’re pushed up against the glass, ass flushed against him as he pounds into you from behind, hands clawing at your flesh as he grunts.

You’re watching a movie? This man is lying flat on you, groping at your tits before he takes them in his mouth. He has a hard time concentrating and he promises this helps him.

You’re working from home? Let him help you. And by help he means, cock-warm him while you work and every time you complete a task he’ll fuck up into you as a reward!

You’re going to bed. You already know he’s fucking you to sleep, eating your gushing pussy before he’s denting your gummy walls with the outline of his cock, fucking against your sweet spot as you make a mess of the sheets, desperate pussy clenching around him as he fills you up.

“This pussy’s always ready for me, I fuckin’ love you, sweet’art.”

[ghostsangel]

Please please please can I get Ghost being so unhealthy obsessed with a girl who insists she can do everything herself. No she doesn't need help with the gear, nobody ever helped her before. Want to spot her? Fuck off. She's not lifting more than she can handle. She won't take help from anyone and it pisses Ghost off.

Secretly she's just scared of being vulnerable, so when Ghost manages to wrangle her into a situation where all she can do is accept his care (and his dick) he gives her all the treatment she's secretly craved.

omg this is an amazing concept.

simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader

warnings/tags: mdni, smut as fuck, reader is so stubborn it’s insane, ghost is obsessed, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), creampie, squirting

Ghost truly doesn’t understand you.

He’s stubborn, but you may be the most stubborn person he’s ever met. The first time he offered to help you was with your gear the first day on base—you snatched it from his hands so fast his head spun, scowling at him and telling him you could handle it just fine. It’s hard to shock Ghost, but you did, and he was intrigued.

Ever since that day, he’s watched you. It’s almost unhealthy the way his eyes gravitate toward you in a room. It’s almost like you won’t accept help from anyone just to piss people off—like you have a point to prove.

Today is no different. His muscles strain under the weight of the dumbbells he’s lifting, his eyes flicking over to you. You’re on your back, lifting a pair of weights, your lips pursed as you concentrate.

Ghost almost smiles when he watches a new recruit waltz over to the bar and try to spot you.

“I can do it myself—I don’t need a spot,” you hiss out, giving the recruit such a poisonous glare he scurries off without another word.

Ghost sighs, setting down his weights and looking down at you. “He was just tryin’ to help.”

“Don’t need help,” you mutter, eyes flicking to him as you set the bar down. “I’m a grown woman.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown doesn’t mean you can’t choke yourself with the bar.” Ghost scowls at you under his mask.

You roll your eyes, sitting up and wiping your sweaty neck with a towel. “Fuck off. Haven’t ever had a spot before, and I sure as hell don’t need one now.”

“Stubborn,” Ghost mutters under his breath, watching the way your lips press together in a thin line.

You leave quickly after that, and Ghost can’t help but feel slightly annoyed with you. He understands being stubborn—hell, he’s stubborn. But he accepts help when he needs it. He knows his limits. You, on the other hand, have never accepted help. Well, not that he’s seen.

A few days later, the two of you are paired on a mission. It’s a simple objective—infiltrate the warehouse, get the intel. You’re silent as you hold your gun by your side, peeking around a corner. Ghost squats behind you, waiting for the all clear so you could take out the guards.

You nod at him, and the two of you move forward, shooting at the few guards on the warehouse. What you don’t expect are shots fired from the left of you, a bullet grazing your arm. Ghost grips the back of your uniform shirt to pull you behind a stack of crates, quickly shooting the figure and kneeling beside you.

“You okay?” He asks, eyes searching the bleeding scrape the bullet caused.

You stand, glaring at him. “I’m fine. I had it handled, Ghost. Could’ve taken him out myself.”

Annoyance and anger run through Ghost, his eyes narrowing. “I saw you get shot and reacted quicker than you. That’s why I’m the Lieutenant, and you’re not.”

Your nostrils flare, but you say nothing else before you check if it’s clear before heading to the warehouse. You and Ghost are in and out faster than you think is possible, and completely silent on the heli ride back to base. You grip your gun, posture stiff as you sit next to your Lieutenant. Ghost glances at you and sighs, wanting to speak but not wanting to cause a scene in front of the others.

The heli touches down and you leave before Ghost can get a word in edgewise. He watches you go and shakes his head before heading to Price to debrief and give him the intel.

A hot shower is next—something Ghost needs. He strips, taking the mask off and glancing at himself in the mirror. His eyes rake over his scars—jagged, white lines across his skin from torture, blending in with the circular burns from his father’s cigarettes.

Swallowing, he showers, thinking of you the entire time. You infuriate him, but god—does he want you. Yeah, you’re stubborn and you piss him off, but he’s so enamored with you that he can’t help but fantasize about you every waking moment.

He spends the shower trying to avoid touching his hardening cock to the thought of you, instead taking the time to wash every inch of dirt off him before rinsing and getting out. He dresses casually—black sweats, black tank top, black surgical mask. His baclava and mask are too fuckin’ sweaty to put back on.

He tugs on his boots before heading to the mess hall, bumping straight into you. He looks down at you, watching your eyes harden. The bullet wound is still bloody—you haven’t cleaned it.

“Lieutenant,” you stiffly say.

Ghost tilts his head. “You okay? How’s the arm?”

“Fine. Nothing I can’t handle, Lieutenant.”

His eyes narrow, nostrils flaring beneath the surgical mask. “Have I done something to offend you?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms in front of you. “Other than save me when I didn’t need saving, yeah.”

Ghost has had enough. He grips your uninjured arm and tugs you inside his room, lips pressed to a thin line. You stumble inside, and he shuts the door behind him, crossing his arms in front of you.

“What the fuck is your issue?” He asks, voice gruff as he glares down at you.

“My problem? I don’t have a fucking problem,” you reply, heart thudding in your chest as you look up at him.

He shakes his head, taking a step closer to you. “You do. You don’t let anyone help you—even if they have good intentions. I took action today to save your life and you’re mad at me for it.”

You say nothing, just look up at him, eyes wary. He looks down at you, eyes flicking to the blood on your arm. “Sit down.”

“I can—”

“That’s an order.”

You huff before sitting down at a chair in front of his desk. He mutters to himself as he digs through his drawers, pulling out an alcohol wipe and a bandage for the wound.

He kneels in front of you, ripping the alcohol wipe open and discarding the trash on his desk. He begins to swipe at your arm, and you wince at the sting.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes flicking up to yours.

“It’s okay,” you mutter back, holding still so he can work. “I’m sorry.”

The words seem incredibly hard for you to say, and surprise flashes in Ghost’s eyes as he tosses the alcohol wipe to the side. He says nothing, just undoing the bandage and wrapping it around your arm.

You clear your throat, inhaling deeply. “I…would rather do everything myself. It’s, uh…sort of like a guard.”

Ghost nods, tying the bandage in place before dropping his hands to his sides. “A guard.”

“Vulnerability scares me.”

His eyes search yours, head tilting to the side as he assesses you. “So that’s why you do everything yourself?”

“It’s not that I want to. I have to. I’m just…scared of opening up to someone.” You bite down on your bottom lip, and twiddle your fingers. “That’s why I don’t get close to people.”

“We’re pretty close right now, don’t ya think?” Ghost asks, smirking at you through the surgical mask.

You roll your eyes, a playful smile on your face. “Shut up.”

He doesn’t miss the way your cheeks heat, and he leans forward, hands resting on either side of the chair. “Don’t you secretly crave for something more?” His voice is deep, gruff.

You squeeze your thighs together, eyes never leaving his. “Maybe.”

Ghost uses his hands to spread your thighs, fitting his body between them. His lips ghost over your neck, mask pulled down, and your breath hitches in your throat.

“Ghost,” you murmur, your fingers squeezing the fabric of his tank top.

“Shut up and let me take care of you,” he grumbles before his lips meet yours.

The kiss is slow and sensual, and a moan slips past your lips as his tongue slides against yours. Your hands move up his chest to his neck, pulling him closer to you, your legs hitched around his waist.

His large hands slip down underneath your shirt, the touch of his fingertips tingling your sides as they travel up.

His lips move to your jaw, skimming down your neck and sucking at the skin. Slowly, his fingertips travel to your covered pussy, rubbing your clit in slow circles through the fabric of your pants.

You gasp, the sound music to Ghost’s ears as he smirks against your neck. Heat flares in your stomach, traveling to your core, and you can’t help but spread your legs, offering yourself to him.

He takes his time, tugging your pants down, taking off your shirt. Removing every article of clothing until you’re bare in front of him. His eyes take you in, his cock already chubbing up in his pants as he admires your naked body.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts, spreading your legs with his large hands. You’re dripping, your pretty slit soaked with your juices and dampening your thighs.

He holds eye contact with you before his tongue flicks out, licking a fat strip up your pussy and sucking your clit into his mouth. He’s slow—taking his time with you. His tongue lazily strokes your clit, flicking and running around it.

You look at him, eyes half-lidded, hand on the back of his head. He groans into your cunt, the taste like heaven on his tongue. Your back arches, moans and whines slipping past your lips as he takes care of you.

You almost don’t notice when his middle and ring fingers tease the entrance of your pussy, and you buck your hips up at the sensation. Ghost laughs softly against your clit, sucking it into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it before his fingers push inside of your pussy.

You’re tight, and he lets out a grunt as he feels your gummy walls try to accommodate his thick fingers. He curls them and feels that little spongy spot that makes your toes curl, and your hips jolt, a lewd moan ripping from your throat.

“That’s it, yeah?” He murmurs, tongue running around your clit. “Feels good, doesn’t it, doll?”

“Yes,” you groan, his fingers beginning to thrust in and out of your tight hole.

Ghost focuses on your clit, picking up speed and licking your clit in fat strides. Your eyes roll back, head tilted back at the pleasure. It won’t take you long to come—it’s been a long time since anyone’s given you this treatment.

You clench around him, and he chuckles against your pussy, fingers working quicker. He isn’t moving them in and out, just thrusting them up and down against your spongy walls.

“Clenchin’ around my fingers so tight, doll,” he says, moving his fingers faster. “Come for me. Give it to me.”

His words push you over the edge and your pussy flutters as you squirt, your release costing his hand and wrist. He lets out a moan, flicking your clit and licking up everything you give him.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl.”

You pant, legs trembling as he removes his fingers from your cunt. He works at his own pants, tugging them down and revealing his heavy cock, hard and fat, his balls hanging heavy. He picks you up like you weigh nothing, pushing you against the wall and pushing his cock inside of you.

He gazes into your eyes, groaning as his fat cock stretches you out. Your nails dig into his neck, clenching tightly around him as he buries himself inside you.

“Fuck,” you whine, rolling your hips down so his tip nestles nicely against your cervix.

“Gonna take me so good aren’t you, sweetheart?” Ghost breathes out, beginning to fuck you against the wall.

You can feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he fucks you, your pussy squelching lewdly as one of his hands settles around your throat. You let out a whine in response, his cock brushing against your g-spot and making you see stars.

No one has ever fucked you like this—hard, fast, and attentive. Ghost knows exactly what he’s doing—he’s an expert. A particularly deep thrust steals the breath from your lungs and you let out a moan, clenching around him.

“Fuck, relax, sweetheart. Gonna make me fill this cunt up if you squeeze me like that,” he mutters, gazing into your eyes.

You grin at him, mouth hanging open as he fucks you deep. Your orgasm is already building, an inevitable force from the way he’s taking care of you. You claw at his neck, and he squeezes your throat as he ruts up into you.

“Go on, doll. Come for me. Milk my cock.”

The words make your legs tremble around his hips and your back arches as you come, cunt throbbing tightly around him, juices dripping down his cock onto his heavy balls. His eyes flutter shut and he lets out a long groan, burying his face in your neck as he fucks you harder through your orgasm.

“Want me to fill this pretty cunt up? Hm?” He murmurs, kissing your neck as he fucks you. “Want me to fill you up till it’s dripping down your thighs?”

You moan out a yes, and you feel Ghost’s cock twitch inside of your pussy. He bites down on your shoulder as his hips stutter once, twice—then he’s burying himself inside your pussy, cock throbbing and balls drawing up as he shoots load after load inside of you.

“God, so fuckin’ good,” he pants out, breathing against your neck as he holds you against the wall, cock still buried inside you.

Raising his head, he grins at you. You smile back, eyes searching his.

“Come on, love. Let me clean you up and we can have a cuddle,” he says, gently lowering you to the ground as his cock slips out of you. He has to force himself not to get hard when he sees his seed dripping down your thighs.

“I can—” You start to object.

Ghost tugs you to him. “Shut it. Didn’t you learn anything from what we just did?”

[yourbunnygf]

Simon eating out his sub, she has a hand gripping his hair, small weak whimpers being heard when Simon's tongue runs over her most sensitive parts. Trying to push Simon away when she's about to cum but Simon hooks his arms around her thighs and pulls her closer.

[disgustingtwitches]

Bad habits that would irk 141

Price- I call people "dude," "man," or the worst one, "bro." It comes so naturally to me that I say it to everyone, and he hates that. He's a captain, a sir, an authority figure. He'd be stern about it,

"I'm not a 'bro'. Watch your mouth before I remind you who I am."

Gaz- I eat the cartilage and marrow out of chicken bones... I was just raised that way. I was told it was good for me and I shouldn't waste any part of the animal. Please don't judge me╥﹏╥ He wouldn't say anything about it, but it would definitely be an ick for him, LMAO. I'd be able to tell because of his face though, the expressive man he is.

Ghost- When I complain without wanting a solution to my problems. Sometimes I just wanna get things off my chest, and God bless him for trying to resolve my issues. But when I say I just wanna complain, he just thinks, "Why bring it up if you don't want me to help you?"

Soap- I leave laundry piles in my room; they are clean; I just don't like putting them away... He's not exactly a clean freak, he just sees everything through,

"C'mon Bonnie, ye'r almost done wi' it. Juist gotta put it away."

[quillcraftconquer]

Task Force 141 and Foreplay

Captain John Price- All hands (and fingers. Lots of fingers.). Doesn't even consider foreplay for himself, those hands are on you the entire time. He's the opposite of selfish when it comes to foreplay. He's going to make sure you're well taken care of, multiple times.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick- Is pillow talk foreplay? For Gaz, it is (or he makes it that way). It'll start off just talking about your days, decompressing, really. Until his knuckles are grazing your cheek, eyes getting heated as his brain goes elsewhere while you talk. You barely even notice until his hand is snaking behind your head to pull you in.

John 'Soap' MacTavish- "What do you want me to do?" is his motto. Want him to go down on you? Absolutely. Finger you? No problem. Grab you by the neck and spit in your mouth? Yes ma'am. Nothing makes him happier than watching you come unraveled over something he did to you.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley- Grinding. Not something you would've expected, and something you didn't know you were into until he perched you on his thigh, moving your hips back and forth against him as he gazed up at you. It's not about the feeling, either. It's the wide look in your eyes as you grind all the way from the base to the tip, wondering how that fits inside.

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

Being a prostitute for a man written down as S.R. capital, formal and little to no detail about him other than a masked picture of him. You don't know what you excepted of him but you didn't expect a behemoth to come for your services. Or well for you to go to him but hey, you get additional $500 if you do, to hell with life.

Its even odder when he just told you to sit and look pretty in his house, shushing you when you tried to flirt and rile him up, the three hours he paid for used just for him to absentmindedly grope and touch your chest and stomach.

Pulling you close to his chest and grabbing your squishy waist from above and behind. It wasn't harsh but it wasn't light, almost experimental as if he wanted to see what was comfortable with you.

"You mind getting tied up, bird?"

Asking you somewhere after thirty minutes and confining you only to lay his head on your thighs, using you as a head pillow and something for his hands to squeeze and get sat under while he sleeps. Snoring the rest of the time away until you're both awoken by an alarm he set.

He schedules another appointment as soon as you leave. Your manager tells you it was prepaid.

[secretlovezz]

----------♡

"You smell really good."

They're the first words you speak, you and Simon having just woken up only minutes ago, you're still lazily lying in bed together thoroughly avoiding getting up for the day. One of your hands rakes through his buzzed blonde hair and the other scratches at his back pulling his loose-fitted black shirt up and down with the continuous movement. His arms are wrapped tightly around your waist letting all of his weight settle on top of you

"Yeah?" His voice is groggy with sleep and his throat is begging for water based on the gravelly-ness of the question.

You strain your neck to roughly press your nose into his neck and take a deep breath sighing happily when you move away. "Mhm, really good."

Simon tiredly chuckles at you and goes to rub his nose against the side of your head, mimicking what you had just done to him, he nuzzles into your hair making you giggle at the ticklish feeling.

"I used your lotion 'cause mine ran out," Simon mumbles before flipping the two of you over so you could straddle him. His calloused hands start to rub from your torso to your thighs squeezing when he feels the supple skin.

Your smile is wide when your eyes meet his for the first time that morning, "You should use it more often; I like it when you smell like me."

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Y/N: Lying on the ground dramatically: Ahhh, I'm hurt! I need help! Soap, at their side: What happened? Y/N: Ahh, I need help, but specifically from Simon only Soap: What? But I can- Y/N: No please don't strain yourself. Ahhh, Simon I'm hurt, carry me!

[fictionismyreality3]

Being Ghost’s Wife

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, mentions of sex

Notes: I’m literally so tired so all I could whip up was a hc today. The urge to nap with Simon is eating at my brain whEN IS IT MY TURN

a lot of your relationship was stunted at the start because as soon as he realized he actually loved you he shut you out

but then he got over himself 🙄 and proposed to you 3 months into dating

knows he’s overdue to be seriously injured or killed so he doesn’t want to wait

splurges on a ring the very next day

literally was more terrified to propose to you than he’d ever been for a mission

just randomly said it one night while you were making dinner and he was standing behind you h o v e r i n g

“marry me.” “huh? I mean, yes but Si-” “you’re my wife now.”

changes his contact name in your phone to ‘husband 🖤’ even though technically your still just engaged

the rest of the 141 only finds out by mistake when he forgot to turn his ringer off, you kept bombarding him with texts because you couldn’t figure out how to work the grill he bought you and soap saw about 20 missed messages from ‘wife 🤍’

somehow the whole base knows Lt riley is engaged by the end of the day (soap swears it wasn’t him)

the wedding was small, only your family and the 141 plus Laswell

took the whole ‘fuck on your wedding night’ thing very seriously 🤭

you live a cute little domestic life

after so long not knowing if he was going to live to see the next day, all Simon wants is just to have a little bubble of peace he can protect

uses all his military money that he never bothered with to buy you a big house with a wrap around porch

i fully believe this man will build a deck 🤠

within a year of you being married he already has you knocked up because he ‘doesn’t want to waste any time’

[oceantornadoo]

(simon riley x f!reader, same rank!)

violence, cod inaccuracies, reader is a badass

simon riley never calls you baby

until he does.

you tell him it has to stay hidden. you can't be known as "the girl fucking the lieutenant", no matter if you're the same rank as him, the same sweat and tears put into the job. it scares you, the thought of losing decades of hard work over some stupid fling with a man they call ghost. a man who brings you tea on your sick days, a man with soft eyes and a listening ear, the only man who's ever brought you to orgasm. the push and pull of your autonomy and your love is ever growing, that bone deep fear rooted in your marrow.

simon's scared too. scared of waking up and it's all a dream. scared that his enemies will find out, scared that it'll show he isn't so dead after all. he's been a rotting thing on earth for nearly four decades and he's comfortable with it; no matter how alive you make him feel. his hand on your waist feels right, but he can't bring his heart into the light.

so you call each other "lieutenant." maybe "riley" when he pisses you off, just to get under his skin. "dove" is rare, but it warms you up just the same, gives you an unbidden vision of hot chocolate and snow days. mainly its "l.t.", remnant of johnny, the respect and friendliness woven together sweetly. you murmured "babe" to him once, in the early morning when he sneaks out, and felt his shoulders bunch, the weight of it too much to bear. that was the end of pet names, or so you thought.

--

it's a foggy day on what becomes the worst night of your life. the mission is at a standstill, the intel outdated. you were supposed to be taking out a terrorist organization, blowing up the base of their operations, but instead the building is damp and abandoned, echoes of life the only sign they were here. price is in your ear, telling you to clear one last room and retreat, simon already on his way out. you nudge your way into the room with caution, years of practiced steps coming to you on instinct. for some reason, you don't catch the glint of a stranger's eye in a hidden corner. you don't see the rope in his hands, the knife between his teeth. the next thing you see is the floor, fog seeping over concrete as rough hands gag you and mutter promises of ungodly harm.

something's wrong. "price." simon murmurs soft and low, crossing out of the building to the tree cover below. "where is she? s'pposed t' be out by now." he's scanning the building through his scope, looking for that figure he knows so well, could find blind. "copy. 'er tracker says she's still in the buildin'. let's-" there's a piercing scream in the air. the ravens take flight from the trees. dark wings, dark words. "ghost-" "goin' in." a sigh on the other end. he can practically feel price's hesistancy but he doesn't care, heavy feet already moving back into the building. "you're goin' in blind, radar's jus' gone out." he swears under his breath, clearing hallway after hallway as the building falls back into silence. just as he comes upon a 4-way split, you scream again, the sound far away and to his left. "'m comin' dove, hold on." there's no gunfire, no sounds of fight. it's so eerie he thinks he might have dreamed it, his worst nightmare come true. his instincts lead the way, some knowledge of your location hidden in his blood. pop. finally a gunshot, and if he squints hard, he tries to imagine it being from your weapon. he's close, nostrils expanding at the scent of you, memorized even without your favored perfume.

there were four of them. you still can't believe you missed them, the thought in the back of your head as you fight for your life. scrambling from the rope one tries to force on you, becoming an eel as you slip out of their grasps. this is what you do, what you're trained for. until someone stomps down hard on your ankle, the force of it cracking straight through. you scream, can't help it, searing pain blinding your vision for precious seconds. they take advantage of it, gloved hands tying your own behind your back in a tight know. you can't reach your comms so you scream again, this one out of frustration, desperation that your team, that simon, might not find you.

the big one shuts you up with a hand to your throat, a bruising group that leaves you unable to speak. they aren't well trained, fumbling hands and shaky grips, and you're finally able to reach your holster, shooting the first between the eyes before you can even glimpse his face. now you're in your element, adrenaline covering the pain of your ankle as you fight back, shooting one after the other, digging out your knife for close combat. it's over in a blink, the men no match for your skills, and once you double check they're dead, you collapse in the corner, the pain of your ankle roaring. that's when you hear it.

"baby?" it's him (but it can't be). he's never called you that. you pretend not to see when he whispers it into your neck as you feign sleep, when he murmurs it in a grunt as he's deep in your cunt. he's never said it to your face. "baby!" it's definitely him, that gruff voice cutting across the fog. you whine out of frustration, your throat too sore from your attacker to call out. instead, you limp to the door, almost running into simon as he comes crashing into your own personal hell. he sweeps you into his arms and you let him, grabbing his shoulders to make sure he's real.

"y' hurt?" he takes a look around the room, at the carnage in your wake. "my brave girl." you're sobbing, unsure whether its from frustration or relief. still can't believe you got caught, feeling like such a stereotype to have your knight in shining armor rescue you. "handled them all y'rself, hm, baby?" he's all sweet and it hurts, seeing his eyes swell in pride as he takes in the four dead men, gunshots and a knife sticking out of one's eye. "why- why are you calling me that, simon?" he's ushering you out, your arm around his neck as you limp towards freedom. "proud of you." he says it simply, eyes trained on potential threats, not watching your reaction.

"aye, i told you, gaz. ye owe me a drink." soap's voice crackled through the comms. they were on. which meant your team heard the whole thing, heard simon practically claim you, knew you were together, thought you were a slu- "she's too good for him. i don't believe it." gaz's voice replied. "bugger off." simon grumbled into the mic, the sounds of them snickering loud and clear. "good?" he turned back at you, stopping you before you approached the clearing where your team waited. his eyes told you something different, that he'd walk out of here right now if you wanted. the cock of his head meant he'd follow you anywhere, live off the lamb for decades if you needed it. that was all you needed to know. you nodded and pushed forward. "yeah, i'm good, baby."

--

this is SO CRINGE but it's been in my drafts forever and needed to start paying rent

[allllium]

Could I request a one shot with Simon Riley, where he is in a secret relationship. And one night when he was on a mission, at their shared home, one of their enemies (that they are hunting down in that mission) comes and kidnaps them. When they find the base where the enemy was, Riley went in to see his girlfriend being tortured? She gets rescued by him and seeks medical attention, as she passes out? But when she wakes up in the hospital it turns into a really fluffy moment? Maybe he gets on one knee?????

Not so Secret

~ I really hope I did your idea justice 🤞 I'm the best at writing for Simon yet or angsty hurty stuff so hopefully you enjoy this sweet little moment

~ Fluff, Torture (Mentioned), WC: 1,559

~ Simon can't live without you

Simon can feel his heart beating out of his chest. You're gonna be fine, he keeps reminding himself. No one on the team has anything in the last couple hours. Good thing. Simon might lose his mind if they try to make small talk in this situation. You're gonna be fine, he reminds himself again, leaning his head against the wall.

You were taken by the enemy team on what was supposed to be a perfectly safe mission. Get the information and get out. Simple. It only took an hour before they found you but in that time you were badly injured. You're alive he mutters under his breath. He can feel Price's eyes burning a hole into him but he still doesn't say anything.

Simon practically jumps out of his chair when the doctor comes through the door. Ignoring every word that comes out the doctors mouth, he pushes his way past and into your room. Price can deal with all the details, right now Simon just needs to see you. Just confirm that you're alive.

You're sleeping when he walks in. More like knocked out with drugs but either way you look peaceful. As peaceful as you can with bruises covering your face. He carefully takes a seat next to the bed. He lets out a deep breath as he sits there watching you. Thinking over everything that happened that day and everything he could have done to stop it, which was nothing.

He sits there long enough to doze off, something he rarely ever does when not in the comfort of his own home. You're presence just has the ability to make him feel comfortable anywhere.

"You're lucky it hurts to move or I'd have drawn a mustache on your face." You voice draws him awake.

"No one would see it through the mask." He responds, keeping his eyes closed. It's a weird feeling, having someone you love in the hospital. He doesn't want to open his eyes, he doesn't want to believe you got hurt.

"I'd know it's there and that's enough for me. Look at me Simon." You demand. He listens, opening his eyes to the brightness of the hospital room. The white walls, white lights, and white ceiling don't strike him as the best thing for healing patients.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, looking into your eyes.

"I'm alright, and you?" You sit up in the uncomfortable bed as an attempt to get more comfortable.

"I'm not the one in a hospital bed." He whispers. Eyes darting all over the room.

"True. It's not the funnest." You crack a small smile. You know exactly how he thinks, how much he blames himself. You know it's a result of trauma and you want nothing more than to be able to reassure him in times like this Unfortunately, words aren't enough to undo this way of thinking. "Join me?" You pat the empty space on the bed.

"No." He replies instantly, immediately worried about injuring you further.

"Okay I might have phrased that like a question but it wasn't. Get on this bed and sit with me so I can feel better."

He stays silent. Debating the options he has. Or more so the options he doesn't have.

"You have two seconds or I'm coming to you."

That gets him moving. At this point he knows better than to dismiss your threats. Before moving however, he takes a moment to take off his mask, something he never wears when it's just the two of you.

"Fine, you know you're not supposed to leave that bed yet." He tries to keep a demanding tone but to you it's just laced with concern. You have a wide grin on your face as he scooches in the bed with you. You end half way on top of him with how small the bed is.

"So what happened while I was sleeping?" You ask, absentmindedly tracing the tattoo on his arm.

"I have no idea. I've been here." He keeps his sentences short and simply. A habit he's picked up over the years.

"The whole time? Aw you big softy." Your heart flutters at his confession.

"M' not."

"Mhm. Whatever you say." You chuckle softly.

"Do you need anything? Water? Food? Drugs?" He kisses your forehead.

"I'm alright. Now stop it."

"Stop what? I'm trying to be helpful."

"No you're blaming yourself. I know you." You lean up in order to look into his eyes. He may be secretive but his eyes aren't.

"I'm not. I'm just thinking of all the ways I can protect you in the future."

"Okay let's say that I believe you. How would you stop this from happening again? You weren't even there." At this point you're sitting up as much as you can, putting an arm on Simon's chest to keep you upright.

"Well right now I'm thinking of locking you in my house so you can never leave and therefore never be hurt." He tells you, being completely serious.

"I'm gonna ignore that because you would like a stalker." You laugh. "Where's the rest of the guys?"

"Outside. I locked the door when I came in."

"Simon! Go unlock the door." You want to say you're surprised but not even a little bit of it is out of the ordinary for Simon.

"No. I'm comfortable here. And I don't wanna go back to acting all professional."

"Simon, you've been in here for what I'm guessing is hours considering it's now nighttime with the door locked. I don't think our secret is much of a secret."

"Maybe not. But I want you all to myself." The look on his face reminds you of a sad puppy. Which is a face he makes very often.

"And you say you're not a softy." You scoff.

"I'm not!" He exclaims, trying hard to protect his reputation that you don't believe for a second.

"Whatever you say, sweetie." You smirk as his face lights up a shade of red. Here we have a massive, cold, military man, blushing at one simply pet name, it's enough to give anyone a huge ego.

After you're little period of talking, you fall into a comfortable silence. With you laying back down onto his chest.

"How are you feeling?" He asks after just a few minutes.

"I'm okay." You quickly reaffirm him. "How about you."

"I'm fine."

"Nope tell me the truth. You've asked me that many times now."

"Just checking."

"Simon."

"I love you." He says out of nowhere.

"I love you too."

"Can we get married."

"What?!" You shoot up, wincing in the process.

"I wanna get married."

"Now??" You practically yell. Of course you wanna marry him but you're really confused.

"No I mean later. I just wanna know that we will."

"You mean be engaged?" You can't stop the strange expression that your face makes as you try and decifer what he means.

"Is that not what you want?" He asks, the fear evident in his voice.

"That's not what I said. But we've never talked about marriage I mean not as deep as we should have. I don't want you to want to marry me just because I got hurt." You start to ramble, talking so fastcyou don't even know if he can understand you. He can. He's gotten used to your nervous rambles.

He smiles bigger than you think you've ever seen him. "I've wanted to marry you since the moment we first met."

"Okay you sound more and more like a stalker the more you talk."

"Is that a no?"

"No, it's a we can be engaged as long as you're being serious. And we'll stay engaged for a while because we're not ready to be married anytime soon."

"So next months not gonna work for you?" He laughs, genuinely laughs.

"No I think I'm busy then." You retort. You want to marry him, you know that for sure, but not until you're healed, and not until you both get better at being together.

"I can wait."

"Can you go let the guys in? Cuz the way you're staring at me is making me nervous."

"I love you."

"Door, Simon."

You try to surpress the wild grin on your face as he gets up to open the door for the others. They all walk in with matching suspicious smirks.

"What have I said about eavesdropping?" You immediately question, looking right at Soap.

"Not to do it." He looks down at his feet like a child being scolded.

"That's right, yet here you are."

"It's not my fault!" He immediately defends himself and points to Price. "He's the one that walked by the door and talk me you were talking about marriage."

You turn your sharp gaze over to Price, "and here I thought you were the responsible one." You shake your head in disappointment. You can hear Simon and Gaz laughing behind them. Being more than amused at the scolding you give you captain.

"You're right. I will reflect on my actions and do better in the future." He jokes.

Also shaking his head, Simon makes his way back to your bedside. Sitting beside you and putting an arm around your waist. You have a feeling now that your secrets out he won't keep his hands off you. But you're okay with that.

[evilgwrl]

Jealous!Ghost does something to me… sorry

He was everywhere, balls slapping heavily against the fat of your ass, your spine nestled into the wall as he fucked into you, cock splitting you open with the desirous intention to ruin you for anyone else.

“You gonna fucking talk to him again, hm?” He spat, licking a stripe of your neck as he held onto your hips, bruising fingers digging litters of marks against your pretty skin.

“N-No Simon,” you whined, hiccuping as he thrusted back into you, his voice menacingly low as he growled low in his chest. Your neck was stained with dark hickies, marks that Ghost needed everyone to see, especially the incapable Soldier who decided that sparring with you was appropriate.

“Fucking slut, ain’t you? My dicks not enough for ye’ or something? Gotta get it from everyone?”

His words shot through you as you choked out a moan, angry tip nudging your sweet spots with a fiery force, heat penetrating through you. His eyes were shot into slits, a possessive glint controlling every movement as he muttered into your neck.

“I see you around him again and I’ll kill ‘em, you hear me?”

You nodded against the wall, lower back aching at the constant pressure of being slammed against it during his fuelled assault against your squelching cunt.

Ghost didn’t say anything after he emptied inside you, guttural groan leaving his lips as he pulled out, dropping you to your feet and leaving in an aggravated hunch, your legs shaking as you tried to squeak out a ‘wait’.

[maskedbyghost]

lets continue our talk about situationship!Simon, where this bitch grovels for monthssss

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situationship!simon starts sending you text messages. before you could expect something like "you up?" or "come to my office.", but after you broke things off with him, simon started sending you heartfelt text messages, apologizing for his past behavior. “i’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between us,” he texted one night. “i realize now how much i hurt you, and i’m truly sorry, love. i understand if you need space, but i wanted you to know how much i regret everything.”

along with his messages, simon started sending you small but meaningful gifts. he remembered how you’d joked about his tea obsession once and that you’d mentioned you only liked chamomile. to your surprise, he found the best brand of chamomile tea and even packed it in a nice box before delivering it to your room.

he even started to open up more. during a late-night phone call, where you could clearly hear that he was drunk, simon said that he started seeing a therapist. “i’m workin on understandin my issues and changin for the better. i want to be better, not just for you love, but for myself. i hope you can see that i’m tryin to change.”

when you asked him to stop calling you love, he refused. “i can’t help it. you’re mine in a way no one else could be, and i don’t want to pretend otherwise.”

as simon keeps showing up with gifts and heartfelt messages, you can’t help but wonder if he’s being real or if he’s just trying to win you back before breaking your heart again.

you still go on dates with other people, and simon is tormented every time he sees you leaving the base in those pretty dresses—dresses he wishes were just for him. he follows you, quietly lurking in the corners of the restaurants or bars where you’re out with your dates. oddly enough, most of the guys you go out with either get transferred to another base or stop calling you after just one date, and you’re doing your best not to blame simon for it. but you know it's him. and he is not sorry at all.

almost every day, simon texts you, asking you out on dates and planning special things for the who of you. all you have to do is say yes, but each time, you refuse. it breaks his heart every time, but it also makes him more determined to try even harder. he knows he deserves this treatment from you.

back when you and simon used to train together on base, it was a special routine you both enjoyed. now, you’ve started asking other guys to help you with exercises, and it drives him wild with jealousy. watching their hands on you makes him see red. after your training sessions with them, simon invites these guys to spar with him. it quickly becomes clear that he’s using these sparring matches as a chance to take out his frustration and anger, landing a few extra hits just to make his point.

despite everything, you still won’t budge, and it’s only making simon more frustrated. the truth is, it’s becoming harder and harder for you to resist him. his persistence is wearing you down, and the more he pushes, the more you find yourself struggling to stay strong.

simon invites you to one of his therapy sessions, saying his therapist thinks it would be helpful for him and his progress. during the session, he opens up about his struggles and insecurities, laying everything bare. as he talks, you start to feel sympathy for him. it’s clear he’s determined to change and work on himself, and you see how genuine his efforts are.

one night, you were preparing tea in the kitchen when a girl you know from the base asked for simon’s number. she mentioned she was interested in him, which made you jealous. you snapped at her, making it clear that he would never be interested in a girl like her. simon overheard the whole thing and couldn’t help but smirk to himself. it was clear you still had feelings for him, and he took a bit of satisfaction in that.

later that night he sent one simple message to you: "that's my girl. i belong to you, and you only."

after that message, simon stepped up his game. he started sending you lots of sweet texts and little gifts, and even took care of some of your paperwork. it was hard to ignore how much he was trying, and you found it tougher to resist him as he kept showing you how much he cared.

a few months after managing to ignore simon as best as you could, you caught a nasty cold and were stuck in your room. you only texted price to let him know you needed a few days off because you were sick, and got back in your bed trying to sleep that cold off. a few hours later, as you were still trying to fall asleep, you heard your door open. simon walked in, carrying a bunch of bags, a worried look on his face.

“i came as soon as I could,” simon said, worry in his voice. “i brought you soup and medicine.”

simon didn’t leave your side for days. he only went back to his room to grab more clothes and shower. he was insistent on helping you with everything, even assisting you with your showers in the most respectful way possible of course. he’d sit in a chair next to your bed, and you felt a pang of guilt seeing how much he was giving up for you. you even tried to convince him to go get some rest, but despite your protests, he somehow ended up in your bed, gently spooning you as you slept.

simon would whisper sweet things in your hair, thinking you were asleep. you heard every word as he softly talked about how much he missed you, how sorry he was for everything, and how he wanted to make things right. even though you were sick and exhausted, his words touched you deeply.

once you were feeling better, you found simon sitting alone in a common room, lost in thought. you approached him quietly and gently kissed the side of his face. with a soft smile, you whispered, “take me on that date you promised.”

_______________________________________________

@daydreamerwoah

[dmitriene]

simon riley wearing jeans, it's just a simple pair of blue, nothing particularly new in his wardrobe, the knees slightly washed off from the countless amounts of being dirtied up, scraped and then washed up, but the way he looks in them makes you unsettled, fidgeting without tearing your dancing gaze off his brawny body.

meaty thighs hugged tightly by the fabric, growing more loose at his calfs, but holding securely at his wide hips and round ass, your eyes tracing every dip and twitch of his muscles beneath the fabric, and simon knows you're looking, sees the way your legs clench together sweetly, there's no doubt that you're soaked wet by just looking at your man, digging with your fingers in your knee caps.

that's how simon makes you hump his thigh, rocking your hips in desperate circles and messy jerks while you rub your dripping pussy raw against his jeans, a teared hole at the gusset of your soaked, cotton panties, as you wet the outline of his chubbed cock beneath the harsh fabric with glistening strings of pooling slick, his girth swollen and throbbing with leaking precum, but he's too focused on making you soak his pants.

fingers splayed on your hips, helping you rock forward, canting them for better pleasure as you spill keening moans from your slack lips, pebbled clit dragging just right across his tensed, clothed muscles, and you hiccup, chasing the feeling through the spasms in your trembling thighs and liquid heat across your tummy that makes your toes curl, as simon purrs in your ear about what a sight you are.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

Can I request Ghost being a little spoon despite his s/o being much shorter and smaller than him please?

Little Spoon {Simon "Ghost" Riley}

A/n: thank you so much for requesting, I hope you like this

Pairing: Simon Riley x reader

Trigger Warnings: mentions of Simon's trauma,

If he could help it, the situation he was in right now didn't happen often. It wasn't that he didn't like it but if he were to be honest with himself, Simon was still trying to come to terms with his needs and desires in general. He had raised himself to be this rock of a person with close to zero if not zero feelings and now that you were together he was finding it hard to accept that this was all he was becase the feelings he had for you were not even close to zero.

But fuck it, you could make his mind shut and his thoughts stop and damn him if he didn't find you adorable with how you looked at his hair, playing with it while he laid his head on your chest. He found it hillarious. The height difference, the size difference, everything to be precise.

"You should throw away all of your hair products Si." You said in the softest voice. You hadn't done it on purpose, it had naturally came out that way and Simon could feel his heart melting. "It's not like you have much."

"It gets the job done," he referred to the shampoo, the only hair product he used.

"Your hair is... rough so I don't think it does." He would have responded but the way your toes wiggled against his knees sent butterflies to his stomach.

"Do whatever you want, as long as I have clean hair." He murmured and shifted so his face was burried in your chest. He loved it. He loved every second of it. He loved how he felt safe in your arms and how nice it was to feel safe and protected even though realistically speaking the only thing your small frame could protect him from was the mosquitos.

And maybe it was the warmth of the blanket, or the peace and quiet of your bedroom or your heartbeat that had him close his eyes. He didn't even stop himself to think about how it was only four in the afternoon and that if he slept now, he would most probably have a tough time sleeping at night. No, Simon couldn't give a fuck, he only snuggled closer against you, practically mimicking the way you snuggled up against him whenever he was the big spoon, and allowed himself to fall asleep.