You love going to the pub with Simon Riley.
He doesn't go often, only going when the lads force him to. But he always brings you along, mumbling something about how you make it more tolerable. But your brain always gets so fuzzy when you're out with him, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol.
It's the way he throws his arm around the back of your chair without much thought every time. How his warmth soaks through your skin from behind your head as he leans the mass of muscles overtop the back of the booth you share. How his large hand grasps the lip of the stool you're on in a tight fist, hiding the view of your ass from unwanted eyes.
It's from the way he looks at you. He has that lazy, bored look in his half-lidded eyes. He keeps his gaze stuck to your face, only looking away to roll his eyes at something one of the lads say. He's always looking for your reaction, eyes glued to you as the boys tell a story or make a joke. An aching pressure forms between your legs from the way he studies you when it's your turn to speak. His eyes are dimmed from the low lighting, looking down at you from the edge of his glass of whiskey as he takes a slow sip.
Your mind goes blank from how close he gets. It's loud and rowdy at every pub. The sound of drinks being made, the lads talking, and the loud blaring of the tele's rugby game making the environment deafening. Even with Simon's trained ears, he has to lean down to hear you. His neck cranes down, his upper body bending forward slightly so you can talk directly into his ear. You almost forget what you needed to say, the mix of his cologne and whiskey filling all your senses.
Don't even get yourself started with when he needs to speak to you. His hand moves from behind you, cradling the back of your neck as he pushes your body close to him. It's completely unnecessary seeing as you're practically glued to his side already, but you can't help the dazed look on your face as you give him your full attention. His breath is hot against your ear and cheek, hand massaging the nape of your neck absent-mindedly. It carries the smell of alcohol and a bit of tobacco, but you find it way more attractive than you should. Most of the time, you don't even process what he said, making him squeeze the back of your neck slightly to draw out your response. You simply nod along, clearly clueless. It makes Simon chuckle out a scoff, reaching into your side pocket to grab the lighter he was asking you for so he can go smoke outside.
In all honestly, it's probably from the smoke breaks he forces you to come along for. He refused to leave your side, even if it's to go to the bathroom or to the bar for a refill. He'll stand outside the door or behind you at the bar, waiting patiently and observing the terrain until you're ready to go back to the guys. So you pay it back by leaning against the cold brick wall, watching as Simon flicks the flame over the end of his cigarette before taking deep drags. You're completely mesmorized, watching the way the moonlight makes his side profile glow as puffs of nicotine smoke leave his mouth.
His nose is slightly pink from the cold, and he shrugs in his jacket in an effort to keep warm. Orange bits of burnt tobacco flake from the end of the cigarette as he breathes in the addictive chemical, eyes watching as scarce cars drive past. When he gets to his last inhale, he pulls the bud away but keeps the smoke trapped in his mouth. He turns to you, expectedly, holding the cigarette end away and to the side as you walk up to him. His other hand, warm from being in his sweater the whole time, grasps your chin as he opens your mouth with the slight pressure from his thumb. He takes a second to readjust your head, tipping it slightly up at him in the perfect angle. He leans in real close, tilting his head slightly to the side as he stares into your eyes. His lips are centimeters away from yours, parting and blowing the smoke into your awaiting mouth.
You desperately try to breathe it in before the winter wind can take it from you. Simon hums, rewarding you with a quick peck to your lips before he’s turning away and crushing the cigarette between the cement and his heavy boot. He doesn't wait around in the cold, walking back to the entrance of the pub. He presses his back against the open door, letting the cold wind in as he waits for you to enter first. You already know his smoke break means the end of the night out, not a bit surprised when Simon mumbles as you walk past him to finish your drink and gather up your shit so the two of you can finally go home.
And the whole way home, you find that you can't think past the dizzying fog in your mind as the masculine figure besides you drives back to the flat.
I need some... toe curling, mouth watering, hair ripping, blood spiking, heart racing, jaw clenching, rough, creamy, absolute filthy Simon...
Tension, tension, tension girl I'm feening
OKAY !! I'll do it!! A little drabble (not rly a drabble) just for you!
– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader
— Yourself and Simon have an argument.
Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.
It was like running in circles- endlessly tired, exhausted, and finding yourself in the same fucking place you were when you started. It felt like nothing you ever had to say was reason enough to convince him to change. It was a tireless fight, begging Simon for more affection, more time, more attention than he was able to give.
It didn't stop the irritation from building, though. It crept under your skin when he'd sit on the sofa watching the TV instead of talking with you. When he'd get ready for bed and fall asleep without so much as a "goodnight".
You'd certainly grown sick of the distance. Of feeling like a stranger was living with you. Trying your hardest not to take up space or make a single noise for fear of pushing him even further away. Living in your home had turned into an abysmal state you didn't want to put yourself in.
It hadn't crossed your mind to approach him- not until you'd finally reached your wit's end, finally cracked the porcelain facade that had been saving your relationship. Not anymore.
He didn't expect it- in fact, things were fine, to him. Admittedly, his mind was elsewhere, though he had a good excuse; the toll of deployment. He needed a good reset, a recharge, and in the meantime, he had neglected you. Unintentionally, of course, but still, he'd made you feel unwanted, unloved- nearly a burden.
Your patience had snapped, run so thin it finally tore like a thread under tension. Though he thought nothing of it- his hands had taken hold of your waist, pulling you into his chest as you finished the dishes in the sink. You knew by the rigidity in his muscles and soft breaths against the back of your neck; he wanted you.
Any other time, you wouldn't resist him. The warmth of his palms, the smell of his body- he could pull arousal from even the deepest parts of you. Though now, you recoiled from his touch. You shrunk yourself down, pressing against the counter until he released his grip.
"You tired?" He asked.
You scoffed, so quiet and meek it was nearly pathetic. You were still afraid to say the wrong thing, to send him packing.
"No," You shook your head. Honesty was important, but you weren't sure you were ready to have this argument. So you settled for half-truths and cowardice.
His hands once again reached your hips, large fingers digging into your skin, wrapping a giant forearm around your middle as he pulled you into him.
"You want me to beg?" He mumbled in your ear- so clearly turned on by the idea of begging for a piece of you.
Your eyes clamped shut, swallowing harshly as you tried to resist temptation. It felt good, so fucking good, to feel his hands on you again, to have his voice in your ear, his soft breaths against your skin. You could've crumbled then and there, fallen into him and let him have what he wanted- but your body had a way of preventing such weakness.
You were sad. Instead of utterly aroused, soaking your panties, you felt sick, nauseous. It lodged in your throat, stung at your eyes and twisted your face into a look of contempt.
"You want me now?" You asked, slipping from his grip and throwing your dish towel on the counter.
He raised a brow, watching you. "Thought I was bein' obvious."
"You were," You nodded, your hand finding the counter for balance. "But you just pick and choose when you want me, right?"
His brows furrowed, and he took a step back to allow for some space between you.
"What's that s'posed to mean?" He tilted his head, eyeing you down.
Your heart had begun to race, your chest heaving to keep up with the pulse in your ears.
"You haven't touched me in weeks," You breathed out. "Haven't hardly said a word to me in weeks."
He sighed, hanging his head briefly. His eyes met yours and he nodded slowly.
"Takes time to get myself reacquainted after bein' gone. Thought you understood," He muttered.
"Don't blame me for this," You scoffed, though this time it was audible and poignant. "You want to fuck me but you won't spend time with me? Talk to me?"
He raised his brows in shock, tilting his head as if it could allow him another lead to follow. He stepped closer, trapping you between his arms with your back against the counter. You avoided his eyes, avoided letting him see the tears gathering in your waterline.
"I do wanna fuck you," He answered. His eyes glowered at you, menacing and almost threatening.
Your jaw clenched. A look of disgust crossing your features.
"You think if I didn't fuck you it'd change anything?" He asked, watching your eyes meet his. "You been missin' my attention, sweetheart? I know I miss bein' inside you."
You huffed, nostrils flaring as he brought his lips to your neck. Your hand reached his chest, using all your strength to push him off- he remained a statue, still pinning you against the counter.
"Don't fight me," He murmured. "I know you're mad- needy," He pressed his lips against your jaw, hunched over enough that he could whisper in your ear. "I'll make it up to you, love."
You wanted to roll your eyes, but his voice called to you like a Siren- it nearly made your eyes close to savour just how good it sounded to be taken care of. To be touched, fucked, by him again.
"I missed you," You admitted, still soured by his behaviour. "And you just want to fuck me."
He drew his hand up your side, his large hand encasing your waist.
"Missed you too," He said, like it was obvious. "Can't miss you and want you at the same time?"
His lips were inches from yours, forming a small, nearly unnoticeable smile. He liked the fight, the rejection; it only made him work harder for an even sweeter reward. His fingers worked open the button of your jeans, causing you to stutter.
"Y-you can," You trailed off, your head falling back as he sensuously dragged his lips up your neck, teeth softly scraping your flesh.
"Then what's the problem?" He mumbled.
You sighed, relaxing into his arms as his hand swiftly dove beneath your panties and his fingertips pressed against your clit.
Despite your adamant denial, you were wet. Pulsating, sore, desperate and needy. He was right- you missed his attention. Yearned so deeply for it, it nearly hurt.
His fingers drew soft circles around your clit, your body jolting with every rotation, your knees weakening against him. He had no qualms about holding you up while he touched you, nor when his fingers slid inside you so easily it made him chuckle.
"I'll take proper care of you, sweetheart," He said softly.
His lips met yours, in the middle of a gasp, fighting you to move your lips against his, accept his tongue in your mouth. You did- without hesitation, and let your hands glide over his shoulders so he could hold you up.
"Simon," You muttered. "More- please," You breathed into his neck.
Your hips rocked against his hand, his fingers deep in your pussy, throbbing around his digits while he coaxed whimpers and moans out of you. Your arousal was evident, loud echoes off the apartment walls of the mess he'd made of you.
He loved it. Loved hearing how fucking turned on you were. Loved that your pussy got wet so easily without more than a few strokes of his fingers. Loved that you clenched around his fingers and struggled to get closer, grasped at his shoulders and ground your hips to get more out of him. He liked setting the pace, though. Wanted to watch you cry and beg to go faster, harder.
He'd give you relief with his cock, instead. Wouldn't want to waste the feeling of your pussy tightening around him- it always made him cum even harder when you milked his cock. He withdrew his fingers, forcefully lifting you from the ground.
He entrapped your lips with his again, trudging down the dark hallway until he found the light of your bedroom and kicked the door open. He set you down, lifting his shirt over his head so you could run your hands over his abdomen.
You shivered, his broad shoulders flexing, swaying as he maneuvered toward you, forcing the back of your knees to hit the bed. You fell back, sitting on the bed and staring up at him expectantly.
"Turn over," He ordered, watching with amusement as you scurried to land on all fours.
Your head peered over your shoulder, lowering yourself to the bed as he stepped behind you. His belt clanked as he pulled it open, tugging his jeans down to reveal his cock. He'd been struggling with his own desire- as much as he'd missed you, he couldn't ever properly fuck you unless he knew he would be totally, completely present.
He ran his palms over your ass, drawing a shudder from your body as the warmth crept further up your waist. He lined himself up with your weeping cunt, slowly working his way inside with short, soft thrusts until his hips met your ass.
You were breathless- mouth agape, eyes fluttering shut as his cock nudged your cervix, stretching you out enough that your body erupted with goosebumps. He grunted softly at the feel of your pussy around him, the deliciously wet, plush walls inadvertently pulling him in. He too, shuddered, then bent at the waist to mould his chest to your back.
"'M sorry," He breathed against your shoulder blades. "Been neglectin' you."
It didn't bother you that Simon apologized when he was inside you- he was already vulnerable, already bearing himself to you; the apology sent warmth radiating through you.
"It's okay," You slurred, twisting your body to find his dark eyes already watching you. "Don't stop," You muttered, breathing out. "Just don't stop, baby- please," You moaned out, guttural and breathless while his thrusts pushed you forward on your hands.
His soft lips touched your shoulder, wrapping an arm beneath you to pull your back even closer, using his other hand to adjust the flesh of your ass so he could bury his cock even deeper inside you.
"Neglected this sweet fuckin' cunt too," He groaned. "Can never stay away from you- never get enough."
You sighed aloud, especially as his cock withdrew from your walls, leaving you empty and hollow- before sliding back inside. His arm moved to cling around your waist, his hard fingers sliding down your stomach to rub at your swollen clit fervidly.
"Don't do it again," You chided, though with half of your usual authority while he rutted his hips up against you. "I missed you," You muttered.
He left another gentle kiss against your shoulder, now breathing a bit heavier in your ear. You could feel the Adonis belt of his abdomen hit your ass, his dick angled just right as it rubbed inside you, his calloused fingers rubbing back and forth across your clit; your stomach had begun to tighten.
"Missed you too," He uttered, exhaling sharply when your pussy clenched around him. "Bloody fuckin' hell I missed you."
"Simon-" You gasped, your climax approaching at an unexpected pace while his words hit your ear, warm breath tingling your skin. "Keep going- I'm so close," You whined, your hips pushing backwards to force him inside you, faster, harder.
"Christ, love," He grunted. "Keep doin' that, 'n' I'm fuckin' done in," He chuckled, short and deep, hardly long enough for you to notice, but it moved through your back.
You came shortly after- knuckles white with the strength of your grip on the sheets, lips parted in a gasp, a heavy groan vibrating from your chest. Your stomach tensed, pussy tightening around his cock in short bursts, making his hips stutter with every thrust. As your eyes clenched shut, a black abyss of swirls and stars appearing behind your eyelids, you breathed out finally.
He wasn't far behind, finishing inside you as he always did, though he stayed still for a moment after, catching his breath. And when he finally came down from his climax, he fell to the bed, pulling you into his arms.
A soft kiss on your temple, his dick still lodged inside your worn pussy, coated with his cum, and he muttered a quiet, 'Night, love. We'll talk in the mornin'."
The dog protects you
When Simon was in the military he brings home a friend
Riley the German Shepherd
Since Riley is a grade A military dog, and is learned to protect his handler now owner at all times. Simon now trains him into protecting his home
There was once when Simon was away, he gave Riley a command on protecting you and the house
And someone tried to break in while he was away but luckily for the robber he got a scary dog waiting for him on the other side
You know those ring doorbell cameras, yeah you have one and sent the video of the aftermath of the robber running away from Riley
“Soap, Price come see what Y/n sent me,” he calls
He walks to Price’s office showing him the video of the robber running down the street with Riley hot on his tail and Y/n coming out to call for Riley to come back which he does immediately
They all laugh at the stupid robber and clapped for Riley
When Simon comes home, Riley is somewhere with you, in your home office he’s at the door with his back towards you making sure you are protected
Riley use to have to follow Ghost around but now he’s home he follows you around now (it slightly makes Simon jealous)
“LOVE?! RILEY?! I’M HOME!!” Simon calls
You come downstairs and Riley picks up on how excited you are and jumps for joy when his other comes back home
“Did you see the video?”
“Oh yeah, good boy Riley,” he says patting the dogs head
When you fell pregnant it was like a switch happened in Riley to where now he doesn’t even want Simon near you
You on the couch Riley is by your feet growling at Simon to sit farther away. Simon has kicked Riley outside a couple of times so he could get close to you
“Don’t be mean Simon,” you say letting Riley back in who barked at Simon for throwing him outside
“I want to touch you, I can’t with him in the way,” he pouts gesturing to the dog
“He’s confused, he thinks you’re going to hurt me.”
“But I’m not.”
“I know, he just doesn’t get it.”
When you sleep Riley is sleeping between you two, Simon tries to get him off the bed knowing he’s not supposed to be on the bed, Riley doesn’t listen but only listens to Y/n
“Riley down,” Simon says sternly. “Riley!” Simon sounded like a dad getting frustrated with his child not listening to him
“Riley, down boy,” Y/n says calmly and Riley gets off with ease and sits next to Y/n letting her pet his head
“What the hell?!” Simon says, confused, you only giggle at Simon
Riley becomes very gentle once the baby is born. Simon and you try to introduce Riley to the newborn slowly as possible
“Riley, easy,” Simon says as Riley walks closer to Y/n holding the newborn in her arms
Riley sniffs the baby’s head and looks up at Y/n if he’s allowed to be this close
Y/n pats his head “it’s okay Riley.”
Riley then sniffs the baby all around trying to get use to the baby’s scent. Simon watches his dog that was supposed to be tough and scary become all lovable
Riley rested his head on Y/n’s knee smelling the baby some more
As the baby grew up Riley became more of the baby’s protector
When they started to learn how the walk Riley was like their walker for a little bit. The baby would hang onto Riley so they could walk
Riley would sometimes even save the baby from falling off the couch a couple of times luckily Y/n and Simon also saw the baby before they almost fell off
Riley slept in the baby’s nursery to protect them
This one might bring us to tears
When Riley starts getting older, Simon hates seeing his dog go from an active dog that saved him numerous times to becoming so old that he can barely go down the stairs anymore
Riley was loved by the family even some of Simon's friends
The dogs white face panting like he ran a marathon, you child playing with him the most they can before he's gone, Simon trying to spend his last few days with Riley, seeing if he'd will be willing up for taking his daily walk
"You're a good dog, Riley...you did a good job protecting us," Simon says, sitting on the porch with his dog next to him laying on his side "You are defiantly my best friend, Riley," Simon tells the dog
day 27 - OBSESSIVE
a/n: I often forget that there are a few people who wait for me to post and I wanna apologise to these people. I don't know what got into me, but I hope that I'll be able to post everyday soon.
Everyone respects him, including you. He is a great fighter and his frame builds up fear in anyone who doesn't know him. He's a great soldier, but even the greatest soldiers have secrets. He has been trying his best to make sure his secret is never exposed.
What was his secret? It wasn't as much of a secret as a "weak spot". It sounds reasonable that a soldier would want to hide that, but his weak spot wasn't a part of the body or a fear.
It was you.
He would do anything to get you to himself. Of course, he was very aware that this might cause him problems later on. The soldier side of him was thinking about how unethical would it be to date a fellow team member. The human side of him was thinking that enemies could use you to get intel out of him. But he was thinking about how he wouldn't be able to get his eyes off you.
He was like a little boy watching his favourite dinosaur toy in the box, knowing he'd get punished if he played with it. He couldn't get his feelings into his work life. But holy shit, how hard was it for him to resist.
He knew he needed to fulfil some of his desires, or else he'd just be distracted all the time. He found a way to get you out of his mind. And even tho he knew it was rather unethical, he proceeded with his plan anyway.
You were in the canteen of the base, where you were ordered to stay until the next mission. Suddenly, you felt like someone was watching you. It would be pretty normal in such a crowded place. But you started to get that feeling everywhere.
Weirdly König started to look more focused during the missions. What a weird coincidence.
At this point, he has jerked off to you just doing some paperwork multiple times. Despite his size, he managed to hide very well. Then, a problem occurred. Just stalking you wasn't enough. He wanted and needed more.
He started watching you sleep. He started giving you little secret messages. He'd bring you snacks, still making sure you never figured out it was him.
He even managed to sneak into your closet. He watched you change. He watched you do your normal routine.
He watched you please yourself.
He was crazy for you. He still wanted more. He knew he needed to man up and tell you himself. Unfortunately, he was afraid of rejection. He just stuck to watching your every move. He wanted to make you his one day.
He was sweaty in your small wardrobe. He barely fit. His dick was in his hands. He was thinking about you on his dick instead of his hand. He wanted you to please yourself for him.
He wanted to touch you, but he made sure he stayed still. One wrong move, and he'd be exposed. He felt high with your body out for him to see like that. He wanted to please you himself once.
He wanted to see a ring on your finger in the future.
He needed to kiss you. He was holding himself back from getting out of the wardrobe. He wanted to get out and kiss you. He wanted to help you with his hands. He wanted to lick you up.
He wanted to touch your smooth skin. He wanted to pin you down to the bed. He wanted you laying tired in his arms after he fucked the absolute shit out of you. He was annoyed that he wasn't allowed to yet. He was impatient.
Sight wasn't enough anymore.
It didn't matter if you'd like him back or if he'd have to use force. He'd make sure you're his.
a/n: Honestly, I feel like this needs p2. Let me know if you're interested.
''It doesn't mean anything.'' He says, as if waiting to come back home to you isn't what he holds onto like a lifeline during missions, using it as his motivation to stay alive and be careful, as you always sternly tell him to whenever he has to leave for deployments.
It doesn't mean anything, yet he's holding onto the small letter you gave him the first time you confessed, bloodied hands grasping at the paper so hard it feels like it'll merge with his skin.
It doesn't mean anything, yet you're the only thing in his mind when he starts to fade fast. Who's gonna take care of you? Who'll hold you the same way he does? Who's gonna have late night conversations with you? Who's gonna love you the same way he does? He forces himself to stay with it no matter how much blood he's losing, barely managing to grumble out something on comms, allowing Johnny to drag him out of the gunfire by the vest.
It doesn't mean anything, yet once he wakes up and realizes he's awake, he finds the letter clutched tightly in his hand, not even the medics being able to take it from him.
It doesn't mean anything, yet as soon as he's given the green light to leave and recovery time by Price, he's knocking on your door, shaky hands fidgeting with the flowers he bought for the first time. Simon doesn't shake.
It doesn't mean anything, yet he spends hours holding you close to him, whispering sweet nothings and promises of the future for so long that you think he's about to drop dead at any moment.
It doesn't mean anything, yet he's fully naked, balaclava taken off as well as he thrusts into you slowly, making sure you can feel every single inch of him, one of his hands cupping your cheek while the other one is cradling the back of your head, making sure you're not getting hurt.
''That's it, love...'' He whispers into your ear, planting gentle kisses over your face as he thrusts deeper and faster into you, dark pubes pressing onto your clit as he makes love to you, feeling connected to you in a way he never felt before.
''My pretty girl.'' He praises as he looks down at you, brown eyes holding nothing short of pure adoration, praises slipping out of his lips like a prayer that has been passed down for thousands of years, forcing his eyes to stay open as you come undone, cunt tightening up around his fat cock and face contorting in pure bliss. He cums soon after, burying himself to the hilt as he shoots ropes into you, low groans coming out of his lips before he presses them on yours, holding you as close as possible even minutes after your orgasms.
It means everything to him, the way you look at him like he's worth something, how you take care of him despite knowing he's capable of taking care of himself, the surprise and happiness in your face when he drops to one knee, asking you to be his wife.