#Simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

[undercoverpena]

can you imagine meeting ghost off-duty. no mask—just a regular man, in a bar close to where you’ve just moved. the two of you begin talking, don’t swap anything about the other, no work talk, just one weekend—one night, really. all nail scratching, teeth digging down into his shoulder to stop your new neighbours complaining. then he leaves, enjoys one mug of tea before his boots are on and he kisses your cheek goodbye.

you don’t think about him.

not outside of the ache he’s left between your legs and the marks that’ll take time to heal. you stuff it into a basket in your mind as you begin packing your bag, heading to the place where you’ll be meeting a new team—become the latest recruit to something more off the record, than on.

you’re sized up, and you size them up back. don’t linger on the pair of eyes behind a balaclava that digs into you with more venom than gratitude. you exchange no words outside of the necessary, completely keeping yourself to yourself where you can—not wanting to miss out on this, an opportunity not handed so often.

so it isn’t until you’re back from the desert, removing sand from wherever it has tried to find a home, that you see your Lt hovering in the doorway. sliding the fabric up, exposing a pair of lips that make you frown, before he speaks.

and his tone isn’t gruff, isn’t as low or as formal as you’ve heard through the radio. if anything, it’s reminiscent of a voice from weeks ago, one buried into your ear, one burned and soldered to your skin as you took and you took and you took.

you get confirmation it’s him when he makes a comment, one that makes you ice cold and full of fire all at once. before now, you’d never thought that “nice work out there” would have the same effect on you as “you can take it”.

sorry, not sorry to @ghostaholics who I woke up with this thought hahahah.

[moondirti]

cws: creepy behaviour that leads into future dubcon. you’re not enthusiastic but don’t hate it either? idk how to tag this

a home loaning system where civilians (who pass a thorough vetting by the military) can sublet their home as a safe house for any soldier who might need it.

you’re no patriot. when you sign up, you aren’t doing it to serve those who serve your country like the website suggests. in fact, it’s a last ditch attempt to keep yourself afloat after your roommate moves out and leaves you with a rent you can’t feasibly afford yourself. sacrifice your space in exchange for your housing fully paid for and a headache gone – it’s appealing, certainly, a little too good to be true. you’d suspect it a scam if the url didn’t end in .gov.

they ask for a lot, of course. a photo. your national insurance number, passport details and travel history from the past 10 years. occupation (student, which prompts a second question asking for your school and university ID). a ‘robust’ paragraph about your living habits. family history, health details. you must black out at one point, as you find yourself hitting submit hours later with no knowledge of what to expect.

that is, if you should expect anything. a confirmation email arrives moments later, and that’s the last you hear of it.

until 4 months later. a hefty sum hits your account, set to the exact amount you specified your rent + utilities to cost. the sender is the only indication you get that you’ve been accepted: the royal army pay corps. on their dime now, and expected to act with the utmost discretion – for your sake as much as theirs. you spend that night fighting sleep on the couch, waiting for a knock by some zealot in fatigues.

no one shows up.

not immediately, at least. gratefully – and a tad surprising given your infamously cheap government – you’re paid regardless of whether anyone requires your service or not. for weeks you treat it as passive income, gauze against bleeding finances, tamping your stress so you can focus on your studies instead. life begins to look up. the air smells a little crisper every morning. you sleep deep and well.

but the knock comes. belatedly, but it comes.

at 12 am, no less. you had resolved to pull an all-nighter to study for your midterm, so you don’t miss the low rap of knuckles against your door. though at this point, you’ve long forgotten of the expectation that can be delegated to you at any time. your apartment’s a mess: laundry unfolded, dishes stacked in the sink. what’s more, your spontaneous guest scares you out of your right mind. a quick look through the peephole is enough to tell you that he is not the pizza delivery man, but a figure towering over two metres, dressed in a balaclava and plain hoodie.

“who is it?” you call out, scrambling for an offensive weapon of any sort. you end up with a broom from the nearby cleaning cupboard.

“lieutenant riley.”

oh.

you crack open the door, poking your head out to give him a thorough once over. “you don’t look very military-like.”

“wha’ a shame.”

lieutenant riley then gives you no choice but to step aside, driving himself through the entryway through brute force. your instinct is to react with pure terror, tripping backward until the broomstick crosses firmly over your chest. yet flight rapidly switches to fight as he dumps his duffel bag by your shoe rack and rummages through your fridge.

“hey! don’t they teach you manners in basic?”

“wouldn’ last a day if they did, pet.” he tucks three water bottles under his arm, then picks his stuff off the ground once more. amidst the warmer light of your home, he stands as a herculean anomaly. shoulders that fill the foyer, each hand as large as your skull. his eyes – shadowed, framed in isolation from the rest of his face. and when he stares, unease bleeds into you. as black and void as his civic garb, forming a tightening grip over your heart.

this strange man is in your home.

this strange, large, dangerous man is here to stay for however long he needs.

he lacks all propriety and unabashedly ogles at your bare legs, adjusting himself in plain sight – and to make things exponentially worse, he isn’t uninvited. you brought this man here.

(which means you’ll have to put up with the strange violation already settling in your chest.)

“your… your room is on the left.”

he says nothing, disappearing to where you point him.

so, the lieutenant is a fucking nightmare.

whatever benefits came with having your rent paid for are immediately negated by the amount of food he consumes. groceries that last you a fortnight are gone in a matter of days, which is perplexing given that you never see him cook. you imagine he slips whatever he can down his throat before going back into hibernation, like some beast too primal for preference.

you call it hibernation because that’s what it is. he knocks out for hours, door locked, no sound or light coming from the gap underneath. you once spent half an hour just listening in after he hadn’t shown face all day, wondering whether you’d be making a call to corpse control for the dead body in your guest room. the effort had been purely motivated by concern, you swear it, however hard that was to explain when he stepped out a few minutes later to find you on your knees, cheek pressed against the floor.

the look he gave you is impossible to forget. hungry, amusement palpable behind the eyes that immediately fix onto your raised behind. you stopped wearing pyjama shorts that day. partly due to your discomfort, but mostly because the pair goes inexplicably missing from your laundry basket. a voice tells you to check under his pillow when he steps out, but the possibility is far too upsetting to seriously consider.

not like he’s above it, though. he crosses so many boundaries, you’d think they weren’t common courtesy.

of such instances: in the months since your roommate moved out, you’d gotten into the bad habit of keeping the bathroom door unlocked. while that is your fault, the terror himself isn’t blameless given his address of the situation. he should be able to hear the water running as you brush your teeth or wash your face, and yet he walks in anyway, pulling his heavy cock out to piss as you try to ignore the way it heaves between his legs, even when completely soft.

“doyewmind?” you hiss one morning, mouth still full of foam. it looms in your periphery, fat and ruddy. a trail of wild hair leading down to–

riley shoots you a blank look. “no’ at all.”

then tucks himself back into his pants, hand smoothing across your lower back as he slips out. it occurs to you to be grateful that he keeps away when you shower, up until the absolute absurdity of your standards hit you like a killing blow.

the bar is in hell.

(yet you sneak a finger between your legs sometimes, only when you’re absolutely sure you’ve locked the door, and imagine how things would unfold if he were to infringe on your most basic of rights.)

it doesn’t take long before your quiet fantasy is realised. all it takes is for you to come home particularly late one night – heels in hand and makeup a mess after letting yourself loose at the end-of-term party – to find riley waiting on you, unmasked.

[diaryofaprettyprincess]

stepdad!ghost x crybaby!girly!reader where he yells at her n it scares her cuz his voice is so deep n booming n she immediately starts crying. it all starts when he’s stressed because of a ton of paperwork he has to get done by that night and he hasn’t been able to because of different things that keep popping up. on top of that, he has to watch over you because your mom is out of town for a few weeks doing god know what.

so it’s safe to say he’s beyond stressed.

it all comes crashing down when you come skipping into his at-home office, a dvd in your hand for a movie he had promised you two would watch that day—before he was emailed a ton of paperwork.

you skip over to him, a small, “what’re you doin?” leaving your lips quietly as you peer over his shoulder.

he knows you just want attention right now, and god, does he want to give it to you.

but he can’t right now, and unfortunately for you, you don’t realize it.

he replies to your question with a gruff, “paperwork.” as he rubs his temple with his index and middle.

“oh.” your reply is short, and you look down at the dvd in hand sadly. “thought we were gonna watch a movie?”

simon tries to ignore the disappointment in your voice, because he knows he would immediately drop everything for you, but he just can’t.

“i know, love, but ‘ve got so much shit to do..what about tomorrow?” he asks, now watching u walk around to the front of his desk as you lean forward on it with your hands planted on the hardwood.

“tha’s what u said yesterday..” you pout, and simon can feel his irritability building in his blood. he doesn’t want to take any of his stress out on you, but if you push further, he’s worried he might.

“i know, princess. ‘m sorry, okay? i promise we will do it tomorrow.” he is now shuffling through his work.

you hate when he isn’t paying attention to you.

your eyes burn as you begin to feel tears sprout to them.

“si..” you squeak, trying to express that you feel lonely—what, with your mom being out all of the time. however, simon seemingly ignores you, too lost in his work. trying to get his attention, you call him what you know will achieve that. “daddy, can u take a break? please?” you beg, fidgeting with the dvd case. ghost’s heart squeezes in his chest at the nickname.

he mentally shakes his head. he has to focus.

“y/n, i already gave you my answer.” he speaks, his voice edging on pure annoyance.

“b-but you promised me! you always have somethin’ more important than me!” you’re fully crying now, and simon genuinely feels bad, but he just has so much to do.

he sighs, standing up to grab a pen from the coffee table. you follow behind him, crying.

“why’re you ignorin me?” you sob, and ghost rolls his eyes. he knows if he doesn’t look at you he won’t give in.

“y/n, stop.” he spits, walking back to his desk and hunching over to sign something.

you continue blubbering nonsense until— “enough! fuckin’ christ!”

his eyes burn into yours until he sees your utter hurt and he’s immediately back-tracking.

“angel..” he says softly right before you run off, and he begins to follow until you slam your bedroom door in his face. “fuck.” he sighs, exhausted.

he knows he scared you. he’s never yelled at you like that before.

he can hear your muffled, hiccuping cries, and he rests his forehead against your door—eyes shut tightly.

he tries your door handle but it’s locked. he knows you need time to decompress right now, so he reluctantly goes back to work for another hour before checking on you.

“princess?” he knocks on your door, and he can hear the movie you two were supposed to watch playing on the tv in your room. “let me in, baby.”

he can hear the sound of you getting off of your bed, then the clicking of the door unlocking. you run immediately back to your pink bed, whimpering like a puppy out of fright.

simon sighs for what seems like the 20th time that day, sitting down on your mattress. his large hand rubbing over the expanse of your back slowly.

“sweet’art, lookat me,” he speaks softly. “didn’t mean ta scare you..’m sorry. jus’ was stressed, baby.”

you turn your head, and he can see the reddening of your puffy eyes from crying so much.

“awh, angel,” he kisses the top of your head, brushing the hair away from your face. “can you forgive me?”

his voice is so soft and gentle you want to cry some more.

you nod, chewing on your lower lip. simon’s jaw ticks as he traces his thumb over the slope of your nose and down to the cupids bow of your soft lips. “sweetest girl ever, y’know that?” he asks, and his heart flutters when you giggle.

he leans forward and gently places a small kiss on your lips.

JANDKD IDK IF I LIKE THIS BUT WHATEVER

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Day 27: “The turkey’s not the only thing getting stuffed today.”

Fandom: Call Of Duty:Modern Warfare 2

Character: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

Naughty or Nice

Warnings: p in v, reader getting stuffed.

A/n: idk I'm tired and bad at tags, this is also very short cause I am very tired.

Simon seemed to notice that you tended to get riled up around the Holiday, he didn't mind it of course. He loved you and it's not like he was about to deny sex from you. Tilting his head to the side, he watched you parade around wearing one of his shirts.

Gaze darkening the man walked over to you placing his hand on your hips drawing you in as his lips pressed into your neck.

“The turkey’s not the only thing getting stuffed today.”

A little giggle escaped your lips as you titled your head back. "Really? You want sex now, 141 will be over in a few hours and i still need to stuck that fucking thing."

Giving your neck a nip, he then pulled back as his lips pulled into a smirk. "A quickie can't hurt."

"Then we better make it quick."

Simon's eyes darkened with desire as he held you close, savoring the feeling of your body against his as he let his fingers message your hips. "Oh love, you have no idea what I have in store for you." His voice dipped as he then caressed your cheek his touch gentle yet possessive " I'm going to fuck you so hard, love. Make you scream my name until you can't remember anything else...you won't even be able to walk."

His voice dripping with anticipation as his hands then roamed your body as his touch ignited a fire within you. His fingers tracing the curve of your spine as his lips left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, he whispered in a low, demanding voice.

"I cannot wait to hear you sing my name."

He expertly unbuttoned his pants, freeing his throbbing cock from its confines. With a firm grip on your hips, he positioned you above him. The man happy you were not wearing any panties. Your wetness sliding along his length. He groaned as he slowly sank into you, the feeling of your tightness enveloping him.

Simon's grip on your hips tightened as he guided your movements, setting a rhythm that had you both gasping for breath. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixing with your moans of pleasure.

His lips crashed against yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as his thrusts became more urgent, driving you both closer to the edge. The room was filled with the intoxicating scent of sex and the symphony of your lustful cries.

As the pleasure built to its peak, Simon's grip on you became almost bruising, his thrusts growing frenzied. With a final, primal groan, he released inside you, his hot cum filling you completely.

You clung to each other, panting and sated, as the waves of pleasure slowly subsided. Simon pressed gentle kisses to your temple, whispering in your ear."You're mine. And I'm not letting you go."

Laughing weakly, you let your fingers glide across his cheek as you looked into his eyes. "I think we should have that party tomorrow."

Grinning, Simon placed a kiss to your neck. Still buried deep within you he reached for his phone as a moan left your lips. "Smart idea love."

[isabella-kr]

Underneath the Moonlight

Synopsis: Getting stuck in a far-away safehouse in the middle of a snow storm wasn't ideal. But it is during those moments that the most closed off people may reveal more of themselves, and she never expected that, of all people, her intimidating lieutenant would have such a soft side he kept hidden away.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female!Reader

Requested: No

Genre: Smut / Fluff ! DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 YEARS OLD

Warnings: Smut, mature content, inappropriate relationship with a superior, description of male and female genitalia, descriptions of male and female body, fingering, penetrative sex, p in v, creampie, soft sex, Simon is touch starved, fear of attachments, scars, body worship, Ghost is a huge softy because I said so, it also gets sad at one point but briefly

Do not repost

Word Count: 6k

General Masterlist COD:MWII Masterlist

GIF not mine

The wind was howling and screeching as the old, rusty car struggled to drive through the mountain of snow. The freezing wind squeezed through the gaps between the door and infiltrated the space within the small truck. She shivered, her teeth chittering as she attempted to warm up by hugging herself and breathing into her hands.  

The number of layers she currently had on her didn’t seem to matter, as the cold seemed to penetrate through every gap in her clothing and stick to her skin like cleavers. She could see a faint cloud form in front of her every time she breathed, reminding her of the many times she was stranded in the freezing cold during a mission. This was starting to become a common occurrence and she was not too happy about that revelation.  

She glanced to the side, watching as her Lieutenant kept a strong hold on the steering wheel. The old thing was close to falling apart, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised when the engine revved for the first time. She was expecting his attempts to fail miserably, already preparing herself for the ten mile walk to the safe house. Luckily, her pessimism was proven otherwise. She guessed she would rather be freezing cold inside the car than have to face the storm brewing outside.  

Ghost didn’t seem to be as cold as she was. Though she assumed he could have just been hiding his discomfort like he usually did. He was one giant mystery of a man, and although he had opened up to her before, she still felt as though she knew nothing about him. Which, to an extent, was true. She knew the basics, just enough for them to consider each other friends. But she knew nothing of his past, and a part of her believed she never would.  

“We’re almost there,” his gruff voice suddenly rang out, pulling her out of her own thoughts.  

She nodded, though she didn’t say anything in return. She was only hoping the safe house would have some sort of heating system within it, otherwise she was sure she was going to freeze to death. She almost jumped with excitement when, through the thick fog of snow, she could see the outline of a small, wooden house. A sigh of relief left her lips, and her eyes closed for just a moment.  

The car soon came to a creaky stop, and she silently thanked whatever forces were out there for not letting it explode on the way there. The moment she opened the car door, she wished she didn’t. The freezing air instantly made her skin prickle, her face feeling numb as her feet dived into the sea of snow. It enveloped her calves, making it difficult to push through, but the promise of a warm safehouse gave her the motivation she needed.  

In what felt like seconds, she was already inside. The place looked awful. She was sure it hasn’t been used in years, if not decades. All hope of a heating system immediately went out the window the moment she realised how truly old the place was. She felt as though she was transported back to the 90s, nay maybe even the 70s.  

And even if it didn’t look as old as it did – click – the electricity wasn’t working. She didn’t know whether it was because of the storm outside or if it hadn’t worked for years, but she doubted it would come back on anytime soon.  

The sound of footsteps coming up behind her made her release a sharp exhale, “This is a shithole.”  

“It’ll do,” was Ghost’s reply. “Go look for blankets. I’ll start the fire.”  

It was only once he mentioned the fire that she noticed the stone fireplace hiding behind a stack of boxes. She felt relieved for a moment, watching as his tall figure approached the corner of the room, moving the stacks of boxes to the side to inspect the fireplace.  

She hesitantly moved from her spot and ventured into one of the only other rooms within the house. The moment she stepped foot inside it, she felt the protein bar she ate 6 hours ago try to come back out. The room smelt of death and mould, and she wouldn’t be surprised if she found a rotting corpse somewhere in the small space.  

The bed was broken in the middle and the mattress was a sickly green colour. She could only gag at the sight, ruling out the option of either of them sleeping soundly on a bed.  

“Why the fuck is this still marked as a safehouse,” she muttered to herself whilst crouching down, opening all the drawers she could find in search of a blanket. A pillow. Anything.  

There was nothing in the room except the vomit-inducing smell. And so, before she had the chance to actually throw up in the middle of the floor, she sped away and entered the room next door.  

The bathroom was much nicer. Not nice, but nicer than whatever was happening in the bedroom. She slowly approached the toilet and pressed the lever, grinning when she heard the loud noise of the water flushing. At least the toilet was useable, that was a relief. 

There was a small cabinet in the corner of the bathroom, right beside the lime-scaled bathtub. She wasn’t quite sure what else she was expecting to find in there, but the sight of towels made a frown pull at the corners of her lips.  

She felt defeated when she left the cold bathroom, more so when she saw Ghost struggling to light the fire with the wood that was laying around in the common space. “How’s it going?” she questioned despite clearly seeing him struggle.  

“Shit,” was all he said in return, an annoyed grunt leaving his throat as he blew on the wood.  

She let herself look around the, what looked like, a living-room. The sofa-bed was sunken in and the material was severely ripped. The arm chairs which stood at either side of it didn’t look much better, making her curse at the only option the two had.  

Sleeping on the floor it is.  

As she looked around, her eyes eventually settled on a closet which stood at the far end wall of the room. How she hadn’t seen it before, she wasn’t sure. But she was glad she eventually did, because the moment she did –  

“Bingo!” A wide smile pulled at her lips.  

Not only were there blankets in there, but also two, thick duvets that she was more than happy to see. Taking one of the duvets, she placed it on top of the carpet in the middle of the room, not too far away from the fireplace. She turned the blankets into make-shift pillows and then placed the other duvet on top. She guessed this was better than sleeping on the floor, or on the mould-ridden bed in the other room.  

A bright light made her look up, and a smile formed on her face when she noticed the fire that now engulfed the logs of wood. Ghost looked down at the ‘bed’ and sent her a confused glance.  

“Yeah, sorry, but unless you want to sleep on a mouldy bed, or on that piece of shit,” she pointed at the sofa behind her, “we’re gonna have to share.”  

Ghost didn’t break their eye contact, as if contemplating what his next move was going to be. Eventually, he sighed and accepted his fate. “Kick me in your sleep and I’ll lock you out.”  

She looked offended at his words, her brows furrowing and mouth falling open, “I don’t kick in my sleep, dickhead.”  

He nodded, as if not believing her and walked away, making his way towards the bathroom.  

By the time the two were situated in the bed, if you could even call it that, the moon had risen high in the sky, making her smile at the sight. The flames had warmed up the room, and hiding under the duvet, she could no longer feel any cold that lingered in the air.  

The two soldiers were laying on their backs, her position closer to the fireplace than his. She guessed it was a chivalrous act, or maybe he just didn’t get cold as easily as her. Whatever it was, she was glad, her eyes admiring the orange flames as though they were a painting in an art gallery.  

At this point, the two had stripped from some of their clothes, only leaving their socks, cargo pants and t-shirt on, and in Ghost’s case, also his mask. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it would have to do.  

With a small inhale, she glanced over at the man laying down beside her. The black paint was still smudged around his closed eyes, and staring at his covered side profile made her wonder what was hiding under the balaclava. She guessed she would never know, but it was fun to speculate, especially when she had nothing better to do.  

Her eyes drifted downwards a bit, past his nose, lips, chin and down to his neck, right above his clavicle. There was a faint line there, almost invisible unless you paid attention. Her hand moved without her realising and before she knew it, she was pressing her index finger against the bumpy patch of skin.  

His eyes shot open, though he didn’t move. He didn’t say anything either, only letting his eyes move to gaze at her concentrated expression. Eventually, her eyes lifted, making contact with his brown ones. He was expecting her to move away, maybe even apologise, but she didn’t. Instead, she sent him a soft smile and spoke, “When did you get this one?” 

He remained silent for a few moments, gathering his thoughts before he decided to answer, “Five years ago.”  

She nodded with a hum and turned on her side to see him better, “Mission?”  

“Yeah,” he swallowed thickly and glanced down at her cheek, where a small scar decorated her skin. “What about that one?” 

She smiled at his words, and for a second he thought she was going to burst out laughing. “Training. Got knocked out and fell. The asshole had a ring on his finger and cut me up.” 

Ghost hummed, looking back up at the ceiling. For a moment, she thought that was the end of their conversation, but he soon spoke up once again, “Did you return the favour?”  

“Hell yeah, I did,” she grinned, “Broke his nose.”  

If she didn’t know any better, she would have said he laughed at her answer. But she couldn’t be certain, not when she could only see his eyes.  

“You got anyone out there?” she asked, only realising how invasive the question was after she said it. For a second, she was afraid he would blow up on her, tell her to go to sleep and mind her own business. 

But he didn’t. Instead, he took in a deep breath and shook his head, “No.”  

“Me neither,” she told him. “I guess it’s better this way, right? No one’s gonna be sad when we get killed off.”  

Ghost hummed in agreement.  

“Though sometimes,” she laid back down on her back, staring up at the wooden ceiling, “It’s gonna sound selfish, but sometimes I wish I did have someone out there. Someone I could visit when we’re not deployed.”  

He didn’t say anything. In fact, he didn’t even move a muscle, but she could see that he agreed. He didn’t have to tell her out loud when his eyes said enough.  

Biting on the inside of her cheek, she turned towards him with a smirk, “You ever had a girlfriend, or boyfriend?”  

This time, he rolled his eyes and turned away from her, his back facing her.  

“It was just a question,” she laughed, “Come on, don’t ignore me. I’ll pester you all night if you don’t turn back around.”  

“Go to sleep,” he told her. It wasn’t a suggestion. She knew that tone of voice, it was an order.  

An order she was going to disobey. “Come on, talk to me. We’re gonna be here for the next few days, so we might as well talk.”  

“No,” he huffed, letting himself fall on his back again. 

“No, what?” she asked.  

“Your question,” he reminded her, “No.”  

“Ah,” she hummed, “Me neither. Guess we’re both loners. Would you ever-” 

“No,” he answered before she could even finish her sentence. 

Her brows furrowed, “Why?”  

He turned his head in her direction, their eyes locking together as he answered her truthfully, “Why would I? We’re gone most the time. I die, they’re left alone. Doesn’t sound fair.”  

She hummed in thought, “I guess. But maybe they would just be happy to have spent that time with you, rather than none at all?” 

He searched her eyes for something, refusing to look away even when he didn’t find what he was looking for, “You feel that way?”  

“As in, would I rather spend time with someone and have them die, rather than never know them at all?” she asked, and he nodded, confirming her question. She pondered for a while. She would definitely be devastated and heartbroken, but at the end of the day, she knew her answer, “Yes.”  

This time, he fully turned on his side to be able to look at her, “Why?”  

“Everyone dies, Ghost,” she told him as though he wasn’t aware of the fact, “Even if we were civilians, we could die suddenly. Car crash, stabbing, or maybe even an undiagnosed illness. It doesn’t matter, we’d all die eventually anyway. If everyone avoided relationships just because of that fear, we would have died out centuries ago.”  

Simon thought over her words. He understood what she meant, because despite it hurting when he lost people – soldiers, friends – he didn’t regret ever knowing them. They lived in his memories. Memories which sometimes haunted him in the middle of the night, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret ever meeting them.  

He didn’t realise how long he seemed to have been staring at her, unblinking, until she spoke once again. “You’ve got pretty eyes, you know?” 

She changed topics a lot, which he already knew from years of working with her. But it never failed to take him by surprise, especially when she said something like this. “They’re brown,” he pointed out.  

“Yeah. They’re warm,” she told him seriously.  

“Warm?” 

“Mhm,” she nodded, “Bet you’re pretty, too.”  

He almost snorted. “Trying to get me to take my mask off?”  

She shrugged, a smile pulling at her lips, “You caught me.”  

He shook his head, amused by her antics as he let his eyes fall closed. Just for a moment, because not even a minute later, he felt her fingers pushing back some of the dirty-blonde hair which managed to escape from under his mask.  

His eyes shot open, but there was no hostility in them. In fact, they were soft.  Softer than she ever saw them before. There was a slight glaze to them, and she didn’t know what possessed her to do it, but she moved forward, her face barely inches away from his.  

He didn’t move back, and she took it as a good sign. She always did feel a certain attraction to him, his gruff voice and tall stature was sure to pull her in despite her protests. But he was her superior, she wasn’t supposed to be feeling this way. Not when it could get them both in trouble.  

He said her name lowly, the sound of his voice making her look down at his balaclava-covered lips. She wanted to move the wretched material away, but she knew better. She didn’t move, her eyes moving back up to his, only to find them staring at her own lips.  

“Gho-” 

“Simon,” he whispered, the name sounding foreign on his lips.  

Was this permission? She could only assume it was, and so she whispered, “Simon.”  

His eyes closed at that, only opening back up when his hand was gently holding her jaw. His touch was feather-light as if he feared she would disintegrate the moment his skin made contact with hers.  

She placed her hand on his, a small smile playing at her lips when she angled her face enough to place a soft kiss on the inside of his palm. He watched her moves carefully, only moving closer towards her after watching the gesture he had never received from anyone before.  

He whispered her name again, this time placing his forehead against hers as he did so.  

“Simon,” she spoke softly, her eyes staring deeply into his. “Can I kiss you?”  

He clenched his eyes shut. And to her, it looked as though he was fighting with himself. Trying to fight against what he wanted, and what he knew was right. Yet despite all this, his thumb hooked around the bottom of his mask and lifted it just above his half-full lips.  

He didn’t open his eyes after he did so, not even after his hand returned to her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek with so much affection, she felt as though she was going to melt.  

“Can I?” she asked again.  

He nodded, moving towards her and pressing his lips against hers himself. The kiss was slow and soft, his lips working against hers with a gentleness she wasn’t aware he was capable of. She moved herself up ever so slightly, balancing herself on her elbow without breaking the kiss. They were in sync, and all she could think about how perfect the moment was. How his lips fit perfectly against hers. How his touch was soft and gentle as he used both his hands to cup her face, his palms feeling hot on her warm skin.  

She pulled away, catching her breath as Simon chased after her lips, desperate to feel more of her touch. He stared up at her, his fingers tangling into her hair as he placed his forehead against hers.  

“This is wrong,” he voiced.  

She knew it was. He didn’t have to tell her. Internal affairs would have a field day, had they found out about this. But she wasn’t going to tell, and neither was he. They were stuck in an isolated safe-house with no electricity and they wouldn’t be able to go back for the next few days. There would be no way of this ever getting out, but the fear was still there.  

She let out a sharp breath, “Do you want to stop?”  

He shook his head, “Fuck no,” and pressed his nose against hers, “Do you?”  

She breathed out a laugh, “Fuck no.”  

There was a moment of pause, neither of them making a move to enjoy the closeness between them. The echoing of the crackling fire created a feeling of cosiness in the otherwise uncomfortable safehouse, making them wish for the moment to never end.  

With a shaky breath, she pressed her lips against his again, the material of his balaclava rubbing against her nose as he angled his face to deepen the otherwise soft kiss. He pushed himself up on his arm and guided her to her back as his tongue slipped inside her mouth.  

She didn’t feel intimidated by his larger frame hovering above her. It was quite the opposite in fact, as she felt safer than ever. She felt at peace when he moved on top of her, placing one knee between her thighs to hold himself up, careful not to collapse on top of her body.  

“Simon,” she whined, her abdomen feeling warm with excitement.  

He groaned and his head fell against her shoulder, hand moving away from her cheek to rest beside her head. He pressed his lips against her neck and her eyes had fallen closed, enjoying the feeling of soft, gentle kisses being peppered from her clavicle and up to her jaw. She had never imagined him to be as soft as he was. A part of her believed he would be a rough lover, with harsh kisses and hard touches, but the reality caught her by surprise, and she could only smile at the almost loving kisses he placed upon her skin.  

She turned her head to the side, pressing her lips against his as her hands ventured downward, pulling his tucked-in shirt from underneath his pants. Her fingers made contact with the skin on his abdomen, and the man above her let out a groan. She wondered when the last time he got touched in any way was. When was the last time he kissed someone, or had someone press their palms against his? She could only assume it was years ago, if ever.  

“Can I?” She asked, tugging at his shirt.  

He nodded, sitting up on his knees to pull his shirt over his head and throw it behind him. Her eyes immediately went down to his chest that was littered with scars from missions in the past. Some were deep and long and others short and faint. There was a burn mark on his shoulder and with a frown, she pushed herself up to press a soft kiss against it.  

Simon sighed, his hand reaching for the back of her head to run his fingers through her hair. She smiled at him and reached for her own shirt, pulling it off her body and leaving her in her sports bra. He watched her attentively, half-lidded eyes taking in her half-naked form. Surprising him further, she reached for the clasp on her back and got rid of the restraining bra, a soft sigh leaving her lips.  

His eyes lifted to hers again and, with a soft look on his face, he placed one of his hands on her waist to push her back on the make-shift bed. He trailed another set of kisses down from her neck and down to the valley of her breasts, yet his hand remained on her hip.  

It was only when she placed her hand on hers and moved it up her body that his warm palm cupped one of her breasts, receiving a series of moans from her in return. She could feel him smile against her soft skin before his lips enveloped her nipple, wetting it with his tongue.  

“Simon,” she moaned, reaching for his head, only to be met with the material of his mask. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to rip the dreaded thing off his head.  

He groaned in return, stopping his ministrations against her breasts when he felt her thighs wrap around his waist. He moved his hand down to her cargo-covered leg, pulling it slightly higher up his waist.  

They shared a long look, and a small frown pulled on his lips 

“What’s wrong?” she asked with concern.  

Simon moved back, and for a second she panicked. Had she done something wrong? She was about to ask him when his hand reached for his mask. She was expecting him to pull it back down, but instead his finger pulled it up, reaching only his nose before she stopped in. 

She had a worried in look in her eyes, “You don’t have to,” she told him, afraid she somehow pressured him into removing the covering.  

He smiled at her. A genuine smile that has her knees feeling weak, “I want to,” he told her as he removed the mask and exposed his face for her to see.  

She watched him with widened eyes, admiring him like he was a piece of art. And perhaps, to her he was. Every scar that decorated his skin, those half-full lips, lightly crooked nose and those warm brown eyes she found herself drowning in. Every part of him was art. 

She cupped his face and moved towards him, straddling his waist and pressing her chest against his. “I knew you were pretty,” she grinned.  

He let out a laugh, his eyes crinkling in the corners at her words. With a smile, she connected their lips again, wrapping her arms around his neck as his snaked around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. Her lips left his, leaving him to chase after her with a small groan.  

She connected her lips to the skin on his shoulders, busying herself with kissing every scar she came across as her hands went down to his abdomen, pulling on his belt to undo it. It didn’t take her long, and soon the leather was hanging loosely around his hips, the metals clinking against each other. His zipper was next to be undone, getting pulled down by her slender fingers as he let out a quiet moan.  

She almost squealed when his arms wrapped tighter around her waist and pulled her up to her feet, his form towering over hers. Without breaking eye contact, he reached for the metal of her own belt and unbuckled it with expert fingers, letting the leather loose. She watched as he then hooked his fingers around the top of his cargo pants and pushed them down, letting them fall all the way off before kicking them away.  

Her eyes darkened with lust as she shamelessly looked upon the tent in his boxers. He let out a chuckle and approached her, his lips pressing into hers as his arms landed on her waist, sliding downward until his hands reached her own cargos. Deepening the kiss, he pushed them down enough for him to cup her ass, letting the material fall to the floor and join his own when she kicked them away.  

They were soon back on the soft duvets, her legs wrapped around his waist as his boxer-covered cock pressed against her core. She whined at the contact, breaking the deep kiss as her fingers dug into his shoulder blades.  

Ghost sent her a soft smile, placing a kiss to her cheek before diving his head and kissing his way down her body. He stopped at her abdomen, above the line of her underwear. He looked up at her, his eyes wide and expecting, “Can I?” he asked.  

With a heavy exhale, she nodded.  

“I need to hear you say it,” he spoke in almost a whisper.  

She let out a shaky breath, “Yes.”  

With a smile and a gentle kiss against her abdomen, he pulled her underwear down her legs. He couldn’t stop his eyes from settling between her legs once the thin material was off her body. Suddenly feeling shy under his gaze, she closed her thighs.  

He looked up at her, his eyes understanding as he placed a hand on her knee, “It’s okay,” he told her softly. 

She hesitantly opened her legs up slightly and Simon placed them on either side of his hips again, not even once breaking eye contact as he did so – it was intense, the way he was looking at her. Despite his eyes remaining as soft as when their evening began, she could see a certain intensity within them. Perhaps it was due to the moonlight highlighting his face, making his gaze seem more passionate than it actually was.  

His muscles also seemed to benefit from the bright moon, the light highlighting every vein on his bicep and every muscle on his abdomen as he crawled on top of her once again. Taking her lips in his, he let his hand travel from her legs and stop between her thighs to collect the pooling arousal with his index finger. 

She moaned at the action, her legs tightening around him as her fingers grabbed onto his dirty-blonde hair. Their tongues met, exploring one another with fervour as his moved up towards her clit, rubbing it in slow circles. 

She moaned into his mouth, head falling back and eyes clenching shut as the ecstatic feeling made her move her hips upwards. Simon kissed her pulse, humming against her skin as he gently placed one digit at her entrance, the finger moving inside her with ease.  

A harsh tug at his hair made him release a low groan, though a smile played at his lips at the sound of her breathy moans. Adding another thick finger, he massaged her walls by curling them inside her. She moved her hips in sync with his movements and clenched her eyes shut, entirely losing herself in the feeling of him pleasuring her.  

“Simon,” she moaned, and the way she said his name - in such an erotic way - had him moving his own hips downward. His cock was now uncomfortably pushing against the fabric of his boxers, and she could not stop herself from using her feet to push it down his hips. His dick sprang free, and he hissed upon feeling the raw air against his skin.  

Her name fell from his lips when he felt her walls clench around his him, speeding up the movement of his fingers to chase her incoming orgasm. She looked up at him, her lust-filled eyes glassy as they rolled to the back of her head. 

She moaned his name once again as she felt herself approaching the finish line. Her legs tightened around him and arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him flush against her. His cock made contact with her abdomen and a small hiss left his lips as he rocked his hips upwards. 

Finally, with a loud moan, she felt the knot that formed in her stomach let go, and her orgasm washed over her. Her legs trembled and walls clenched tightly around his to digits, which he continued pumping in and out to milk her orgasm. Her breathing was erratic, and with his head pressed against her body, he could hear her heart jump in her ribcage.  

He eventually pulled his fingers out and untangled her arms from around his neck, pushing himself up enough to be able to look at her. The hand that previously toyed with her was now on her thigh, keeping her leg in place as he gazed into her eyes.  

“Are you okay?” he asked, his gruff voice ever so soft.  

She could only nod, not trusting her own voice as she could feel his hard cock resting against her, leaking precum that slowly pooled on her skin.  

“D’you want to continue?” he questioned.  

This time, she answered with a smile, “Yeah.”  

Nodding, he kissed her once more, groaning when he felt her fingers wrap around the base of his cock and moved her hand up and down as their tongues met once more. She pressed his dick against her vulva, gathering the remains of her arousal with the tip. He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes meeting hers as she angled him at her entrance, sending him a small nod to let him know it was okay.  

Moving her leg further up his hips, he pushed into her, his cock entering the walls which invited him with a warm hug. They both moaned in unison as he stretched her, gently pushing more of himself in until he was fully seated inside of her.  

His hips stilled for just a moment, enough for him to look at her once more and see her nod. Giving him permission to move.  

His thrusts were slow, matching the softness he had shown her the entire evening. He pulled out almost completely, making her feel empty until he dived back inside and filled her up entirely once again. His head fell to her shoulder, groans and moans leaving his mouth with every thrust.  

Despite wanting nothing more than to close her eyes and lose herself in the feeling – of his chest rubbing against her perky nipples, of his cock hitting the back of her uterus with every thrust and in the way his pelvis deliciously brushed against her clit – she didn’t. She looked down to where his hand held her thigh, keeping it up on his hip, perhaps to give himself a better angle, or maybe just because he wanted to touch her. His tattoos were almost shining in the moonlight, and so was he. His skin looked ethereal under the bright light, and she hoped the sight would never escape her memory.  

The moonlight was washed over the both of them, and the warmth from the fireplace made the moment feel more romantic than it otherwise would have been. They didn’t pay attention to the dust-filled floors, the smell of mildew in the air or even the harsh storm outside the window. All they could feel was each other’s skin, and all they could hear was the gentle moans getting past their lips. Everything else was forgotten; it was ignored.  

“Simon, please,” she whined, pressing a kiss to his shoulder to urge his movements. He sped up his thrusts, yet only slightly. Not too fast or rough, but just enough to chase their orgasms. He could feel her clench around him once again, and the wet sounds coming from between her legs gave him further motivation to get them there faster.  

His thrusts got lightly rougher, his pelvis hitting her clit more harshly than before, but that only made her moans increase in volume and her fingers dig into his shoulder blades. She let out a choked sob and with a stronger clench than before, she finally came around his hardened cock.  

Simon moaned at the feeling, hips beginning to stutter as he approached his own orgasm. “W-here?” he asked, pulling himself up to look into her eyes.  

She smiled up at him, unable to find the strength to answer him, and so she just nodded. She was still clenching around him when he thrusted deeper into her, getting entirely swallowed inside of her as he let go. He painted her insides white with a loud grunt, and his forehead fell against hers. 

They were both panting, trying to catch their breaths as they embraced one another. They stayed like that for a short while, bodies pressed against each other and his cock was still deep inside her. Despite the sensitivity they both felt in their groins, they were comfortable. They felt safe within each other’s arms, and for a moment they even managed to forget where they were. That they were soldiers and this moment of bliss would not last long.  

With a soft kiss against her cheek, he pulled out of her. She was ready to wrap her arms around him again when he stood up, moving away from her and heading to the bathroom. She was confused for a short while until he returned with a damp towel and kneeled beside her.  

“It’s not mouldy, is it?” she asked seriously when he placed the cold cloth against her hot skin, collecting the sticky fluids which stuck to her. 

Shaking his head, “No,” he assured her, momentarily watching as his own cum spilled out of her before collecting it with the towel. Once he deemed them both clean from their activities, he left the towel in the sink and laid down beside her. They wrapped their arms around one another, the duvet covering their naked forms as their legs got tangled together.  

She let out a soft sigh, “This is going to complicate things, isn’t it?”  

“Yeah,” he admitted, though he didn’t sound like he regretted anything that had happened. He kissed the crown of her head and closed his eyes, enjoying how their bodies were pressed together – how he could feel the heat radiating off her, and how he could feel her heartbeat against the skin on his chest.  

“I won’t tell,” she told him, as though that was his concern.  

He breathed out a laugh, “I know,” he told her, “Sleep. We’ll talk it out tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded, closing her eyes as the crackling of the fire lulled them both to sleep.   

The two stayed like that all night; their limbs tangled together as the moon bathed them with its light, giving them its blessing.  

[centaurisolarflare]

Hallowed by Your Hands

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Rating: explicit (18+ mdni)

Classification: flashfic

Summary: a little rambling but it’s pure filth, my loves

Warnings: smut, penetrative sex, porn with feelings, sub!ghost, softestdom!reader, touch-starved, desperate!ghost, needy!ghost, obsessed!ghost, crying, brief mentions of killing/violence, the briefest mention of a knife

Simon “Ghost” Riley is inexperienced and touch-starved and I will die on this hill. He is pathetic and clingy and overwhelmed and completely fucking obsessed with you.

This man. This man okay. ‬

He will wrap all 6 foot whatever, 200+ pounds of himself around you. Face buried in your neck, arms around you, forearms pressed against your back, hands grasping at your shoulders, your waist, whimpering at the feel of you. Lock your ankles around his waist and pull him harder against you and he will sob into your neck. ‬

Needy, pathetic, gasping, hips twitching, wet eyes, sobbing against your skin. God, you want him close? He wants to crawl into your bones. Wants to fucking live there. He can’t believe you want him close. Close enough to hurt you — he knows you know he could kill you, easily — and you’re still letting him put his hands on you. Begging you for more without believing he deserves what he’s already getting. He can’t help but be greedy. Can’t help but feel shamefully guilty about it either.

Yank his hair, make him look at you, his eyes twitchy and darting around — he can’t bear to make eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time — shame, shame, shame, please, please, please. Teeth sunk into his bottom lip, keening when you move against him. Shuttering and crying, holding you so tight it bruises. Crying harder when you brush away his tears, breath hitching when you press kisses all over his face. Forgetting how to breathe entirely when you kiss and bite and suck at his neck. Stuttering mess, screwing his eyes shut to try to talk, tripping over his words but he can’t stop babbling. ‬

“Feel so fucking good, you feel so good. You- fuck, f- hhgn- fuck, make me f-feel. So. G-good. How- ah- how do you feel so- feel so- ah! Ah, ah, nghh, please, p-le-ase, pl-ease, please,”

Panting, whining mess. Still wrapped around you. Desperate. Undeserving. Can’t let go. Won’t let go. Can’t. Never. You’ll have to kill him. Have to kill him. But you don’t. Won’t. You’ve never even hurt him. So soft, so warm, make him feel so good it aches down to his bones, but you’ve never hurt him. He knows, trusts somehow, that you won’t hurt him. Driving into you like it’s his only purpose, hips jerking in short stunted thrusts, grinding against you when he looses focus, trying to keep his cock as deep inside you as he can, face burning red when you call him out for humping against you like a dog in heat.

Stammering, looking away, moaning — open and loud — when you touch his face to make him look at you, telling him to take what he needs. Never hurt him. Hand on his side, stroking, petting his skin. Fingers twisted in his hair, burning, electric, so so good. You touch as much of him as you can reach and he thanks you for it, sweeping your fingers over his fevered skin, he thinks he might die with it. Everywhere you touch glows and he feels holy from it — hallowed by your hands alone.

The broken, wounded-animal noise he lets out when you press your hand against the back of his neck, squeezing the sides ever so slightly as you pull him down to kiss. He’s killed people like that, the brutal dig of his fingers against their airway. He’d let you, he thinks — as you lick into his mouth and he whimpers when you nip you teeth against his lip — he’d let you wrap both your beautiful hands around his throat from the front, he’d let you squeeze until his vision went fuzzy and his lungs burned with it, and he’d trust you to do it. Fuck, he’d let you hold a fucking knife to his throat. The thoughts makes his cock twitch inside you. You’d never hurt him. Feels so fucking good.

He’s a mess of heat and scar tissue and strength. Leathal power clinging to you like a lifeline. You hold him together. Searing through all his jagged-edged pieces like molten fucking gold till it’s all he can see, all he can feel — the warm honey haze of you. You, you, you. Bright as the fucking sun. You. The beginning and end of everything he could ever want.

Breathy, whimpering, keening noises as he cums. He gasps and paws at you, trying to pull you even closer. Groaning as you praise him, basking in being your good boy as he shivers through the last of his orgasm. Sobs and whines and says “thank you, thank you” the whole time. God, he wants you branded into his skin.

You’ll have to wait a bit until you can convince him to let you up to get a rag. Embarrassed but loose limbed and relaxed as you clean him up and kiss his eyelids and make him drink a glass of water. He’s never felt so fucking loved. Never felt so safe as he lays — on his stomach between your thighs, settled heavy on you, his head resting on your chest, listening to your heartbeat, arms locked around your waist — and you play with his hair and soothe your hands across his shoulders and tell him how good, how beautiful, how perfect, how loved he is. He puts your sweet words against his heart, lines his ribcage with them, like armor.

He says it — his biggest and most treasured truth — softly, carefully, reverently, against your skin, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you so much,”

[rvjaa]

You know I love you, right?

Simon Riley x fem!reader

Summary; You lost him. But what if you two are destined to meet again? And your paths lead you straight back to each other?

Warnings; angst?, mentions of death, slight fluff i guess?, / soft!simon, happy ending.

A/n; I hope you enjoy this fic! I really liked writing this and if you like it maybe i could do a second part? :)

Word count; 2,4k

You had known Simon since childhood. He and you met in a park when you were little, you had hurt your knee and he noticed, walked up to you and helped you back to your mother. Your mother adored Simon, she took him in like her own and it was the same with Simons mum. She had loved you so dearly and after she was killed, you were destroyed from the inside. They blamed Simon for his mother death, and the second you found out about it you knew it couldn’t be true.

Simon adored his mother and you knew he wouldn’t do anything like that. So after the incident you made it your mission to find him again. They all said he was dead, they said he wasn’t going to come back. You didn’t believe that.

You had enlisted for the army not long after Simons mothers passing. You couldn’t stay home and wallow in Manchester forever so you decided to join the military to help people and maybe with a lot of good luck, find Simon Riley again.

Its been many years since that and you’re still here but now you’re higher rank, one of the most respected women in the bases and if you can say so yourself, a hell of a sniper.

You like working alone, no distractions or awkward conversations and no unnecessary attachments. But now you’re being transferred to Task Force 141, a special operations unit. You have heard about them yes and even though you tried to resist— Kate Laswell said the Captain desperately wanted you on his team.

You gave in and said yes to the offer, so now you’re on your way to their base. You feel nervous, you haven’t worked with a full team for ages and you’re pretty sure your people skills aren’t very good. But you knew that the 141 is a big deal so why not? New opportunities you think.

You’re getting out of the heli and you see a man with a bucket hat jogging towards you and waving. You guess this is the infamous Captain Price and move towards him.

“Sergeant! Happy to have you here. Captain Price” He welcomes you and offers you a hand to shake. You shake his hand and answer “Captain, thank you for having me.” You smile to him and he nods.

“You must want to meet the team yeah? Walk with me.” He says and you start walking towards the base. You walk beside him and listen when he asks something, “so sergeant I hear they call you Dove, is that right?” He asks your callsign and you nod.

“Yeah Dove is good” you answer and he nods at you. You’re having a conversation with the Captain while walking and now you’re here, standing in front of the door conference room.

“Ready Dove?” Price asks you and you exhale. “Yes, lets get this over with.” You answer and he goes first and keeps the door open for you and you nod as a thank you.

“Alright men, this is our new sergeant. Play nice and introduce yourselves please” the Captain says and you look at the first man standing in front of you. “They call me Soap, nice to meet you lass” the mohawk haired man says in a very Scottish accent.

You nod “nice to meet you Soap, they call me Dove” you say repeating his words and he flashes a grin. “Dove eh? What for?” He asks and you smile slightly. “You’ll find out” you raise your eyebrows playfully and he chuckles and moves so the other men can introduce themselves.

The next man is— You don’t know how to describe him. He has a slight boyish charm to him “hey love, I’m Gaz nice to have you on board” he says and smiles at you.

You like him already, he has a good vibe attached to him. “Pleased to meet you Gaz, I’m Dove” you tell him and flash him a small smile.

Then at last but definitely not least a skull masked man comes to your view. Man he is BIG, you think. All you can see from his face is his eyes and they slightly look familiar but you can’t place why they do.

“Ghost” is all he says and you nod at him, not everyone is social and you can respect that. “Dove” you say and you see a weird emotion flicker in his eyes, he only nods and thankfully Price interrupts your weird eye contact.

“So now that we all are introduced you’re dismissed. Dove lets go to my office yeah?” Price says and you finally peer your eyes away from the skull faced man. You nod and step around Ghost to follow Price. Maybe he’ll show you their files finally you think. You had been refused when you had asked for the team’s files before and you’ve been itching to find out who your new teammates are.

“Here we are” the Captain says and you step inside of his office behind him. “So I’ve heard you had been asking the files of our team yes?” He asks you while setting himself down on his chair and you walk to the chair opposite of him.

“Yeah I just wanted to know who I was going to be working with you know.” You say to him while sitting down on the chair and he nods at you and he smiles.

“Well this is your lucky day sergeant. Of course they have seen your file too except the Lieutenant because he hasn’t had any time yet but he will eventually” Price explains and then he opens a drawer on his desk and pulls out a stack of files.

“Here you are, take your time and read through them. I will do some paper work in the mean time.” He hands you the stack and you open the first one and its Gaz— Or Kyle Garrick.

You read through his file and move on to the next one. Its the Captain’s file, John Price huh? It makes sense, his name fits him you think. The next file is Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavishes file and you furrow your brows, John and Johnny? Huh. You smile at the coincidence and go through his file quickly, because you know who’s file the last one is and you’re curious about him.

You place the last file on top and the first thing you notice is that there’s no picture? You brush it off and open the file.

You freeze.

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.

It can’t be him. No no— You can’t believe this. Yes one of the reasons you joined the military was Simon and his sudden disappearance but you had lost hope many years ago— You had shed tears for him and for what? Him to be alive?—

You look to his birthday and you know its him. Bury the feelings, bury the feelings, shove them as down as possible! Whatever— maybe he doesn’t recognize you. Its been years since you last saw each other, you were young then and now you’re older, and definitely not the same person you were 10 years ago and you bet he isn’t either.

“Sergeant? Are you okay?” You hear the Captain ask and you lift your head to look at him and nod. “Yeah I’m almost finished” you answer and he just nods and goes back to his work.

You keep reading Ghosts— Simon’s? File and your eyes widen. He went through hell and you almost can’t believe what you’re reading. Buried alive? Family murdered and staged to look like it was him? Oh god.

You close his file and hand the files back to the Captain “here sir, thank you for letting me read through them.” You say and force a smile.

He nods and stands up “shall we finally take you to your room?” He asks and you nod eagerly. “Yes please” you say and he chuckles.

You’re walking with Price through the halls when you hear a voice calling for him. You instantly recognize it and you tense up “Captain!" Simon jogs up to you— more to the Captain but whatever—

“Can we talk?” Simon asks and you avoid eye contact with him. “Sure just a minute, go to my office I’ll be there in 5” the captain says and you hear a gruffy ‘copy.’

The Captain showed you your new room and then dismissed himself to go meet the Lieutenant. Now you’re sitting on the floor, leaning to your bed— which is surprisingly big.

What are you going to do?

Avoiding him all together would be the best plan but you work together so you don’t want to make it more difficult. Acting clueless? No. He will see through it, you know he would. Maybe just avoid the subject? Yeah. That seems the most reasonable idea.

You sigh and press your face to your hands. You don’t know Simon anymore, so you don’t know how he would— will react.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud knock. You think to ignore it but then the person on the other side of the door knocks again— but this time softer.

Then you hear your name being called and you freeze at the voice. It’s him— it’s Simon. You slowly start getting up from your sitting position and start creeping towards the door.

Your hands are shaking while you slowly reach to the door handle. You open the door and see him. He looks as anxious— if not more than you. You swallow “Simon.” You exhale and suddenly you’re being pushed back inside of your room, he steps in and slams the door shut.

You don’t know what to expect. Him to yell at you? Maybe.

But no. You’re being pulled in to an embrace.

“I couldn’t find you—“ Simon rasps out while he’s gripping you for dear life. You sneak your arms around his torso. “I thought you were dead” you say

“I thought you were GONE, Simon.” You choke up and suddenly your legs are giving out and he grumbles to the floor with you. He presses his hand on your head and you sob to his chest “I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!” You yell at him and hit his chest over and over again.

He grabs you hand and brings it on his heart. “I’m sorry.” Is the only thing he says to you. You can’t say anything to him, you’re just leaning on him. You shake your head in disbelief, you still can’t believe he is alive.

You need to get away from him, you can’t— You can’t do this again. You have already lost him once you can’t risk to go through the pain again. You are both in the military, the job doesn’t promise you coming back from the missions. You’re soldiers, its not allowed to love another soldier. Especially when he’s your lieutenant. But you do love him, oh how you love this man.

The first night you heard he was dead you couldn’t sleep, you threw up all night. The heartbreak was suffocating, you can’t do that again.

You push yourself away from him and get up. You turn your back to him and try to take deep breaths. You hear a small thump on the floor which you assume is something he dropped but still don’t turn back to look.

He calls your name. You shake your head “I can’t do this Simon. I can’t lose you again, i can’t go through that pain again— I just—“ You try to explain but you can’t think straight.

He says your name again but softer. It makes you look at him and you freeze. He’s still on his knees but he took his mask off. You haven’t seen his face in years, oh how he has grown in to his features. Scarred face but still so so handsome, your fingers twitch to touch his face.

A tear slips down your face, you’ve missed him so much. You take your gaze from his face to the wall and close your eyes. You exhale and furrow your brows.

You open your eyes again and turn around. You cant resist the temptation to go to him. You walk towards him and he just stares at you. “Si” you whisper, mostly to yourself but emotion in his eyes flicker when you say his nickname you called him through out the years.

He’s looking up at you, not much because he’s so damn large hes almost to up to your chest even though you’re standing up and he’s kneeling on the floor. You are standing in front of him, smiling slightly you reach your hands towards his face to touch him. You brush over his features and all his scars. He leans in to your touch and closes his eyes.

“I missed you, Simon” you say to him and his eyes open again. The emotion is plastered in his eyes “I know” he says and you frown in confusion, how could he know how much you’ve missed him?

“I missed you too, Dove” he says and smiles to you. You freeze, the nickname he had used for you is now your callsign and you know he knows why.

You sit back down next to him. He raises his arm to loop around your shoulders and you lean back to his touch. Pressing your face on his chest you breathe him in.

“You know I was going to propose you.” He says and you flinch up to look at his eyes in shock.

“I mean not right away, I had this plan. I was going to ask you to a date with me, with good luck you would have said yes, we would’ve dated for a few years, maybe move in together some place nice like you deserved. Then I would’ve taken you out on to the beach you loved so much, have a picnic and ask you to marry me.” He tells you and you feel tears building up.

“I would have said yes you know.” You tell him and he looks surprised. “I’m sorry I gave up on you Simon.” You apologize and look down to avoid eye contact.

“No. I should’ve had worked harder to find you.” Simon shuts you down and tilts your head back from your chin to look at him. “I saw your mother.” He tells you— oh.

“How was she?” You ask and he smiles. “She was shocked to see me, cried a bit. She told me that she hadn’t seen you in years.” He says and you frown.

“I just— I couldn’t go back. There was too many memories it was too painful.” I explained looking to the wall frowning.

He exhales “sweet girl” he says to get your attention back to him. You look back to his eyes, he holds a comforting look in them.

“I can’t lose you again Simon.” You tell him trying to swallow your tears. His hand goes to your cheek “You won’t. I promise you” he says sternly.

“You know I love you, right?”

[tarot-archives]

hands. hands. and more hands. —Simon Riley

fluff | comforting simon and scolding him

Simon always had calluses, even before enlisting. His hands were etched on the butcher knife from frequent use. To the point that even the owner had to buy a new one for himself. The handle fits perfectly, with deep engravings of his print, and thick calluses pressing on its body to reshape the figure.

Now, Simon had returned home from training. His hands, were more worn than before, with scars and burns painting on the canvas of his skin. He didn’t have anyone to take care of him after all. No one to scold him for the mud caking under his nails. No one to swipe his hands away if he hadn’t washed them before eating.

Bottles of hand cream on your nightstand take twice as long to finish since he was shipped out too.

But he’s here now. The bed dips, it’s no longer a place fit for two. He’s grown bulky, more lean than fat, his back straight after months of corrective training. You wonder about the history of his scars so you asked.

“This one was from doing push-ups,” he proudly said. 

“Just push-ups?” you were disturbed that push-ups can leave serious scars. “why is it on your knuckles then?”

“Had to do them against the gravel. Under the heat of the bloody sun,” Simon thumbs over the discoloration on his skin. “It was hot enough to cook an egg and burn through skin. Even had those hard pebbles that push up the bone.”

You grimaced, “the bone?”

Simon looks down at you, then snickers, “almost, but not yet. No.” He lies more easily now. Gentlemen know not to burden a woman’s heart. Especially his best friend.

You sighed in relief. Your fingers now brushing over his palms. The question, tipping itself over the edge of your tongue, as you hesitate to ask. But Simon knows you enough not to wait for a verbal query.

“These ones were from the rope,” he turns his hands to face you. Thick skin on his fingers, especially on his thumb.  All of the digits are dry and in need of a deep clean. He looks down at your furrowed eyes and disappointed glare.

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You didn’t want to make a fuss about it since Simon was the strongest person you ever met, but how could you make him understand your thoughts. That you are mad about his lack of self-care. That his hands found home at the barrel of the gun instead of a knife. Both items share the same violence. Both professions are bloody and messy. Both his choices were out of necessity for his family.

Simon doesn’t speak as he lets you feel his rough skin. Your digits travel in between his fingers, over his knuckles, finding a new reason to be more worried than the last. But as you were about to lift your hands away, he entwines his hands in yours. 

He made sure you won’t run as he says: “There’s no reason to worry.”

You shake your head in disapproval, “How could I not?” Your voice cracked. Warmth spread to your cheeks at your choking defeat. “What would you do if your best friend always put themselves in danger?”

“Save them from dumb decisions,” Simon answers. 

“But I’m not at the battlefield,” you gripped his hand harshly as an outlet of your frustration. “what can I do when you’re halfway around the world. And it would be months before I can hear again from you.” 

Despite your strength, it was nothing to him. He had experienced the butt of a rifle lodged into his hand as punishment. Your hold wasn’t a means for pain, but a way for you to deliver the words you left unsaid. So he returns the gesture, thumbing your skin in small circles, speaking in the language you spoke— the love language of touch. 

So you lean into him, understanding the silence and his affection. Realizing that his hands weren’t always a place of violence. It was your safe space, before the blood and the gore. 

He held your hands when you were anxious during preschool. He held your hands to keep you by his side amongst the busy street. He held your freezing hands when you left your mittens at home. And in more sacred moments when his lips touched a cut to heal it faster….

It was never about fixing him up. It was always about taking care of your best friend. All homes, when not properly maintained, tend to ruin quickly compared to others. And taking care of Simon was your way of making do or returning his kindness. 

“I need you to take care of yourself more,” you ordered.

“yes, ma’am.”

“you can’t keep coming back here expecting a manicure.”

“Of course,” he brushed away your gentle reminders. His arms pull you into a hug, purposely tipping you over to fall towards him. Simon was never the kind to fuss over the weight of your body over his. His heart welcomed you, accepting you as a part of him and all the burden you carry. 

[celestialsun888]

Watching You.

@celestialsun888

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Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader

Genre: smut/ dark romance [18+ MDNI]

Word Count: 2.9k

Synopsis: Some Written from his POV! Simon wonders how you're doing since you two have split and your refusal to speak to him makes him take matters into his own hands.

★ TW: HEAVY DUB CON, STALKING AND OBSESSION! SO PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION! Vulgar language, degradation, forced submission/sex, size kink (ofc), Knife AND gun play, Voyeurism? He gets off to you without you knowing, possession, slight marking, He's really sadistic fr, Primal x Prey (kinda…), Rough sex, humiliation, shoe grinding, YOU vibes ong, ITALICS ARE INNER MONOLOGUE (Let me know if I’ve missed any!)

✒ Authors Note: I've had this on my mind, like he seems so scary and brooding but I wrote him genuinely psychotic and very obsessive. So please take the TWs seriously! This is also barely proof read.... so sorry if there are mistakes!

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❥ Simon's POV

Look at you. Getting your usual coffee before you head to work, sweetly, innocently, saying hello to strangers. I can tell from the cup it’s your usual: vanilla chai tea latte, extra vanilla. Sweet. Sweet like you. So sweet to everyone, but me… Refusing to see me since our breakup, cutting off any and all ties with me. God you are so devilishly cruel.

Standing far enough to go unnoticed, you watched her, sipping your own drink to blend in, meshing with the busy city. Your all black outfit concealed you even more, simply just a passing shadow. You leaned against the brick wall across the street from where she walked, eyes devouring her precious frame. Every morning the same, her routine burned into your mind. Such an accursed pleasure to look forward to each day. Just watching her. Such a detestable indulgence.

7:43 am.

She floated through the busy streets of downtown, occasionally checking the time to make sure she was on schedule.

You chose to wear loose slacks today. Interesting. But that top, mmm. You groan to yourself. That top hugging your body like that. Can you wear that to work? Showing off your plump breasts, cleavage spilling out…you're such a filthy little girl. Who are you dressing for if not me? … It should be me.

You took another sip of your drink, squirming slightly from the perverted and sadistic thoughts that filled your already tainted mind. As she started to walk out of your field of vision, you started to walk with her, slightly slower than her pace. Walking carefully on the opposite side of the street, suppressing your demeanor slightly to adapt to the regular civilians. Broad and tall frame slipping through waves of people, eyes penetrating her as your gaze shifted above them. As you catch up, she stops in front of an older woman.

7:47 am.

You're reading their expressions, a little too far to accurately read their lips.

God, her lips. So soft and plump, the way they felt when she would tease me, sticking her tongue into my mouth. My cock slipping in between her precious lips, watching my cum glissglade out of her mouth. Being so sloppy and sinful. The same lips that let beautiful, gluttonous moans slip from them, my sweet princess, calling out my name. ‘Simon…fuck me just like that..’ Dripping with defiled innocence, just for me. Fuck.

You tried to remain focused on her currently, though, the temptations of the past, the time you two had spent together, drove you mad. Sentiments of arousal making its throughout your body, trying your best to contain the consequences of your demented perversion. You never thought that your love for her would slip so deeply into obsession, the budding feelings growing even while she was yours. But when she left, you realized that no one can have her if it's not you. Even if she hated you, even if she went on to marry someone else, she would never get rid of you. Not until you said so.

7:53 am.

You’re gonna be late doll. C’mon hurry up.

She continued on, you not caring what the silly interaction was about, her pace fervently making up for lost time.

7:57 am.

She anxiously enters the large building where she worked, disappearing behind the sliding glass doors. Just in time.

You made your way back to your car, planning out time until she was done. Waiting to see her again.

You pulled out your phone, clicking on your photo albums eventually settling on one that said: ‘her’. Scrolling through pictures upon pictures of your twisted obsession. Her at the gym. Her walking to and from work. Pictures of her sleeping, barely any clothes on. Her through her balcony window. Her from her closet. She consumed your thoughts as your hand unbuckled your pants, slowly palming your throbbing length through your underwear.

So precious, so divine.

Your lips wet from your tongue trailing over them, biting your lower lip to strain against the urges of indecency. Your fingers stop on a video of you brooding over her as she sleeps, touching yourself hearing her gentle breath rise and fall as you stand there in the dark. Wanting so bad to moan, almost even begging her to catch you in such a vile and horrendous act.

Your hands start stroking your thick shaft, already hard from your lewd fantasies.

Oh, my sweet angel. Why do you want to leave me like this? A needy mess, only having remnants of videos and pictures of you? How you manage to get me so excited I'm unsure, maybe just knowing you have forgotten about me, yet I still cum moaning out for you, fills me with pleasure. Maybe I enjoy the thought of scaring you as you catch me whoring myself out just for you.

Thoughts consumed with thick and prevalent perversion. You edge closer to your orgasm. Scanning over pictures and videos of her, innocent or not, as you pump harder and harder. You love your depravity. How she does nothing, yet every part of her being fucks you up. You start to become careless, bucking your hips up, car shifting slightly from the weight of your frame. Your head falling back in the crux of the head seat, spreading your thighs, preparing for your orgasm. Your balls tighten and your vision blurs as you cum: thick ropes of semen painting over your seat, phone catching drips of your release as you continue to stroke yourself through it, milking out every drop. Your cock twitched and throbbed as you wiped your stained hand on your pants, chest falling deeply allowing time for your foggy thoughts to lift.

“Fuck…” you moan exasperated.

Your thoughts swirled as you tucked your sensitive dick back into your fouled pants. And then, you thought, something so sick and demented.

I have to make her mine.

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❥ Y/N POV

You slipped off your shoes right as you entered your apartment. You gave a large stretch before throwing your keys onto the kitchen island and flicking on the lights.

What a day.

You trailed to your room as you let out a defeated sigh, eager to cuddle up in bed and release the tension from the day. Reaching for the handle you notice your door ever so slightly open.

I could’ve sworn I shut it tight this morning?

Perhaps it was a simple slip up? You chucked it up to human error but you still steadily walked into your room. There was a presence that felt…odd? Not normal? You clicked on the light, illuminating your space, scanning over it to see if anything was out of place. Everything seems fine.

Suppressing your feelings of irrational thought you began to strip, undressing from your work clothes. Inching your slacks down your thighs and having them fall to the ground revealing your bare ass, nicely adorned with skimpy panties. You lifted your shirt over your head, nipples hardening through your matching bra from the colder draft. As your shirt falls to the floor, awaiting to be picked up and placed away, you hear the wooden floor creak. You halt.

You felt the rug that rested against your toes burn into you. You didn’t move. There is no way your floor boards would creak as you barely moved on the rug, centered in your room. The tension in your chest encouraged your heart rate to speed up, your chest feeling like it couldn't contain your heartbeats. Nervousness washed over you as you turned to your closet, slightly ajar. The silence was so loud, ears picking up dead air. You held your breath as you inched towards it as calmly as possible. You jerk the door open to find nothing.

Oh my gosh what the fuck is with me?

A relief sets over you as you step back, still refusing to look away from it, just in case. Your clumsy footing however, causes you to catch on your clothes that piled on the floor. Falling on your back, you recoil to sit up enough to set your eyes back on your closet. Just in case.

“Stupid clothes,” you murmur to the air. That's when you feel it. The presence. Something staring into you, intensely watching you.

It's been watching you.

Your mouth slightly hangs open as you let out shaky breaths. You turn to your bed that stood to the right of you, aligned perfectly to see underneath. Past the slightly disheveled comforter you see the whites of eyes staring at you through the darkness. Pitch black pupils matching the mysterious ambiance. A heavier breath escapes from the abyss.

Startled, you scramble towards the wall across from the darkness as the eyes start to come from under the bed. The skull mask covering the figures face, all except those hollow eyes.

“S-simon,” you sputter, “W-hat are you doing here?” Your voice growing more anxious and scared. His big frame arched from under the bed as he crawled towards you. His eyes never parting from you.

You reached your arm along the wall you were backed into, reaching desperately for the door handle for both escape and support in standing, your fear tempting to paralyze you. Thick calloused hands snatched at your ankles, dragging you to him, fingertips just missing the door. His dark and evil gaze lighting up as he traced over your half naked body.

“Shhhh, shhh, angel” He cooed detestably, sinking his body into yours, “Let's make this as easy as possible.” You fought against his sick advances. Pushing your fingers into his face as he tried to kiss you, legs trapped over his thighs as he sat on his knees. Your back bowing from being so much smaller than him. You tried to bring in your knees to cut off his access to you but his bearish arms held you in place. Your weak protests offer no solace from him.

“Simon!” you yelp petrified, “Why!? Why are you doing this!?” His eyes showed no remorse for his actions. His hand trailed roughly over your body, scraping innocence off of you as he went. Your body continued to squirm getting away from his grasp a little, almost as if he let you. You finally broke free, crawling back to the door as he drew you in again, this time not holding you down. He slams the door shut and locks it. Knowing that getting away would take longer, knowing that he would be able to get to you sooner.

“Behave!” His voice thick and callous. You refused to listen, tears streaming from your eyes as you were dragged into him once more. Body feeling the hard floor grate against your back. His hefty palm gripped your face, nearly engulfing it completely. His other hand reached to his hip pulling out his loaded hand gun. Placing it under your chin, the cold steel meets with your soft, warm skin. Salty streams continued to sprinkle from your eyes, his face drawing into yours. Your cries and pleads meaning absolutely nothing to him. His breath hot on your cheek as his thick tongue came to meet your bitter tears, licking them away sadistically. His gun digging more into your jaw.

“Oh baby, you sweet sweet angel,” You wince at his words, “be good for me, take it. Nice and easy and we won't have a problem.” He glances at the gun and back at you.

"Don't make me hurt you sweetheart." He shakes the weapon disturbingly. He slowly moves the gun down your chest making circles along the way, trailing to your tummy, the loaded gun flirting with you.

His pants already bulging from the rush of adrenaline, he teases his gun onto your pussy, edging it over your panties. Wetness dampening the barrel.

"Your a dirty bitch. You like me playing with your cunt like this?" You try and squirm away again from his harassment. You see him place his gun back on his hip, snickering to himself. Using both hands to lift you from the ground with him he grabs the hair at the nape of your neck, fingers tugging it violently. His body blocking any form of escape from him. You reach for your head, trying to ease the firm grasp he has on you. He forces you towards the bed, burying you into it. Ass facing him, tippy toes barely touching the ground. His heavy hand continues to push you into the mattress, you hear a pocket knife flip open.

"P-lease.." you try and convey through mousy sobs.

The cold metal dragging along your thighs causes you to shudder in fear. The tip of his blade gently applies pressure to the skin of your ass.

“Should I mark you as mine, princess?” His tone was mockingly threatening. “A nice little S.R. right here. Letting everyone know that you once, and will always be mine.” His knife drawing circles around the designated spot, teasing the soft, untainted skin. Your muffled cries seep into the mattress, fearing he would follow through. His hand, tangled in your hair, pulls you up. Ass meeting his crotch vigorously, forcing your neck to tilt back for him, his eyes watching over you. Your innocent eyes were stained with despair. He continued his sadistic taunting, grazing his knife up the front of your hips, watching your tummy undulate from your heavy breathing. You didn't know if begging him to stop would edge him to actually do it so you kept your mouth shut.

“Pretty, pretty girl.” He sighed into your neck. Teeth biting into your flesh, eyes watching his hand guide the knife along you from over your shoulder. The blade stopped at the band of your underwear, teasing the fabric with the sharp tip. You felt him buck his hips into you, slowly grinding his erection into your ass. Sick fuck.

Stringing along fucked up phrases that made you feel him more and more, harder and harder. You could tell his teasing wanted relief, he was getting desperate to fuck you.

"Why Simon, why...why are you doing this?" You plead, hoping some form of humanity would come back to him.

"Oh, my love, you taunt me, watching you act like I no longer exist to you. I just needed to remind you how fucking real this is. I haven't been able to stop thinking about your lewd body, fucking my hand, just thinking about you, isn't good enough anymore." His knife grazing lightly over your clothed clit, tapping the blade over your sensitive lips. He inched it back to your waist band, irritating the gentle fabric.

“Slutty fuckin’ girl. I need to be inside you.” His knife cutting the fabric to your panties. Your bare cunt exposed. The knife shifted in his hand now resting within his pinky, ring and middle fingers allowing for his index and thumb to be free. He rubbed his index finger along your slit, feeling the heat pool, your wetness glistening on his digit. The pleasure he gave to you didnt last long as he saw you were wet enough.

He placed his knife away grabbing your hips, forcing you to bend over for him. Tear stained cheeks buried in the covers. The sound of his zipper coming undone made you whimper, you knew he was going to be rough with you. Even when you two dated he was hard to take and it usually took a while for him to prep you. You knew he was going to be unrelenting.

“Fuck” he exclaimed salaciously as he slammed his fat cock into you, feeling his half opened pants poking along your ass and thighs. You were full: his thick girth stretching you out over him. You struggled to remain calm as your hole tightened from his abrasive advance, back arching to elicit a choked out yelp. Your knees threatened to buckle under you but his hand offered support knowing your little pussy struggled to take all of him. His tense length started to move in and out of you, kissing your cervix. Heavy balls slapping against your puffy clit as you tried to take him. You gripped your comforter hard, digging your nails into the mattress. His strokes are erratic and aggressive.

“You look so pretty on the end of my cock, princess. I’ve waited long enough to have you. Don't cry, baby, it had to be like this. I couldn't hold back any longer.” His tone matching the roughness of his strokes. Your helpless cries being drowned out by the lewd, squelching noises that came from your sloppy cunt. He continued to bully your hole, slapping your ass to add to your pain and his pleasure. Leaving bite marks along your delicate back and shoulders, holding the back of your neck down with his boorish hands, spilling heinous words into your ear. All while you took every inch of his cock.

You feel yourself getting close, tightening around him as he fucks you through your orgasm. Humiliated by your sexual arousal of his mistreatment. His obsessive possession. You feel him smiling through the mask that rubbed into your neck, his breath hot.

“You dirty, dirty little bitch, huh. Cumming on my cock as I take advantage of your fucking pussy? Maybe I should stalk you more, watch you while you undress for me. Touching myself in the dark of your room. You seem to fucking like it.” His own strokes became sloppier.

“S-s-simon,” you whimper, “P-please, I can’t take it.” You whine trying your best to think through the overstimulation. He continues his aggressive pace, knowing how sensitive you are.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know, I know,” he coos, offering false security. “Daddy’s almost done taking your cunt, just be fucking patient.” You feel his thick length start to throb inside you, signaling that he's close. Quickly pulling out of you, he forcefully guides you to the ground, stroking himself above you, face centered under his swollen tip.

He sees you squirm as you wait for him impatiently, your pussy convulsing around nothing. His thick boot meets your tender heat, allowing you to grind on it as he finds his own release, getting off on your depravity. Reaching in his back pocket of his unzipped pants he pulls out his phone and angles it towards you, still stroking his cock.

“Be a good fucking girl and look at the camera while I ruin you, sweetheart. I wanna have something nice and sweet to look back on. I’ll add it to the collection.” His voice became laced with abandonment. The slick sounds of his hand quickly stroking his length echo through the room as he groans. As swears leave his lips, he ejaculates his hot, white cum over you. Streams of his sticky semen drip from your face, covering you wickedly. Waves crashing over him as he finished his sick fantasy. His seed tainting you as you look up at him with empty eyes. His fucked out expression triggering the last few groans to release from him.

“Good, good girl.” He places his phone back into his pocket, zipping his pants. You stand to meet the large man, brooding over your delicate frame. You didn't know why he obsessed over you and why he would go through all the trouble. His thumb glides over the traces of his essence before slipping his thick digit into your mouth. His hand grabbed at your chin, tilting it up.

“You’re mine, forever.” You wince at his words trying your best to break from his grip. And with that he was gone, leaving you to revel in confusion and fear as to when he would be back.

[playbucky]

Front and Centre.

Y/N, or Showgirl is known as the army’s face, a beautiful face that eases people into joining. She’s been tasked with joining the 141 for a mission but the team didn’t fully trust the person who poses for posters.  Characters – Reader, Price, Gaz, Soap, Ghost.  Word Count – 1.6k. 

‘We’ve got a new coming for this mission.’ Price said, the boys lifted their heads and looked at him.  ‘Who?’ Gaz questioned, Price rubbed his lips together.  ‘Lieutenant Y/N.’ He said.  ‘Showgirl?’ Soap quizzed, unaware that the door had opened and you stepped in.  ‘That is what they call me.’ You said, they looked at you, the one closest to Price was the only one to sit taller.  ‘When we leaving?’ You asked, your gaze focused on Price.  ‘Sixteen hundred hours.’ Price said, you nodded and slid into the seat at the end of the table, leaving one between yourself and the masked figured.  ‘Y/N, I want you to meet Ghost, Soap and Gaz.’ Price introduced them to you.  ‘Pleasure to meet you all.’ You told them, you dipped your head before you opened the small file, you got a mumble from two of them but the masked figure stared at you. 

You aimed your gun up before a weight around your waist pulled you to the side, you let out a startled yelp before you ended up on the ground. Quickly you got up onto your feet and tried to make your way back you but another arm stopped you.  ‘Let me go.’ You snarled, your gun shoved into your holster.  ‘There’s no need for you to.’ Price said, you narrowed your eyes at him.  ‘Fuck off.’ You hissed, Soap and Ghost looked at each other before they looked back to you.  ‘Y/N?’ Price said as he rounded the corner.  ‘No, fuck off, I’ve had enough of the constant belittling.’ You told them, you were fed up with the way they would send glances and mumble between themselves.  ‘We aren’t belittling you.’ Soap said, he held his hands out at his sides.  ‘You put me to the back, protect me constantly and try and hide the violence from me.’ You pointed a finger out, ‘Four tours I did, I only got the showgirl name when the commanding officer saw that I led my team into a -,’ you stopped, you snapped your jaw shut and sighed, the men watched you.  ‘But don’t worry, once this is done I’m leaving, you won’t have to worry about me again.’ You said before you marched further into the safe house, that you were having to spend the next sixteen hours in. 

‘Y/N?’ The familiar voice called, you turned and smiled as you saw Widow, you went to walk before she was flung forwards. The red splattered shot from her head as she collapsed onto the ground,   ‘Shit.’ You gasped as you sat up, your grip tight on the edge of the makeshift bed, the taunt fabric groaned as you shifted.  Taking deep breaths you looked around the room, the dark silent room except from the quiet snores of Gaz and Soap, their faces smooshed into the thin pillows whilst Price rested his head on his arm as he rested it behind him. His mouth dropped open, hat resting over his eyes, you gaze moved to the empty bed the other side of him. Your brows furrowed before you shook your head and made your way to the tight bathroom. You pushed the door over to keep the noise from the others before you splashed your face with cold water, your hands rested on the edge of the porcelain sink as you looked up. The person that looked back to you was a stranger, the dark bags underneath your eyes and wrinkles between your furrowed brow, completely different to the wide smile that is constantly plastered on and the insane amount of makeup and photoshoot.  You dried your hands on the small towel before you dropped it over the sink and stepped out the room. The thought of going back to bed twisted your stomach, pulling the door over and switching the light off you carefully made your way to the second door. You pushed it open and quickly stepped out and closed the door back over. Carefully you made your way down the corridor, that opened into a stingy living room, Ghost’s hunched figure lingered at the large window that was opened.  ‘It’s not your turn.’ He commented as he turned and looked at you.  ‘I know.’ You replied, he moved off the seat and stood to his full height, you were sure you heard some of his bones pop.  ‘Nightmare?’ He quizzed you hummed, you looked out the   ‘Constantly.’ You replied, he huffed and handed you a small paper mug that had small wisps of steam coming over the edge.   ‘No thank you.’ You politely turned it down.  ‘You don’t want tea?’ He quizzed, you shook your head.  ‘It’s yours.’ You replied, you rubbed your eyes.  ‘I can go make another one.’ He offered, you shook your head again.  ‘Ghost, just drink it.’ You ordered, he huffed as you turned to look over the ridge, that had provided him some cover for the night.   You didn’t turn when he lifted the mask, and raised the cup before he practically gulped the burning liquid down in a oner.  ‘We trust you.’ Ghost admitted, you looked at him as he pulled the mask back down, you caught a glimpse of the white scar up his jaw.  ‘Doesn’t seem like it.’ You commented before you looked away again, you played with the frayed seam on your trousers.  ‘We were told to keep you protected, no injuries or damages.’ He said, your brows furrowed.  ‘I’m not a piece of China.’ You commented, he scoffed.  ‘We know that, you’ve proved that.’ He grumbled, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the seat that groaned.  ‘Who gave you the orders?’ You quizzed, his eyes darted to your fingers then straight ahead of him again. 

‘Captain Rogers.’ He said, you huffed and dropped your head.  ‘Of course.’ You sighed, whilst you shook your head.  ‘What?’   ‘My last mission, my -,’ you stopped when movement out the corner of your eye caused you to turn.  ‘Do you like snooping?’ You questioned, Ghost turned and looked at the three men who had gathered at the doorway.  ‘We’re about to unlock your backstory.’ Soap said, the corner of your lips quirked up as you scoffed.  ‘Yeah, traditional and tragic.’ You commented.  ‘You don’t have to tell us.’ Price said, you tilted your head back and sighed.  ‘My last mission before I turned into their scapegoat was ordinary, go in, serve and then leave but we were attacked.’ You started, reaching up you scratch the side of your jaw.  ‘The entire compound was targeted, we allowed innocents or people who wanted to escape the war in.’ You continued, the team lowered their heads, knowing where it was heading.  ‘My entire team was killed ‘cept me, Widow, Mando and Trooper were shot down before the missiles were launched at us.’ You finished, you rested your chin on your knuckles.  ‘Have you always been called showgirl?’ Gaz asked, you shook your head as you straightened.  ‘Nope, I was known as Viper but that was quickly squashed.’ You said as you made eye contact with him.  ‘Why?’ Soap questioned.  ‘Soap, what was the first thing you thought of when you heard and saw me?’ You asked, he hesitated and looked to Price to figure out if he should.   ‘C’mon I won’t shoot you.’ You encouraged him.  ‘Pretty, carefree.’ He listed off.  ‘Cocky.’ Ghost piped in, you nodded.  ‘Daddy’s girl that wanted to prove her worth, right?’ You asked, having heard the words close to a million times.  ‘Yeah.’ They all agreed, you pursed your lips.  ‘How you hide yourself,’ you gestured to Ghost, ‘so people can’t connect your lives. I had to keep my burdens under wraps.’ You explained, he lowered his head.  ‘Burdens?’ Price questioned, the corner of your lips curled up.  ‘Four tours Captain, plenty times I’ve pulled that trigger, too many lives I’ve took.’ You informed him. 

‘Captain Rogers.’ You answered the phone, as you set it in the middle of the slowly rotten table.  ‘Are you alone?’ He asked, his voice crackled as you looked to the team who were sitting across from you.  ‘As I can be.’ You replied.  ‘Good, I need you to do something for me.’ Rogers said, you arched an eyebrow.  ‘What?’ You asked, you cracked your fingers as he inhaled.  ‘Infiltrate the 141.’ He said your eyes snapped up to them as they sat up, you held your hand up.  ‘Sir?’ You asked.  ‘I need to know about them, I want you to learn everything you can and report back to me in a week.’ He commanded you, your shoulders slumped.  ‘A week? I was meant to be done tomorrow.’ You replied, he fell silent before he cleared his throat.  ‘Change of plans, a lot of… money relies on this.’ He informed you, you dipped your head.  ‘Sir.’ You called.  ‘What? Do you want to be paraded around in front of cameras for the rest of your career Showgirl?’ He asked, you dropped your head and clenched your jaw.  ‘No sir.’ You replied.  ‘Good girl.’ He said, you slowly exhaled through your nose.  ‘But you can shove this job up your arse, I’m not spying on my team.’ You told him, the men’s eyes widened.  ‘Your team?’ Rogers questioned as he fought back a chuckle, you looked at the men, Ghost and Price nodded.  ‘Your team is burnt into the ground, ‘member when you had to grieve over empty coffins?’ He asked, you sighed and rolled your shoulders.  ‘Yes sir, just before you begged me to be the face of the army but I’m done.’ You returned.  ‘Done? You aren’t done till it say you are, I have all the contacts that will ruin you.’ He hissed out, you could hear him hitting his finger against the table.  ‘Do it then sir, I’ll be waiting.’ You threatened before you hung up and dropped your head down as you ran your fingers through your day-old hair.   ‘Shit.’ You hissed when you realised what you had just done, you went to pick your phone up but Ghost leaned forward and removed it from your grasp.  ‘What are you doing?’ You questioned, you reached out for the phone but he moved away.  ‘Stopping your from making a mistake.’ He grumbled, he dropped the phone before he stomped down on it, the device shattered.  ‘I just made the mistake, I need to fix it before he sends someone for you.’ You said, he shook his head before Price stepped between the two of you.  ‘We’ll be ready.’ Price said, you looked at Gaz and Soap before you focused back on him.  ‘You shouldn’t have to be ready.’ You told them, they didn’t look to bothered, having already made up their minds on what they were going to do.  ‘Y/N, whether you like it or not, your part of this team.’ Price said, you shook your head.  ‘I can’t.’ You stepped away from them.  ‘Why not?’ Soap asked, the group looked confused.  ‘Because I curse anyone that works with me.’ You spat out, the men looked amused.  ‘Trust me darling, we’re already cursed.’ Price commented, you lowered your head as the group watched you. 

[undercoverpena]

can you imagine beginning a gift-off with ghost?

it starts with comical gifts, things with skulls or ghosts on—a pen, a tie clip, a phone case but for a mobile he doesn’t have. smirking to yourself when he unwraps it, all unreadable stares you slowly come to know is a glare.

he, in turn, gifting you odd things back.

not always related to your call sign, but stupid things, like an already used notebook, a book in a genre you dislike with the last chapter ripped out (just in case you had the urge).

but in time, the gifts get nicer, more thoughtful. he’s back from a tough mission, and you’ve just come from home, and so you gift him fudge and a new pocket notebook. you get injured, and he gifts you a book he’d overheard you wanting to read months ago. it continued for months, almost over a year.

then, there's this time, your bag home stuffed full of weird trinkets from him. from your Lt. the two of you finding your leave has synced up, so your knee bobs against his on the plane back. because he's all impossible close, large, having changed mid-flight into civvies that show off more of the face he's already let you see (a gift in itself, he'd once mused).

and you’re losing your nerve, the last gift you have this time around is burning a hole inside of you, doing so after you’ve both disembarked—it makes your fingers twitch as you both move through the airport to your next destination.

but then, you stop him. whisper his name—forcing him to halt, eyes staring at you, full face in view now.

“need to give you one more gift.”

palms sweaty, stomach in a knot as you move closer before you lose your nerve. psyching yourself up until the last moment as you press your mouth to his—soft, gentle, more questionably than with any real force.

opening your eyes, watching as you part from him, studying, somehow an expert now in the brief twitches of his eyes.

but, he just looks surprised, a thing you hadn’t expected—

until, he kisses you back. more determined, hand around the back of your neck to keep you there. catching it, barely discernible between a low grunt and gravel: think this might be the best gift you’ve given me.

tagging @guyfieriii because i was like "do you wanna hear something dumb and then this came out.

[moondirti]

tw: dubcon

it’s pouring in london and i cant stop imagining bumping into simon under an awning you both took for cover. (it’s hard to imagine he wouldn’t just walk in the rain but bear with me for a second):

cramming into a square metre bus stop with a massive wall of a man in a balaclava and asking him for a smoke. you’d forgot your umbrella, typical, and it’s the only available space around. everyone else had been scared off by the ghost see, opting for the underground rather than waiting the downpour out pressed against his hulking shoulder. any other day, and you would’ve been too. but your hair had just been done and you’d fresh run out of patience, smoothing your fingernails over the flyaways at your temple.

he’d go feral for you in your little trench coat, hands shaking as you try to light the (frankly impractical) antique lighter you pull out of your breast pocket. straight out of a film noir, really, and he can’t stop eyeing you in his periphery, his pupils glaringly sharp against the smudged eye black he hadn’t the chance to wipe off. he imagines urging you somewhere even more cramped — a pub washroom, perhaps, where he’d push you on your knees and fit himself down your stiff throat. you just look too tempting; too prissy and uptight to not want to ruin.

you’d hate him for it too. perhaps that’s part of the appeal. you’d spit his cum out and wipe your chin of spittle because you wouldn’t approach someone like him ever, not in a hundred years. girls like you like guys who are all charm. but he also likes to think that you’d pull your skirt up and let him stuff his cock up your cunt anyway, because that’s what ‘can I bum a cig?’ means to someone like simon.

(little does he know, you’re watching him too. but your thoughts are far more depraved)

[diaryofaprettyprincess]

older!simon 'ghost' riley x inexperienced!girly!younger!reader where there's a size difference and u two finally have sex..

(pt 2 to this)

warnings: size difference (simon is 6'10 in this hehe reader is a good amount shorter and smaller than that), fem!reader, afab!reader, nicknames, penetrative sex, cowgirl sex position, p0rn without plot basically, some ddlg usage, reader calls simon 'daddy' a few times, talks of oral sex (fem receiving), age gap (about 10 years but READER IS LEGAL) , fluffy type of smut, dirty things beware >.<

note: this is more of a blurb n less of a full fic but hope u enjoy!! more stuff is comin out with simon n konig !! my requests r open so feel free to send any ideas there ALSO I KINDA HATE THIS BUT whatever<3

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

your brain already was coaxed into a mush after your first orgasm where your boyfriend sucked and rubbed on your engorged button until you were squealing and seeing stars.

now, you sat on ghost's hardened cock, ur wet cunny dripping onto it which made his light pink tip twitch with hunger.

"remember, bunny," he had whispered as he moved your pliable body to your current position. "we'll just go slow, mkay?" his gruff voiced cause ur skin to prickle with goosebumps as you nodded, your mind not all there after your numbing climax.

u absent-mindedly rubbed ur sopping, hot cunt on his erect cock, bitting ur lower lip and closing your eyes. you accidentally tuned simon's words out--hyper fixating on the pulsing that pounded between the apex of your pudgy thighs.

your toes curled in your thigh-highs as you stabeled yourself on your boyfriend's large tattooed, scarred chest.

your hole clenched around nothing as your needy cunt dragged its swollen lips and engorged button on simon's length. you were so, so gone until--

"baby," ghost hissed gently, stilling your movement on him with his large hands. "'m talkin' to ya..did y' hear what i said?"

u whined softly, a quiet protest to him stopping you from pleasure.

he kissed your pouted lips, taking one of his hands off of you to wrap his inked, muscled bicep around your body as you replied back with a shy and squeaky, "..no.."

a deep rumble in his chest from his short chuckle made the blush on your face deepen.

"was just sayin' that if it gets ta be too much for ya we can try again later, mkay?" his voice was so incredibly gentle and soft that you weren't sure if you wanted to cry or cream (lol). instead, you sighed dreamily, chewing on the fat of your swollen lower lip as you admired him. the scar at the corner of his mouth that made his smile more prominant. his blonde hair that was almost a darker brown. the tattoos that inked his body. his plump, pink lips--dark eyes and strong jaw and nose. the stubble on his jaw. you absent-mindedly played with his hair (eyes almost in the shape of cartoon-hearts if it were possible), and you could feel the way he leaned into your hand abit as his fingertips gently ran along your spine, soothing your desperate trembling. you finally nodded to his question, your chest pressing against his tattooed and scarred one. god, he was so strong and warm. "mk daddy.." you whispered, and that was a tell-tale sign for simon that you were already gone. he smiled softly, gently squishing your cheeks to create a pout, inked hand--bringing your lips closer to his.

"gonna be gentle with ya, but you hafta trust me, okay bunny? love y' so much." he murmured against your lips, his own hunger for you growing to a dangerous rate as you kitten-licked inside of his mouth. you nodded, your voice high as you whispered a mushy little, "mk. trust you, si.. lub u too.." against his mouth.

simon made his way from your soft lips down to pepper light kisses on your collar bones as his large palms held your body so nicely.

he leaned back a bit, your lips attached to his as he held your hips; lifting your lower body up a bit as you grinded gently on him like a kitty in heat.

to allow himself to adjust his cock with your sloppy hole, he lifted your hips up a bit more, and in your floaty state you could not help but grind against nothing--desperate whines and mewls escaping your kiss-bruised lips. simon meanly chuckled, his cock throbbing as he instructed you to sit up a bit.

"daddy, 'm achey.." you sniffled, pouting. simon's left hand massaged your side as he stroked his cock three times before bringing you forward briefly to plant a kiss on your lips.

"i know sweet girl, gonna make ya feel better, m'okay?"

you nodded sitting up a bit so he could line his tip up with your messy cunt.

he rubbed his hand over your right nipple, squeezing the fat of your tit as your hands groped from his chest to his hand, to his tattooed forearm.

he could feel the heat coming off of your cunt, and he tried not to lose it and immediately pummel his cock into you.

you were just so delicate.

he would never want to hurt you.

"alrigh' slowly.." his voice sounded so soft and grumbly, it made you want to rub your button against him until you saw stars. but you had to focus.

you began to sink down, simon holding you up as you whined. a bulge already forming in your belly as you whimpered at the ungodly stretch.

your boyfriend sat up, taking your lips in his for sloppy kiss before you interrupted it with a small little squeak, "a-ah!" eyebrows pulled upwards as you cried. he kissed your lips slowly but hungrily--as if trying to eat you whole.

his big hands held your hips and waist, stopping you for a moment so you could take a breath.

"shh, slower, bunny, sink d-down slower," you began to sink down again, slower this time as you took all of him. "good girl, bunny. tight cunny takin' me s-so well.."

[oldglitterstory]

Someone write a Ghost x civilian reader, where they have a random one night stand and Ghost is deployed for like a year. When he returns he has a run in with her and she got a baby that’s the blonde spitting image of him.

[randombitchuwu]

Since I’m on my time of the month I decided that it would be a good idea to read angst Ghost x Reader at night to help me fall asleep…LEMME TELL YOU it wasn’t a good idea AT ALL!!!! I honestly forgot I was on my period and I literally went through so many emotions from reading them and feeling absolute dog shit. I was PMSing so much at the middle of the night not too long ago. Cried so much and let those tears out as a had an angel and devil at my shoulders the angel comforting me and validating my feelings while the devil was judging the FUCK outta of me and being like “wtf this bitch”. I seriously need to sleep since it’s 1:34 am and just messing up sleep schedule typing all this. I’m honestly going to wake up in the morning and forget all this happened. 🥲

The writing was so beautiful and painful but beautiful such amazing writing 🥹❤️

Edit: Yup I was right I forgot 🙃

[cas-backwards-tie]

if anyone wants to request some blurbs, headcanons, or anything— I know I’ve been busy with work and therefore not updating my series (I like to get them perfect before releasing them) but I’d love to write some shorter things! 🥹🙏🏻

also if you see/know I write for anyone else I haven’t tagged, it’s still worth a shot to send in something!