#cod mw2 ghost

[emmster]

I’m not sure if this is angst or not

[themotherofhorses]

"Simon Riley is toxic," "Simon Riley is a cold and distant man that enjoys inflicting harm on others," and "Ghost is a red flag."

Yada yada yada. Anyways.

Simon Riley LOVES cats.

When she first read his personnel file, her eyes immediately took notice of one certain detail, jotted down on a little yellow sticky note, in red penmanship. Price’s handwriting, she believed.  “Enjoys tattoo art & animals.”  SilentDove smiled at that. Simon Riley, 6’4” and with a fearful reputation that always preceded him, possessed a soft spot for animals — cats, she soon learned. He never spoke about it aloud, but there were signs: the small glances toward a stray kitty sunbathing on the sidewalk; his blue eyes softening the moment they caught sight of the kittens at the local petshop, and all the cat videos he pretended were not clogging up his YouTube history.  Yeah, there were countless signs. 

“Saaayyyy….you ever wanna adopt a kitty-cat, Lieutenant?”  “That’s above ya’s pay grade, Reyes.” 

Three months later, Dove tried again.  "A little brown kitten, Ghost, with pink beans on its toes! Imagine that!" She was holed up in the Lieutenant's office, pestering him with pictures of cats she found on Pinterest. "Brown kittens are super duper rare, y'know that, right?" she asked, showing him a cute brown cat with amber-like eyes. "Look, even the nose is brown!" But all she got in response was a stupid grunt; he didn't even look up from the paperwork he was filing out. Stubborn bastard, Dove thought to herself with a sigh. She fell silent for a moment until Simon suddenly spoke up. "I'd like a Norwegian forest cat," is what he muttered, peeking up to look at Dove. His bright, baby-blue eyes met her dark ones, and the Native American could see a certain softness pooling inside them. A smile twitched on her lips as she sat up straighter.  "Yeah?" Simon hummed. "Damn things are beauties. Ever seen one?" He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Wanna get me one once I retire from all this shit. Name him Shiloh, get him a bell and collar." "Shiloh," Dove breathed out, nodding. She liked the name; it sounded nice on her tongue. Shiloh…c’mere, Shiloh! "Didya know that Viking brides were given Norwegian forest kittens as a wedding present?" as her chin came to rest atop her palm.  His gaze dropped to follow the slight movement before flickering back to her face. "Is that so?" His voice dropped a little, suddenly taking on a huskier tone, instantly sending a small flutter of butterflies inside her tummy. Dove swallowed with another nod.  "Mmmm, in honor of Freyja, the goddess of love. According to the mythology, her cart was pulled by cats; Vikings loved cats, and it was a sorta…good luck for brides to have a kitten in her new household." Dove paused before adding, "—when I get married, I'm gonna ask for a kitten as well. No fancy pots, pans, or cutlery. A cat, one that I'm gonna name Ésevone." "Ésevone?" Simon repeated, cocking his head to the side.  "Buffalo in the Northern Cheyenne language."  "Ah. Ésevone," he rasped again, this time with a nod of his own. "Ésevone and Shiloh. Not bad."  A few seconds of (comfortable) silence fell over the two before— "—Y'know, Ghosty, you actually look like a TOTAL cat dad. Like you got the entire "cat dad" aesthetic down to a T." "Shut up, little bird." 

note: just a small snippet as i try to dive back into writing :D

[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.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Zombie! Ghost NSFW Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Zombie Fucking, Monster Fucking, Zombie! Ghost, Human! Reader, Zombie Anatomy, Cockwarming, Unprotected Sex, Stagnant Semen, Stomach Bulge, Stomach Swelling, Mention of Breeding, Engorged Penis, Brief Worry of Infection, Mentions of Blood, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Zombie!Ghost who’s been travelling with you for the last couple of months or so.

Zombie! Ghost who wasn’t like all the other infected — he retained most of his autonomy with only his body succumbing to the disease, blood smattered down his tactical gear, eyes milky.

Zombie!Ghost who, though he can’t speak, can still communicate via growls, gurgles and groans, as well as body language, albeit in a stiff manner.

Zombie!Ghost who, despite existing in a decaying body, has retained most of his human, primal urges. Even had some of them enhanced.

Zombie!Ghost who, though you might not know it, rocks himself into his hand when the night is quiet, your name and face on his mind amidst the buzz of the virus telling him to act on his base instincts to eat, feed and breed.

Zombie!Ghost who sees that, much to his lethargic delight, this was the case for you, too.

On many a night had he caught you with something hard between your legs, trying desperately to alleviate the the knots below your stomach.

Zombie!Ghost who, one night, after a long day of running from the undead and hiding in an enclosed space with you, chest to chest as you both waited for the horde to pass, found that palming himself did nothing to rid him of the aching feeling between his legs.

Zombie!Ghost who can sense that you’re the same: all that excess adrenaline and pent-up sexual frustration permeated the air with scent only a creature like Ghost could smell. A scent which he followed to the door of your room.

He knocked. Once. Heard you shuffling, scurrying, before clearing your throat, telling him to “Come in,”

Zombie! Ghost who can see your hasty attempt to cover yourself, your pants pulled up with such speed that you’d neglected to zip them back up, the hem of your underwear showing between the open space.

Zombie!Ghost who sees your eyes flicker to his trousers, widen slightly, before returning to his eyes.

Zombie!Ghost who wastes no time, kicking the door shut behind him and taking heavy, deliberate steps towards you.

Zombie! Ghost whose hand slithers down his front to the bulge between his legs, never taking his eyes off yours as he squeezes it, letting out a guttural groan.

Zombie! Ghost who knows you’re intelligent enough to pick up what he’s putting down. Even if you are stunned into momentary silence.

Zombie! Ghost who feels something in him grow warm when you look up at him with wide eyes, asking him, tentatively: “But…won’t I get infected?”

Zombie! Ghost who shakes his head, for he can do little more to put your mind at ease save for leaving and never proposing such a thing again.

Zombie! Ghost who sees you mulling it over in your mind, though he can tell by the rampant heat coming from between your thighs, the tantalising scent of your hormones thickening in the air, that your mind is already made up.

Zombie! Ghost who approaches with a rabid look in his eyes, coming to stand right where you need him.

Zombie! Ghost who has to bite back a growl when he feels your fingers brush him through his clothes, taking the zipper of his pants between your fingers and pulling it down.

Zombie! Ghost who, after having himself freed of his tactical gear, lies back on the bed, watching your mouth drop open as you see his swollen, drooling, stiffened cock for the first time, blackened veins running up the shaft. Pulsating. Something viscous and almost white oozes from the tip.

Zombie! Ghost who has to resist the urge to buck his hips when you come to straddle him, your pants and underwear abandoned somewhere on the mattress.

Zombie! Ghost who shudders when his tip meets your heat, the first semblance of warmth he’s felt since his un-death.

Zombie! Ghost who, even with his vocal cords having thoroughly decayed, lets out a carnal growl as you take him, sinking down onto his tip and wincing at the coldness — the size — of him.

Zombie! Ghost who can only wait for you to adjust to his girth and his lack of temperature as you sink further, a bulge in your stomach forming.

Zombie! Ghost who can feel you squeezing around him, already coaxing him to forfeit his restraint and pump you full of the stagnant semen all but bursting from his engorged ballsack. The consequence of not having an outlet for weeks.

Zombie! Ghost who gasps, back arching against the mattress, his gloved bands coming to grip your waist while he grinds up into you, desperate to feel more of your warmth.

Zombie! Ghost who can barely hold it together (literally) as you rock yourself on his cock, whimpering and gasping as he fills every ounce of space your body can give him.

Zombie! Ghost who can see that this is the turning point for your relationship — that the two of you have entered something you wouldn’t be able to explain to others even if you wanted to. If there was anyone left to explain it to.

Zombie! Ghost who, the longer and harder you rock against him, lifting yourself and dropping again back onto him, feels himself start to come undone, starts to feel the all-too human tremours and electricity — the tell-tale signs of a release.

Zombie! Ghost who, when he sees you try to pull away, try to stop him from splattering your insides with his seed, tightens his grip on your waist, keeping you flush against him.

Zombie! Ghost who, despite his lethargy, bucks up into you. Despite your protests, your begging for him to “Pull out — please!” knows it’s far too late as his eyes squeeze shut and his body spasms.

You’re filled with a wet coldness that can’t possibly be mistaken for anything else. And what’s more, there’s tons of it. You’re sure the sheer amount of semen Ghost is pumping you full of is going to leave your stomach swollen for days to come.

Zombie! Ghost who bounces you on his dick until he feels you cum, hears you cry out, sees you go limp, his hands keeping you upright.

Zombie! Ghost who, in the panting, sweating, sweltering aftermath, lays you beside him, his cock still deep inside you, a parasite in its own right as it sought and fed from your warmth.

Zombie! Ghost who brings an arm around you, pulling your back to his front, his face in your hair.

Zombie! Ghost who, tiring now, wonders if you’d have been together like this when he was a human, when he was alive.

Zombie! Ghost who wonders how he’s managed to live without you in the first place. Who knows now he’ll do anything to make sure that never happens.

Zombie! Ghost who can feel that you’ve fallen into a deep slumber, your breathing steady.

Zombie! Ghost who wonders how much of his strength, his load, you can take — where and when you’ll get yourself off on him next.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[virgil-630]

💀✨

I love red too much....

[mrs-incognito1]

3:09AM - Ghosts Lonely Deployment Masturbation.

Warnings - masturbation, nudes, praise, sexual stuff.

He’s been deployed and masturbates to a video of y’all.

Long time no see y’all, sorry I ditched 💀.

I take requests :)

———————————————————————-

“That’s right, sweetheart.” Ghost says in his signature gruff Manchester accent as he caresses Y/N’s flushed cheek. Her eyes are screwed shut as the flash from his camera shines in her eyes, creating a glistening effect on her body as her flesh is slick with sweat. Ghosts pubic bone grazes against her clit as he thrusts back into her, she moans and her eyes roll back into her skull with pleasure. “Mmm, good girl,” Ghost says as he pushes his thumb past her plump lips and into into her mouth, rubbing the pad of his thumb around her tongue, encouraging her to suck. 

“Look at the camera for me, love.” Ghost says lowly. Y/N opens her eyes as best as she can, squinting slightly from the flash above her. Lust clearly swirls within her blown out pupils, she gives the camera innocent doe eyes as she takes his cock. Ghost groans lowly as he re-watches the video. 

Ghost pumps his dick faster as he begins to feel his orgasm approaching. His hushed moans and groans appear to echo in the dull space he found, away from fellow soldiers and unfortunately away from Y/N. His head lulls back and his cranium lightly bumps against the wall he’s leaning on. His eyes shut tightly, seeing specks of white amongst the pitch black of the back of his eyelids as his hearing begins to zero in on her elicit moans that sound from the speaker of his phone. 

Ghost’s cock twitches from within his moist palm as a white halo of his spit and precum begins to form at the base of his dick. “Simon...please” Y/N whines within the recording as his fingers reach before him to rub teasingly slow circles on her clit in the video. Ghosts toes curl from within his combat boots as he pushes his skull deeper into the wall behind him, leaving somewhat of a dull ache. 

He lets out a strained whimper as his orgasm washes over him. His chest rises and falls rapidly as his breathing quickens. Spirts of hot cum ooze from his tip, angry and red with repressed arousal. Ghosts hips buck up into the air in desperation, his heart rate quickens and the grip around his phone tightens into a deathly grip, turning his knuckles white.  

He lets go of his cock, the palm of his left hand now aching and sopping with his cum. Ghosts dick twitches as he turns his attention back to the video still playing on his phone. Y/N moans lewdly from under him as he paints her torso with strings of white cum, groaning into the camera as he gives her all that he has. “Perfect girl.” Ghost says to her as he caresses her inner thigh, the camera goes blurry as he leans down to kiss her, before the video ends, leaving Ghost in silence. 

[darklordofthesimp]

Delirium (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)

Summary: Being partnered with Ghost was never easy. However, when you find him bleeding out on the kitchen floor and delirious from blood loss, you make a discovery. The L.T loves to talk.

Requested by Anon: #57 You're shaking.

A/N: Some Sunshine to feed you while I work on Anything III.

Category: Mutual Pining

Warnings: Description of injury || Graphic language

You weren't a medic by any means. 

There was the combat first aid course that you were all forced to do during basic training, but that had been a century ago. You'd handled your own injuries when an enemy sniper would get a lucky shot. Again, there's not much to do there other than put some pressure on it.

Otherwise, you were fairly inexperienced when it came to handling injured team members. There were shortfalls to being a sniper, hand-to-hand combat wasn't as relevant and having to provide first aid was rare. 

You call them shortfalls because now, in a situation where those skills are required, you're fucking struggling. 

You'd opened the door to the safe house with a sigh, frowning when you couldn't see Ghost through the windows. You'd assumed he'd be waiting for you to arrive from your nest but clearly, he didn't give enough of a fuck to wait around. 

You could have died en route and he'd be sleeping. 

For some reason, the thought hurt. 

You could think of a million things that he probably thought more important than you; staring at a wall being high on the list. What you hadn’t expected, was to find him collapsed on the kitchen floor.

“Ghost,” you rasped, choking on his name. His eyes flickered open at the sound of your voice, the relief palpable in his gaze. He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall with a strangled noise. You were frozen. You’d never seen him injured and honestly, you thought that you never would. 

You’d even told Soap that Ghost was probably just a bootleg Robo-Cop beneath the mask.  

But, the blood soaking through his uniform said otherwise. 

“You gonna give me hand or not?” His voice was low and rough. It had no edge, though. There was no bite behind his words like there usually was and it scared you. The man hated your guts and if he was too injured to convey that then he was definitely dying. 

“Oh God,” you breathed, leaning your rifle against the wall slowly. Your eyes never left his crumpled form and his eyes never left your face. “Oh God.” 

You slid to your knees, rushing to his side with frantic curses. You couldn’t see the extent of the wound from beneath his armour and he clearly didn’t have enough strength to take it off himself. 

“Stab wound,” Ghost offered the cause of injury through gritted teeth. “Got me good.” 

“This shit needs to come off,” you tugged at his armour, reaching for the quick-release cord. The man groaned but he didn’t object. One hard tug of the plastic ligature had the vest falling apart at every seam, the line now loose in your hand. 

“Fuck,” the man gave a startled chuckle, taking a large breath with his chest free from pressure. “Feel better already.” 

You didn’t reply, eyes narrowed on the wound beneath his ribs. You pulled up his shirt, tucking it beneath his arms as you scanned over the injury. It was clean cut, a clear entry wound that was steadily leaking a shit tonne of blood. 

No sounds of air sucking in through the jagged flesh and you thanked whoever was listening that it wasn’t a punctured lung. You didn’t have any seals on you and you didn’t want to slap him with some duct tape instead. He’d never let you live that down.

“How’s it lookin’, Sunshine?” Ghost asked, breathing heavily.

“Unfortunately,” you began, pressing the cotton padding from your kit against the wound, “if you apply pressure, you’ll live.” 

“Unfortunately?” He coughed,  the sound strained and you could tell he immediately regretted the movement. 

“Very fucking unfortunate,” you confirmed with faux seriousness. 

You stuck a gauze pad to the wound once you had finished packing it, reaching into your med pouch for a bandage. You’d wrap it around his midriff to keep pressure on the wound, you decided. 

“A ray of Sunshine you are, as per fuckin’ usual.” 

You clenched your jaw, reminding yourself that he was injured and that you couldn’t stick a finger knuckle-deep in his wound as retaliation. At the very least, he was back to hating you. Meant he wasn’t dying any time soon. 

You frowned at the bandage in your hands, desperately trying to remove the plastic wrapping. You couldn’t think straight and your body felt jittery as the adrenline began to settle. You couldn’t believe how vulnerable he was, unable to gather the strength to take off his own body armour. 

You hated it. 

Why the fuck couldn’t you open this wrapping? 

You pulled harder on the plastic, trying to bring your heart rate down. Why were you breathing so hard? 

A gloved hand fell over your own. 

Your frantic tugging came to an immediate halt and your eyes snapped up to meet his, startled. Ghost's gaze was half lidded but just as intense as always, grazing over your features. Heat flushed through your body at his drunken stare. You knew it was from the blood loss, you knew he could barely see straight, but that kind of look was reserved for someone he was sharing a bed with and you couldn't function at the sight of it. 

For a moment he said nothing, blinking slowly- too slowly- as he took in a breath. 

"Relax, kid," he murmured eventually. "I'm okay."

You swallowed hard. 

His fingers were soft over your own, too weak to apply pressure but curled over your hand just the same. 

"I am relaxed." You bit back at him, returning your gaze to the stupid fucking bandage beneath both of your hands. You didn't want him to see how much this affected you, you didn't want him to think you were a cowardly mess. 

There was a soft huff as he patted your hand lightly. "You're shaking, Sunshine."

You sucked in a breath.

Your eyes flickered back to meet his, lips trembling at your exposure. He knew. The gentleness in his gaze was otherworldly, so foreign you wondered if it was even Simon Riley beneath the mask. Blood loss was clearly doing a number on him and he was doing a number on you. 

“I’m a sniper, Sir.” You coughed, trying to tear yourself from the sudden intimacy of the situation. “I don’t shake.”

Ghost tutted from beneath his mask. 

“Haven’t been with the right bloke, then.” 

Your jaw dropped. 

Ghost blinked at you as though he couldn’t believe what had come out of his mouth, either. Jesus fucking Christ. You suddenly realised why Soap had made fun of Ghost for never drinking when you’d all be at the pub. You remembered asking the Sarge why the masked enigma would always bail after an hour or two and his response was simple. 

“The L.T can’t hold his tongue when he’s on the piss.” 

You thought that implied aggression. 

Clearly not.

“There is no right bloke,” you rasped, slowly pulling the bandage from beneath his hand. The loss of contact left you feeling empty but suddenly you could breathe a little easier. 

Your fingers shook violently as you tried for the plastic wrapper again and your gaze flickered to Ghost’s face, praying he hadn’t noticed. You should have known better. 

His eyes were on your trembling digits, a soft exhale making it’s way to your ears. 

“Looks like I’ve proved you wrong, Sunshine.” 

The words were low but there was no heat behind them. It didn’t feel lustful, they were murmured like an afterthought, his mind elsewhere. You wondered where Simon Riley disappeared to in his head when he looked at you. 

“You crack a lot of jokes for someone who’s a literal shish kebab,” you snapped, tearing at the plastic wrapping with your teeth. Finally, the bandage came loose.

“And you talk a lot of shit for someone who cares more than they let on.” The words were fired back, demanding your attention. 

You stared at him for a long moment, resisting the urge to squirm beneath his dark gaze. You’d never seen that expression on him before, as though he were daring you to disagree. As if he were waiting for you to say something. 

“Can’t care too much in this business, Sir.” You choked on the words, unravelling the bandage.

“I believed that once,” he tilted his head. 

“And now?” You prodded, leaning over him to wrap the bandage around his midriff. You tried to ignore how close your face was to his, how your fingers trailed against the skin of his stomach. The Lieutenant shivered beneath your touch and you kept your gaze downcast. 

Fingers gripped your chin softly and you gasped as he tilted your face upward. 

You were half on top of him, nose to nose and his stuttered exhale brushed against your lips. Simon’s eyes were half lidded and this close you could see the blue of his eyes, a stormy ocean that swallowed you whole. You were caught in it’s rip tide, drowning in the reverence of his stare. 

“Now,” he murmured, lazily examining our features. His eyes lingered on your parted lips, his thumb slowly swiping your bottom lip. “Could say I’ve had a change of heart.” 

[zoruxsblog]

Y/n : I wish there's someone who appreciates my love language

Soap : what's wrong with it?

Y/n : they say it's too aggressive.

Soap : what?

Y/n : what?

Ghost, who was being hugged to death by y/n : i-i agree

P.s repost and comments are appreciated

[persesphonestears]

Ghost: Did it hurt...?

Y/N: smug what? when i fell from heaven? or love? eheh

Ghost: As much as I'd love to save your ego, you just fell down ten fucking flights of stairs

Y/N: *in a hospital bed*

Y/N:

[hina-hina]

Perhaps when you’re ready can you write a Ghost and Soft!Reader and their child?😭❤️ I love your writing by the way!❤️❤️

Hello friend!! This is such a cute idea to go along with the soft!Reader series!! I'm so happy with how well received that post is and I'm loving everyones comments and ideas (ﾉ*ФωФ)ﾉ Hope you enjoy this one, thank you for requesting and I'm glad you like my writing!! (I put aside my final paper for class so I could post this today o_o)

I guess this is kinda a series now so chronologically it goes Soft!Reader post, Ghost getting secretly married post, then this one!

|| Ghost and Soft!Reader with a Child ||

Warnings: cursing, labor mentions, some angst

Ghost had been on deployment when you found out you were pregnant

You were shocked an unsure of how Ghost was going to react when he found out

but also really excited

Despite the two of you doing video calls whenever he could, you kept it a secret until he got back from deployment

You put the pregnancy test in a small gift box and wait for him to arrive

You are filled with anxiety all day, worried about what his reaction would be

When he comes in, you can already tell he is extremely tired so you don't want to bombard him immediately

So you hug him when he comes through the door, pull up his balaclava, and give him a few soft kisses

He immediately relaxes, happy to be home

You instruct him to go take a shower and he goes without fuss

When he comes back out in a simple black t-shirt and sweats, his wedding band still attached to its chain hanging from his neck, you feel your heart skip a beat

"Sit down," You instruct

"Awful bossy this evening, aye?" He teases, but does it anyway, small smile on his maskless face

"Hush!"

You present the small box to him, biting your lower lip nervously

He raises an eyebrow, large hands coming up over the box as he shifts his eyes between it and you

He opens it gently, staring at the small device for a moment before his eyes widen

"Your...."

Sets the box aside and immediately stands

"Your being serious?"

You simply nod and his eyes shift down to your stomach before he grabs you into a hug

He would be scared and distant at first, he would need time to process

I do think he would be good with kids

Once you two talk it out, he would become completely on board

Ghost is a girl dad, fight me

Would be so nervous when he goes to appointments with you

He Is so used to the good things in his life being taken away,

When he learns its a girl, he becomes slightly uneasy

He's not sure how he's gonna be with a kid period but knowing its a girl? He is terrified

Nonetheless, he finds himself buying things that he thinks you would like for the baby anyway

would hate it if he had to go back onto deployment before the baby is born

You reassure him you'll be fine and he reassures you he will be back for the birth

An ultrasound picture is placed alongside the picture of you in his breast pocket

Eventually tells his team he's going to have a baby and they are in shock, even more so than before

Imagine you go into labor early and he almost misses it

He shows up still in uniform (minus the weapons bc there isn't anyway he is getting into a hospital with all that on) and black grease paint still smudged around his eyes

But, damnit, he's there

Is scared shitless during labor

He doesn't want anything to happen to either of you

But you deliver the baby and it's handed to him and she looks so small in his hands o(*////▽////*)q

Tears fill his eyes and he feels his cold heart thaw a little more

He gets leave for a little while to take care of you and the baby

He doesn't want to leave you two but you reassure him that you know his work is important

You make him promise to always come back to the two of you

The little girl grows up looking up to Ghost a lot and he feels he doesn't deserve it but loves it anyway

Whenever he comes back, he wants to spend as much time with the two of you as possible

He sends her letters that you read to her before bed

She helps you make care package and includes her drawings

A third picture is put into the pocket, one with all three of you

He brags about all of his daughters accomplishments to his teammates

Imagine one day he decides to surprise her at school when he comes back home

So after you drop her off, you go and pick Ghost up

The two of you go to her school and the teacher sends her to the principal's office

Ghost is waiting there with you, uneasy about being around so many people but when he sees his little girl? He is GONE

She comes in and immediately brights, running to her dad

Immediately drops to his knees to hug her when she comes running at him

Hugs her so close, then stands and goes over and grabs you too

He has never been this happy to be home

[bottledwhiskey]

They’re rotting my mind

[analogh0rror]

RAHHHHH GhostSoap nation

[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.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

A Gift for Simon

Warnings: No Thoughts – Only Fluff, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Imagine you go up to Simon and you present him with an Altoid tin wallet. “I remember you saying your wallet broke the other day, so I thought maybe you could use this one until you got a new one :-).”

And you pass him a tiny little tin that, initially, leaves Simon both curious and confused. When he opens it, however, his breath catches in his throat, his heart stutters.

It’s perfectly furnished inside, tailored to his exact tastes based on morsels of information you’ve either discovered by accident or Simon has told you. You’ve made a little velvet pocket in the lid, the material Simon’s favourite colour, “So you can put your emergency money in there. I always put my coins in mine in case I need to get the bus home or buy some milk,” you tell him.

The idea of you doing something so domestic and, in some vein, humble, only endears you more to Simon. He should be taking you places; you shouldn’t be using your own money when you have him.

He says none of this, of course.

The other half is decorated with a quote cut out from his favourite book, stuck behind a fresh tube of chapstick and an elasticated hoop for him to put his house key in.

He wonders if you know his lips are chapped, whether you’ve looked at them as often as he finds himself watching yours whenever you accost him, privilege him with your time.

Regardless of how close the two of you are, whether you’re just acquainted neighbours or the closest of lovers, all Simon wants to do is wrap his arms around you and hold you as tight as you’ll allow. He wants to keep you all to himself, keep your kindness all for him, selfish in his endeavour to hide it from everyone else.

He knows it will be his undoing — this act of generosity you have bestowed unto him. But he can’t bring himself to fault it, even down to the idea that perhaps you expect something back from him. He’ll gladly give you anything you want if only you ask.

But you didn’t. You just smiled, bade him goodbye, and left to go about your day.

Not that you’d notice, but Simon held off on getting a new wallet for some time after that. Whenever you asked him, he’d tell you it slipped his mind, that the wallet you gave him is doing a good job anyway. Why put all the time you spent on it to waste, he thinks. And one day, he hopes he can say it, tell you to your face how his heart flurries, stutters whenever his fingers brush over that tiny tin wallet, whenever he holds it, Thumbelina in his behemoth hands. He feels your fingers there, painstaking piecing together a dream into this physical form, gossamer in its beauty, perishable in its disposition. Warm, warmth like he’s never known, and care. It’s visceral, palpable, and Simon holds it in his hand and never lets go. Not so long as he has breath in his body.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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[zombinx]

they're lovers

[mykneeshurt]

Reflection

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, explicit smut, slight degradation, slight humiliation, all acts in this fic are consensual (taking part in any BDSM acts requires strict consent, safe words and aftercare)

———

You sighed as you turned off the shower, your body once warm from the water now cold. Droplets of water littered your skin as you reached for your towel. Wrapping it around yourself you could feel the fibres caressing your skin. You moisturised, towel dried your hair and cleaned your teeth, now feeling fully relaxed.

‘Simon!’ You called out, ‘showers free!’ But there was no response. ‘Simon?’ You called out again. Nothing. Feeling a little apprehensive you walked from the bathroom to your bedroom. ‘Simon? What’s the matter?’ He was sat slumped against the side of your four poster bed. Knees bent, resting his arms on them, fingers dangling as he stared at the floor.

He was home from a four month mission, you didn’t want to think about what he’d seen. What he’d done. He often zoned out when he came home, for the first few days at least. You approached him from the side, careful not to spook him, unsure of where his mind had taken him.

Crouching down you slid your arm around his shoulders, fingertips tracing each crease of his muscles. ‘Simon?’ You whispered, your other hand cupping his cheek as you pulled him to look at you. He looked tired. So tired. ‘It’s me. Are you ok?’ As he locked eyes with you he relaxed into the palm of your hand. Eyes softening.

‘I’m fine sweetheart. Just tired.’ His voice was quiet, but his eyes lit up at your touch, finally feeling your skin on his. Kissing his forehead you held him briefly, ‘come on, shower. I’ll order pizza.’ As you went to stand he pulled you in between his legs, pinning your back against his broad chest. ‘Simon! What’re you doing?’ You squealed, unable to contain your laughter.

Burying his lips into your neck he inhaled ‘fuck I’ve missed you sweetheart.’ You hummed as he littered your skin with gentle kisses. You’d missed him too. His smell, his smile, they way he’d hold you when you stirred in your sleep.

Stretching an arm he trailed his fingers along your barely covered thigh. ‘What’s under the towel?’ He purred as he nipped your ear. ‘You know damn well what’s under the towel’ you laughed, hitting his leg.

‘Show me.’

‘Are you being serious?’

‘Deadly.’

Undoing your towel it fell to your sides, exposing your naked body. Your breasts, your stomach, thighs. ‘Open your legs sweetheart’ he whispered, his breath tickling your neck. Suddenly feeling shy, you felt a heat rise to your cheeks, subconsciously tightening your thighs together. ‘I said, open your fucking legs.’

Using his boots he hooked them under your calves, spreading you open before him. Your stomach flipped as your heart pounded within you. Blood running hot at your vulnerable position. Using his free hand he snaked it up your throat, applying the smallest amount of pressure with his palm. His fingers wrapped around your jaw forcing you to stare directly at yourself in the floor length mirror.

Dragging a finger along your bottom lip he placed a delicate kiss behind your ear, his umber eyes stared at you from behind your head. ‘Look at that’ he drawled, voice low and thick, ‘so fucking pretty.’ Your breathing increased ten fold, nipples erect in the cool bedroom air, mouth suddenly dry. ‘Si-‘ you tried to whisper but he cut you off. ‘Shh shh shh’ he cooed, ‘wanna see this pretty little pussy pulse for me.’

Feeling your core clench you slightly rolled your hips, feeling a pressure already building. ‘Did my little whore like that? Does she want me to touch her?’ His words punched you over and over again, hearing him degrade you ignited a fire you never knew raged within you. ‘Fuck … yes’ you whimpered, voice shaking.

‘Yes what?’

‘Yes sir.’

Pulling your head right back he pressed his lips against yours, you felt him smile into the kiss. His fingertips still lingered on your jaw, moving in tandem with the kiss. His tongue was demanding yet gentle, a clear juxtaposition, just like him. Pulling away, he left his lips lingering over yours ‘cinnamon.’

You nodded in understanding, ‘cinnamon.’

Your safe word.

‘I want you to watch as I make your pussy scream’ he whispered as he dropped his hand from your jaw, still keeping you pinned to his burly chest. He hovered his middle finger over your slit, you flinched, feeling the electricity from him already. With one long languid stroke he gathered your arousal on his finger, your jaw fell slack as a deep moan exuded from your chest. Placing his finger on your tongue, you swirled your tongue around it. Tasting yourself.

‘Good girl, so obedient.’ This time he added his ring finger, gathering your arousal once more. He then settled on your clit, it was sensitive and firm. He drew small circles with his fingertips, watching as you squirmed beneath him. You dug your nails into his thighs, breath catching in your throat with every movement.

‘Fuck … Simon, please’ you groaned, back arching from his chest. ‘Tsk tsk, begging already, such a pathetic little slut aren’t you?’ He mocked.

‘Yes’ you just about managed to say in between breaths. ‘Yes what?’ He questioned as he tapped your weeping cunt. ‘Ah! Fuck, yes sir!’ Slapping it again he used his tongue to lick along your neck, causing you to shudder.

With no warning he plunged his two fingers into you, stretching your pussy open. ‘Would y’look at that? Greedily little thing’ he smirked. He thrust his fingers at a punishing pace, using a come hither motion as he massaged your core. You tried your best to keep your eyes on yourself, but it felt so good. Throwing your head back onto his shoulder, eyes screwed shut as he fucked you with his fingers.

The sound of your arousal filled the room, followed by your moans of pleasure. ‘Fingers are fuckin soakin love, that all f’me?’

‘God yes, all for you’ you panted. The cold air kissed your centre between each thrust, adding a new sensation amongst the already sensitive nerves.

Feeling your pussy getting tighter he added his thumb to your clit, pushing, urging you to find your climax. ‘Eyes on me’ he ordered, knowing you were close. Your head felt heavy as your core began to tighten, unable to open your eyes. Removing his fingers he slapped your pussy again before grabbing your jaw, the forceful movement causing your eyes to snap open.

‘Keep your fuckin eyes on me sweetheart’ he said sternly, ‘I want you to look at me when I allow you to cum.’ You wanted to cum so badly, you were so close, so fucking close. You nodded in his grip, eyes dropping to his lips before he pointed your face back at the mirror. You could feel his engorged cock at the small of your back, desperately wanting to feel it inside you.

As he pushed his fingers back inside you whimpered, feeling full once more. ‘This little slut gonna cum on my fingers?’

‘Yes’ you panted.

‘You gonna be a good little whore and lick your cum off my fingers?’

‘Fuck .. si … yes’ you whispered as you bit your lip, eyes locked with his in the mirror.

‘Atta girl, that’s it, give it to me.’

Adding his thumb back to your clit, your orgasm hurtled towards you. Muscles tense, toes pointed, back arched, you fought to keep your eyes open as you tipped over the edge. With a final thrust of his fingers and a swipe of this thumb you came, and you came hard. There was a gushing noise as you felt liquid drip from your core, your ass and thighs were soaking with your cum.

‘Oh fuck’ he whispered from behind you. Licking your lips you smiled, feeling complete and utter bliss. Turning your head you met his lips, kissing him deeply. He removed his hand and placed his fingers in between you, as you both cleaned your arousal off together. Tongues swiping over one another as you tasted your juices, strings of saliva connecting you both.

Once he felt his fingers were sufficiently clean he kissed your forehead tenderly. Wrapping both arms around you as he hugged you from behind. ‘Now i think I’m ready for pizza’ he smiled.