#ghost riley

[oceantornadoo]

part one

it had been a year since johnny died, but simon still heard him everywhere. incessant talking in the early mornings while he watered the horses and shook the slumber out of his head. low curses when the weather turned unexpectedly, delaying simon’s journey to his new wife yet again. and of course, johnny’s voice was right there as simon tongue fucked the woman that should have been johnny’s wife.

you had been easy to corral, all jitters and doe eyes like a newborn calf. the rifle had been easy to grab out of your hands, the door easy to push through. he’d muttered about johnny dying a year ago, about his will leaving all his property to simon, including you. you were trying to push against simon’s shoulders, all “if you don’t step back, i’ll scream,” and “i’m not johnny’s property to give away, mister!” simon shushed you with a hand over your mouth, lifting you up onto the kitchen table, nearly knocking off the dough you’d left out to rise.

“his wife, my property, sweetheart. up y’ go.” he’d rucked up your night shift to your thighs, the leather of his belt cold to your sensitive skin. “don’t mess up that dough or i’ll have your head.” he grunted, one hand leaving your hip to move the bowl out of your way. “now why aren’t you a flighty virgin, hm? not nearly scared ‘nough of a stranger in your house.” his hands encircled your waist, tracing the curves of your body, memorizing it.

“aren’t you s’pposed to be my husband, not a stranger?” sharp lass, l.t. she’ll keep you on your toes. johnny was there, sitting on a kitchen stool, a glass of whiskey in his hand. simon tried to keep his hands steady and ignore him, rolling up your shift to your pretty pussy. he heard johnny groan and matched it with a growl of his own. “shut up.” you gasped, smacking the side of his head. “i didn’t say anythin’!” he kissed your cunt once, twice, thrice as an apology. “not you, baby. let me keep goin’.” you huffed, crossing your arms so he couldn’t see your pointed nipples. “if you want to be my husband, you gotta do better than that.” and simon swore he would.

western au appetizer bc i’m too hormonal to write smut rn.

tag list!

@chickennn-soupp

@vmaxis

@samanthamarkle92

@scottpilgrimvsmyfists

[call-of-duty-incorrect-quotes]

Rookie05: How’s it like being part of Sergeant MacTavish's training group?

Rookie01: We can’t complain.

Rookie05: Oh, he’s a nice instructor, then?

Rookie01: No. We literally can’t complain.

Soap is looking at them from a distance while Ghost sharpens his knife.

[daydreamerwoah]

Working Late

Summary: Simon's working late so you take him more than dinner

MDNI - Smut - 18+

It wasn't unusual for Simon to work late. He was a Lieutenant after all. Paperwork and reports needed to be completed, and there were nights that he hated calling or texting you that he wouldn't be home for dinner. But that never bothered you. You knew what his job consisted of, and no matter how many times he apologized in his own way for having to work so much, you always reminded him that you understood his work sometimes had to come first.

However tonight, you were horny. You had been horny all afternoon, waiting for him to come home. But now he was stuck at his office, texting you through the evening that he missed you and couldn't wait to come home to you, even if you'd be sleep when he got there.

As soon as you finished dinner, a mischievous idea popped into your head.

************************************************************************

Simon was signing papers and filling out forms when a soft knock came from the other side of his office door. He drew his eyebrows together as he looked at the time on the computer screen; 8:42pm. It wasn't super late, but the rest of 141 had left over an hour ago.

"Come in," he said as he set his pen down.

You opened the door and walked in with a smile on your lips. Simon's face was hidden behind his hard shell mask, but his eyes lit up when he saw you. You had a plate of food that was wrapped was in one hand while you closed his door with the other.

"Sweetheart. What're y'doin' here?" he asked, amused at you standing in his office and quickly pulling off his mask.

"Thought I'd bring you dinner. Don't want you to go too long without eating." You raised the plate up a little to show him.

A small smile spread across his lips as he leaned back in his chair while you walked to his side and set the plate on his desk.

"Thank you love," he softly said as he looked at you adoringly. He didn't even hesitate as he held his hand out for you to take, and when you did, he swiftly pulled you into his lap, sitting sideways. He gave you a sweet peck on the lips, "I don't deserve you."

You playfully scoffed, "Don't say that, yes you do Si."

He hummed as he scanned your face, taking in your features as he gazed at you. He slowly leaned in to give you another kiss, this time his hand sliding up your body to the back of your head as he pulled you closer to him. He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, silently asking you to open your mouth; you did immediately. The wet feeling of his tongue on yours instantly made you moan, causing Simon's other hand that was around your waist to squeeze the plush hips. Both of your hands snaked into his hair as you passionately made out.

When you both pulled away for air, your lips were swollen from his lightly biting and sucking on them. "Stand up," he commanded, smirking at you. You did as you were told, facing him as he continued leaning back in his chair, eyes raking up and down your figure; a dark and smug look in his eyes.

His eyebrow quirked up as a low hum came from the back of his throat, "Unbutton your coat sweetheart." He said.

You blushed, a little embarrassed that you were caught so early. Simon was an SAS soldier; 141; he was trained to pick up on little things like the long coat that you had on and knee-high boots.

"You thought I wouldn't notice what y'had on?" He teased, "Should know me better than that love." Your hands came up and slowly unbutton each section, revealing the black lingerie two-piece set underneath. The coat slid off of you, making Simon's brown eyes darken even more as he eyed you up and down slowly. His look alone made a damp spot in your panties as your bit your lip and smirked at him. You wanted to please him so much.

You softly dropped your knees in front of him, making him spread his legs further. Hands slowly raking over his uniform pants, you rubbed over his thighs and hips; purposely skipping over his growing bulge that was forming. Another deep hum came from his throat as you glanced up at him with sultry eyes.

"Can I?" You innocently asked.

Any other time he would have found it cute, but he knew you were anything but that right now. You were going to drive him mad if you stopped. He nodded and you quickly made work of undoing his belt and pants. He helped you as he raised his hips up and slid his pants and boxer down to his thighs, freeing his hard cock. You softly took him in your hand, the size of him always somewhat surprising you at how big he was.

You must have been staring longer that you thought, when you felt Simon's hand move your hair over your shoulder and set his hand in the spot between your neck and shoulder. You glanced at him, not breaking eye contact, as you stuck your tongue out and licked the tip of his cock softly. His eyes narrowed slightly and his hand quickly grabbed the back of your neck.

"Don't tease me sweetheart," he demanded.

You giggled before gathering spit in your mouth and slowly taking him into your mouth. A long sigh left his lips, but his grip remained tight on your neck as you continued pushing his cock toward the back of your throat. He stretched your mouth so well every time you went down on him and you felt the drool from your cunt gather more in your panties.

You knew it would only be a matter of time before he pulled your lips away from him and he'd stuff you deep and full with his cock. Your plan working out perfectly.

Still trying to work on writing smut better lol!

MDNI + Smut + 18+

@whataneed @romanceloverrrr

[guppybibi]

(i've never tried a pomegranate before & it looks noms)

Simon Riley who is oddly similar to a pomegranate.

It's not the most common comparison you'll see, but who can blame anyone when his hands are stained with red, much like the tart fruit. It takes quite a while to peel a pomegranate without the right methods, no? Same goes for Simon, it'll take a decent amount of time for him to unravel and unveil his true self to you, to anyone in general. You'll have to go through a hard pericarp before you can even get to the spongy mesocarp, rock hard walls formed through years of..issues let's say.

But good things do take time, the best crops of pomegranates don't take 5-6 years for nothing after all. The name possibly stemmed from the French word for fruit, pomme-grenade, fitting isn't it? And Ghost in particular considered himself a dead man, lacking a soul as he roams around the world as a shell of a man. Good thing (not really..), the pomegranate was considered the 'fruit of the dead', believed to have sprung from the blood of Adonis.

uhh and they're yummy pls pls someone buy me one

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Mine

Two sides of the same coin. Two pieces of the same puzzle.

I won't stop posting my shitty things. Deal with it. And eff you.

[darkstrawberrytimetravel]

Why don't you just give in. Pt.5

Fem reader

18+, rough handling, fingering,

Pt.4

Riley

He groans loudly and kicks his leg out, kicking the front passenger seat of the taxi.

“Oi! Mate, pack it in otherwise I'm bootin’ you out. Can bloody well walk home.” The cabby driver snaps as he eyes him in the rear view mirror.

“Alright, alright, sorry mate.” Riley raises his hands to placate the driver. Relaxing back into his seat and crossing one leg over the other he stares out the window. The drive doesn't take long, the housing estate he resides in being closer to the town centre than the outskirts. The driver barely has time to pull the handbrake up before Riley chucks a few notes at him, barely wincing at the night time surcharge, before swiftly exiting the taxi and stalking up to his front door. Letting himself in, he shrugs off his jacket and shoes as in the small hallway before climbing the stairs and straight into the shower.

Standing under the hot spray he leans his forehead against the tile wall and shuts his eyes, though doing so turns into a big mistake. As soon as his lids meet it's like the lights go off in a cinema auditorium, images dance over the forefront of his mind of you and him. His nose trailing down the column of your neck as your back arches under his touch, his tongue tracing your areola before his teeth tug on your hardened nipple. Your laugh as he lazily kisses you when you wake, the sounds of rain outside as you both lay on opposite ends of his couch, legs entwined, while you both read. Coming up behind you as you make a cup of tea for the two of you, his hands resting on your hips and his mouth finds the soft skin of your neck, trailing up to your ear as he finally whispers those three little words. I love you. He nearly rips the handle off the valve as he turns the water off and steps out.

Not now, I can't think of you. Why do you fucking haunt me. It's been months and you clearly just wanted my cock.

Drying himself he dresses in a pair of sweatpants, forgoing boxers. He walks downstairs and into the kitchen, pouring himself a double bourbon he takes it through to the lounge. Parking out on the sofa he sits in the dark, downing the drink and pulling up his phone. He pauses, as he places the glass on the coffee table, hoping the moment gives him time to really think about what he's about to do, to stop himself.

“I'm too fuckin’ weak for my own good.” He mumbles, opening the locked folder in his photos app as he tortures himself further, scrolling through the hundreds of saved photos of you, of the two of you. Lights shine through the front window, almost blinding him and he glances up, frowning as a car uses his drive to turn. Blinking the bright dots away he realises someone is climbing out, it's a taxi. That someone is walking up to his front door. That someone looked like they're wearing a hoodie and jeans shorts. It's like the air is stolen from the room, his heart races as he realises it's you. Like a prayer he'd never had the courage to utter is answered, and there you are on his property.

It's like a dream, and he practically glides out the front room and back into the small hallway to his front door, opening it just as you raise your hand to knock. Your eyes are slightly glazed, your hair tousled. Not styled but clearly raked through as you would normally do when you're nervous.

“Hey.” A simple statement. Breathy, soft like a whisper almost.

“Why are you here?” His jaw set, eyes narrowing.

“I… miss you, I wanted to-” You're nervous, your fingers play with the zipper of your hoodie.

“I'm not your fucking booty call, not the person you come to for a quickie.” He practically barks, fuck his thoughts tonight. Fuck that weak moment he'd allowed himself as he revisited the good times. Closing the door in your face he goes to turn but the door doesn't shut all the way, it stops abruptly. Glancing down he notices your foot in the door frame.

“I love you.” It rushes out your mouth, as if the words themselves were living entities you couldn't control. Your fingers curl around the door frame as you try to push it further, to see him.

He stands there, his heart racing. I love you. It echoes in his mind. Those words he so longed to hear all those months ago. A year ago. Why has it taken so long? Why now? Instead of joy, anger rises up. The door flies open as he pulls it roughly, grabbing you by the fabric of your clothing and hauling in you. He catches you as you stumble, kicking the door shut being you and enveloping you. Left hand gliding up your nape to your hairline as his fingers comb through and tugging you to him, right hand wrapping around your lower back and his mouth crashes into yours. He groans, pulling you hard against him as the kiss is fierce and all encompassing as he pours all his heartbreak into it. He feels your hands wrap around him, your right hooked around his neck and your left sliding across his rib cage and resting between his shoulder blades. You taste sweet, not just the alcohol. But his favourite taste, barring one other.

The anger catches up to him and he stumbles forward with you, you almost fall onto the carpeted stairs before he pulls you up and rights you. Pulling away he draws in a lung full of air. His chest heaving with how heavy the kiss was.

“You love me? You?” It's almost a growl, how deep and low his voice is. He doesn't give you time to answer before he spins you in place, your back now to him. He yanks your shorts and underwear down in one fell swoop, they fall to your ankles, before his left hand wraps around your jaw and the right rests against your navel.

“You love me?” His grip on your jaw tightens as he roughly turns you to face him over your shoulder. His hand glides down to your pussy, sliding his finger between your lips he feels how slick you are. Only then does he take notice of your ragged breaths, how your chest heaves. It's like liquid fire erupts in his belly, spreading low and he feels his cock harden almost painfully.

“I do I'm sorry-”

“You're sorry? Fucking what? You fucking haunt me, made me fall in love with you, chew me up and then spit me out.” He pushes you forward onto the stairs, planting his left hand between your shoulder blades, the fingers of his right find your pussy again, he doesn't waste any time before pushing one in. He feels you go rigid before a whimper falls from your mouth. He finds that sweet spot right away, almost like no time has passed, and he curls his finger. You moan and arch your back in response.

“Oh you like that?” He keeps his voice level. Pushing a second in he does the same, curling and then pumping them in and out of you slowly.

“Jesus fuck Simon…” it comes out shaky, your fingers curling and uncurling against the edge of the step your face rests against.

“So tight, so wet, love.” He leans forward, nose in your hair, smelling you before his mouth finds the lobe of your ear.

“You think-” he fingers work inside you, curling and pumping into you as he feels you tighten around him “-you can just come in here, to my home.” He pauses as your body starts to shake, he knows you're close. “In the middle of the fucking night. And tell me that? What fucking use is it now?” Just as you let go he pulls out of you and slaps your ass hard. You're a mess, shaking on his stairs under him.

“Please Simon…” you murmur, he can hear the disappointment in your voice. Are you disappointed because he withheld your orgasm? Or because you can't suck up to him?

Bringing his fingers to his mouth he sucks your taste off of him, stifling a groan at the taste, his favourite taste. It's been too long. But he's too fucking angry with you. Keeping his left hand between your shoulder blades his right slides up and wraps around your hair, fisting it as he yanks you backwards against him. “Why should I believe you? You're a fucking coward, only ever here for my cock. Never said a word to me this whole time, and now you turn up in the middle of the fucking night.” He feels your back against his chest, even through your clothes he can feel the rapid fire beat of your heart.

“Si… just please. Listen to me. Just… give in this one time. Give me a chance.” you murmur, he feels your head turn against his, like you're searching for his eyes over your shoulder but it's too dark, and you're both so so close.

[ebodebo]

i can’t choose between english and history???

[milksergeant]

I tried 💀

[certifiedyapperx]

imagine you’re dating ghost and no one knows. the two of you have kept it a secret on your end and his just for your protection— because ghost knows what could happen if someone finds out, how someone might try and target you to get to him, or worse, given his line of work.

but then imagine that he’s on a mission, interrogating some piece of filth ready to decorate the fucking wall with his brain matter when the guy says “you know what, simon, killing me would be the biggest mistake of your life.”

immediately ghost would pause, eyes narrowed, though his hardened demeanour wouldn’t fade much, he’d just blankly stare at the prick like “oh yea? n’ why don’ you tell m’ why.”

the shit-eating grin that would crawl across that fuckers lips would have ghost ready to kill him right then and there, but then he’d say “reach in my pocket. pull out my phone.”

id like to think ghost would have absolutely none of this assholes bullshit, not at all entertained by his theatrics. i’d like to think he’d just press the muzzle of his gun to the fuckers temple within an instant, all teeth barred and ready to get it over with when the guy would add,

“your girlfriend is a fucking beauty, isn’t she?”

everything would pause. ghost, time, the world, air, the universe itself—the life that would drain from ghosts face would almost be enough to make his alias a reality. his heart pounding in his throat, his fingers fucking trembling as he immediately reached into the assholes pocket to find his phone—a picture of a woman tied up (face not in view however) lighting up on the home screen. there’d be no thinking rationally, no thoughts in ghosts head except for making sure you were fucking okay. he’d do whatever he’d have to do, kill the guy, leave him strapped there, whatever—he’d be out of that room in two seconds flat and personally flying the helicopter back to your house calling you nonstop every fucking second until you answered.

“hello? si?”

he’d wait a second before answering. taking everything in. background noises, the inflection of your voice. it sounds calm, maybe too calm? he’s grasping his phone so fucking hard it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered between his fingers.

“princess,” he breathes, fighting with everything in him to keep his voice steady. “see any birds today?”

though it was a genuine question, it also was an established one. ghost had set up a series of questions for a situation precisely like this. if you said blue jay, it meant you were fine, at home, as usual. if you said crows, it meant you weren’t.

“oh just the usual blue jays, si.” he could almost hear the smile on your lips. “everything okay? i miss you.”

ghost would exhale a shattered breath. “i’m coming home.”

and then he’d show up, not all but a few hours later, hands still trembling slightly, heart rate still struggling to regulate. it was too much, reminding him too much of his past traumas, he knew he needed to find better protection for you, but that was a conversation for another time.

he’d come in the house, barely even taking the time to shut the door behind him, almost frenzied again, relentless, unable to relax until he could finally lay eyes on you. and then, the second he did, he’d just pause and look at you, all messy hair and pyjamas still on, in the kitchen cooking breakfast for you both since you knew he was on his way.

and he wouldn’t say a goddamn word, he’d just come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you so tight you’d hardly be able to breathe, his face buried in your hair and his heart thumping at your back. you’d feel the pain the fear the anxiety radiating off him and you wouldn’t try to say anything because you knew he needed this, you knew he needed to see you, hold you, feel your pulse stable and alive. you knew he just needed a moment to breathe.

and so the two of you would stand there like that for a while, and then he’d take a big inhale and spin you around to face him, pulling up his mask to plant soft kisses on your jaw.

“i love you so fuckin’ much.”

[skyrigel]

Simon's the one to take words for what they are, not that you mind but sometimes it gets so freaking cute that you just wanna tackle the big muscular man and pull his cheeks and bump his nose and kiss him hard while calling him all those cute silky names.

So it happened like that, you were out of milk and cereal was already in your bowl, one look at Simon and he was getting his keys.

“Take care, love.” You called after him, returning to your milk-less bowl and colourful cereals.

Five minutes later your phone buzzed with your boyfriend's caller id, a smile crossed your face as you picked up.

“Hello...I reached safely baby.” He said, a breath, “ I took care.” and there was dead silence except a mother scolding her toddler nearby, No, put it down...Asher put. It. Down.

“Okay babe.” you closed your eyes, stomach getting giddy, this man was gonna be the death of you, just AHHHHHHHH!!!!

“Want anything else, Cupcake ?” You can already imagine him filling cart with all of your favourite snacks, him asking was jus' mere courtesy.

“ No, just milk...wait bring ice cream too and maybe some pasta for dinner.” You are gonna treat him so right, you thought, like he deserves and just he comes back home to you, you are gonna take real good care of him.

“Also Simon baby, take care of yourself for me, right ?”

“Right...I will.” and you know he's blushing.

Masterlist

[amaranthinespirit]

you go to get your clit pierced and simon riley's your piercer

when you first came into his shop, his ears perked up at the sound of the little bell above the door that signaled a new person had entered. when he glanced up from his current client, he wasn't sure what to expect.

maybe he was thinking a returning customer, or a person already adorned with piercings and tattoos ready to add onto their body mods, or someone who fit into the dark, low-light theme of the parlor.

but you. you were the opposite of what he was picturing.

he thought his eyes were deceiving him when he shot a quick glance to where you stood, door barely closed behind you. he had to do a double take because you just looked so out of place with your frilly white shorts and big doe eyes.

his eyes had skillfully scanned your appearance—your skin clear and void of any visible tattoos, no obvious piercings visible to his keen eyes. you even lacked piercings on your ears as he eyed the way you tucked your mousy hair behind them.

he studied you—the way you seemed to be nervous, anxious. by the way you looked, he assumed you wanted a basic piercing. something on the ears, maybe a nose piercing, or as far as a belly button piercing.

luckily for you, he had just finished up on the current client in his chair when you had arrived, just about finished with cleaning them up before charging them and sending them on their way.

you watched the way he approached the counter, peeling the latex from his massive hands as he slipped behind it. he tossed the gloves into the bin under the desk before his arms crossed against his chest—he didn't mean to be intimidating, it was just second-nature at this point.

it didn't help you were exactly eye level with his tatted forearms, the way his tight, black shirt stretched around his beefy biceps, clung to his chest and abdomen. his head tilted at you, narrowing his eyes in a watchful, curious gaze. he watched you rock on the balls of your feet under his eyes.

"what can'i do f' ya today, lov?" his voice was deep and gruff, a slight rasp in the way he spoke. in every way, he matched his environment.

when you muttered quietly about how you hoped he had time to do a piercing for you, a smug smile rose on his lips.

truthfully, no. he didn't have time for anyone else, but for you, he would. so he simply nodded, dropping his arms down to his sides, "'course, 've got some time. what'cha lookin' to get done?"

he was waiting for something along the lines of 'an ear piercing,' or 'a nose piercing please.' so when you shyly looked up at him with those big eyes of yours, telling him how you were looking to get a clit piercing, his eyes betrayed a look of surprise and shock.

he raised a brow, clearing his throat, "is that right?"

he watched your small nod and he hummed, nodding back to you as he thought it over in his head. his heart thumped in his chest, certainly not expecting a pretty thing like you to be asking him for such a piercing.

but who was he to say no?

so he nodded his head to follow him before he guided you to a room in the back for some privacy. he gestured for you to get situated on the little table in the small room while he grabbed a sterile needle and new gloves.

but you were nervous, so you stood awkwardly beside it as you watched him, his back turned to you as he finished the prep.

when he turned around, seeing your nervous stature, his gaze softened and posture relaxed as he waved you over with his fingers, guiding you to sit at the edge of the table as his gloved hands came to rest on your hips.

he pushed you onto your back with a gentle hand on your stomach, muttering to relax as he tugged down your little shorts around your plush thighs.

he hummed appreciatively at the damp spot on your panties, feeling his cock chub up at the sight, twitching in his grey sweatpants that already showed too much.

he leaned closer, glancing to the needle on his little table beside him before looking back between your legs. carefully his gloved fingers peeled aside your little lace panties, exhaling shakily at the slick that stuck to the fabric.

he carefully thumbed over the sensitive flesh, hearing the small gasps from your lips and the way your breath hitched at the contact, the way your hips unintentionally rolled closer to his hand.

he hummed again, nodding as he examined, "got some perfect anatomy for it, sweet'eart," he told you, glancing up at your face before pinching the sensitive bud, reaching over with his other hand to grab what you thought was his needle, "gonna look all nice and pretty when 'm done with ya."

you let out a strained noise in response, the sound shaky in your throat as you prepared for the needle to pierce your sensitive clit. you flinched at the feeling of something cool rubbing your glistening pussy, a huffed chuckle escaping his lips. the deep sound did nothing to sooth your nerves.

"relax, lovie," he cooed, tossing the little sanitizing cloth back on the table, "i'll give ya a countdown if yer feelin' nervous 'bout it, 'kay?"

he felt you relax under his hand as he reached for the needle. his fingers were steady as he hovered over your cunt, watching the goosebumps on your thighs at the feeling of his warmth breath against your skin and wet pussy.

a smirk etched on his face as he mumbled a countdown before plunging the needle into your sensitive flesh, expertly piercing it as he felt your body shudder under his hands. the involuntary moan that slipped past your lips was better music to his ears than the band that blasted over the speakers, and it didn't take an expert to know the piercing had given you an orgasm—that he had made you come so easily.

he shushed you, now adding the little jewelry as his thumb caressed your inner thigh, that trembled under his palm, to distract you as he grabbed another little sanitization cloth to clean up any blood spilt.

he let you sit like that, panties pulled to the side in consideration of the new sensitivity to your poor clit—though you weren't sure the cold air that blew against your sopping cunt would've been better or worse than having put your panties back on properly. he stood up and peeled the gloves from his hands.

he watched the way your chest heaved up and down, a smug smile still etched his features as he cleaned up the station, a hand on your hip as he caressed your skin softly. soon after, he pulled his hand away and disappeared out of the room, temporarily leaving you alone.

a frown made its way to your face as he left—how rude of him to leave you after he just made you orgasm from a piercing!

but that thought was quickly changed when he reemerged with a cold bottle of water in hand and little package of sweets—he wouldn't tell you that they were originally his so you wouldn't feel bad.

he set them by your head, his hand trailing across your hip before resting on your plush tummy—occasionally slipping further up under your shirt—as he kneaded the fat under his palms, muttering praises to you as you calmed down.

once you did, you slowly sat up and fixed up your panties and shorts, hissing at the sensitive feeling of the fabric rubbing against your flesh, causing his eyes to crease with a smile.

simon picked up the bottle of water again and opened it with ease, holding it out to you to take, which you did. you muttered a small 'thanks' and he just hummed in response as you gulped down nearly the whole bottle.

while you sat, recovered, and ate his sweets, he went over the aftercare for your piercing—he even offered to check up on it himself! how sweet of him, really!

but of course he was sweet with you, considering how much of a doll you were to pierce! and no way would he let you pay, as long as you let him take you out to dinner tonight?

[call-of-duty-incorrect-quotes]

Soap: Simon, would you still love me if I was a worm?

Ghost: Yes. Would you still love me if you were a worm?

Soap: What?

Ghost: What if you’re not capable of loving me back and you fall in love with another worm? Eh? What then?

[daydreamerwoah]

Hard Time

I had this crazy ass dream last night and well...................... idk lol if it sucks, then I'm sorry yall lmao!

Notes: I have no knowledge on how military police procedures are. Again this just popped in my dream last night for some weird reason that I have no idea of.

Summary: You're married to Simon, and you're trying to take lunch up to his job for him and the rest of 141. But a new MP (Military Police) causes huge drama for you

************************************************************************

You had a day off from work, so you decided to make lunch - sandwiches - for your husband, Simon, and the rest of 141. You even decided to make a sandwich for the lady who worked at the front desk in their building. She was an older woman (maybe in her 50s), retired from the military, and had been doing admin duties such as filing paperwork and such for 141 for a long time.

You and Simon lived off base. His decision when you two got married as he always wanted to keep his personal life and work life separated as much as possible. It wasn't that he was ashamed of you or anything, but him being the infamous Ghost came with the fact that he cared more about your safety than anything in this world. Only maybe a handful of people even knew you were married. Whenever you visited him on base, it was more of what you were doing at that moment - taking him lunch and leaving soon after. No one had ever really seen you with him on base, and they did, Price, Gaz, or Soap was also there so it seemed more of just a friendly conversation you were having.

As you pulled up to the gate and rolled down your window, a young MP walked up to your window and asked for your ID; standard procedure. He scanned it with his device, but as he looked at the screen, his eyebrows drew together. He glanced at you and then back at your ID several times.

"Everything alright?" you asked.

He scanned the ID once more, looking at the screen in confusion, "Ma'am, are you military personnel?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, "I'm sorry?"

"This is a dependent ID card no?"

You nodded. Of course it was your dependent ID. Every spouse, child, or parent of soldiers' who had as a dependent in the system had an ID.

But something was wrong. The MP continued to look at you as if you were lying. "Your ID is not showing the proper identification. I need you to pull over to the side-"

"What?" you cut him off.

What did he mean the proper identification?

"Ma'am.. please pull over to the side now." He said again, a little bit more forceful.

You didn't argue. You knew better to argue. You immediately pulled over to the side lane, the MP walking towards your window again.

"Why isn't your ID showing who your soldier is?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry?" you asked, utterly confused.

"When I scan your ID, it only shows your name and that y're a dependent. It should show more info.... Now who is your soldier?"

You really didn't know what he was talking about. You had come on base plenty of times before in the past, and no other MP had questioned you. You were at a lost for words as he continued to eye you. You tried explaining to him that you were the wife of a soldier who worked on base, but you never said who it was. That was the number one rule; never tell them the name of your husband.

Luck must have been on your side as another MP who was checking IDs yelled at the one at your car what the hold up was. When he yelled back about the ID, the MP rolled his eyes and told him to let you through if the screen approved it. Scoffing, the guy handed you back the card and let you through the gate, not without giving you the deadliest glare.

Strange.

You had never been put in a situation like that before, but ultimately brushed it off as you wanted to get lunch to the boys before the sandwiches got soggy. You pulled into a parking spot in front of the building and grabbed the bag you put the food in, getting out and heading up the steps to the doors.

What you didn't realize, was the MP who had given you a hard time at the gate, had followed you in his cruiser.

Before your hand touched the handle, he yelled out to you. "Ma'am!" You turned your head, eyes widening as you looked at him. Why the fuck was he following you. "I need to see what you have in your bag."

"Excuse me?" you yelled out. "What's your problem?"

"Calm down miss-"

"No why are you following me?"

"All IDs show certain information. Yours doesn't. If you're a spouse, then why doesn't it show who the soldier is that you're married to? Now I need to see what's in your bag."

You rolled your eyes. Why did he keep bringing that up?

What you didn't know, was that high alerts had been put out the day before as discussions were floating around about the threat of a terrorist organization inching closer to military bases in the UK. The MP, while really doing his job with questioning things, had never seen your type of ID before - he had just been transferred a week prior. But Ghost wasn't just any soldier... there was a reason your ID didn't show all of the information.

"It's food. Now leave me the hell alone," you spat before attempting to reach the door handle again.

Before you knew it, the MP had tried to grab your bag. In reflex, you yanked your arm from him. Everything happened too quickly. Next thing you knew, your hands were behind your back, the MP calling over his comms that he was bringing a possible threat to the station. You questioned him multiple times about what the fuck was he doing but gave up when handcuffs were placed on you and you were being pulled toward the back of his cruiser.

************************************************************************

Hilda, the lady who worked at the front desk, just happened to be walking back to her desk when she saw you being placed in the back of the cruiser. Her eyes could have popped out of her head when she saw the scene. She ran out the doors, yelling at MP to tell her what was going on, but he brushed her off, telling her to get back inside the building. She saw the look on your face; terrified.

She rushed back inside just in time to see Soap and Gaz. "Oh thank goodness you're here!" she exclaimed, making the two look at her confused. "Where's Ghost?"

"In a meetin' with Price and that Colonel from the base in London. What's goin' on Hilda?" Gaz asked. It looked like she'd seen a real ghost.

"Y/n was just taken by an MP."

"What?" Soap yelled.

She nodded, and rushed back to her desk to look for something; anything to figure out what the hell was going on.

"Hilda y'sure?" Gaz asked.

"Yes."

Gaz and Soap immediately turned and rushed down the hallway to Price's office. They knew the meeting was important, and debated on how to get Simon out of the meeting without interrupting. This meeting was extremely important as they had been discussing the mission the guys would be sent off to stop the terrorists.

Soap tried texting Simon; not specifically saying what it was but that he needed him to step out in the hall. When 10 minutes passed, they realized he probably didn't have his phone on him.

"Bloody hell," Gaz sighed.

Soap sighed as well before deciding they would go to the base's police station to sort everything out.

************************************************************************

You had been seated in a chair next to the desk where the MP sat. Several other personnel were in the building, yet none of them had paid attention to you. The MP had pulled the contents out of your bag, examining the food like it was poison. He claimed that he would run tests on the food, making sure you weren't trying to give it to someone.

"It's very interesting you were goin' to the building where some of our SAS soldiers are," he commented, eyebrow raised as he glanced at you.

You wanted to scream in frustration. If this was going to happen each time you tried going on base, you'd tell Simon to cut up that damn ID tonight.

A few minutes passed before you heard two voices yelling. They sounded very familiar; the Scottish accent echoing in the building as he demanded where you were. The MP shot out his chair and walked to the front, leaving you in your spot. You heard more yelling from Soap and Gaz; a laugh bubbling up in your chest as they demanded for you to be let go.

When the Police Captain - the man in charge - walked out of his office to the front, he could have yanked the head of the young MP. An SAS soldier's wife was placed in handcuffs.. on his watch? He screamed at the young MP to get the fuck out of the building and go back to his station at the gate, before escorting you to Soap and Gaz; not without apologizing over and over again about the entire situation.

After the three of you made it back to the building, you found yourself tearing up; the whole thing made you feel embarrassed. You only wanted to bring lunch for them, yet the sandwiches were ruined. You tried to forget about the few people who glanced at you in passing while you got put in the back of the cruiser, wondering what was going on.

"We're not lettin 'em get away with this Y/n." Soap said, anger laced in his voice.

Gaz and Hilda were no better as they chimed in about how they'd make sure the MP would pay for what he did. But you weren't concerned about what they wanted to do.... you were more worried about Simon's reaction when you told him.

The last time a soldier gave you a hard time, Simon damn near knocked the soldier out. And it was just because you accidentally bumped into him and the soldier hissed at you to 'watch it'. Simon was walking behind you and witnessed the entire thing. But this? You had no idea what the hell he'd do.

Three voices came around the corner, one you immediately recognized. You knew his voice, and the mere thought of what was about to come made you tear up again. You glanced at Hilda who gave you an encouraging, yet sad smile. She even knew how Simon was.

You quickly wiped your cheeks from the stains as Price, Simon, and the Colonel walked passed you. Simon, surprised to even see you there, immediately noticed your demeanor and face. He was about to stop when the Colonel asked a question as they continued to walk out of the building.

"Don't worry lass. We'll try to make sure he won't kill 'em." Soap said.

It was a joke, but you didn't laugh. Gaz elbowed his rib, getting a wince from him. It wasn't a full minute when Simon marched right back into the building and grabbed your arm, gently guiding you to his office. As soon as the door close he didn't even hesitate.

"What happened?"

You stuttered, "Uh.. okay d-don't get mad Si-"

"Y/n...."

Fuck. You weren't talking to Simon at the moment. You were speaking to Ghost, the L.T., the soldier who killed people for a living.

You proceeded to tell him everything that had happened, and you weren't even halfway into the sentence of when you got placed in the cruiser when he turned around and marched out of his office. You knew exactly where he was going, and you only hoped that Price, Soap, Gaz, and Hilda could calm him down before he killed the MP.

This is so shit omg lol!

[devil-in-hiding]

loser!Simon who the guys tease into approaching you at the pub, snickering amongst themselves as they watch the way Simon stiffly makes his way towards where you sit alone in your little booth

only to stare, gobsmacked 15 minutes later as they watch a very shocked, wide eyed Simon be dragged out of the booth, looking back at them with awe in his eyes as you lead him towards the exit

all he had done was ramble about the latest tea he had tried, asking if you’d like to try it with him sometimes

[angel5ofp0rn]

Price’s children would be pretty well-behaved. Listen to him well, respect their elders, etc.

Gaz’s children would be a bit snobby, really into sports, a bit more hardheaded.

Soap’s kids are little menaces, but have hearts of gold. Would do anything for their family and friends, love their parents more than anything in the world.

Ghost’s children- and they’re all girls- are the most spoiled little divas any of the other guys have ever met. The minute he sees one of their little lips quiver, he’s offering snacks, lollies, money, the shirt off of his back- hell, the shirt off of Soap’s back. Poor guy can’t stand to see his little girls upset.

[sweetnothingtm]

inspired by this video ♡

thinking about biker!simon who meets you one night when your car breaks down on the side of the highway, and you can’t manage to get a tow truck out so late at night - so of course he offers you a ride.

he’d pull up beside you and immediately notice the way you’re pouting and huffing in frustration, whining over the phone about how you’re all alone in the middle of nowhere - and how you can’t afford to call a cab, so surely a gentleman should help a poor girl out. and then simon is sitting on his bike with his arms lazily crossed in front of him leaned forward, killing the engine as he asked you what was wrong.

biker!simon would slip off his gloves and lean over the hood of your car as you meekly explained how you really should have changed your oil sooner - and that you really hate to be such a bother, but could you get a ride home?

he’d tell you that a pretty little thing like you shouldn’t even have to worry about something like this, that he could take you home and make sure you’re all safe and sound - and you think maybe he’s hitting on you, but you’re so shy and maybe he’s just being courteous. strangers normally offer to teach you how to change your oil and that next time they’ll make sure to bring an extra helmet - right?

biker!simon would pat the seat behind him and mumble something along the lines of how he usually rides fast, so you’ll have to hold on tight. biker!simon would offer you his jacket and zip it up for you, practically groaning at the way you bite your lip and avoid his gaze - but that damn helmet is so daunting, and how are you supposed to focus when he smells like pine and tobacco?

you would anxiously say that you’ve never ridden a motorcycle before, how it’s just too intimidating - plus you’ve never met anyone who owned a bike. biker!simon would be smirking under his helmet and humming in satisfaction when your arms tighten around his waist as he weaves between lanes.

biker!simon would hold your thigh the entire ride home - and is it just you or is he gently squeezing your leg while talking about how you’re being such a good girl and that for your first time riding, you’re doing so well?

and when he drops you off at home, biker!simon has his hand rubbing up and down your thigh as his bike idles in your parking lot. he would talk about how he’s so glad to have helped out, and how he’d love to pay for the tow truck - it’s the least he can do when you’ve been such a princess.

even though you insist that it’s just too much, and how you really shouldn’t be accepting such gifts from strangers - he’s done more than enough, and is there anything you can do to make it up to him? but then biker!simon is dismissing your concerns with the wave of a hand, telling you that he’s more than happy to help a doll like you.

biker!simon says something about how you don’t need to be strangers, that you’re just such a sweetheart, and how he’d love to take you out sometime soon. you’d smile sweetly to him and feign consideration for his offer - despite the fact you’ve already made up your mind when you were trying to memorize his tattoos and the way that he’d glance over his shoulder to check on you throughout the drive.

he’d help you off his bike and walk you to your apartment because he wouldn’t want you to get into any more trouble tonight, right? when you shamelessly type your number into his phone, biker!simon is pulling off his helmet to reveal a balaclava that hides nearly everything except two dark eyes and the cocky smirk plastered across his lips. and you’re mesmerized by the way he lowers his voice and leans down to speak to you, one hand gripping his helmet as the other sits on your lower back the whole walk to your apartment.

the next day he’s leaning against his bike outside your building, a cigarette dangling between his fingers as you shyly rock on your feet and stutter over a thousand thank-you’s - and he’s so focused on the way you rub your thighs together and bite your lip that he almost misses when you say that you really can’t thank him enough for everything, and that you really do plan to make it up to him.