#make Simon comment something sweet under them

[justfriendsbestthings]

Parallel universe where Simon and Sara have two mums, Micke is still there but Linda is living her best life after the divorce

[bunnys-kisses]

vegetable patch

hybrid!simon 'ghost' riley

cw: hybrid!au, pwp/smut, breeding, guard dog!simon, bunny!reader, dub-con, outdoor sex

a word from bunny: happy easter! if you like the fic, suggest your own! if you really like the fic, leave a comment! reblogs are always appreciated!

part. 2

what you knew about price's farm was that it had the most lovely heads of lettuce you've ever seen. you also knew that he had two guard dogs who made sure bunnies like you didn't get into the vegetable patch.

but what the farmer grew was much nicer than whatever you could find in the forest. so it was worth it to slip through the fence to get to the bounty of vegetables.

farmer price had two guard dog hybrids. john, also known as soap. and simon, also known as ghost. while john had a louder bark, simon was the one to watch out for.

you had slipped through the fence and kept an eye out for the dogs. with careful steps you did you best to not make footprints in the dirt. you kept your ears low to your head to keep you from being spotted.

"bunny." you heard, a low rumbled of a voice. you looked over and saw the blond. his arms across his chest and his dark eyes gazing down at you.

you swallowed, "hello." you tried to take a step away from him. but ended up face first in the dirt as you tripped over a head of lettuce. you whimpered.

he chuckled, "i can't have you be eatin' that. it's not yours."

you looked up at him, your ears low as you frowned, "you can at least share." but made a sharp noise when simon invaded your space.

he grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, "it'll cost ya." he said in a low voice.

the guard dog had the luxury of clothes, while you were naked. you tried to squirm out of his grasp but you felt his erection up against your ass. he grunted when you accidentally rubbed yourself up against him.

"stay still, bunny." he said as he pushed your further into the dirt, "be good, or i'll have your throat between my teeth."

you whimpered as he got himself undressed. your ears laid flat against your hear out of fear as you felt him push his cock into you. he had you pinned to the dirt as he started to rut against you.

his cock felt huge and like it took up the entirety of your pussy. you moaned and whimpered, your tail twitched as you felt him move his heavy cock in and out of you.

"good little bunny." he growled as he continued to thrust.

you had no defense mechanism, you were a bunny! you felt his heavy balls slap against your ass as he moved. you tried to grip onto him but he kept you under his larger body.

"sweet little bunny." he purred, "perfect for me." his cock throbbed inside of you as you pushed back against him to meet his thrusts.

your head felt like a blur as he fucked you. your back arched as you felt the pleasure in your body from his heavy thrusts. your face was pressed into the soil as he feverishly moved against you.

his cock felt like it was up in your womb, hitting the edge of it. you panted and whimpered like a good bunny and let the dog hybrid pump you full of hot seed.

your pussy clenched around his length and you squirmed a little underneath him. he grumbled something that you didn't pick up but knew it didn't sound good. so you laid there limp to let him do what he wanted.

he gave you a little bit of praise for being such a good girl for him, such a sweet wholesome bunny to let him use your pussy like that. maybe that would teach you not to be sniffing around vegetable patches again.

"ah, please!" you whimpered

"i love the sound of your struggle, bunny." he let go of one of your wrists and tugged on your ears for a moment.

he pulled them back like reigns on a sled and used it as leverage to thrust deeper into of you. you whined and moaned from the feeling as he pushed as deep as he could get inside of you.

it felt like his cock was in your stomach.

it wasn't long before simon's pace started to stutter, you whined into the dirt and arched your back further. you felt sore but yearned for his cock. with another hard thrust, he shoved his cock as far as it would go and finished inside of you.

your mind went blank afterwards.

but soon your heard, "simon what in the hell" farmer price sighed as he saw you in a heap in the soil with your ass up and your little cottontail in the air.

simon looked almost proud of himself as he licked your cum-filled pussy. his hands on the back of your thighs. he then looked to his owner as his tail wagged.

the farmer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "i guess we're keepin' a bunny then." then got off the porch to see the damage the hybrid had done.

you moaned a little when simon got ready to fuck you once more. your little tail wiggled at the anticipation. you moaned when he slid his cock in once more.

price grumbled to himself, "jesus christ, simon. at least get the girl inside the house!"

-

months later you'd find yourself curled up with the guard dog in front of the television on the floor. your belly had filled out with pups, something that left simon quite protective of you. you lived a lavish life for a bunny who was out in the woods.

But now you were inside the house, and you got all the lettuce you wanted. <3

part. 2

[syoddeye]

kentucky

simon x f! reader | 490 words cw: alcohol, simon being a creep, lots of italics, a smidgen of implied stalking a/n: wrote this on my phone at work. been jonesing for an old-fashioned, so this is how i'm dealing with that.

contrary to johnny’s loud and wrong opinions, simon has a life. sure, he spends his leave alone, pursuing hobbies like amateur welding, shooting, and fishing, but he isn’t a complete shut-in. at the supermarket, he spots a flyer for an american bourbon tasting at some pub he’s never visited and decides, why the fuck not.

to his private delight, the host is a cute thing. typical over-friendly american, too casual and familiar with the proprietor. her voice nearly does him in first. a siren if he's ever heard one. greeting him with a melodic drawl, like a lazy river winding through the hills. pictures himself on a porch in the shade with her balanced on his knee, batting at his hands when he slides them under her skirt.

her eyes crinkle with each wide smile, and christ, is she generous with them. makes him feel a bit possessive, how she doles ‘em out. she doesn’t bat an eye when only five souls turn up for the tasting, effortlessly pivoting to cater to a smaller, more intimate setting. sweet and charismatic, effervescent, like she ought to hock champagne instead of whiskey.

introduces herself as an expat and a spirits and beer writer from louisville, and he nearly bites through his tongue to stifle a laugh. unbelievable that he leaves the house one evening, and a fucking angel falls into his lap. well. she’ll end up there eventually, at least. when she floats over, checking in and listening to his seat neighbor’s comments on the first sample, he purrs something about loving kentucky. she laughs like it’s a joke but stops when he sips, swishes, and spits, all without breaking eye contact. after that, she stops approaching his place at the end of the table, but he catches her staring when she thinks he’s not looking.

he sips and noses the rest of the bourbon, inhaling slowly and deeply. susses out the caramel and vanilla notes, the oak and spices. imagines nestling his nose elsewhere, namely the pad of fat above her pussy, and wonders how she’d taste. daydreams about falling face-first into her cunt, her fists grabbing at his ears since his hair’s too short. maybe her cum’s as syrupy as her voice, sweet and honeyed. how heady a scent and flavor, pure fantasy enough to make his cock twitch with interest. he adjusts himself under the table and grins when she stumbles over her parting words.

dismissed, he bides his time just out of sight. doesn’t linger with the others, busy paying her compliments and unwittingly gathering his intel for him. where are you from exactly? how’re you liking the area? you move here with a boyfriend? you’re single? one badgering old broad asks, and when kentucky proudly proclaims she moved to find herself after a break up, he decides it’s fate. 

how convenient, he thinks later, outside her building, that she already has a bottle of his favorite to celebrate the occasion.

[charliemwrites]

Girl rage, girl rage, girl rage!!

CW for Simon being a Jerk and a Creep, mentions of violence and murder, and kidnapping.

One time in high school, there was a boy that wouldn’t leave you alone. You gave him a million chances to knock it off, growing more and more hostile, snapping your teeth. The inappropriate touches in the hall, the lewd comments at lunch breaks, the fucking pictures. Nothing salacious, just long shots of you from afar, trying to go about your day.

One day he reached for your chest and you snapped two of his fingers. His parents wailed that you ruined his rugby career. You told them he should get better at football.

When you’re annoyed, you crack the knuckles of those same fingers on your own hand.

It’s the first thing you do when you wake up in a bare, grey basement, laid on a thin cot on the ground. Pop, pop. Recalibrating your foggy mind.

You don’t quite remember how you got here. Last clear thing is the bar. Doesn’t matter how you got here though, at least for the moment - just that you are here. And you don’t want to be.

You’re handcuffed, chain looped through an exposed pipe above your head. You clink it once, twice. Decide it’s fairly sturdy and take stock of everything else.

Your stomach is a bit tight with nausea - drug induced, you figure. Ugh. And your head aches, nothing a glass of water won’t fix.

But all your clothes are intact, no ache between your thighs or burgeoning bruises on your breasts. No shoes, though. Bummer, you liked those.

You crack the knuckles on your other hand; pop, pop.

You think of the scent of cheap whiskey, shattered glass, policemen wrapping you in a shock blanket. Remember your date chocking on his own vomit in a dark alley, then someone much bigger and stronger grabbing you as you tried to leave.

Hm.

The pipes are warm. You settle back against them and wait.

—

You don’t scream when Simon enters the basement. Don’t make a single peep. You shift against the pipes, tucking your feet under you as he approaches. Your eyes are so big, rounded as you peer up at him through your lashes.

“Such a smart girl,” he coos, “staying quiet for me. Or are you just that scared?”

You blink at him, the tiniest indent dimpling your bottom lip from your teeth. He crouches down in front of you, arms balanced on his knees. You’re curled up so small. He wants to bundle you in his lap, tuck you away.

“It’s alright, little one,” he soothes. “There’s no need to be scared.”

You twitch a bit, the metal cuffs clicking together. He flicks his eyes to them, sighs.

“Those are so that you don’t do something stupid,” he explains patiently. “Like you did earlier.”

A little furrow of confusion creases your brows. He exhales, amused despite himself. So precious, his girl. Like you can’t fathom why he would be upset with you.

“Going out with a strange man.”

He tuts, feels that black rage simmering again, same he felt when he realized you and that slime were no longer at the bar.

“He almost hurt you in that alley,” he reminds, “had he not been so drunk he tripped over his own fucking feet.”

He takes a second to breathe, fingers twitching. They feel too dry, too clean. He was so worried about getting you home that he had no time to bother taking care of that scum.

“I tried to let you have your fun, baby. I really did. But I can’t — I can’t anymore. The world is far too dangerous.” He brushes the backs of his fingers down your cheek, coos at the little shudder that runs through you. “And you’ve proven that you can’t take care of yourself.”

Your lips part. Shock, confusion, protest. It doesn’t matter, he’s more distracted feeling the soft give of your plush bottom lip beneath his thumb, bitten pink.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he soothes. “I’ll take care of you from now on.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dropping your head to your arm. He hums.

“I know, sweet girl, I know. This is for the best, I promise.”

You sniffle a bit, blink wet eyes open. Wet your lips with the tip of your pretty pink tongue.

“What… what do I call you?” you ask, voice soft and raspy.

Oh, such a sweet thing. Such a sweet, clever girl. You’re going to be so, so good for him.

“Just Ghost for now, luv. Let me get you some water, you’ve earned it.”

—

You exhale slow and soft, counting every fourth heartbeat. If you don’t, you’ll start trying to break things. The smart money is on your bones giving before that stupid pipe. So. Breathing it is.

You’ve never felt out of control in anger. Everything is always so sharp and clear, you think and move with a precision you usually can’t coax from mind or body.

This… Ghost, though.

It was a pleasant surprise that he didn’t realize what you did in the alley. Too dark, perhaps. Too quiet. Perhaps he thought you were fleeing in fear.

It’s an advantage you can’t squander. He’s much bigger than you, much stronger. Carries himself with posture and purpose reminiscent of military or former military bearing. There’s a physicality to the way he moves that echos violence.

You know that you will only get one proper shot to escape. There is no point wasting it on shouting and cursing and snarling. Even if he did only consider it bluster and bark, it would plant seeds of doubt in his mind. Make him careful and conscious of any slip ups.

Sometimes, rabid animals appear friendly or docile. The virus gets a new victim close enough to turn and bite, spreading and infecting.

You run your tongue over your teeth, imagine the taste of blood if you’d bitten through his thumb like you wanted to. Inhale and exhale again, start the counter over.

Pause to resist another sneeze, blinking past watery eyes and sniffling it away. Christ, he couldn’t have at least cleaned the basement before chaining you up down here? Could barely focus on his ridiculous monologue through the allergies.

Not that you think you missed much; and you’re sure you’ll be hearing it again.

He’s just like every other man you’ve ever killed, you muse, settling in again. And it’ll be so, so sweet watching the blood bloom.

[fallenneziah]

Christmas lights and stuffing.

This is the second installment of my Christmas gift to you guys. If you'd like to check out part one with Johnny you can do so here.

Just comment if you'd like to be added to the tag list. Tag list: @mishaglass

NSFW, car sex, creampie, some dirty talk, Simon's joking but he actually does want to fuck you all night. Waist below Afab reader, readers pronouns not mentioned. Smut blurb.

You and Simon had gone out to see a light show. While Simon wasn't a huge fan of all the decorations and the people that were there he endured it. Especially for you. There was something about seeing your rosy pink cheeks, soft lips pulling into a smile when you saw those decorations. There was just something that got him going and he couldn't explain it.

However, Simon had said if he did this for you, there was something he wanted from you.

The two of you were passing by a tent, someone dressed as an elf, supposedly for the kids inviting people in to see Santa.

"Do you want to come tell Santa what you want for Christmas??" The elf smiled softly at you.

Simon leaned over against your ear, whispering huskily against you. “Why sit on Santa’s lap when you can sit on mine?” You gasped softly, slapping him.

"Oh, no thank you, we're alright." You told the worker, walking away with him. "Oh you are bad." You gasp softly, chuckling a little.

“Let’s do something that puts us on the naughty list then, make it official. ” He whispered again, making your mouth fall open slightly when you reached the next fire pit. "Simon be quiet."

His hands slid under your jacket, one going up to your stomach the other down your pants. You attempted to slap him away. "What has gotten into you?? You bad man." You turned, chuckling softly and cupping his face.

"Simon, baby, what has gotten into you? Why are you being so dirty?" You whispered, kissing him.

"I don't know. Maybe it's the season." He smirked, kissing you back.

"Let's go home then, we're almost at the end anyway." You took his hand, leading him down the snow covered path back to the car.

Simon unlocked the vehicle and turned on the heat. The two of you sat there waiting for the car to heat up. "Thank you for coming with me, Simon."

"Mhm, only you..." He leaned over, your gentle hands pulling up his mask meet his lips. He hummed, pressing closer, leaning over to check your seat belt off as he did.

You groaned softly, cupping the back of his head, kissing him deeply over and over.

His hand moved to your thigh, rubbing up between your legs and teasing your sweet spot, finger digging into the seam of your jeans.

You pulled away briefly before diving back into his mouth, sloppily kissing him as you struggled to push yourself up and shift.

Simon moaned, helping you climb over the console to straddle his lap. His hips bucked into yours, a moan leaving him again. You chuckled softly, biting his bottom lip. Your hands pulled at his jacket, pushing it off of him, your hands sliding up his shirt.

He shivered, hissing. "Your hands are cold!" He chuckled, leaning forward, his teeth latching onto your neck.

"Si... Simon!" You gasped, your eyes fluttering closed. Simon pulled you against him, jacking the heat switch and leaning his seat back. He kissed and licked your neck, sucking into the delicate flesh. He pulled off his gloves, his hands sliding under your jeans, squeezing your ass.

"Fuckin' perfect ass." He mumbled.

"Mmm Simon." You whispered. "You're so dirty tonight. I love it." You giggled, rocking your hips down onto him.

He moaned, his hips bucking. He pulled his hands away from your jeans, sliding them up your back, pushing your shirt and coat up.

He pushed your shirt up, cupping your skin, leaning down to latch onto your hard nipple. Making your back arch, moaning and shuddering. "Simon-!"

He flicked his tongue over it, sucking it hard before pulling away, his saliva cooling on your sensitive bud.

"Shit Simon someone could see." You gasp, leaning against him as headlights flash across the parking lot.

He kisses between your ribs cage, licking s strip between the soft bumps of your chest.

"Let 'em see. I'm in a giving mood." He undid his belt with a grunt, stroking his cock out into his palm, his large heavy length leaking pre-cum down the shaft.

You shudder out a warm breath, scooting back a little to take over stroking for him.

"So take it... Yeah..."

"Oh yeah?" You smirked, your fingers running up the vein on the underside of his length.

He nodded, biting his bottom lip, his breath coming out in quick puffs.

"Then get up here and let me suck your dick."

"Fuck." Simon pushed his chair back and you kneeled between the small space of the car, wrapping your warm lips around his length. He grunted, stroking your cheek and pulling you onto his cock.

"Fuckin' beauty..." He watched you with lidded eyes. Your lips stretching around his fat head, tongue supporting the weight of his erect cock.

He grunted, thrusting up into your throat. "Fuuuuck." He shuddered.

You moaned around him, bobbing your head, taking him to the base. You looked up at him with big eyes and he couldn't help the way he felt looking at you.

Watching you pull up on his cock, spitting saliva onto his tip that quickly cooled, making him leak desperately until put your warm mouth around him once again.

Simon growled, his cock throbbing and twitching inside your throat. He didn't want to cum yet. Not yet.

His eyebrows furrowed, pulling you off. "Get up here, sit on my lap. Like a good little sweetheart." He purred, stroking your chin.

He unzips your jeans, pushing them down over your thighs, feeling your warm skin prickle.

You pull your pants off further, climbing into his lap, letting him position the tip of his cock to your sloppy dripping slit.

His fingers slid inside to make sure he had the room before he was confident putting you down on him.

Smacking the head of his cock against your entrance a few times before gripping your hip and guiding you down onto him.

Your mouth fell open, moaning loudly as his length spread you open. Your walls pulsing and throbbing around him.

Simon grunted, his jaw slack and eyes closed as he filled you up.

He gripped you tightly, pulling you up and pushing back down. Your juices coating his cock. His veins pulsing inside your tight heat.

Watching your snatch swallow him easily, bringing him in and pushing him back out, milking him in you.

He pulled you down, holding you there, his cock pressing deeper into you, pressing his mouth to yours.

You gasped, finger nails raking down the back of his head to his nape, rocking your hips.

He bucked his hips, his balls pressing against you, his cock twitching inside you, throbbing.

"Oh yes, fuck yes~" He grips your hips tightly, rocking you against him, feeling your walls clutch onto him like a vice.

"Fuckin' squeezing me like a sleeve, love." He groaned.

You whined, bouncing up and down, the sound of your hips clapping together filling the car.

"Yes yes yes-!" You squeal.

"Fuck, gonna cum." He hissed.

He continued to rock you desperately on his cock. Breaths coming labored and heavy as he throbs inside your sweet cunt.

He smacks your ass, yanking you up, making you gasp. "Come on love, fucking ride that cock like you mean it!"

You gripped his shoulders, riding him fast, moaning. "Siiiimon, Si- fuck, oh god!" You cry, throwing your head back, feeling his thick girth press into that one spot, making you see stars.

You clench your thighs around him, cumming on his cock, fluid squirting around his length and down across the band of his boxers.

"Merry fucking Christmas doll," Simon groaned, bucking his hips up into you and spasming cum inside your womb. His cock throbs inside you, pumping you full of his warm seed.

He leans forward, kissing and biting your chest. He grunts, continuing to fill you up with his warm white semen.

He held you in place, his hips still bucking. He grunted, feeling the last drop of his semen leave him, leaving his dick a sticky mess inside you.

He panted, holding you close, kissing you softly as you both fight to catch your breath.

"Simon... Fuck..." You moan, slumping against him as he slowly pulls you off him, seeing his cum drip from your stretched, gaping hole. Your hips shake as he helps you wipe up a little and button your jeans up.

"Mm, I think we can skip present opening, I don't think I need anything more." You slump back into your seat, smiling softly up at him.

"You are such a. Unpredictable sight."

"It's Christmas Lovie, you don't get let in on the gift until you're unwrapping it."

He does up his jeans and splays his hand over your thigh. You smile softly, feeling full of his seed. A present just for you...

[blingblong55]

Something sweet-141

Based on a request: I was reading a bunch of your stories and I LOVED them. I was wondering if you could make one where fem!reader in a wheelchair and poly 141 helps her out. It can be a smut story if you want it to be or a fluff story if you want. Can they all cuddle with fem!reader in bed though? I think that would be sweet and cute! A/N: means a lot that you like what I post, thank you! ---- F!Reader, fluff, wheelchair!user, poly!141, comfort? ----

The day had been rough, and you found yourself retreating to the bedroom, seeking solace from the weight on your shoulders. The familiar door creaks you recognised so easily catch your attention. John, the sweet man who warmed your heart with his comforting forehead kisses appears on the doorway. Behind him was Simon, Kyle and Johnny entered, their eyes filled with concern. "Hey, love," John said softly as he knelt by your side. "Rough day?" he asks as his hand trails to your back.

You nodded, feeling tears welling up. Simon was already moving to your other side, his large hand gently resting on your shoulder. "We're here, alright? Just take it easy."

Johnny nodded and bounced onto the bed, making you smile despite your storming emotions. "Got room for a few more in there?" he asked, his accent thick and comforting. His hand moves to your cheek as he caresses it.

Kyle cuddles in between all the love that is being shared. "You're all suffocating her," he comments and Johnny slightly nudges him. "You're the one on her, mate." Kyle grumbled and kissed your hands, "Yeah, but unlike the rest of you, she loves me," he looked up at you and winked. You appreciated the care they all took, making sure you felt included and not a burden.

Once you had settled comfortably in the mix of cuddles and arms, Simon and John had made sure that you were between them. The bed was crowded, but it felt perfect. "You're so strong," Kyle whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "We're so proud of you."

"Yeah, and we love you more than anything, me more, I love you more, lass," Johnny added, his hand finding yours under the covers. John wrapped an arm around you, his presence grounding.

You close your eyes and enjoy the moment. Simon, ever the silent pillar, squeezed your other hand gently. His face nuzzles on your neck as he breathes in your sweet scent. "Love you," he mumbles against your skin.

Surrounded by their warmth, you felt the weight of the day slowly lift. The room was filled with their love, each touch and whispered word a balm to your aching heart. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Anything for you, love," John replied, kissing your forehead.

Johnny shifted closer, his playful energy subdued but still present. "Remember that time we all tried cooking together and nearly burned the house down?" he asked with a chuckle. You laughed softly, the memory bringing a welcome distraction. "How could I forget? You all looked so panicked." Kyle grinned. "And then Simon swooped in and saved the day with his perfect fucking pancakes," he rolls his eyes and Simon huffed a laugh. "Someone had to keep you all from burning the place down, and she was hungry and I couldn't let her starve."

The soft teasing and shared memories helped you unwind even more. You felt their love and support enveloping you like a warm blanket, their presence making the room feel safe and comforting. "You guys always know how to make me feel better," you expressed, a small smile forming on your lips.

"That's what we're here for," Kyle replied, his voice soft and optimistic. "Now, how about we all watch a movie together?" John suggested. "Something light and funny to take your mind off things."

"Sounds perfect," you agreed, feeling grateful for their unwavering support.

As they arranged the pillows and blankets around you, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of bliss. Despite the challenges you faced, you knew you were never alone. With your lovers by your side, you could face anything, mainly spiders…especially spiders.

The movie started, and you found yourself cocooned by warmth and love, their presence a comforting reminder of the bond you all shared. As you leaned against John's chest, with Simon's hand in yours and Johnny and Kyle close by, you closed your eyes and enjoyed this sweet moment. Was it something extra to have this many hearts beating for you? Perhaps but it was enough.

Tags: @liyanahelena @johfaam0 @froggy-anon @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @frazie99 @spicypicklesoh @viomast @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @Macnches2 @anonymuslydumb @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @luvecarson @soapybutt17 @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @tuihiatus @iruzias @sleepyycatt @noodlezz-bedo @trinthealternate @azkza @gh0st-hunt2r

[sim0nril3y]

Clumsy

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: All the ways that you are extremely clusmy and all the ways that Simon cares for you. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, smut, p in v, shower sex, dirty talk, edging, mention of oral (female receiving), gerneral clumsiness, hitting head, stubbing toe, burning hand, canon-typical swearing.

“Oh! Bloody! Bugger!” A series of yelps came from the bedroom, Simon had assumed that his relaxing Sunday afternoon wasn’t going to last for long, not with the way you had been flitting around him trying to find something. It was no surprise you couldn’t find anything with the clutter that you lived in.

Glancing over his shoulder Simon rose up and stepped through the flat to find you crouched to the ground beside the bed, holding your foot in pain. “What happened?” There was a tired tone to his voice as he crouched down beside you to inspect, looking at your pretty pouted face Simon had to fight a smile as you muttered coldly. “Kicked the bloody bed.” Then slapping your hand angrily against the wooden frame. “It really bloody hurt.”

To say that you were clumsy would be a might understatement, it wasn’t in that cute ditzy way that you wished it could be but rather in a way that made Simon fear for your safety at any moment.

“Alright.” He soothed his hand over your calf gently, rubbing it as he placed your foot back down on the ground and helped you to stand up again. “Need to start watching where you’re walking, love.” This comment only earned a hard glare from you, making him smirk as you muttered little comments under your breath, slipping past him and almost out the room before smacking your elbow on the doorway, earning a low groan as you continued on your very frustrated way. Simon winced at the connection you’d made on the sensitive part of your body, but still teasingly he called out after you. “Did that hurt?”

These little accidents would extend into the bedroom too. There were countless times where you would smack a table or a bedpost, causing a muffled groan before continuing in the throes of passion. Sometimes at the end of particularly bad weeks Simon would like to spend time just inspecting your body, wanting to check the damage that had been inflicted. These little bruises and scrapes that littered your body were not by his own hand and he despised them deeply.

Each time he’d find a new bruise or whatever else he’d simply tut, press a few tiny kisses to it and then bite it sharply. It always caused a physical reaction from you, squeaking as you looked down into his eyes apologetically as Simon would command firmly. “Be more careful with this body…” He kissed at little parts of your skin that made you whimper and whine, ending up between your legs hungrily eating your pretty pussy. “It’s precious…” He whispers. “Needs to be treated better…” All while you withered and whined beneath him. “Only one allowed to leave marks on it is me.”

There had been one time Simon had you trapped against the tiled wall of the shower, cramping legs wrapped around his taut waist as warm water cascaded down soothingly over body of your worn bodies. Apparently, he was attempting to prevent your orgasm for as long as possible, fucking into your sweet cunt wildly until he felt it building and then stopping dead causing you to whine and bed, clutching at any part of his body that your hungry hands could reach.

Pulling away from a languid kiss Simon’s hips fucked slowly into your own, feeling the way your walls began to flutter and smirking to himself, picking up the pace causing your impending orgasm to rise. “Fuck, darling.” Simon growled, beneath the spray of water, pressing his head into the crook of your throat and pressing little kisses against the sensitive skin there. “Fuck… your walls… squeezing me so fuckin’ tight…” His voice was strained as he fucked into you harder, digging deeper and hitting the spots that only he could reach, searching for something that drove you insane.

Just when you were about to teeter over the edge Simon’s cock slipped from inside your walls, a strained whine fell from your lips, just so desperately needy and wanting your release. In frustration, you threw your head back and not sensing how close you were to the tiled wall it smacked into it hard. It was hard enough for Simon to hear the connection, looking up with concern deep in his eyes to see that fuzzy hazed look on your face. “Fuckin’ hell.” He hissed, turning off the tap and looking at your face. “You still with me, love?”

The moment was over, both your orgasms long lost and Simon ended up holding frozen back of peas to the back of your head instead of a passionate night of love making moving from one room to the other. Even with you semi-concussed it didn’t stop Simon from saying. “You know, when I said I wanted you to see stars this wasn’t what I meant…”

The clumsiness didn’t stop there too. No, it extended into the kitchen too. You didn’t cook, not that you couldn’t but Simon liked to do it. “I like feeding you.” He mentioned as he turned off the bubbling pans on the hob. A delicate giggle came from where you were sat at the table, feet pulled up onto a chair opposite watching his broad body moving about the kitchen. “Si, are you trying to tell me you have a feeder kink or something?” You snorted, throwing your head back.

“A what? A feeder kink?” He chuckled, looking over his shoulders at you. “You know, those people who like to feed and feed their partners ‘cause it turns them on if they gain weight.” There was such confusion pulled across his face before he let out a sudden laugh, you could never get tired of that noise. “You what? I’ve never heard of that before…”

You giggled, narrowing your eyes as if suspicious and saying. “Suuuuure~” He continued laughing as he pulled the vegetables into a strainer, about to place the empty pan down but another was in his way and with full hands he couldn’t move it. Rushing over to help, you said. “Oh, let me help-” “That’s hot!” It was too late, your fingers curled around the pan and yelped as you quickly released the searing hot pan.

“C’mere, c’mere…” Dropping everything he was holding without any care, Simon grabbed you and quickly ran the cold tap to put your blistering hand under the water. “Bloody hell.” He whispered brushing away your little tears that fell and held you into his chest, keeping your hand firmly under the water. “Babe, fuck…” He whispered and pressed a couple kisses to your hairline. “Fuckin’ scared the shit out of me.” He muttered and you sniffled into the warm expanse of his chest, feeling the way his strong heart hammered.

The only thing that filled the room then was the sound of the gushing tap and your quieting sobs. “Love, I need you to start being more careful.” He whispered then, arms tightening around you. “I need you to try, please.” Simon added, there was pain to his voice then. “I can’t stand hearing you hurt like that. I can’t stand seeing you like this. So please try…” Whispering as he gazed down into your sad eyes and his own pleading pair. “Please, for me.”

Masterlist | Ask | 19-11-2023

[shiroisotto64]

Fionna & Cake hcs

Fionna

She’s and adrenaline junkie. No questions asked. She loves to bring you with her on adventures! Fighting is already fun, but it’s so much better with company. (Especially if you’re dating)

You’d have to help her keep the apartment in check. It’s a mess when she’s not reminded to tidy it up. Put on some music and she’ll be more willing to get up and clean.

KEEP HER OUT OF THE KITCHEN. This woman CANNOT cook to save her life. That’s why Fionna and cake each sandwiches and take out. She’s tried but Fionna has a track record for burning water so…

Really affectionate and doesn’t mind PDA. She gets flustered but will return you’re affections without question. She’s also always hyping you up. New outfit? She’s the first to comment. Killed a bad guy really quickly? She’s quick to pull you into a strong hug afterwards.

Date nights are anything under the sun honestly. Cuddling in bed? Yeah. Going to a concert? Absolutely!

You could go skating, swimming, anything really but it’s best to do something that can keep her occupied. If she gets bored she’ll kinda space out. She doesn’t mean to though and will apologize later.

Simon

He likes to read to you. In fact he’ll lend you his books to read so you can both talk about it afterwards. He gets really excited to do this and tends to ramble. So you’ll have to excuse him.

Once you say something he’s more conscious and tries not to do it anyone unless your encourage him. He still has his dark days but it’s way easier with you. However Simon hates feeling like a burden.

So he’s not the best with communicating his problems. He tends to lock them away until he snaps. He always feels horrible and leaves for a bit to calm down and clear his head.

He’s an introvert. But if you want him to go with you he’ll try at least. But he will be vocal about it if he feels uncomfortable and wants to go back home. Date nights are pretty chill honestly.

Baking, watching movies / documentaries. Reading or talking about books together. He likes when you talk about you’re interests! He’ll listen and ask questions so he gets it to. He gets real flustered with PDA so keep that in mind to.

Marshall Lee

Real laid back and chill. He plays his guitar while y’all hang out. He has and still will write songs about and or inspired by you and his friends.

He’s really supportive. He encourages you to go after you’re dreams and do whatever makes you happy. Marshall finds it real cute when you wear his shirts or button ups.

Hell he encourages it even. He vents to you about his mom sometimes. He really appreciates you listening and is even more appreciative if you give him advice on how to properly talk to / get through to her.

Has a sweet tooth. You can easily bride him with sweets of any kind. Want him to wash the dishes for you? Whip out a box of his fav cookies from the store. He’s never washed dishes faster in his life.

You’d end up paying for a lot of stuff, sorry. He tries his best to get money singing on the corners and streets of the town yet it only pays so much. He really appreciates it if you’re patient with him.

He’s ok with Pda and will reciprocate you’re affections but doesn’t expect to not be teased in the process.

Gary

He’s like a mother hen. He gets worried if you don’t answer his texts within 10 minutes honestly. It might get annoying and if it does? Gently tell him how you feel and he’ll do his best to be more patient.

He likes cooking and baking for you. And it makes his whole week if you praise his skills and tell him how much you love it. Bonus point if you can bake or if you give him constructive criticism!

He likes it when you play in his hair. He loves it when you pull his head into you’re lap and run you’re fingers through his pink hair. He’ll be out in minutes honestly.

Gary swoons whenever you put on his sweaters. He has bought the both of you matchin ones. And he is also the type to wanna get matching couples outfits. Just putting that out there.

He likes it when you to clean together. He cleans the dishes and you rinse them off. You both finish that much faster and after he goes up behind you to embrace you. He’ll stay like that for as long as you let him.

Gets flustered by PDA but welcomes it anyways. And Gary is super affectionate at night. He doesn’t care if he’s big or little spoon just hold him.

Finn

He’s affectionate and tries to be as honest with you as he can. But Finn isn’t the best with negative feelings. We all saw how he struggled to help Simon and was a bit awkward while doing it.

Another adrenaline junkie. He likes to go camping and adventuring with you. Anything fun and active and he’s in. Finn Is also very considerate of the things you like and will get you something that reminds him of you while he’s out. Or something he knows you’ll like.

Really playfully. He’ll sometimes just pick you up and throw you over his shoulder before walking off to go knows where. He has complete faith in you and is real happy if you feel the same!

Doesn’t get jealous, like at all. Like I said complete trust in you. He doesn’t question you’re actions and just goes with the flow. He’s very comfortable with you’re bond.

He’s chill with Pda. If you hug him he’ll hug back. You want a kiss? You got it. No questions asked. He is protective of you though. Yet is also confident in you’re abilities but if you need help he’s there in the blink of an eye.

Winter King

Loves to sing to you! He’ll declare his love to you in and out of town. He loves to spoil you. Anything you want is yours. He always smiles at you whenever he catches you looking at him.

Will pull you in to dance with him. You both go ice skating all the time and if you don’t know how he’ll teach you. He’s real patient with you, so don’t worry. He tries to impress you. He’s very subtle about it but if you pay attention you can see it.

He’d melt if you sat on his lap while he sat on his throne. He has introduced you to ice Marcy. I think you’d all get along pretty well. Kinda like a little family. Also his two guards love hanging out with you.

Training and skating you name it they’re in. Simon chuckles while he watches them drag you around. He’s really affectionate to. You both are attached at the hip! He has to have a hand on you at all times or he’ll explode.

Winter king can’t help but to flush if you pull him down to press kisses to his face. He also loves when you run you’re fingers through his silky hair. He lets you go in his lab. He answers you’re questions if you have any.

Candy Queen

(I couldn’t find any gifs I’m sorry)

She’s the clingiest. You’re not allowed to go anywhere without her. You can barely get alone time in the bathroom. She’s always writing new songs to sing to you.

She’ll put on a show to win you’re praises and affection. Like i said she really affectionate. She’ll take naps on you throughout the day. She does drool a little but you’ll be ok.

Not much to say I feel like shes really straight forward. She’s not ashamed of the pictures she has of you in her room and openly flirts with you. Dose not mind PDA she heavily encourages it even.

Gets all giddy if you annotate affection. She’d be chill to watch cartoons with you while you both laze around doing nothin in particular.

[hyperactively-me]

halloween with husband!ghost 🍁🎃🍭

The chilly Halloween air nips at your skin as you sit on your front porch, surrounded by the faint glow of jack o' lanterns you and your husband had carved. The night is alive with the laughter of children, their costumes ranging from little monsters to miniature superheroes.

The sound of the front door swinging open and shutting pricks your ears, and you turn back to see your husband holding a large bowl of candy. You pull your sweater tighter around your frame, smiling to yourself as you watch him approach you.

"You're gonna catch a cold. Maybe we should go inside—"

"Simon! You promised," you scold gently, pouting your lips.

With a sigh, he begrudgingly sits down on the porch chair next to you, settling the bowl of candy in his lap.

Simon shifts uncomfortably in his chair, his hands clutching onto the sides of the bowl. He didn't really want to be out here in the first place, but you insisted on handing out candy to the kids this year. You wanted to be a friendly presence in the neighborhood, maybe get to know some new people. His reluctance was evident, yet you managed to coerce him into joining you. Besides, it could be fun! You're spending the evening just hangin' out with lil' ol' me! you had teased earlier that day. Of course, he had given in.

You catch a glimpse of his stern profile, the faint glow from the streetlight casting shadows on the edges of his face. He mutters something under his breath, likely a comment about the absurdity of Halloween, but you just chuckle in response, determined to make the most of the evening.

"Y'know, you can munch on those while we wait," you say, tapping his wrist lightly, motioning towards the candy in his hands.

Simon glances at the bowl of candy in his lap and then at you. With a dramatic sigh, he relents.

"S'pose a few wouldn't hurt."

He selects a piece of candy and unwraps it with deliberate nonchalance. As he munches, you can't help but notice a subtle softening in his demeanor. You hum, knowing that that man had an insatiable sweet tooth. His kryptonite.

A group of children dressed as witches and wizards approach your porch, their eyes widening at the sight of the mysterious man sitting there. You nudge Simon, urging him to play along. With a begrudging sigh, he reaches into the candy bowl, hand emerging with a handful of sweets.

"Happy Halloween," he grumbles in a barely audible voice. The kids exchange glances, half-terrified and half-amazed, before timidly taking the candy and scurrying away.

"See, Si, that wasn't too bad, was it?" you tease, elbowing him gently.

He settles back into his chair, trying to hide his smirk. "Don't get used to it, it's a once-a-year thing."

You laugh, appreciating his playfulness.

As the night progresses, more children in various costumes parade by, their eyes wide with excitement as they approach the enigmatic figure on the porch. Simon, despite his initial grumbling, starts to interact with the kids in his own unique way. Some ask about him, while others timidly compliment the carved pumpkins. The occasional chuckle escapes from the man next to you, and you can tell that, deep down, he's enjoying himself.

"Are you having fun?" you smile gently.

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Eh, it could be better."

But you know him well. Despite the tough exterior, you can sense the smallest grin creeping up on his face. You reach over, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "You're doing great. Besides, it's fun to see the kids' reactions. You're good with them."

Simon offers a subtle nod of acknowledgment, his gaze softening as he watches the neighborhood kids pass down the street. As the night unfolds, he becomes more animated, engaging with the children in playful banter and even managing a few lighthearted scares.

You can't help but smile proudly, reaching your hand to find his. You entwine your fingers in his, giving him a small squeeze. Simon glances at you, the faint glow from the jack o' lanterns highlighting the corner of his mouth as it quirks into a genuine smile. The warmth of your hand in his seems to be melting away any lingering reluctance, and he returns the squeeze, a silent acknowledgment of the unexpected enjoyment he's finding in the evening.

As a group of children dressed as superheroes approaches, Simon beckons them over. With a flourish, he hands out candy, mimicking powerful stances. The kids respond with laughter, their amusement evident. You watch, heart warmed, as your usually stoic husband embraces the occasion of the evening.

"You're a sweetie," you remark, laughter bubbling in your voice.

He grins back, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

As a group of little monsters approaches, he pretends to be frightened, eliciting giggles from the kids. You can't help but marvel at the sight—Simon, the serious and stern Ghost, has become the kid’s one stop spot for entertainment. Who’d have thought?

As the final trick-or-treaters make their way down the street, Simon looks at you, satisfaction in his eyes. Simon starts to rise from his chair, a smile still lingering. "Well, that's enough Halloween for one year."

You tease him, "Maybe we can make it twice next year?"

He chuckles, flashing you a sidelong glance, "Let's not get carried away."

You stand from your own chair, stretching a little. "You should give yourself more credit, y'know, Mr. 'I don't wanna hand out candy.'"

Simon shakes his head, leaning down to grab the empty bowl and some stray candy wrappers. "I dunno what you're talkin' about, love."

You giggle at his response as you go to hold the front door open for him. He walks through the threshold, the warm air inside your shared home warming you both up. Your cheeks felt a little numb from the nippy air.

Once inside, you both shed your jackets, feeling the warmth of your cozy home enveloping you. Simon heads towards the living room, and you follow suit. The soft glow of the fireplace casts a warm glow across the dark living room.

Simon drops onto the couch with a sigh, looking content yet still retaining a hint of his usual stoicism. You join him, settling beside him, and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders. The flickering flames dance in the fireplace, casting a gentle glow over the room. Simon reaches to the side to drape a blanket over the both of you.

"That wasn't as terrible as I thought it would be," Simon admits, a glint in his eyes.

You giggle, leaning into him. "Told you."

He smirks, "Well, I might consider making it a twice-a-year thing, but only because you seem to enjoy it so much."

You nuzzle against him, savoring the warmth of his embrace. "I knew you secretly loved it."

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the crackling of the fireplace soothing you.

Simon leans down, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. "Thanks for makin' me do this."

"I loved spending tonight with you, Si," you whisper.

Simon's gaze softens, and he tightens his embrace. "Me too," he murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble.

[alwaysshallow]

gorgerous, part 8

Simon Riley x f!reader

previous part || next part

READ ON AO3

You're a vet with a pretty simple life. One day though, things change, when a big guy with a skull mask enters your clinic with a small, ginger kitten in his hands. (4,5k)

A/N: ....guess who's back??

Christmas is usually celebrated with someone you love. Someone you respect, someone that will cherish the moments with you because there’s not only a lot of things to prepare in a sense of duty, the feeling that you have to do this. There's a lot of things that you can genuinely enjoy.

Gifts. You love to think of something special for every person that is close to you, just for the pure satisfaction of seeing a smile on their face and a "How did you know?" question that makes you giddy every time you hear it. 

What’s more, everyone gets something personalized, something that is from you, carefully picked amongst the hundreds of choices. You'd hate to give a present that looks like it had been picked at the last minute at a gas station; so, you spend a lot of the time buying and wrapping your gifts to some corny playlist that you made when you were eighteen, and you play it every year. Just for the vibe. 

Meal, where you think of everyone. Their favorites, dislikes, something sweet for later, when the meal will be just too boring and the craving for chocolate would hit. 

It’s good to note that most of the dishes aren't cooked by you (you don’t have time and skills to do so much), it's catering, but, it's the thought that matters, you think.

And it's like that… normally. 

This year, you feel like all the holiday spirit is dead. Your mom and dad already planned the vacation—without you, which upsets you, but you don’t allow yourself to show that—and your friends go to their families. You’re gonna be alone in the most wonderful time of the year, so for some reason, you start to understand the Grinch. 

You received an invitation from your friends, but you politely declined it. Feeling it would be either awkward, or you'd feel alienated in a family that you don't really know well. Besides, pity isn’t really your thing, so you prefer to watch Bridget Jones with cookies and milk, instead of being a burden.

Or, you preferred to watch Bridget Jones, before someone showed up in your life and made a little mess.

Before Simon came into view.

Maybe it's his aura, or maybe it's your high expectations and mindless dreaming, but you think it would be right to ask him. Even if he has plans—you think that a man like him doesn’t have plans—it's something that you want to do.

Just out of pure curiosity. Because based on the dinner you had with him, evening that you spent together, you think he'd be a good company. In your mind, you already see the banter between you and him. You already see how he argues with you that you shouldn't really put on a Grinch movie, or any Christmas movie because it’s tacky to think of a Hallmark movie and a meal together. You see how he rolls his eyes, when you hit “play” despite his protests.

How he tries to seem uninterested, but he’s more invested into the movie than you are, commenting out loud stupid choices of the heroes, sighing audibly, as you laugh in the background. How he absolutely devours cookies that you made, so you need to bake another batch of them because he's eating so much—rightfully so, for such a monstrous man in the military. He probably relies on his weight to stay in form. 

It's hard not to drool, when you imagine it. His body under all of the clothing, his muscles, body fat. How he looks, how comedically bigger he is, compared to you. Fuck, you’d give a lot to see him without all of those clothes. Compression shirt leaves too much to your imagination to be satisfied with that only.

It’s even harder to maintain a calm face, when he asks you about something from the bathroom, and you jump in place, like you were just caught on something illegal or watching porn. You can’t even recall what he was saying, so with a frown you ask him to repeat the question.

If he’s not dense, he should know by now that you like him. Very much. Maybe too much, considering how far your imagination goes, and it only took… a few months, to fall into this mindset with a man that is rather known for being quiet. A man that did a horrible first impression in that weird mask, yet you’re still interested.

Your polar opposite. 

While you love to talk, he rather avoids it. You love crowds (moderately), he does not. He probably prefers to sit alone in the cafe, reading away from the crowd, while you almost every time find someone to talk to, either if it’s a client or a barista that is glad someone doesn’t complain about the coffee. You talk, he’s more of a listener. 

Fire and water; ice, even. Something that is on the opposite sides, something that shouldn’t work in the first place, but for some reason, it works perfectly well—for you, at least. You’re more addicted with the passing hours of your weird friendship with Simon, more curious to know him. Trying to adjust to the slow pace that he set in.

The slow dance around the topic is the thing you know Simon likes the most. It’s maybe the only thing that you’re sure he loves to do. Taking his time to observe, pounce and eventually attack, if he feels up to it.

It’d be easier that he’d ask you to spend Christmas with him, but you can’t have it all easy, no?

You bite your cheek and observe how he plays with Sparkles. The cat is invested in catching his fingers with her paws, gnawing on them, when he tries to take them away from her to take a sip of his tea. With a view like that, it’s easy to melt into a puddle and forget about everything that bothers you. It’s also very easy to have a prospect of you three spending holidays in your apartment. Wouldn’t be far from what you have now—big “bad” military man spending time with a tiny kitten, while you try to think of a proper breakfast. 

It would be the best reward to have him around, when it’s your favorite time of the year. 

But, it’s up to him, if he agrees.

And, for many reasons, unbeknownst to you, you want him to agree.

“You have somethin’ in mind,” he breaks the silence. Deep brown eyes are already scanning you from the bottom to the top of your head, curiously. Challenging himself if he’s capable of knowing what bothers you, before you’ll say it to him.

You’re not gonna make it easy for him, that’s for sure.

“I don’t,” you huff, like it’s supposed to convince him. “It’s just… I don’t know what to make for breakfast. That’s really it.” 

Simon’s quick to accuse you. “Don’t lie.”

“I don’t lie?” You raise your eyebrow, like he just didn’t tell you the truth; he scoffs at your high-pitched tone, taking a few steps towards you.

“You bite your cheek, and stomp like a bunny. What is it if not lyin’?” He mimics you, raising an eyebrow too. If it would be anyone else, you’d be slightly offended.

Rather than that, you’re amused a bit. “Like a bunny?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. From Bambi, or whatever that was.”

It takes everything in you to not laugh right this second. “You watched Bambi?”

“With Soap,” he murmurs, almost in shame because of the confession. “Doesn’t matter, what do you have in your little head?”

One confession leads to another, you think. It seems inevitable to say this right now, as finding a lie would be the worst option ever in front of a human lie detector. 

Besides, there’s no point in lying when you want him on Christmas. 

“I thought that, you know, you could spend Christmas with me. Sparkles would be included, too,” you say, out of breath when you’re done. 

In theory, this, telling him what you have in mind, should help you to get rid of that feeling in your chest. Feeling that makes you go back to being a kid, when you felt there’s nothing you can do about certain situations. When you could just wait for the mercy of the other person.

And that’s exactly what you’re doing right now. You’re waiting till Simon says something; a few minutes ago, you felt like it’s just a formality. 

Right now, you feel that the ache got worse just by seconds. His blank stare doesn’t help you with anything, it just makes you wonder what is in his mind right now. Is he just so shocked that he doesn’t know what to say? Or is he trying to find the words to politely decline the invitation?

“So, you want to celebrate with me,” he speaks up. You don’t know if there’s been five minutes, ten minutes, or an hour since you’ve asked him, but nonetheless, it makes you mad how he asks another question, instead of answering yours.

Although, you don’t show it; you just chuckle, nervously. “Is that really weird?”

“Kind of? Masochist type of way, if I’m being honest,” he hums, tilting his head. You have this specific feeling behind your head that he’s not taking you seriously, but you try to push it away. You don’t need it, not now.

“Well, masochist or not,” you swallow the saliva, thinking it would give you courage to continue the conversation, “I really mean it. I’d love to have you here.”

He sighs, shaking his head, and you know you’re screwed. “We’re not quite here, bird. Nothin’ personal, but that’s probably the dumbest idea out here.”

“Dumbest… idea?” You raise your eyebrow, laughing at first, but then you look at him in disbelief. “Like, spending time together on Christmas is dumb?”

It looks like he doesn’t even want to hear what you are saying. Riley puts Sparkles to the transporter, getting ready to go, while you still want the answer. “So? That’s… it?”

“I don’t want to spend Christmas with you.” He shrugs, looking at you. “Simple as that, I don’t know what is so hard to understand.”

And then, he leaves. 

Not only without breakfast, but without a word that would help you understand why he reacted like that. 

As you can imagine, the following days are kind of rough. 

Simon isn't a texter or a caller, doesn't have a reason for it anyway, so you're anxious all the time at work. You make more hours than you should just to stay in work and keep your mind occupied with something other than him because it still feels like he was at your place minutes ago, not days. 

It doesn’t help. The unnerving wave of shame is overwhelming, so you can’t even enjoy your work the way you normally would. Because normally, work helps you with your inner peace, feeling like a hot shower after a long day. Relaxing your muscles, bringing your mind elsewhere.

Right now, work is just pouring more problems to the already full cup.

Maybe it’s a mistake, but you don’t really share it with anyone; what happened with the British guy. Too ashamed that you even thought it would be a great idea to invite Simon, you bottle the feelings instead of letting them out on a random girls night, when you’d be too drunk to remember what you’ve said. You don’t mention it to your best friend, in case she’d spill it to Soap, you don’t mention it to your parents, in a fear of being judged. Or, Simon being judged in that case, they don’t know him. 

You feel like you don’t know him either, but he has to have a reason to not to come, right? It’s not like he decided that just out of spite, right?

Not only you feel bad, but the whole thing feels pathetic. Everything reminds you of him. A damn jar of peanut butter in your apartment (that you hide deep, as you don’t want to even look at that), cat toys at your workplace, LEGO, just because he said that it seems like the stupidest, yet the most interesting “puzzle thing” ever. If this isn’t enough, you catch yourself thinking of him at the gym, when you feel too fatigued to continue the training. Wondering if he’d push you to do the last set, what’d he say. Him, helping you with the exercises, seems like something inevitable. Something that could happen.

You need a cold shower after that.

These days, people tend to get on your nerves too. Your calm clients become someone that you don’t want to see, not even mentioning talking to them for more than it’s necessary. Happy couple in the shop irritates you enough to skip the aisle that they are in because if you don’t get to be happy, you don’t want to see other people happy like that. Not when you thought you’re gonna spend the holiday with someone special to you.

God. If one of your best friends would behave that way, you’d convince them they deserve better because no boy should make you feel like crap. 

Now… yeah. 

Now you should be the best friend to yourself, but it’s not going well for you. It’s way easier to try to lose yourself at work, watch rom-coms and eat ice cream, rather than face the truth.

You eventually come to the conclusion that spending Christmas would be a scratch on his emo reputation, so it’s better for you to ignore him completely from this point. If he hates this day so much, he could tell you in a different way than humiliating not only you, but your feelings.

It’s the night before Christmas when you see him, as you come back from the shop with your groceries.

He looks... fine, as always. Unbothered, as always.

Walking like the whole world belongs to him, loudly and clearly intimidating everyone who would even think of crossing his path. It's something that you, right now, envy him for. How heartless he seems, which definitely helps him not only with the job he’s doing, but for the moment like this one. 

Where people, normally, feel ashamed. 

The big guy facade fades just for a single moment—and you hopelessly think it's the moment he sees you, the last droplets of human decency speaking to him. He stops, looking at you from head to your toes and back. Estimating if you’re worth a while.

And when he decides that you’re in his circle of interest, he walks up even closer to you. Not a single emotion on his scarred face, and if you wouldn't know him, you'd be scared that he wants something malicious.

Maybe he does.

"Hi." 

His voice feels like he’s under the water. Deep, unreachable, but for some reason, it reaches you. Simon’s presence floods your lungs, making it hard to breathe, or to do anything at this point. You have to take a shallow breath before you’ll do anything.

You can't quite reach out to yourself to bring anything other than "Fuck you", so you don't speak after the "Hi." A nod in acknowledgement of his existence is all you give him; because if you would try to speak, you'd be either aggressive or hysterical.

And it's the last thing you want to give him: emotions. Because he seems to love that you're the emotional one here; he can read people like a book, and you're tired of being one. Tired of being on his shelf, so he can grab you whatever he wants, and you have no control over it. It simply doesn't feel right to you, doesn't seem fair at any chance.

His tone snaps you back to reality. "Dove."

You sigh. "I have a meal to prepare. Can't really talk right now, Riley.”

"Ouch." He theatrically puts a hand on his heart, tilting his head to the side. You can't really say if he's surprised by your sudden change in behavior towards him, or amused. Maybe both, knowing him. 

So, you do what you do best: you just start walking to your place, completely ignoring his presence. Pretend like you don’t care about this stupid Christmas, like you forgot what he said to you on that disastrous morning.

He grabs your arm, forcefully. You’re not even sure when that happens, when he jerks you towards him and you can see how he purses his lips in a thin line, looking at you with something resembling remorse, at best. Or something quite close to it, it’s hard to name it.

"'m not gonna let go."

"And I'll start screaming. You know I will. Like, actually, who would believe you that you just wanted to talk to me? You’re big, mean and generally speaking many people would—"

"If the invitation is still on the table, I'd take it, if we're bein' honest."

Like a fish, you open your mouth and close it a couple of times, dumbfounded. You can’t really tell if he means what he said, or if he actually said what you’ve heard; because there’s a possibility you just misheard something. You raise your eyebrow. "What?"

"Your hearing abilities amaze me."

"You told me a few days ago—"

"Changed my mind." He shrugs. So casually, like he didn’t actually make you freaking out about him, thinking you’re imagining things between you two because he rejected your invitation. 

You repeat his words mindlessly, barely believing in them. “What changed, then? The big “I don’t spend Christmas” guy thought he’s gonna do it this year? Or something changed between us and it’s not that casual anymore? Or it’s not the dumbest idea?”

He grits his teeth. It’s not rocket science to see that he’d rather you just take his apology, but you’re not like that. At least, not after feeling so humiliated for a couple of days, thinking that you’re the stupidest woman on the entire planet. For what it’s worth, you need to make him regret his decision a little.

You want him to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stands right in front of you, the royal brown staring into your soul. It’s not like you will budge, and Simon seems to know it, when he rolls his eyes. 

Fire and water. Maybe something that is not meant to be, and you started to slowly accept it after those days without contact. Sometimes people have different views on life, relationships and that’s okay. It’s not like you can change how he feels about you, but right now—

—right now, he closes his arms around you. Before you know it, he places his chin on the top of your head. Trying to isolate you from everything but him.

You try several times to leave his embrace, to punch him hard enough, but he doesn’t let go, and by that alone, you understand that somehow, you needed it. You just shoved it under the rug because it was easier.

Needed him, in general. Needed the reassurance that he probably doesn’t hate you so much. Your anger seems at lower levels right now, tamed, understanding towards him. It’s a stark contrast between you now, and a few days ago, when you wanted his head to be chopped off.

“I thought you passed on the party,” comes out quieter than expected. Like you’re actually afraid to say that, and he seems to know it when he tightens his arms around you for a moment. 

“‘s not a party though, is it? Only us three,” he murmurs, shrugging. You could think he doesn’t care coming from the tone, but the look in his eyes, the small glint in them, says otherwise. 

You scoff, pretending to be offended. Truth is, you’re far from offended right now. “Two is already a party.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Not a really reliable source, dove. But s’alright,” he says, tilting his head. He looks down at you and then kisses the top of your head. Not even bothered that a few minutes ago you wanted to punch him. “Let’s go already, hm? Probably you’d want to make some shit or else.”

“Or else,” you say. You have a lot to do, that’s true, but right now your focus is elsewhere—and that’s on his heart. You can hear how hard it is beating, the only indicator (besides the eyes) that he really wants to be here with you.

And If you doubted he has heart, now you really can see that, indeed, he has. Beating for no one else but you.

“You… can’t do that,” you say, without even looking at him. Your eyes are focused on the lantern nearby, the yellow light brightening the surroundings. “You can’t just say shit like that and expect I’ll be okay.”

“Listen—”

“—No. No, you should listen. I don’t want you to feel that you can say anything to me, to just come back without the consequences. Just promise me. It’s not hard, it’s not complicated, you know? Communication is actually easy, if you just try hard enough.”

For a few seconds, he’s quiet. Just like he was quiet on that accurst day, when everything got fucked up. You’re quick to open your mouth, but then, he answers, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You lost your hearing or somethin’?” He tilts his head a little to the right. If Sparkles wouldn’t be in a transporter in his hand, you’d smack the shit out of him. “Maybe you do need a doctor’s visit.”

“I said so much and you—”

“There’s nothin’ for me to say. I know, and I acknowledged it,” he says, abruptly, his gaze hardening. “I fucked up. Not denying that, but right now, I want to make it right. That clear?”

That is clear, and as he’s seemingly a man of his words, you go to your apartment without any other word about the past. 

You learn that he’s more of an observer than a doer. He waits for your sign, for whatever that gives him a clear message about what he should and shouldn’t do. The effect of the military gets to him even in mundane tasks like hanging the lights or tossing around a few decorations there and there. Simon doesn’t speak until he finishes, and then he just stares at you, until you’re gonna give him the next instructions. 

You can’t help but laugh, when you do. He seems so lost when you do that, irritated at first, but he probably gets the message.

"I don't... do, this," he says, when he's busy rolling the dough with his rough hands. For a man like him, he's very tender with how he does it. Caring that you've told him how to do it, not using all of his power.

“Do what?” You look at him, tilting your head to the side. You know exactly what he means, but for what he put you through, he deserves to have a little struggle, to be more vocal about what he feels. He seems to know it, assuming that he pushes the dough to the surface a little harder.

“This stuff,” he explains. His way of explanation is a little different than yours, but you’ll take what he gives you.

“Baking?” 

“That too,” he mutters. “It’s weird to do this.”

“But, are you having fun?”

He nods, and you take it as a final answer. As you smile under your nose, you move on to the next step. You think you’re going to make everything on time, with help like him.

“My parents died on Christmas day.” 

Or not.

You drop your eggs a second later; it’s the first, genuine reaction at his sudden words. His quick reflex is the only thing that saves them from going to waste. “Christ, dove, just watch it.”

“Simon, I—”

“—Well, everyone died. Tommy, his wife, kids.” He shrugs, continuing the monologue. You don’t know if it’s a coping mechanism, trying to make it seem like it’s the most normal thing in the whole world, but in some way, it is concerning. “That… well. I just don’t do anythin’ on this day. Or before, really. I pretend it’s nothing special, so I don’t summon whatever that shit was years ago.”

To say that you’re shocked would be an understatement. You have to fight your tears right now, to completely not fall apart right in front of him. “How young were you?”

“Twenty two, I think.”

You put your hand on his—trying to console him, give him some support, even if he doesn’t look like he needs one. “I can’t tell you—”

“—No shit like this.” He looks up, crossing his gaze with yours. Despite his words, you see something in them. Something that quietly says thank you. “I’m a magnet for bad things, and for what it’s worth,” he looks at you, “I didn’t want to get you involved, if something would happen. Everyone around me dies, if I let them get too close.”

“You do know that it’s bullshit, right?” You look up at him; the choice of words isn’t exactly the best, but he seems to know that you mean, when his eyes cross with yours. “I’m so close, and I’m not going anywhere, Simon.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that. See?” You put one of his hands on your waist, the second on your face. He doesn’t move them.

Simon’s eyes darken, second by second. They’re not a dark chocolate anymore, they resemble more of a dark ocean at midnight. It’s hard to find anything light in them. “I see, but you don’t seem to understand what I mean.”

You raise your eyebrow. “Then, explain it to me.”

“It’s a one way ticket. No backin’ out after this—”

“—I don’t want to back out, so.” You mimic his careless shrugging from earlier. It’s hard to ignore how he rolls his eyes at your act. “What?”

“You’re a brat. Should listen to the elders when they talk, not interrupt them.” He mutters, taking your chin so you could look at him better. “Maybe I could teach you some manners.”

You gulp. “Maybe you could.”

Maybe this interaction is something that needed to be said or done. Maybe Simon needed to reject you at first, and then come to you, so he would tell you part of his story, no filter. Maybe. 

You do not care about that, not right now.

“Stay… still,” he sighs right to your ear, his big hand going under your t-shirt. 

If you’d tell yourself that Simon Riley is going to be one of the most important people for you, the past you probably wouldn’t believe any of that. The first impression wasn’t the best, you were interested in him only because of the mystical aura surrounding him.

Yet, when one of his hands is under your t-shirt, the other on your throat, you couldn’t ask for a better place to be.

[gh0stswh0re]

"relax your throat, darling"

warnings: f! reader, blowjobs + deepthroating, mutual masturbation, domestic fluff, inexperienced reader, established relationship, mentions of the reader being a virgin prior to the relationship, soft dom simon, praise

a/n: i spent an embarrassingly long time writing this and it's still barely a meh. it can be taken as a pt3 to the ghost x virgin (!) reader fic, although it's not implied anywhere + it lacks any proper storyline. this is more of a dribble than anything else.

...

nearly twenty minutes have passed since he picked you up in the kitchen, threw you over his shoulder, and carried you over to the couch – all of your protesting, giggling and playful hitting were to no avail.

it didn't really bother you, the feeling of domesticity; despite how quickly it settled into your lives – living together for barely three weeks and the tiny four-room apartment already started to feel like home.

the early morning cuddles which soon turned into ruthless competitions of who stays under the blankets for the longest before developing the first clinical signs of hyperthermia.

the dim flames of the cheap candles playfully dancing as their sweet aroma of apple-cinnamon spreads throughout the entire apartment complex – it'd be the very definition of tacky if it wasn't for simon trying so hard – even preparing dinner, despite cooking being one of the activities he hasn't done in years, and burning his hand twice in the process.

showering together – because it saves water, of course.

the late-night chatters which followed; strangely enough, simon never makes any other environmentalist comments – what a bastard.

all the small pieces puzzled together into the safe and comfortable living space you two shared, and while he would never say it out loud – simon was utterly thankful for it. and for moments like these – when he had you pinned down on the couch, one hand pressed against your tummy as the other held your hips in place with his nasty mouth pressed flat against your cunt – he was thanking god. or whatever external divine force intervened with his dull life - where the wish to suffer was just a passive request of his subconscious mind – and brought you straight into his embrace. it all felt like a simple promise - a promise of something greater that life has to offer.

this was no rare occurrence – grabbing handfuls of his clothes, silently urging him to take them off, to allow your curious fingers to explore every inch of his body, ... all while he slowly leans back, as the gaze of his drowsy eyes pierces right through you – like a predator stalking his prey - watching your every movement, and studying each individual facial expression – he could sink his teeth into you and devour you whole at any given moment, but he choses not to. truth be told, he finds his own perverted pleasure in it – his body merely anything but a physical tool for you to experiment on - teasing him in all ways possible just to see which movement provokes which reaction in him – who would have guessed such a pure virgin would turn into such a filthy slut.

although, there was a specific thing you've been begging him to try out with you – deepthroating. it sounded fun and looked fairly easy too – seeming like a good time all around.

today, you've built up enough courage to take some of the control away from him – dropping down onto your knees, a hand stilled on each one of his thighs as your lips sank down on his dick,"you didn't- shit, darling" the adam's apple bobbed in his throat as his head fell back and he swallowed hard. "darling, hey- you don't have to" one hand rested on top of your head. "but i want to" he should've known by now - dumb comments get even dumber responses.

you hated admitting he was right – especially about things you've begged him for – but it was a bit too much.

your chin quivering as your throat spasmed around his cock each time he hit the soft palate at the back of your mouth? too much.

your knees burning as if you've been kneeling on fragments of shattered glass for the past ten minutes? too much.

your jaw growing sore as spit dripples down your chin onto your chest? too much.

the stifled moans cutting through his vocal cords up his throat, as the blackness of his blown-out irises consume the color of his eyes? too-fucking-much.

he noticed – warm fingertips crept behind your neck, traveling up to your hairline "hey now-". blood rushed to your face – tingling your cheeks and painting them a shy tone of red as your lips separated from him with a loud, wet pop.

the calloused pads of his fingers rubbed against your lower jaw, carefully easing the stiffness away right before his palm wrapped around your throat – constricting the airway just enough to get a giggle out of you – dipping his head down, he used the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, swallowing the musky taste which spread throughout his mouth.

"just like that, lean back-" releasing his grip on your throat, his hand dropped down to your chest - pushing you away slightly. "and touch yourself" breath cycled inside your lungs – into your mouth, out of your nose – faster and faster with each weary moment.

"you know how i like it" lust streaked through you – from your veins into your bones, swallowing your being entirely. you do know exactly how he likes it – two fingers spreading the swollen folds of your cunt as the third one circles on your clit – and just how much he likes it.

so you did it – leaning backward on your heels, your right hand slipped past your tummy down to your sex – fuck, embarrassment burned hot inside you, but you couldn't deny just how aroused the entire thing made you – wetness was practically dripping out of your aching cunt.

your eyes bore into his before your stare dropped down from his lips to his collarbones - now glistening with a thin layer of sweat - to his stomach – muscles tensing up – down to his lap – he looked massive even as his own hand gripped around his length.

a part of you wanted more – to just hop onto his lap, to soak right through the fabric of his pants as you straddled against him.

the other part, the greater part of you, was frozen in place – paralyzed as you watched his hand move up and down, and up – his thumb teasing the leaky, sensitive tip – and down – his hips thrusting back against his palm.

bliss started to blur your brain's function and soon only a single thought remained in that pretty little head of yours – as he'd call it – to cum, to cum hard, and to cum right fucking now.

"faster, little dove – sing for me" pure carnality.

[cordeliawhohung]

oh em gee hiii! feel free to ignore but what about Simon comforting anxious!reader?

AHHHHHHHHH 🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️

i started writing this with mafia!simon in mind because i'm an idiot but here you go lmao. reader has a small anxiety attack but simon comforts her and they share a sweet moment <3

sometimes you tried to be interesting.

you tried to dress nice and pretend to enjoy the liquor in your cup as if the music that pulsed around you wasn't overwhelming. you tried to smile gracefully as someone apologized for bumping into you the millionth time that night as if their touch didn't make your skin ache and crawl. pretended that you wanted to be there, in that crowd of sweaty bodies and bitter breath. with glassy eyes, you pressed the rim of your cup against your lips as you painfully laughed at someone's crude comment, because interesting people didn't cry at the drop of a hat.

that night you were the world's greatest actress, and most unfortunate fool. great in the fact that no one, not even your friend, noticed your discomfort, and a fool to think that you would be able to play the part forever. because you could push back that bile and patch up that corrosion all you wanted, you had done so your entire life anyway, but you knew full well that it would always break. something would have to give.

the floor disintegrated beneath your feet the moment you felt a hand on your shoulder, and you spilled your over priced drink on the floor trying to slap them away. several people shouted at you, mostly in good spirits, about the party foul you made as their feet crushed your plastic cup, but you didn't hear a word of it as your eyes landed on Simon. hand half wet with the alcohol you spilled on him, he looked at you with what you hoped was concern and not annoyance.

even among all those bodies, the flashing strobe lights, the haze of cigarettes and weed, he still found you. his eyes, so dark, so careful, always found you.

you forgot all about being interesting halfway up the stairs to the second floor. the only thing you could focus on was the pounding in your chest and the pit of dread eating you from the inside out while Simon pulled you along with him. eventually, everything became quiet. muffled like you had fallen under water, still there lurking above the surface waiting to be unleashed, but manageable.

"c'mon," Simon urged, guiding you further along.

it took you a moment to realize the two of you were in some private room, and even then it still didn't fully hit until you were sat on the couch and held in Simon's arms. he whispered quiet and kind words to you that you couldn't quite understand over the sound of your anxiety wreaking havoc in your rib cage, but the warm baritone of his tone was all you needed. so you focused on him and only him. the warmth of his body bleeding through his clothes and onto your cheek as you leaned against him. his hands running up and down your bare arms and sweltering skin. he calmed you with soft touches and the gentle reminder that you were okay.

"what's goin' on?"

there wasn't a reason for your turmoil. no simple explanation you could string together to get anyone to understand the thoughts raging in your mind. how were you supposed to tell someone you were born that way? with cracks and crevices in your brain full of nothing but darkness that no one could heal or kiss away? but his arms felt nice around you, and that was enough for now.

finally brave enough to pull your face off Simon's shoulder, you glanced around the room he took you to where you were fully able to realize just how alone the two of you were. there wasn't a single other soul with you, though you could see a long window on the other side of the room that showed the perfect view of the balconies on the other side of the second floor.

"can anyone see us?" you asked instead, unsure how to answer his question.

following your gaze, Simon's eyes landed on the windows on the other side of the room. "no, they're two way mirrors. we can see out, but no one can see in."

curious, you stood from the couch and approached the windows with Simon close behind you. there were plenty of people on the second floor balconies leaning against railings as they sipped away at their drinks blissfully unaware of your gaze. then you turned your attention to the bottom floor. it was difficult to believe you had been a part of that pulsing mass of flesh just minutes before where limbs waved and weaved haphazardly between one another. what had been something too large and terrifying had quickly turned into something mesmerizing, like watching fish dance.

"everything seems so small up here," you said in a near whisper.

Simon hummed. "puts things into perspective."

you fell quiet for a moment as you watched the ocean of people underneath you and listened to the muffled drone of the music like crashing waves. you hated places like that. never really felt like you fit in; never really felt like you were wanted there. there was no rhyme or reason behind it. it just was.

"i... i don't know why i feel like this," you admitted, eyes still focused out the window. "everyone else always seems to enjoy being here, but i feel so on edge i can't relax."

Simon didn't look at you when you spoke, but you saw him gently nod his head in your peripheral vision. "there's not a whole lot of reason for anything," he explained. "sometimes things find you whether you'd like them to or not. anxiety, frustration... love. part of the human experience."

you tore your eyes off of the scene below you at his words and when you turned your attention to Simon you realized he had already been looking at you. that twisting feeling in your stomach felt oddly similar to the dread that plagued you down on the dance floor with your friend. similar, but not quite. it was something sweeter than dread, though just as scary.

"c'mon," he said as he nodded towards the door. "let's get you home, yeah?"

"i don't want to be alone," you blurted. "but i... will you stay with me tonight? just for awhile?"

there was some hint of a smile that pulled at Simon's lips at your request. nothing nefarious, or even in enjoyment. it looked more akin to relief than anything else. no matter what it was, you liked the way it made you feel; that you knew for sure.

"'course. couldn't ever say no to you, sweetheart."

yeah idk what this turned out to be either. it sounded cuter in my head lmao

[loudblonde]

Perfectly Content, Simon "Ghost" Riley/Male Reader

Summary:

Simon comes home to find his husband missing, distraught he gets his team to help find him, only to end up getting shot by a poison-laced bullet.

Or Simon's husband is more badass and connected than even Price realises.

word count: 3,4K

warnings: the aftermath of torture, getting shot, almost dying, violence

author note: The ending was a wee bit rushed as my arm was starting to hurt too much,

Ghost knew from the moment he saw (Y/N), that no matter what, that man meant more to him than he could ever comprehend and that scared him more than he could explain.

(Y/N) wasn’t even military, he was a civilian that Ghost had met out and about, an accidental bump into each other… It was like something out of a romance book. (Y/N) had grabbed Simon and forced his heart to beat to his rhythm. Ghost was trapped in the emotions and it scared him.

He knew he had more enemies than he could count and for one of them to get a hold of someone innocent… he was terrified, more terrified than he had ever been living under Mister Riley’s roof.

So, he hid him away from everyone, (Y/N) had no family, no friends, he had been completely new to town and the idea of falling in love quickly hadn’t been something (Y/N) had seemed against. Ghost had bought a plot of land in a forest where an old house stood on it, he had gotten water, electricity and Wi-Fi out there, so his perfect little civilian husband never lacked anything. Sure, he would buy in bulk at the grocery store nearby, but (Y/N) never seemed to dislike it or complain. Everything was perfect. Too perfect.

Simon wrapped his arms around (Y/N)’s waist, he kissed the back of his neck, letting the morning rough beard he had yet to shave scratch over his neck. (Y/N) chuckled and leaned back against him. “Si, I am cooking waffles, a little patience, please.” There was no bite to the sentence.

“I know… my love. I know.” Simon said. “But you just looked so delicious from behind.” That comment earned him a light jab in the ribs. He glanced at the fruit cut up for the day, perfect cubes as always, Simon didn’t know who else had such complete mastery of knives. (Y/N) always said his mother had been very strict about knife safety though there was more to it than that… Simon simply didn’t care more than just observing it. He didn’t massively care, he just found it… strange?

“If you keep sweet talking me, then we won’t get to eat the waffles before they are stale.” (Y/N) said with a slight smirk.

Simon hummed. “That would be a disgrace to your cooking, I can’t do that against you.” He spoke.

(Y/N) smiled and leaned his head to the side, he kissed Simon gently. “Why don’t you make the table, then I will handle the waffles?”

Simon kissed him again before detaching. He went through the simple demand- request and happily made the table. He looked at their white tablecloth, it held no stains. Simon wasn’t sure how but he knew it to be magic. There was no other plausible way to explain it other than that.

Soon, scrambled eggs, toast, sausages, beans and waffles were brought to the table, alongside a cup of black tea and black coffee. Simon took a sip of the coffee and smiled. “I miss your coffee whenever I am away.”

(Y/N) sat down and looked at the man he loved more than anything else. He smiled widely. “Well, then you just have a reason to get home to me as soon as possible.” He said and chuckled.

“That I do,” Simon said.

Marriage life, away from missions and the blood, death and tears of his job, was paradise comparable. He loved every moment and hated the goodbyes, for he knew that one day may very well be the last.

-------

Simon returned home, still halfway stuck as Ghost, his mind was reeling from the latest mission. He needed (Y/N). More so than normally. He hated and dreaded when missions got bad, but (Y/N) always had a way to bring him back from even the hardest and most repressed places. Simon knew he could trust (Y/N), he knew him to be safe.

"(Nickname), I am home,” Simon said as he entered, not finding it unusual that the door was unlocked this time of the day. He got no reply which worried him. Simon entered their living room from the foyer and was met with the sight of blood, broken furniture and bullet casings, his blood went cold as all possible enemies who could have targeted the ones he loved went through his head.

Panic set in as everything started stirring around him. He pulled out his phone and dialled one of the few numbers he had bothered to save. Price. It rang once before he heard Price pick up, before he could even say hello, Ghost spoke, “He is gone. There was a struggle.”

The line went silent for a few seconds. “Look for a body, I will contact Laswell. Make sure to not touch anything, if there is a note it will be visible.” Price said before sighing. “How are you holding up?”

“Just get Laswell.” Ghost said and hung up. He searched his house for hours, going over everything but there was no ransom note or even a claim to who had done it, which was mysterious. Though he had found more guns and knives strapped around the house than he had even brought in. Something was going on.

Price entered the house with Laswell and a few others from a research team. “You live very far out.” Price said as the team began. “If you hadn’t told me I would never have been able to find this place.”

“It’s home.” Ghost said, his mask still placed on. “I wouldn’t give it up for anything or anyone.” He sighed at that. “Yet… someone came looking for me and found someone innocent.”

“We will find him, Simon.” Price said. “Don’t even worry about it.” Price added as he touched his shoulder, he could see as Simon became Ghost, the tenseness of his shoulders ease eerily, his breathing slowed down and true to Ghost fashion, only his eyes revealed the true broken man inside.

“Of course, we will.” Soap said as he entered. He looked to Ghost with a sigh. “I didnae ken what this man means to you, but he must be special. That is all any of us needs.” Soap said and placed his fist against Ghost's shoulder. Ghost ignored the obvious signs of Soap having been home and comfortable enough with his family to let not only the accent slip but also talk more casual Scots around them. He tried to stop himself from a spiral of guilt but ultimately failed as his vision started honing in around him, black spots danced around his eyes- Simon felt Price's hand on his other shoulder.

“Good to have you back with us, son.” Price said as Ghost made eye contact. Both men shared a nod as they all let the forensics work the house. They found some blood that had to be tested and ran through their database, but other than that, there was nothing to indicate who came to go through the house.

As the team headed back to base, Simon had to wonder, would (Y/N) even be alright? Was his husband being tortured or was he dead already? Those thoughts hunted him.

-----

(Y/N) had been having a perfectly normal day off definitely only waiting for his husband to return from whatever war crime he and his team was up to this time around. He liked the peace of having a husband away, Simon was a good cover that he had come to love. It was not even a surprise the moment people came through the door, especially not when (Y/N) had many enemies of his own. He had so many in fact, he had died and taken on a new identity, perhaps he should have changed his first name… nah, he liked it so much.

He sighed heavily as yet another person entered the room with whatever torture gear, they thought would make him talk. (Y/N) knew better than to talk, he had been taught since childhood not to talk. He was exceptional in surviving torture, he had the scars to prove it, scars his husband never saw as all sex was done with the lights off, he knew his husband had issues with his own scars so he simply never pushed.

“You are going to give us what we want.” The not at all creative nor fun torturer said.

“For the last time, I do not know where this Ghost person is, I don't even know them!” He pleaded with false fear. He needed to get out, Simon was bound to be home anytime now and he just should not see the bruises and cuts all over his body… Simon would ask too many questions and… (Y/N) realised he would need to wait.

“Oh please, I know who you are, Iron Spider.” The torturer said making (Y/N) still completely. The tension in the room grew as (Y/N) stilled cold dead eyes on the man's back. “So, tell me, where is this little… pet project of yours.”

“If you knew who I was, then why even try to take me, I won't talk and you know that, don’t you?” He said, each voice careful and with a still tone.

“I have gotten Red Room Widows to talk, I can get you to talk as well.” The man said, bringing over what looked like a fucked-up knife. “Well, shall we?”

—

The team landed on the ground outside of a barn in southern Jutland, the air whipped around them as the helicopter took off again. Everyone was deadly still as they approached the barn, each second felt like hours as blood rushed through their ears, deafening them. Everything was alive around them. The mission was anything but simple.

One quick entry of the barn and already 4 enemy soldiers were dead. They had gotten reliable intel from one of Laswell’s more shady friends. (Y/N) was going to be there and not in good condition. Ghost used the anger of knowing (Y/N), his husband, was getting tortured.

They went down the hatch, killing everyone in the way, this seemed too easy but Ghost did not care, they had taken something of his and he was going to get it back.

Chatter filled his ears but it wasn’t important enough to be filtered through, they cleared room after room, getting everything dealt with before entering the final room. A man stood behind a torn up and bloodied (Y/N), two of his fingers were missing, and his shins looked broken and fucked up beyond repair, Ghost, at a single glance, could count well over 20 visible stab wounds, the worst part is, (Y/N)s right arms skin had been peeled back showing muscle tissue and veins freely. Ghost knew who this man was, his codename was infamous despite how silly it was, Chip, no last name or first name, allegedly some criminal family empire nepo-baby, a rumour had it he was ex-military. He didn’t doubt that at all.

“Ah, the infamous Ghost, thank you so much for making my job easier for me.” This Chip said and shot at Ghost with no warning. Ghost felt the bullet lodged into his shoulder, it felt like it had gone straight through but something felt wrong, he couldn’t hear how much (Y/N) screamed despite seeing his mouth move and himself trash around in the chair, Simon knelt down as pain soared through him, the bullet had been laced with something and he didn’t know what.

Someone pushed him onto his back and applied pressure on the wound. He barely remembered anything as his thoughts went dark.

 —

Swimming

Cold wet

Swimming

Simon was swimming in water where he knew not the direction of up or down. All was pitch black, too dark for his own thoughts to even shine a light through it.

Simon knew time had passed but not how much

He was swimming again

In and out

Up and down

Careful and around

Voiceless

Thoughtless

Cold

Cold as ice

—

Watching Simon recover not only from a well-placed bullet wound but also from the poison of this Chip person was hard, (Y/N) knew he should have just risked blowing his cover and gotten out. His husband, who didn’t deserve anything like this, was dying. His contact was working on a cure, but Chip, being the son of the infamous Pitfall Viper, his poison would be bulletproof… (Y/N) had to stop his dark humour, it was only making him feel worse than he actually should.

“It has been a week,” Price's now familiar voice came from the door. “How are you holding up?”

Like Shit. (Y/N) thought but didn’t say it out loud. “I could be better but I have hope.”

“… Listen… I spoke with Kate and they interrogated this guy… Iron Spider is a myth and legend, why is he claiming that you are him…” Price said.

“If you ask, you already know the answer, John… I am not in the business anymore; I haven’t been in 20 years.” (Y/N) answered the question.

“Does Simon know?” Logically the next question.

“No.”

A sigh came from Price, reminding him just how shitty he felt. “Don’t you think he deserves to know?” Price is a man with a heart despite everything.

“… Tell me something Captain,” (Y/N) turned to him. “Wouldn’t you be hiding your ugly past from someone you love to protect them? I erased my whole existence, spent a decade making certain that I was named a myth and not a real breathing man.”

Price leaned back. “So, you love him?”

“With whatever is left of my soul and my whole heart… I was born into a world of murder and killing. Whatever we did and learned was always just to kill more as more people, there wasn’t an end… so, when I did see an end to it, I took it and I got out, no one before me or after me will ever get that privilege.”

Price frowned. “You say it is still happening today.”

“Are you even surprised? You have been working with anti-terrorism for as long as I have heard about you, why would people not be using children to start and end wars? It is no different than all child soldiers you have been shot at or shot yourself.” (Y/N) was calm, far too calm for Price's liking.

“That is different.”

“It really isn’t. You all get on this high and mighty horse. Yes, you have by all means saved the world from World War Three, but you are all just as bad as every single war criminal out there. This whole imperialist ideology you have been brainwashed with…. It is worse than any brainwashing done by the red room because you actually believe in it.” (Y/N) grabbed the wheels of his wheelchair and left the room, leaving the captain to think and stew. (Y/N) knew he wasn’t going to run away or even escape from Simon, he loved Simon and Simon was dying for him… guilt he didn’t know he could feel wrapped its nauseating coils around his stomach, trying to force bile up through his throat. He didn’t allow it, he suppressed it deep down where all his other weaknesses resided. Weakness Mother was supposed to have trained him. He grimaced as he poured himself some hot coffee, it burnt his tongue… life as a civilian truly had made him weaker, Chip had been right at that, but (Y/N) prided himself on not being weak enough to reveal anything about Simon. He brought back a cup for both him and Price. He gave the man the cup and sat down.

“He wanted information on Simon, where he was and I think it is safe to assume we know why now… from what I know, you should be well aware of his mother, The Pitfall Viper.” (Y/N) said, humming lightly under his breath. “She was…. She is, she didn’t die, her accounts are still active and while it isn’t uncommon for others to run it, her whole family are very, the best word would be independent, from the rest of the more refined criminal empire of the world.”

Price looked down at his cup. “So, will his poison kill him?” Price asked, a slight shake to his voice betraying the cool and collected ‘Captain John Price’ persona he had.

“No… I have someone working on the antidote. It will be rough but he already has been given something to slow it down.” He informed the other before taking a sip of his now moderately hot coffee. “And if he doesn’t make it till then, I will work with you to bring down anyone or anything responsible for his death.”

“And if he survives?”

(Y/N) paused at that, the words swelled in his mouth to choke him. He had avoided it for years, been lying straight to Simon’s face… he wasn’t sure Simon would trust him after this. “He knows the whole truth… and if he still wants me, I will repair everything and do anything to make it alright.”

“And when he doesn’t?” Price asked.

(Y/N) looked at Simon. “Then I leave and no one will ever see me again.”

“Little hard to do on a wheelchair.” Price said.

(Y/N) chuckled and looked at Price. “You think that I don’t already have a plan in place? I survived the Red Room and survived escaping it. Sure, my sisters are more deadly than I am, but you can’t be a slob and escape.”

“How old were you when you escaped?” Price asked.

(Y/N) smiled a bit as he leaned back. “15. Which makes me 36 this year and Simon is only a few years older than I am. Price, I… love Simon, he is my weakness and the only one I would trust with my whole life. I have been taking care of him and him. We are good for each other and you can’t deny that.”

“I am not denying it, I have seen more of Simon than of Ghost for the last 3 years. Thank you for that, it is the only reason why I haven’t had you arrested yet.” Price said.

(Y/N) shook his head. “No, you haven’t had me arrested because you fully know that you can’t, you have nothing on me, no one does. Iron Spider doesn’t exist and no one can testify that he does. He is a myth created to scare rookies. Don’t fuck up or get corrupt or the Iron Spider will get you.”

“The Soldier Bogeyman then.” Price said. “And you are content with that?”

“I am more than content with it. I love it. It means I can be with Simon and bring him back from the brink.”

Price stood up as a nurse entered the room. “I hope you are right about this.” Price left.

The nurse waited until Price left before looking at (Y/N). “You know, I never thought he would shut up.” The ‘nurse’ said.

(Y/N) chuckled a bit. “It is good to see you too, V.”

“You are lucky my idiotic son writes everything down, but I can’t promise this will cure him, he may stay in his coma for weeks or forever,” V said.

“That is fine, just give him a chance.” He said before watching her inject it into the IV drip. They said their quick goodbyes and (Y/N) stayed truly loyal to Simon and stayed while he slept.

 —

It took 5 weeks before Simon woke up. (Y/N) was present and coached Simon through waking up. He had lost a lot of muscle mass, and he was much thinner than usual, but compared to a regular human, Simon still held some shape.

The conversation they had a week later once they were both in the sanctity of home was full of tears and apologies, Simon understood and knew but it still hurt. But they eventually figured it out. Simon’s rehabilitation and (Y/N)’s eventual rehabilitation were done together. (Y/N) taught Simon how to handle a civilian life away from the military and the action. It was hard but, in the end, they carved out a beautiful life with a retired service dog called Riley. 

______

Aaaand that's it! Happy ending for you all!

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[friendlylocalwhumper]

“Yes.” | “Kneel.” | Best of Three | Correspondence | Appraisal | Collapse | Cupcake | Foggy | Cracking | Just Breathe | Urge | Trim | Stupid | Upkeep | Old Defeat

Shoulders quaking. Biceps flexed, arms flying in a frenzy to make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.

Feet scraping across the floor, callouses scratchy on the carpet. Burn scars itching, always itching, especially with blood trickling over them.

It sounds like a wild animal has gotten itself caught in a trap. Tearing its own fur out, breaking its own limbs to try to escape.

Major needs out. Needs to break the hands on him and bash the fucker’s skull in.

Instead, all he gets is a fist in his hair to keep him down, and the hissing iron pressed to him again.

Major won’t hold still enough for the teardrop shaped appliance to plant firmly at his stomach or back, so it strikes his side, up under the ribcage, more of a bludgeoning than a slow burn.

The trapped animal noises turn to a wretched bellow. The carpet fibers curling up into his nose smell like singed plastic. Thick, sweet, artificial.

He’s been screaming something. It must be pleas, because Simon shifts where he straddles the back of Major’s waist and forces out, “You’re fine. Hold still. You can take it, you can take it.*

The thick, ugly scars across his back are proof enough of that. Major chokes on his own spit, anyway, as he fails to scream with the next strike of sizzling metal.

His own screams are obnoxious. Major tries his very best to stop them, cheeks red and splotchy with furious tears. If anyone heard this, saw this, they’d know that he is a little bitch. Just a couple taps from a clothes iron and he’s crying? Fucking gross.

Simon seems happy enough with it. He swings with gusto, driving the iron down over and over into whichever side of his punching bag is facing up. Mostly his back as he hunches over to protect his head.

Thunk-hiss. Thunk-hiss-rip. Thunk-hissssss.

The folded up body goes limp with that last, long press that cooks a new, iconic mark into the center of the kept healer’s back.

He didn’t even know that he passed out until he is waking up with a gasp, jerking upward and then flopping back down with a strangled, mmf-!

A pillow is under his face, sort of stiff. One of the decorative pillows from the couch. Shadows loom around him between the legs of furniture. He is on the floor, his stomach pressed to carpet.

As the pain dawns on him, Major’s face screws up. Sweat is already beaded across his forehead and dripping down to his brows. Lifting a hand to inspect his knuckles that feel swollen stiff, he sees splotches of purple and black.

“Fought back, at the end,” Comments Simon from above.

As if searching for the source of the voice of God in the clouds, Major rolls his head to look up and behind him. Simon is lounging on the couch with his phone in his hand.

He always fights, when he can. Pride flashes for a handful of seconds, before the terror blooms. He fought. Oh, no, he fought. He wasn’t supposed to do that.

“Simon…” Major croaks, at a loss for words. Did he hit the fucker in the face? How dead is his ass, for that?

“Relax.” The guy leans forward, tatted arms peeking out from under sweater sleeves as he shifts. “I saw your eyes. They were empty, nothing but panic. No thoughts.” The tip of his loafer taps against Major’s temple and elicits a muted flinch. “There’s almost nothing in that head to start with. I know you won’t ever fight if you can think.”

The pain is unbearable. He needs ice, salve, cool water, cold gloved hands - anything, anything. No, no, he needs no touch. To never be touched again, he can imagine how the burns would peel to a worse, deeper layer of ruined wound if anything touched and pulled away.

“…Hungry?” Simons segues awkwardly, lowering something to the ground. Major tries to glare, but his eyelashes flutter again in a subtle flinch. It is a white bowl with noodles in it.

“Made some cheesy pasta, if you want any.”

taglist: @morning-star-whump , @lthrboy , @apokolyps , @paperprinxe , @vampiresprite

[izgnanik-a]

Suffer Does The Wolf (Crawling To Thee) iv

Summary: Simon knew the exact moment when he knew he had to have you for himself. It was only a matter of time before his military skills allowed himself into your home, into your life. And once he stuck — he wasn’t going to let you back out of his webs.

Tags: non-con, stalker!Ghost, fem reader, mature content

MINORS DNI

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Simon was so impatient to go out with you, he didn't even go home. He waited outside of the restaurant until his phone gave a chirp with your messages that you were heading out of work then.

Of course he knew. He'd done nothing for the past few hours but watch you through the front window pace back and forth behind the counter, only vanishing for your break, and returning right back.

He was vibrating with energy when he pulled his phone to reply. " ok. outside. " He looked down at himself in the reflection of the car in front of him. He had nothing to fix.

He was wearing his hoodie and a jacket over it, jeans, and his cloth mask instead of his balaclava.

He had kept his balaclavas tucked away since coming back from duty, strictly kept to his half masks instead. Though the straps around his ears were a constant reminder that he was concealing his face from you, it didn't appear to bother you.

He could be ugly for all you knew. And you still wanted to go out and have a drink with him.

All his thoughts went away when he saw you waving your coworkers goodbye and heading for the door. His heart trembling in his chest as you caught his eyes and immediately smiled at him.

You approached with a sigh. "You been waiting on me this whole time?" You asked.

Simon hesitated to speak.

You nudged him, "I'm only joking. That'd be stupid." You laughed.

He tried his best to keep his nervousness under control. He was a lieutenant for fuck's sake. And you managed to make the grown man tremble.

"Did you eat yet?" You asked.

"No."

"Good, because I wouldn't want you to miss out on the food at this place. It's right around the corner. You don't mind the walk, do you?" You asked.

Simon shook his head.

"Let's go then." You tipped your head in it's direction, and began moving side by side down the road.

Simon kept to your side, closest to the road, scanning the street as if there would be a threat that could take you out.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

"Does that bother you?"

"Not really. Just makes me wonder what goes on in your head sometimes." You smiled up at him.

He stared ahead. "Plenty."

"Do indulge."

Here you were, this sunshine-y thing, and all he could think of doing was smothering you up against the nearest wall until all you could make out were desperate sobs of pleasure. He tried to divert his attention to something less vicious.

"How was your day at work?" He asked.

You blew a heavy breath between your lips. "Where do I even start? We started off the day with one register working. Not only did that make it difficult to take orders between drive thru and the counter, it slowed us down a lot."

"Does it happen often?"

"Only recently. But they plan on sending someone tomorrow morning to fix it. Or hopefully fix it."

Simon hummed.

"Also, thank you for saying something to the customer earlier."

"He was being a prick."

"I wish I could say those things to them without worrying about losing my job." You scoffed. "It happens a lot more than you think."

That comment made his blood boil. How could anyone be so ignorant and vile to you? You were sweet and beautiful and so soft. He wanted to find that prissy bastard and ring his neck now, even if he was just one customer among the many bad ones. It'd be a start.

"What do you do for work?" You asked him.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Private contractor."

"Really? What kind of work does a private contractor do?" You teased.

"Private things."

You hummed. "I see. I guess I won't pry then."

Simon gazed down at you and your sultry glance, and he was fighting his inner demons hard to keep from wrapping an arm around you and just taking you home.

"This is the place right here." You gestured to the flashing lights in the window reading ' open ' and ' bar '.

Simon was quick to grab the door and open it for you before you could touch it.

You tipped your head. "Why thank you." You smirked as you stepped in and he followed closely.

He lingered close. Your coat under your arm brushed against his belly, and he could smell the faint hints of coffee beans lingering in your uniform. It was masked with the smell of sweets; chocolates, coconut, and caramel. He wanted to press his nose into the back of your neck.

"Let's get a seat at the bar." You looked over your shoulder at him, and he nodded dumbly.

He followed willingly, sat down in a bar stool that was too small for him to be comfortable on. But his arm brushed up against yours, and every time you'd look at him, the contact only became warmer.

"I highly recommend the beers they have on draft."

"You come to this place often?" He asked.

"I used to. But I don't really have time anymore to enjoy things outside of work, you know?"

He gazed into the side of your face longingly. He did know how hard it was to separate himself from his work, finding it harder to be Simon Riley and Ghost separately. He felt like he was always the blood thirsty animal, just without a battlefield.

"I'm rambling."

"I don't care."

"But it's boring."

"I don't think so."

You stared at him, and he watched your eyes flicker down at his half mask. "Do you always wear that? I'm sure that's a question you get often."

"Always."

"To the mask or the question?"

"Both."

You hummed, smiling at the menu before speaking again. "I guess having a drink is out of the question then."

And he felt compelled to rip off the mask for you. Take off his hoodie. Just lay absolutely beneath your feet, whatever you wanted him to do.

"Does it have to do with your private contracting job?" You questioned.

"Why do you want to see my face so badly?"

You shrugged. "Just curious."

He scoffed.

"I like the mask." You said, looking to the bartender as they approached. "Makes you look scary, so no weirdos can approach me."

"It doesn't scare you?"

You met his eyes with a smirk. "You'd have to do a whole lot more than wear a mask to scare me, Simon."

You ate and drank more than he had expected you to. You were comfortable enough to keep the contact between your arms touching his. You were too comfortable.

He paid the tab and you were walking, practically stumbling, out of the restaurant door with Simon in tow.

"I feel amazing." You hummed, looking over towards Simon. The motion made you sway.

He grabbed your arm before you could tumble backwards. "You're drunk."

"No, you're drunk." You laughed, leaning into his side with a hand on his sternum. "You're so handsome and nice."

"You haven't even seen my face."

"I don't have to. It's in your eyes." You gazed up at him. "They're so pretty."

Simon's heart thumped under your palm. He was burning up. Too overwhelmed with your body on his, too horny to think anything but to pick you up right now. It wasn't right, but it's all he could think to do.

"You should call a cab to head home." He insisted, using his only grasp of sanity to get you home safe. If he brought you home, he'd be tempted to walk you the whole way in and never leave.

"I want to stay with you a little longer." Your hand on his sternum slid down to his belly, wrapping around his side, and around his back. Your entire body pressed to his. "You're so nice to me."

And to top it off, you pressed your cheek onto his collar and shut your eyes.

Simon shut his eyes tightly, throwing his head up to the night sky in agony. You were a gift in disguise, laid up perfectly in his arms. He brought his shaking hand to the back of your neck, gently stroking your hair down until he cupped the back of your head. His fingers tangled in the softness of your hair, and he could feel you sink further into him.

He pressed his cheek into the side of your face, as gently as he could — he inhaled through the fabric of his mask just to take in the smell of your hair.

And god did it make him hard.

“I’m gonna fall asleep.” You hummed into his chest before lifting your head, breaking the spell he was under. “I need to go home.” You pouted.

He removed his hand from your hair and let go of your arm. “Are you going to make it home alright?”

You smiled, soft warmth radiating from you again. “Worried someone will come and snatch me up?”

Yes, actually. He was. He’d kill someone with his bare hands if they thought they could take what was his.

You reached out to grasp his forearm before brushing your lips to his clothed cheek. You kissed the fabric softly before returning to the soles of your feet again. “I really enjoyed tonight. I like you.”

Simon tracked your movement with his eyes as you stepped back. “I can take you home. If you want me to.” He stepped close to you again, until his chest touched yours.

You pressed your palm to his belly, keeping a sliver of space between your bodies. “Nice try.” You patted his belly before stepping back. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

Simon watched you step away from him. He grit his teeth as he watched you go, and stuffed his hands in his jean pockets. He did his best to squeeze his cock in his pants, but nothing would deflate him. Not until he could wrap his hand around himself, thinking of how delicious and delicate you were tonight.

How you wrapped your arm around his waist, pressing your face into his chest, and sunk into his touch. He wanted to feel your hair between his fingers again, feel your warmth and solid form against his body, under him, over him.

He followed you in shadow until a car came to pick you up and bring you home. But he’d be sure to make it habit to take you wherever you wanted from then on.

Do not copy my works and post elsewhere.

[dreamgothgirl]

Tensions: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley X Fem! POC Reader Part 1

AN: Holy shit I really didn’t expect my first Ghost fic to blow up 🥹 thank y’all so much!! 🙏 Reader isn’t a specific race, but I wanted to make this fic POC friendly since I dont see them very much and don’t want anyone to feel left out! this is part one to a two part fic, this is more for story building and sexual tension that translates to both Ghost and the reader to be a mix of aggressive and awkwardly nice to each other lmao. I hope you like it! The next to be published will be a smut fic so do not worry!! Adios, cochinos y cochinas -w- 💕

Warnings: harsh language, sexual tension, and Soap being that friend that teases you for having a crush

Not edited

———————————————————————

Simon watched the sun brighten up your irises, allowing him to fully take in its color. The golden hour sunlight that illuminated your face was enough to take knock the wind out of his chest for a moment. The briefest moment. Like taking a glance at a genuine Van Gogh; he wanted to stare longer, but he wasn’t going to let any of the team have any fuel to fire him up with later on.

You, on the other hand, were staring at the vast, dry land surrounding you as the sun began to set. You raised your brow a bit as you heard Soap chuckle, “A journalist, aye?”

You gave a small smile, turning your attention to the Scott sitting across from you right next to his large, stoic partner, “Yes. But with my mother being a veteran and my father being overprotective, I’ve got decent enough skills to defend myself. With and without fists.”

Soap smirked, “Your folks were right to prepare you with such skills, lass. If I ever had a daughter as beautiful as yourself, I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same.”

Ghost took note of the small muscle twitch in your face. Flattery. He wasn’t the best with compliments, especially towards a woman, so he chose another route. “I’m guessing that’s why Price trusts you with that then,” he asked while nodding at the large AR strapped to your back.

Your eyes widened a bit at his question. Not because it was a dumb question, far from it, but because you hadn’t heard his voice so clear the entire mission. Today was spent with Price and Alejandro as they watched your back while you gathered info from Hassan’s men at a brief luncheon put together purely for public appearances. The only time you ever heard Ghost’s gravely voice was through your ear piece which, for you, was only able to communicate with your team and not Ghost himself.

You pushed the little flutter in your stomach to the back of your mind as you smiled more and nodded, “Yes, sir.”

‘He talked to me?!’

Soap chuckled, “You seem a bit too sweet for an environment like this one, aye lass? You’re writing an article on us or something?”

Before you could even open your mouth, Price quickly cut in from the drivers seat, “Ah ah, don’t answer that, Y/N. Sorry, boys, that’s confidential information. All I can tell you is that their material has no connections to Graves, and Y/N was approved by Laswell herself. All you need to know is to protect and treat her like you would any other soldier….maybe be a bit more emphasis on protective though.”

Almost everyone on the truck let out groans and scoffs of protest and annoyance at not being allowed to know anything, earning a chuckle from you, “I’ll answer your first question if you want. You might be right about being too sweet, but I promise I know there’s a time and a place. I’ll take down whoever I need to just like the rest of you. If it means doing what’s right then I will gladly do so by any means. That’s why I’m a journalist with the military.”

Under the mask, Ghost gave a small smirk; amused at the class used to shut down Soap’s comment. Sure, he liked looking at pretty people, but when they were smart like you? It made him feel something a little more than a simple physical appeal. Now, he definitely wanted to know more. Even if it was just your favorite color.

Alejandro laughed next to you and nudged your arm, “She’s got bigger balls than you, hermano! You should’ve seen how she took down a guard that was following her. Pendejo got exactly what he deserved after messing with La Demonia.”

Ghost let out a huff through his nose, “Demon? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

You playfully stuck your tongue out at him and smirked, “And I’ll believe you deserve the title Lieutenant when I see you in action.”

A mix of laughter and oohs filled the truck as it approached closer to the safe house. Ghost glared a bit, “Real mature. We’ll see who’s top cock soon enough, book worm.”

Soap snickered, “Cock..”

You rolled your eyes while Ghost gave another quick glare, “That’ll do, Sargent.”

“Yes, sir.”

8:20 PM

Gentle hums came to a close as you yawned and stretched out as much as you could at your desk. You bit the tip of your thumb as you read over the information that’d just been freshly edited before crossing your arms and nodding, “Nice. They can just add whatever else they need if they want.” Satisfied, you walked over to the shower, allowing your muscles to relax under the luke warm water while you thought of that brooding shadow in the corner of that truck from today.

Your brow furrowed, ‘Tch. Bookworm? And he’s mocking my maturity? Fuck off.’

The suds of your shampoo ran over your eyelids as you gave a close eyed glare to the ceiling. You’d just met him but you already had such mixed feelings. Did you really hurt his ego over something he started? Is he that fragile? Or was what you said truly hurtful? You washed your face like you wish you could wash that whole experience out of your memory.

‘Great….ugh I totally fucked up my chances to be on his good side or anything else with him.’

A hot stinging sensation ran through your body as you tried to scrub away the embarrassment and ‘shame’.

‘No, whatever. I don’t need him. It’s better we have that distance. That way when he finally kicks the bucket I can get more shit done. At least I get to go home alive.’

You stopped and winced at your feet in disgust. Your stomach twisted at the feel of your heart dropping a bit, “That was low, Y/N….god, what the fuck is wrong with me.”

The intensity of adrenaline fueled frustration and ego deflation on your part made you lower than you assumed him to have been. Your unnecessary harshness had gotten the better of you and you were glad that you didn’t utter a word of your empty insult. However, it simply irked you even more than you had no clue why you were so frustrated.

Being a journalist meant you had to have thick skin. Being apart of the military made that an even harsher fact; maybe even more so when it came to emotions. You’d never had this problem before. After all the racial slurs and issues, religious righteousness protests and massacres, misogynistic, and god only knows anything else under the sun that you’ve heard and written about….this bothered you to this extent? There was no way.

Running one last rinse over your face, you deeply inhaled and sighed, ‘Don’t jump so fast to conclusions…it was just some friendly competition. You’re overthinking it….I hope. I hope he’ll still let me interview him….HEY!”

Simultaneously

8:20 PM

Ghost stood tall and alert on the second floor’s living room balcony. His rifle rested on his shoulder, at his side while he replayed the interaction between the two of you with his arms crossed. Being the Lieutenant, of course he already knew what you were here for. You were here to document the betrayal of Graves and the partnership between Graves and Sin Nombre and formally report the progress of the teams missions after separating from Graves.

Price was going to tell the team your purpose until Laswell preferred to render the team innocent of their knowledge of you. “Who knows what they’ve already said about us to the other ranks,” she said. Ghost agreed with her idea by saying he’d rather be the one to go down if he was ever interrogated before anyone else, as did Price. That’s how they were going to keep it until Laswell said otherwise. So here he was, right above your room keeping an eye on the area in the shadows while Soap guarded the other side of the building.

“Lt. how copy.”

Ghost shifted his weight as he responded, “Copy. What is it Johnny? See something?”

“We’re all clear on the East and South side. I doubt we’ll see anyone for a while.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Right…Look, I’m not asking to know more, but-“

“You heard Price. Anything about that woman’s line of work is confidential, Johnny.”

Soap chuckled a little, “I know, but I was going to ask if you know what she’s here for.”

“I don’t know why. An article maybe.”

“Looked like you had cute enough banter.”

Ghost glared ahead, “Easy, Sargent.

“Not interested in her like that, I see? She’s cute enough, yeah?”

The Lieutenant stayed silent as he remembered the way your lips rubbed your lip balm on themselves before slightly parting and shining in that golden orange light. If you had an actual rank, a relationship might get the two of you in trouble. But in this circumstance, although not out of the question, he wasn’t going to let himself get so close to someone he’d barely known. He’d never admit it, but it he did have an interest in you. Even if it came off weird or aggressive.

“…Keep an eye on the perimeter, Mactavish. One more hour till the switch.”

Soap chuckled, “Yes, sir.”

As Ghost released his response button, he heard your voice below the balcony floor, “Hey, Lieutenant Ghost! Can I meet you up there? I have a quick question!”

‘Bloody fuckin hell, what does she want. Hm. Take it easy, maybe.’

Before he could even give you a response, he hear your feet quickly running out and up the stairs. As you approached him from the bedroom door behind him, he didn’t bother to spare you a second glance, “Keep your voice down. Is Captain Price not around to answer your question?”

You noted the hint of annoyance in his voice and tried your best not to bark back and shook your head with a smile, “I was wondering if I could get a few words from you? I want to get some scrap material in case I ever get permission to go public with this. Obviously it’s not up to me, but you know what I mean.”

Ghost stared ahead with dull, deadened eyes,“No. I don’t.”

An irritated, slow sigh left your nose. His large body in the balcony doorway, made the moonlight split. He looked like a phantom king with a cape made of souls he’d taken in his life; casting your body in shadow. It swallowed you whole just like the intimidatingly prideful aura he oozed when you first met him. It made you feel small and stupid. Almost like he was making fun of you. Is that what he wanted?

You bit the inside of your lip and tried, “Can I ask you some questions?”

Ghost noticed how tense he was and just how shallow he was breathing once you spoke again. He turned around, his voice harsh and hard as stone, “No.”

Though it wasn’t an unusual response, you still felt like you’d been punched in the gut. Attempting to remain as composed as possible, you nodded and made your way to the door, “I understand. I apologize for distracting you. See you in the morning.”

Before you were completely out, he turned and quickly spoke, “Oi.”

The embarrassment burned your face at the speed of which you turned back around, “Yeah?”

The world was swallowing you whole once again as Ghost walked over to you and checked his watch before nodding, “We’ll talk in 55. Think you’ll still be up by then?”

‘I hate you, Simon Riley.’

You were trying so fucking hard not to grin and giggle like a lovesick teen at his approval, “Definitely. I’ll try to interview whoever’s available while I wait for you.”

Ghost nodded, “Alright then;” in an attempt to ease the tension equal to waiting for a bomb to set off…he harshly patted your back the way you would a dog. Unfortunately, it was too hard as you involuntarily grunted and stumbled forward a bit.

Unsure of what else to do, the man stared at you before slowly going back to the balcony, “…See you later, Ghost.”

“Yep.”

‘I hate you Y/N L/N.’

While the two of you separately calmed down from the suffocating claustrophobia of being around each other, you glared at your feet from the warmth between your legs, ‘Fucker. You’re gonna drive me crazy.’

Ghost looked around, quickly trying to divert his attention away from the unfamiliar feelings in his chest and the tightness in his pants back to being on guard. ‘Damn, bookworm. Having you on this team was a bloody fucking mistake.’

The Lieutenant stared in the distance as he radioed, “Johnny, how copy.”

A coyote howled in the distance.

“Ghost, how copy. Movement detected?”

“No. All clear. But I made a mistake.”

“Er…come again? You made a mistake?”

“Yeah. I talked to Y/N.”

Soap let out a heavy sigh and Ghost could mentally see the way his comrade was rubbing the space between his brows, “Christ…and? Does she hate you now?”

Ghost leaned against the wall with his free arm resting on his gun, “Can’t say…but I liked talking to her.”

Soap’s eyes widened and he began to beam for his stoic friend, “Alright, Lt! I guess you do have a way with words.”

The large masked man dryly scoffed, “Not in the slightest. That’s my only skill I’m lacking in. But that’s the problem. She’s too charming. We should keep a close eye on her.”

Soap chuckled, “Sounds like your overreacting, Lt. The lass is soft as a wee feather.”

“Hm. More incentive to watch our backs, wouldn’t you think? Look at who just betrayed us, after all.”

A bit defeated, Soap hummed, “Good point. I won’t worry too much quite yet, but I got your back, Lt.”

Ghost’s ears perked up when he heard your voice through the radio, “Good evening, Sargent Mactavish! Do you have a moment?”

“Have a fun interview.”

Soap chuckled, “It’ll be better than yours, that’s for sure. Soap out.”

Your voice rang in Ghost’s ears. The absence of warmth in his arms and loss of your scent aggravated him out of confusion and frustration. You were a distraction. One he didn’t mind having around. But you made him feel things he’s never felt before. Being a man of tactic and strategy, he was used to knowing his opponents moves before they even executed them. And then you spoke to him. He knew you meant no harm, he knew it. But what the hell were these feelings? Anxiety? Fear? Annoyance? Was it hatred or something else? If it was then why was his body having these reactions?

He didn’t know. And if there’s one thing Ghost hates more than anything, it’s not knowing how to approach a target.

That never lasted long though.

‘You’ll be the last mistake I ever make.’

Deep in his mind, something lurked. Made his heart ache and race all at once.

‘If you even are one…’