#simon 'ghost' riley x y/n

[ghostandsoap]

Call Signs

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! “Gecko” Reader (Ft. John “Soap” MacTavish)

Tags: Angst. Gunshot wound. Blood loss. Shock. Hypothermia. Major injury. Mentions of death. 

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: So I’m not totally sure how accurate some of this is. Also, I’m not sure if parts of this are canon? Read with caution LOL. 

“Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

⋆˙⟡ ♡⋆˙⟡

⋆˙⟡ ♡⋆˙⟡

Military call signs. Clever, crafty, and specific to the person they’re associated with. 

There was one main, golden rule when it came to call signs: don’t complain about your own call sign, or else they’ll give you something worse.

Yours wasn’t exactly one that you were thrilled with in the beginning. It wasn’t as badass as you would’ve liked. If you had been given the opportunity to choose, you would’ve chosen something a little more…tough. But once the name stuck, you were stuck with it. You didn’t dare let even a single word of distaste fall from your mouth. If anybody caught wind of you complaining about it, they’d give you something to really complain about.

Over the years, you had heard some good ones — some more creative than others. Depending on the person, sometimes it was easy to tell the reason behind their given name — other times, not so much. You had some friends that you still didn’t know the reason why they were given their call sign.

For example, Soap was just Soap.  

In the time that you had known him, you had begged Soap to tell you where his call sign came from. You had even rattled and poked at Captain Price a bit to get him to give it up. But both of them always gave you the same answer.  

It’s classified. 

With that answer, you refused to tell anyone the reason behind your own call sign. If they weren’t going to tell you about theirs, then you weren’t telling them about yours. It was only fair, you weren’t telling anybody. Nobody knew. 

Well…nobody except–

“Gecko. This is Ghost. How copy?” The syrupy-thick voice seeped through your ear that was still ringing from gunfire. 

You were cold – miserably cold. You were chilled all the way to the bone to the point where your skin was numb to the touch. The sound of rain registered with you. The sky was pouring buckets, which explained why you were so freezing. There was no telling how long you had been passed out and exposed to the elements. Not a single part of you was dry, despite all your layers underneath and over. 

There was pain somewhere. Your groggy state made it difficult to figure out exactly where you were hurt. To be honest, it hurt just about everywhere. A searing sensation settled in your side, but it was migrating all over. Based on the large red spot leaking through that area, you had a really good idea then of what it was.

“Gecko, do you copy?” Another voice spoke that you knew to belong to Soap.

His voice sounded a million miles away, even though it was literally right in your ear. When your eyes opened, you were eye-level with the ground. You were met with a harsh pavement underneath you, muscles trembling with exhaustion and low temperatures. It took a few seconds for your vision to clear, and it took even more effort for you to raise yourself up even to make it onto your elbows. 

When you were able to take a glance around, it wasn’t any less unsettling. The slick streets of Las Almas weren’t very pleasant in the dead of night. Even worse, you didn’t know where Soap and Ghost were. 

It all came flooding back to you. Graves turned on the team. He tried to kill all of you. You, Ghost, and Soap managed to split up and narrowly escape. It was chaos, the kind that shaved about 15 years off of your life.

“C’mon. Where are you, Gecko?” Ghost asked in an aggravated, yet worried way. 

His question was more out loud and to himself more than anything, but it occurred to you that it probably would be nice for him to hear you.

“I’m here,” You groaned, throat dry and scratchy. “Just barely.”

“Oh shit. You’re alive!” Soap replied, and you swear you could feel Ghost relax from wherever he was. 

“What’s your status?” Ghost demanded.

You were not telling Ghost that you were hurt if you could help it. It was certainly against protocol, but you didn’t need Ghost getting all worked up when the three of you needed to find one another and get the hell out of there. You knew how he could get whenever you were hurt.

“Where are you both?” You rolled onto your knees, ungracefully managing to get on your feet.

You felt any and all blood rush from your face, an overwhelming feeling of nausea taking over your stomach. The bleeding in your side was definitely a problem. You stripped your outer jacket off, wrapping it around your waist and tying it as tight as you could possibly stand it. It wasn’t like the jacket was useful any other way, considering it was soaked.

“No fuckin’ idea. I’m in and out of these shops,” Soap grumbled. “I’m soakin’ wet.”

“Me too,” You managed to laugh, but it came out as more of a struggled exhale. “Ghost, what’s your location?” 

“The church. Soap’s finding his way here,” Ghost said. “What’s your status, Gecko?”

You knew he’d ask again. He always knew when you had dodged a question.

“Just a little rattled,” You lied. “Where’s the church?”

“It’s in the square. Navigate through the shops, they’ll lead you there,” Soap said. “Stay sharp. Shadows are everywhere.”

Survival mode has kicked in for you. You had one objective.

Find Ghost. Don’t get killed. 

“Will do. Ghost, I’m coming to you.” You announced, beginning to take the first few steps to get yourself moving. 

There was a brief moment of silence before he answered – and he gave an answer that you knew had Soap raising a brow.

“Please be safe.” 

A shudder vibrated down your back, and it wasn’t from the bitter cold rain. 

Being involved with Ghost was…complicated. It was a forbidden love in a lot of ways. There was a certain disapproval when it came to 2 members dating within the force. It caused drama sometimes, tension other times. Not to mention, it would be painfully awkward for everybody else if the two of you were to break up. 

But the connection was undeniable. It astounded you just how in touch you felt with him. He did everything he could to protect you, to make you feel safe in an otherwise dangerous world. He spent every spare moment with you. He spilled all of his most pressing thoughts to you, knowing his words of vulnerability were safe with you. Talking to him was easy, spending time with him was easier.

Loving him was easiest of all.

Despite your likeness toward each other, it was a mutual understanding that no one was to know. Ghost didn’t fancy all the teasing, and you wanted at least one part of your life to be private. In front of others, you were Gecko and Ghost. When alone, you were Simon and [Y/N]. 

In a lot of ways, the secretive aspect of it was fun. You liked sneaking around with Ghost in the late hours of the night, tip-toeing around sleeping comrades in an attempt at a moment to yourselves. The nonchalant glances…the discreet, yet lingering touches…the whispers of words of affection. It was all something you couldn’t help but get a kick out of. Anybody in their right mind would find it even a little bit entertaining.

But in all honesty, suspicions from the rest were becoming more and more. 

Price had known immediately. Not even three days after you and Simon decided to give it a try, he could sense that something was different. He couldn’t really explain it. He could just see it in Ghost’s behavior that he was preoccupied with something…someone else. Something that had been sprouting for a long time was now beginning to blossom in front of the captain’s very eyes. Price was a respectful man. He wasn’t one to get in the way of something that wasn’t his business. He kept an eye on the situation here and there, more for a status update than anything. 

It took Gaz about four months. He suspected nothing in the beginning. He managed to miss all the signs at first. Who could blame him? He didn’t know he was supposed to even be looking for them. He didn’t catch any real changes in behavior or attitude. In all honesty, if he hadn’t witnessed it with his very eyes – he might’ve never known. It had been a quick gesture. So quick that Gaz might’ve been able to convince himself that he was mistaken if it hadn’t been so blatantly clear.

Gaz had passed by a bit quicker than he normally would, catching a quick glimpse inside the room he hadn’t planned on entering. What he saw was a kiss being planted on the cheek of Ghost’s mask, and a light laugh from the man as you did so. Gaz had stopped dead in his tracks, stunned at what he had seen. He was tempted to turn around and question you, but he knew better. Gaz figured if he hadn’t been told outright, then it probably wasn’t for him to know. He kept it in the back of his mind, however, and after that, he began noticing everything.

And as for Soap, the poor lad had yet to connect the dots. He had heard some chatter here and there about Gecko and Ghost “getting it on.” Soap didn’t believe it. He hadn’t seen it or heard it for himself, so in his mind, the rumors were null. That didn’t mean that Soap didn’t like the idea of his lieutenant and one of his closest friends seeing each other. He entertained the thought here and there. He supposed that Gecko and Ghost had a nice ring to it, and it was something that he liked to snicker about. Overall, Soap didn’t think about it too much. There was no way that “LT” and the infamous Gecko were together. Almost a year into it, and John MacTavish was oblivious.

It hadn’t taken you long to develop feelings for Ghost. Suddenly, you were worried about where he was and him getting hurt more often than not. This was one hell of a career to be in when you were an anxious worrier. This job had changed for you. Before, there was no fear of living or dying. It was just you. It was all you. But when there was someone else in the cards?

That changed things. That really changed things.

That seemed to be the only fight that you and Ghost ever had. It was always the same one. One of you fell ill or became injured, it was due to defying an order, the other was scared to death that something worse could’ve happened, and most of all – you both wished that the other would be more careful. 

“Careful” was a funny word in this business. No matter how careful you were, that didn’t automatically make you safe. 

Roaming the streets of Las Almas while lethargic, unarmed, and bleeding was a definite reminder of that. You followed Soap’s advice, weaving in and out of the stores and getting whatever supplies you could get your hands on. A homemade weapon was better than no weapon, in your mind. Avoiding any and all Shadows was your main goal. There was no chance of you getting out of that alive, if this bullet lodged in your side didn’t kill you first. You hoped that Soap had made it to the church by now. It made you feel better to know that they were together.

The rain showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. You figured it was fine. It wasn’t like you could get any more wet than you already were. It at least made enough noise to conceal your footsteps, which you didn’t have much control over due to the splitting pain in your core. 

You just had to get to the church. Get to the church, get out of here, and get patched up. You’d be fine. You’d survived worse. You weren’t going to-

There was a flash of white over your vision. While brief, it was enough to startle you to a complete halt. You staggered out of the coffee shop, leaning against the back door for support. This was bad. This was really bad. 

“Ghost…” You squeaked.

Breathing suddenly became overly difficult. Every gulp of air was a struggle to get the next one. There was a significant wobble in your knees as you stumbled into the nearest alley for cover, knowing your legs were close to giving out. It was notably colder in the space between the two buildings, but the feeling of your soul being slowly sucked back into the universe made that seem minor. 

“Talk to me. Where are you?” Ghost asked.

That was when you collapsed, landing on the wet ground with a thud. A whimper escaped from your throat at the impact. Clutching your wounded side was all you knew to do. Your jacket used as a makeshift way of putting pressure on it was proving ineffective. 

“The alleyway,” You strained.  “Left of the coffee shop.”

Ghost and Soap both heard the trouble in your voice. Ghost had only heard that tone once before — and it was when something was really, really wrong. 

“What’s your status now?” Soap questioned.

Lying was no good to you now. They were going to know one way or the other.

“I’m down,” You swallowed. “Must’ve been hit at some point when we got away.” 

There was no way you were making it to the church. You were as good as gone as long as there was still a bullet in your torso. Bleeding out in the streets of a run-down town in Mexico wasn’t how you had envisioned going out. That was a conversation you had held with Soap more than once. Everybody had their preferred way of dying. You had always hoped that you’d meet your demise in a more memorable way. Maybe in a missile explosion or getting ejected from a helicopter in a hot pursuit.

Dying alone was the part and the possibility that always scared you the most.

This wasn’t what you had in mind. Bleeding to death by yourself in an alleyway in the middle of a run-down town in Mexico wasn’t what you had wished for. You knew the day would come…and the day had finally come.

But not if Ghost could help it.

“I’m coming to get you, Gecko. Don’t move,” Ghost remarked sternly, and you could hear that he was on the move. “Soap, we’ll meet you at the church.”

“Copy.” Soap confirmed.

“N-no,” You coughed. “Ghost, don’t leave your location if you’re secure.” 

“None of us are secure. I’m not leaving you,” Ghost said sternly. “Stay where you are. I’m on my way.” 

Arguing with Ghost was usually a lost cause. When Ghost was set on something, he was surely going to stick with it. It was a waiting game now, and it was one of the most helpless feelings to know that you were relying on somebody else to save your ass. You knew that Ghost would be there in half the time that it probably should’ve taken him, but when you’re dying, the minutes feel like eternity. 

This wasn’t the first time that you had been in situations like this. Everybody had their fair shares of “I almost died” stories. But this was different for you. This was the closest you had ever been to not living to tell this story. 

Panicking was most definitely not the way to handle this situation. Very rarely was panicking ever helpful in a dire, critical scenario like this. It was the most eerie feeling – literally feeling yourself dying. The blood loss was becoming less, but only because you were running out of blood to lose. Your heart was beating slower and slower by the second. Breathing was now a voluntary action. As the adrenaline wore off and the reality of the situation set in, your anxiety crept over you and infiltrated any room for collectedness that you had left. 

“G-Ghost.” You sighed, a layer of tears pricking at the base of your lashes.

Ghost heard the near sob in your words, putting an even faster pep in his step. 

“Almost there, Gecko. What’s wrong?” 

“I’m…I’m scared.” You admitted, hot tears mixing with the fresh rain water on your cheeks.

Ghost’s heart shattered into a million pieces, catapulting into every vessel near it like the strongest of shrapnel. He couldn’t stand the thought of you alone and scared. 

“I know. Just keep talking to me and Soap,” He breathed, trying to stay calm for you. “I’m coming, G.”

‘G’ was a nickname inside of a nickname. Ghost only used it sparingly, and it was usually when he was trying to be supportive or sympathetic without giving your secret romantic endeavor away.  

It felt silly to say. Generally speaking, you didn’t really have the right to be afraid. It was the pure passion for your job and your own willingness that put you in dangerous situations. It was your own free will, your own decision that you made the same choice on every single time. It was one thing to be scared when you ended up here accidentally. It was another when it was a consequence of your choices and actions. Courage and strength were supposed to be your strong suits. They were the characteristics that you were supposed to fall back on every time.

Yet here you were. Scared to death of dying – something that you had thought about and been preparing for since you started this gig.

“Simon, I-I…I don’t want to d-”

“It’s ‘cause I clean house quickly.” Soap’s voice echoed in one ear and out the other, suddenly and abruptly.

What? 

Even in a near unconscious-like state, you were still well aware of how that needed some clarification.

“S-say again?” You stuttered, the corners of your vision beginning to go foggy. 

“Soap. ‘Cause I clean house and buildings with speed ‘n accuracy,” Soap repeated. “That’s why they call me Soap.”

Soap!

It made so much sense. You were almost embarrassed that you didn’t think of that yourself. You knew it was Soap’s way of distracting you – keeping your mind off of dying. 

“That’s a good one,” You nearly wheezed. “Thought it was because you were a bath man.” 

“Thanks for that image. Won’t be able to unsee that one,” Ghost piped up. “Almost there, Gecko. Hang on for me, yeah?” 

Ghost’s voice was strained as if he were running. Using every ounce of speed and stamina that he had to get you as fast as possible. He couldn’t lose you like this.

He refused to lose you like this. 

“It’s because I’m quick on my feet, and because I can scale a building faster than anybody.” You croaked.

“Ah. That’s why they call you Gecko?” Soap chuckled, and you could hear the amusement in his words.

“Came up with that one myself.” Ghost smirked.

“Some people might even say geckos are kind of cute.” You joked, but didn’t quite have the energy to laugh.

“I’d agree with that,” Ghost countered, and you could sense Soap’s internal confusion from forever away. “I have a visual on Gecko. Almost at the church, Soap?” 

“Affirmative, Lt. Meet you there.” 

Sure enough, Ghost appeared from seemingly nowhere, like a sent guardian angel. Your vision had tunneled, so you couldn’t see much out of your peripherals. He had never seen you so weak and close to going out on him. His eyes behind the mask were wide and dark, focused on getting you out alive.

“Nice to see you, Lieutenant.” You shivered.

“Glad you’re not a goner,” He returned, removing the glove from his right hand and pressing his fingers against your cheek. “Shit. You’re freezing.”

“How bad do I look?” You slurred, and you fought to keep your eyeballs from rolling back into your head. 

“Probably not as bad as you feel. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” Ghost said, working quickly to get himself arranged to carry you.

“Did you see any Shadows on the way?” You gulped, eyelids beginning to flutter. 

“They’re everywhere. We need to get going,” Ghost scooped you up effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing and weren’t dripping wet through multiple layers. “C’mon, love. Let’s get you out of here.”

The journey from the ground to up into Ghost’s arms felt like an airplane takeoff. You were close to slipping out of consciousness.

“We’ll get to Soap and get a vehicle out of here,” Ghost explained, readjusting his arm underneath your knees. “You’re going to be fine, Gecko.”

“G-Guess I wasn’t quick enough this time, huh?” You gave the faintest grin, and Ghost couldn’t help but laugh at your stupid joke.

“Shut up.” 

There was relief in knowing that you were with Ghost. Your chances of dying hadn’t changed, but if you were going to die, this was a better way of going out. 

The fog in your vision became thicker and thicker until you couldn’t see or hear a thing. The darkness surrounded you, sucking you deeper and deeper into nothingness.

⋆˙⟡ ♡⋆˙⟡                                     

The next time your eyes opened, you weren’t met with the dim streets of Las Almas. There was no smell of rain or taste of blood and sweat. The smell this time was sterile air and cheap (but clean) bedsheets. You couldn’t taste anything due to the worst case of cottonmouth that you had ever experienced. The beeping music of an EKG reader and distant chatter was the real giveaway. 

The muscles in your legs were stiff, mainly because you hadn’t moved them in so long. A grunt was all you could manage as you shifted, a new type of discomfort erupting where you had been shot. It was all wrapped up now (professionally and medically wrapped), clean and taken care of. There was an IV in each arm, one administering fluids and the other what you could only imagine to be some kind of pain medication. The white walls and tan floors were weirdly comforting…a sign to let you know that you were safe for now. 

The best sights of all were the ones seated to the left of your bed.

Ghost’s arms were crossed, ankles crossed over each other, and his head lowered and his breathing steady. His outer skull mask was nowhere to be seen, but his balaclava was clinging to his face as always. 

Soap was also snoozing, but less peacefully and quietly. His head was tilted back as far as it possibly could go, his arms draped at his sides, legs stretched all the way out, and snoring so loud that you were surprised you hadn’t already heard it.

You were gentle as you called to Ghost, considering he didn’t always react calmly when being woken up.

“Hey…” You rasped with a dry throat. “Ghost.”

His eyes snapped open, flickering up to you instantly. A monumental wave of relief visibly crashed over him, filling his veins and relaxing his heart.

“You’re awake,” He leaned closer, taking your hand into his. “You’re okay.”

“What…how long has it been?” You asked, bits of your memory coming back to you.

“A few days…four I think, ” He answered with a nod. “How do you feel?”

Honestly, you weren’t sure. Physically you felt terrible, but better than when you were dying of shock, cold, and blood loss. Mentally you felt fuzzy and groggy from being out so long. Emotionally…well, only time would tell.

“Like shit.” You admitted.

“Not surprised.” He grinned under his face covering. 

There were a few beats of silence. You took a few glances around, getting familiar with your new setting. Ghost, though, never took his eyes off of you. They were a light shade of red, and even his balaclava couldn’t hide the dark circles under them.

“Have you slept at all?” You asked, knowing good and well he hadn’t left your side.

“A little bit here and there,” He said, motioning his free hand towards Soap. “This is the most sleep Soap’s gotten this whole time. He’s been out for about 30 minutes.”

Soap was indeed out like a light. You couldn’t imagine how tired the two of them were. There was another stretch of silence. This one lasted longer and was much more tense. This wasn’t an easy encounter. How were you supposed to act when you had barely scraped by with your life?

“Simon?” 

“Yeah, love?”

“How close was it?”

Simon stared for a moment. No formation of an answer to your question occurred for a second or two. He didn’t like that question. He had avoided thinking about it until now. Ghost knew that he’d have to do his own mentality check in with himself in a few days. He had almost lost the most important person in his life…he’d need to deal with that. 

“Too close.” 

Another silence. Another silent thank you that you were here to see another day.

“You were…hypothermic, in shock. You lost a lot of blood before and during surgery,” He said. “Doc said if it had been any later getting you help-”

“Hey,” A groggy voice piped in, unaware that he was interrupting. “Gecko’s up.”

Soap’s eyes were just as bloodshot as Ghost’s, but Soap’s personality was wide awake.

“Happy to see you again, Sergeant. My apologies for being absent from our reunion at the church.” You grinned.

“Yeah, yeah. Left us to do double the work,” Soap chuckled. “Feels weird callin’ you Gecko now that I know where it comes from.”

“Soap doesn’t have the same ring to it, I have to say.” You fired back. 

“Agh, I’m crushed. Right in my pride!” He shrieked. 

The three of you shared a soft laugh. Nothing like Soap’s comedic relief to break the tension. You felt okay. This was just one of those things. One of the things that you signed up for with this job. It didn’t make it any less unnerving, but now you felt like you could really move on from this. 

And you were thankful that you had lived to tell the story. 

There was a sudden itch in your throat. An annoying tickle that reminded you that you hadn’t had a physical sip of water in four days. 

“Do you think that I could get some water?” You wondered aloud, nearly choking on your own words from the parched feeling.

Ghost hadn’t left your side when you were knocked out, and he surely wasn’t leaving now that you were awake.

“Johnny, could you-”

“Yep! On it.” He scurried out and down the hall without another word. 

That left you and Ghost. The man that saved your life by risking his own to come back for you. You didn’t even want to think about what you would’ve done if Ghost had gotten killed at your expense. At least you would’ve died together, but that hardly sounded right or fair. Ghost deserved so much more. 

“You scared me.” Ghost confessed, not even hiding the worry in his voice. 

“I know…I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, doll. Just…” He sighed. “Just really thought that I had lost you this time.” 

There wasn’t anything you could say to make him feel better. You knew that because you had been in his shoes. His head wasn’t in the best place. You knew that even better. But if there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that you loved him more than anybody else ever could.

“Thanks for coming back for me.” You whispered, a sudden set of tears slipping down your cheeks.

Ghost raised his balaclava. The material stopped just under his nose, his bare lips coming to press a kiss to the back of your hand. He made a solemn swear to himself in that moment that he’d never take you for granted again. He’d never get too comfortable with having you around and at his disposal.

Because fate was far too cruel for that.

“Always.” 

[mcntsee]

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

[tacticalprincess]

simon and könig being unable to stop bickering for a second, even when they’re balls deep inside of you. they’ve got you in an Eiffel Tower, könig’s cock filling your glossy pussy while simon stuffs your mouth. it took ages of convincing for them to even consider this position, but eventually they decided to put their discrepancies aside for the sake of you, their precious, spoiled little thing. it didn’t last very long though…

“jackhammer much, mate? you’ve got her choking on me over here.” simon points out, his heavy hand stroking your hair soothingly. könig’s using your hips as leverage, bucking into you at a rabid pace, each of his thrusts lurching your body forward and forcing you to take more of simon’s dick down your poor throat. “what happened to treatin’ the princess with care?”

“it’s okay, she likes it. isn’t that right, maus?”

your cheeks warm up as you hum around simon’s dick noncommittally. nothing gets passed the l.t though, and suddenly he’s gripping you by your hair, pulling your mouth off his cock.

“wait, you let him fuck your face?” he asks, sounding genuinely offended.

you wipe the line of spit that trails from your swollen lips all the way to his still hard dick, hovering just out of reach. you huff. “he’s more sadistic than you…” you say sheepishly in response, voice staccato from könig’s thrusts.

“you tellin’ me i’m the soft sex guy? the aftercare fuck?”

“‘s alright, mate.” könig reaches over your naked body to pat his comrade on the shoulder. “youve got boyfriend dick. happens to the best of us.”

[deunmiu-dessie]

pillow princess!reader who decides that they want to try being on top for once and anchors their small hands on ghost's chest, bouncing sloppily on his cock and whimpering at his praise. “that’s it. good girl, just like that.” pillow princess!reader who pants in small, short puffs, cheeks flushing red and legs cramping. pillow princess!reader whose movements start to get slower just when they're on the brink of cumming. “ i c-can't, m’tired, si.” bf!simon who rumbles deep in his chest at your whiney complaint, "ah, fuckin' hell." bf!simon who grabs the fat of your hips and fucks up into you, hard and fast, gravelly voice mocking. "look at you, can't even fuckin' ride me properly." bf!simon who simpers at your scrunched up face and bleary eyes, mouth open to let out pitiful sobs. "m' sorry, d-daddy--mmn!" he chuckles softly, "'s alright, pet. " ˙ᵕ˙

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ - 𝒸𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓂𝑒! ⁽ nsfw ⁾

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Y/N: Hi I'm your medic and I'll be drawing your blood today, as soon as I finish this capri sun Y/N: *misses the hole four times then finally punches the straw through the side* Ghost, sweating: PRICE

[rileyslibrary]

After suffering a gunshot wound, you wake up in a hospital bed with Ghost sitting by your side. Unfortunately, the effects of anaesthesia leave you unable to recognise him and, worse, confuse him with someone else.

A/N: Fluff. Based on a request I received a while ago. Hope you like it, anon!

———————————————————————

A machine on your left beeps rhythmically. The taste of something metallic lingers in your mouth, and the iodine smell stinks your nostrils. Your eyes open slowly, but the bright ceiling light forces them shut again. You lick your lips and attempt to swallow a couple of times. Dry. Your mouth is dry. You need water. Your hand moves towards your face, but a low, raspy voice advises you against it.

“Careful now,” it says, and a hand gently grabs your wrist. “Don’t pull the IV off.”

You turn your head towards the figure beside you and squint. It’s a man, but your blurry vision doesn’t help you identify him. Your eyes travel to your wrist and focus on the closest part of him: a skeleton’s hand.

You try to shake your hand off his grip, but it turns out futile. Frustrated, you give up and raise your middle finger at him.

“Not my time yet,” you declare. “Fuck off.”

“Pardon?” he asks.

“Not ready to go yet,” you reply, tucking your middle finger in your palm and lifting it back up again. “And also, fuck off.”

The man releases your wrist, placing your hand gently beside you. He clears his throat and leans forward. Though your vision remains blurry, you spot what looks like a human skull with a hood over it.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asks, his tone softer.

“How am I feeling, love?” you repeat. “Did Hell improve their customer service?”

“I’m not-” The man begins but pauses. He sighs, shakes his head and rests his elbows on his thighs. “Never mind.”

“Where am I?” You ask.

“Hospital.” He replies. “You took a bullet.”

Directing your attention to your body, you feel a dull throb in your chest. You wince as your fingers brush against the bandages.

“You are joking.” You reply and slap your hand on the bed. “Why? How?”

“Well,” He says and tilts his head to the side. “You exchanged a few shots with the enemy, your gun ran out of bullets, his didn’t, and here we are.”

“My gun?” You ask, shocked. “I have a gun?”

“Several.” He nods.

“SEVERAL?” You shout. “Why would I possibly need several guns?”

“It’s your job, love.” He replies.

“My job is to have several guns?” you ask. “And shooting at people?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he explains, “but it’s mainly for defence.”

“Well,” you shrug and wince at the pain. “Doesn’t look like I’m that good at defence—especially for having several guns.”

“I was really worr—”

“Water,” you interrupt and gesture at your mouth. “I need water.”

“Doctor said it’s not the time for water yet,” he replies.

“Why?” you ask, pretending to check a non-existent wristwatch. “What time is it?”

“No, love,” he replies and muffles a chuckle. “Doctor said you need to wait until you have some water.”

“You throw the ‘love’ thing a little too freely,” you mumble, licking your lips and lifting your index finger. “I’d be really careful if I were you.”

“Really?” he asks, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Why?”

“I,” you say and point at yourself, “got a boyfriend, thank you very much.”

“Oh,” he exclaims and tilts his head. “Is that so.”

“Yup,” you nod. “And he can kill you.”

“Can he?”

“Can?” You say, and a smug smile forms on your dry lips. “He will absolutely, one hundred and a thousand per cent kill you.”

“Is he that good?” He asks.

“I mean,” you shrug, motioning at the bandages on your chest. “He’s much better than I am.”

“Oh wow,” he exclaims and leans forward. “Is he as good of a boyfriend as he is a shooter?”

“Far from it,” you reply, letting your hand fall to your side.

The man doesn’t speak. He doesn’t seem that comfortable all of a sudden. He shuffles in his chair, trying to find a better position, and when he does, he clasps his hands together.

“Go on,” he finally says. “Spill it.”

“Ok, so,” you begin, “first things first, he doesn’t listen to me when I want to vent, and whenever he does, all he says is nonsense.”

“The lad gives you solutions,” he snaps, “and you call them nonsense?”

“I don’t want solutions, man,” you reply, shaking your head. “I want him to just listen to me.”

“Even if the solutions he provides are literally the answers to your suffering?”

“Even then.” You confirm.

“Gotcha,” he nods. “What else?”

“Oof,” you sigh, “how much time do you have?”

“I’m immortal,” he reminds you, “plus the next reaping is in five hours.”

“Oh boy,” you reply. “Business not going that well lately, huh?”

“Not many deaths to take care of,” he spits. “I guess some people could use some serious training when it comes to their aim.”

“Speaking of training,” you say, “he’s always at work and never spends much time with me.”

“The guy’s trying to spend as much time with you as he can, for fucks sake!” he shouts, throwing his hands up. “He even lied to get you on his team!”

“How do you know he put me on his team?” You ask.

“I keep a close eye on him.” He replies.

“What did he lie about?”

“Your precision in aiming,” he jokes and motions for you to continue. “Next one.”

“I can’t think of anything else,” you reply. “Other than he doesn’t say how much he loves me.”

“You’re having a laugh now, aren’t you?” He says, and his tone feels almost threatening. “He’s showing it to you daily; offering advice, keeping you close to him, even risking the possibility of being accused of nepotism for crying out loud! He doesn’t need to say it as well for you to know it!”

“It’s just nice to hear it sometimes,” you sigh and twist a thread from the bed sheet. You turn your head slightly toward him, and he lowers his head to the ground.

“How about you?” You ask. “You have a girlfriend?”

“I do,” he confirms.

“Shut up!” You shout, widening your eyes and immediately closing them back again. “Where did you guys meet?”

“Hell,” he replies. “Right in the pits of it.”

“How is she?” You ask.

“Perfect.” He states.

“Bullshit,” you murmur. “No one’s perfect.”

“She is to me.” He says, shrugging.

“Do you love her?” You ask.

“Absolutely,” he replies, nodding slowly. “One hundred and a thousand per cent I do.”

———————————————————————

[yawnderu]

Sex Pollen — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

girl dinner since my König sex pollen has over 900 notes♡

"That's it, love..." Ghost growls out as he pushes your hips up and down slowly, your warm, wet cunt engulfing his thick dick as his hips thrust up to meet you halfway. Your womb is already full of his cum, yet Ghost is unable to stop, each orgasm seemed to just be making his cock harder and his balls tighter. Being all the way inside you felt too damn good.

"So pretty like this, sweet girl... like you were made to take my fuckin' cock all the way inside that tight little cunt." He muttered between clenched teeth, trying his best not to cum inside you yet. For the first time in his life, Ghost was willingly having sex, and oh God, he can't believe he has been missing out on this. His thrusts were slow and deep, making sure to put your pleasure before his, hitting all the right spots with his fat cock.

"Ghost...—" His name being moaned out by you felt like music to his ears, his eyes narrowing slightly as his grip on your hips got tighter, pushing you faster up and down his dick as your tight walls gripped him, a mix of your cream and his cum coating his length, making a ring on the base of it. Though his face was concealed by the balaclava, you can see his expressive eyes focused completely on your face, basking in the pretty faces you make when you're cock-drunk. You already forgot how many orgasms he's pulled out of you, yet it all feels too damn good to ask him to stop, even when your cunt is abused and fucked-out.

"Fuck— angel, let me cum in you." He pleads for your consent, just as he did the last four times he came inside. "Want to fill you up so good, baby, please." Ghost's eyes roll to the back of his head as you give him your approval, groaning and grunting as he begins to thrust harder and deeper into you, his gloved hands pulling your hips all the way down so his cock is completely inside you as his thick, warm cum fills your womb up.

[fallenneziah]

Ugh, sorry, more little blurbs while I try to write something cohesive.

Ghost who makes you call him sir in bed when he slaps you across the face, hiking one of your legs up to your stomach, fucking you on your side. "So good, little slut, so precious." He growls. Telling you to beg him louder, tell him how much you fucking like it when you take his cock deep inside your slutty hole. "Take that cock! Fuckin' take it, beg for it until I see those sweet tears."

Vs.

Simon who breathes you on, practically humps you, hands holding your stomach and smoothing over you arched hips off the bed. "Love... fuck, you're so good... like heaven around me-" Telling you how good you're being for him without him even having to ask you. "Taking it so deep, so fuckin' deep in that cock, all for me. All for me baby..." Driving his cock deep inside you, kissing your ear and telling you just have good you sound when you take it deep.

Keegan who handcuffs you to the bed, watching you moan and bounce with your wrists bound to the headboard. His hand firm in your messy hair, watching you cry as he ruthlessly bullies his thick cock deep inside you. "Look at you, all messed up just for me..." His pelvis slamming between your thighs with each heartbeat. "Fuckin' moan for me baby! Scream my name! Oh that's it! That's it get louder!"

Vs.

Keegan who handcuffs your wrists in front of you, giving him free will go tug on them. Leaning down to kiss your mouth open, tugging the cuffs lightly to push you down on his cock. "Fuck... Fuck baby you're gonna drive me crazy like that." He purrs against your lips, rolling his eyes and fucking his hips into you. "All up on my cock like that. Oh baby you make me want it-" Hearing you whimper into his mouth and kiss him back, feeling you taking his cock, it's all he needs.

König who loves to make your little back arch. Telling you to bend more or he'd break you. Firm hands on either side of your hips as he watches his cock slide deeply in and out of you. "Such a little thing I get the pleasure of breaking. Such a good little thing for me!" Telling you if you keep acting like such a slut he'll fill you up deep with it. "Quiet maus, I don't want the neighbors to hear what a filthy thing you are!"

Vs.

König who pants softly, hands on your hips bouncing you along his thick cock. Watching your stomach bulge slightly or your hole stretch, the tip of his cock pressing into the wall of your body. Watching your eyes flutter and you moan and moan around him. "I love you, I love you precious little thing..." Eyelids fluttering when he sees you crumble under your shaking thighs and the weight of your orgasm. "Oh so good liebling... Fuck, so so good.."

[chaosandmarigolds]

Simon Riley! Who refuses to sleep alone once you got together, once he began to trust you

Simon Riley! Who takes it as a person attack when you push him away in the middle of the night during a heatwave

Simon Riley! Who picks up your little baby when they come toddling in on their routine break in around two and puts them back to bed because night time is mommy and daddy time

Simon Riley! Who who sleepily follows you when you wake up in the middle of the night

Simon Riley! Who will purposefully turn the AC down to 62 F just because it’ll mean you’ll snuggle into him

Simon Riley! Who would rather starve then let you crawl out of bed to make breakfast, A: because it’s snuggle time

Simon Riley! Who collapses on the bed after a long day out and drags out onto the bed with him

Simon Riley! Who, after a his entire life, loves night time because it meant he got to be with you <3

[lov-3-rs]

Being needy asf and riding ghost is the only thing on my mind…

“oh fuck baby slow down you’re gonna make me cum” ghost gives out a low chuckle while looking up to you through his damned skull mask that he wears all the time, “Si- hmm I can’t help it i need it s-soooo fucking badly aahhh” you tilt your head back in pure pleasure while bouncing on his cock, “fuckin’ hell love” his fingers are digging so deep and harshly into your hips that they’ll definitely be leaving bruises by tomorrow but the poor guy can’t help it because he’s trying to control how hard you’re bouncing on his dick so he doesn’t cum too quickly, You tilt your head back up straight to look at him just to see him staring at himself going in and out of your cunt “hmmm you like watching?” he looks back up at you “yeah baby I like watching you take it” his voice is so deep and rasped it makes your stomach knot up “Oh fuck i’m gonna cum” you pick up the pace bouncing up and down “oh yeah? ya gonna be a good girl and cum on me?” he says teasingly taking one hand from your hip and giving you a nice slap on the ass making you yelp a little “FUCK aaahh yeaaahhhh gonna watch me cum on this fat cock huh??” you are breathless at this point sweating and grinding chasing that knotted up pleasure that’s in your stomach waiting to explode “Come on love make that cock yours” his words literally send you over the edge making you lean forward putting your arms on his chest to support yourself from falling on him and continuing to ride out your orgasm “that’s it love it’s all yours, good girl” he says chasing his own knotted up feeling, he finally lifts you off of him to pull himself out and shoots warm white strings of cum all over his hands “hmmm look at the mess you’ve made love” he looks over to you as you watch him still pumping his cock, you smile and bite your bottom lip “and i’ll do it again”.

[ghostandsoap]

Cards and Communication

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Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! “Gecko” Reader (Ft. Soap, Gaz, and Price) Tags: Soap being Soap. Kinda jealous Ghost. Slightly aggressive Ghost? Price eating up all the drama.  Word Count: 5.3k “I…I really want to talk to you,”

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Alejandro’s safe house had been an absolute blessing. 

It wasn’t much to look at. In many ways, it was almost nothing to look at. The structure was well outdated and parts of the building were nearly ready to disintegrate. The outside was overrun with untamed weeds growing in the area around the house, and some of them had even begun to venture up the sides. 

 It was no movie star mansion, but it would do. If you were being completely honest, you found the safe house rather endearing. It wasn’t often that you were graced with a safe place to stay and call “home” while you were on a mission. 

There were times where you could go days (or even weeks, if it was really bad) without anywhere to crash in those periods of waiting to move into action. Alejandro had provided a safe zone and a home base for the remainder of the team’s time in Mexico. That was something that everybody appreciated. 

The inside was a tad more appealing than the outside, but not by much. The innards of the house were pretty beat up as well. The furniture inside was worn and washed out, some pieces even falling apart. The wooden floorboards squeaked and creaked, and a few of them had become loose from their not-so secured position. 

Soap, Ghost, and yourself had been the first ones to arrive, Gaz and Price were scheduled to be there later, so the three of you got the first look at the place. The sun was close to setting when you arrived, and the sky was already dotted with speckles of stars. 

The most fortunate part was that all the windows and doors were intact, which offered great relief from the weather of the world outside. However, that didn’t stop the outside temperature from creeping in, and Soap had immediately commented on the house’s chilly nature.

“Fuck. It’s freezin’ in here,'' Soap hissed. “Gonna get a fire going, Lt.” 

“Affirmative. Need a hand?” Ghost offered as Soap kneeled to inspect the fireplace in the living area.

“I don’t think so. You and Gecko can go ahead and get first dibs on where you wanna set up your stuff.” Soap politely declined.

Ghost released his backpack and all of his gear into a pile on the floor at his feet. It was no wonder that Ghost stayed in such flawless shape. All of his gear put together must’ve weighed a ton and lugging all of that stuff around was a workout in and of itself. 

“Actually I’m going to scope out the perimeter before it gets dark.” Ghost remarked.

That was typical Ghost behavior. On the off chance that you were able to score a safe house or some kind of temporary base, Ghost always checked to make sure that it really was safe.

“Alejandro swore this place was secure, and no one followed us, Ghost.” You piped up, turning to the colossal man preparing to exit the house. 

Ghost’s stare into your eyes was lingering. He knew that your words were a reassurance rather than a criticism. It was even more typical for you to attempt to keep Ghost from getting stressed. But Ghost believed that there was no such thing as being too careful. 

“I know. I just want to be sure.” Ghost replied. 

“Okay. Do you need help?” You offered, a certain sparkle gleaming in your pupils as you asked.

Ghost noticed that glimmer. It was the same one that shined in your eyes every time you wanted to do something with him. It was also the one that made his heart revel in the fact that he had someone who cared about him enough to want to do such menial tasks with him. Of course he wanted to say yes. He always wanted you with him – but if there was some kind of external threat waiting for him outside, he didn’t want to take that risk of you getting hurt too. 

“No, I can handle it. Go ahead and pick a spot. Take a load off, G.” 

With that, Ghost disappeared outside, armed and ready for any potential unwanted visitors. A quiet sigh escaped your chest as you closed the door behind him, a slight twinge of disappointment pecking at you. It passed quickly though when you turned around and saw Soap peering at you through squinted eyes.

“What?”  

“Nothin’…” Soap squeaked as he scrambled to return to assembling the fire.  

“No – what is it, Soap? Why are you looking at me like that?” You demanded, your hands landing on your hips as you glared at your sergeant.

“It’s nothin’ really, it’s just…he called you ‘G’ again.” Soap pointed out, tossing the last log into the fireplace.

There was a roll of anxiety over your stomach. This wasn’t the first time that someone had questioned you on Ghost’s demeanor when it came to you. It had gotten easier to dismiss over time, but if Soap was noticing it – then you and Ghost had gotten really sloppy when it came to hiding it.

“Yeah? Lieutenant calls me G sometimes.” You shrugged, refusing to let the knowingness show on your face.

“Sure, but…he’s the only one who calls you that,” Soap returned, turning to look at you. “I’m pretty sure he’d shoot me if I even tried to call you G.” 

“Oh, come on, Soap. You’re a nut,” You groaned with a grin. “I highly doubt Ghost takes it that seriously. You should try it sometime.” 

Soap only hummed with uncertainty, but a beaming smile appeared on his features when the fireplace erupted into flames of orange and red. A rush of heat flushed through the living room, and it made you realize just how cold you were. Who knew that Mexico could get this chilly?

Your hands ran up and down your arms, rubbing through the material of your jacket and long sleeved shirt underneath to create some extra warmth.  

“Here,” Soap moved over to allow you to get closer. “I’ll share with you this time.” Soap joked.

You gratefully accepted the empty space in front of the fire, kneeling down next to Soap in front of the flames. The house would be warm in no time, as long as there was someone to tend to it. About the time that you and Soap were fully warmed up, the front door of the safe house opened to reveal Ghost once more. Based on the fact that he wasn’t frantically running to cover, it was reasonable to assume that the coast was clear. The sky had gone fully dark now, and the night hours had officially started.

“Good call, Johnny. It’s warmer than when I walked in the first time,” Ghost kicked the door closed with his foot. “Check all the windows and doors to be sure that they’re closed. Don’t want any heat gettin’ out.”

“Sure thing, L.T.” Soap rose to his feet and scurried off to check the rest of the house.

Once Soap was gone and out of earshot, you turned to Ghost. 

“Didn’t you check the windows and doors when you scoped the house?” You asked. 

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that.” Ghost grinned under his mask.

You laughed at that, and Ghost used it as an invitation to join you by the fire for a moment. He’d been on his feet all day, and he needed a moment. 

A moment alone with you.

“Are you warm enough?” Ghost whispered in your ear, his voice sounding like more of a coherent rumble more than anything.

“Yeah, I’m warm.” You replied, voice just as quiet as his.

“Good,” He pressed a swift kiss to the crown of your head. “Did you get your stuff put somewhere?”

“No. Didn’t have a chance to.”

“There’s one bedroom in the back,” Ghost suggested. “The bedroom is bigger.”

“I mean, I don’t particularly need the space,” You snorted. “Give the bedroom to Price.”

“He won’t do that. He always likes to hang out near the door,” Ghost bantered. “How about you take the bed and the rest of us can camp out in here?” 

“The bed might be better for you. It’ll keep you from being so stiff in the morning,” You countered. Ghost’s large frame was a constant victim of sleeping on the floor, and it never boded well for him the next day. “You’re taller.”

“Mm. You’re prettier,” He raised his balaclava just enough for a fast, real kiss. “Take the bedroom. Please? For me?”

“Alright,” You rose from the floor, collecting your pack and smaller belongings that you had dropped by the front door when you had entered. “Be right back.”

Ghost watched you traverse to the back of the house to mark the bedroom as yours. A shudder and an exhale of air fluttered from his lungs. For a moment, albeit he knew it would be brief, he felt relaxed. The house was secure, the team was safe…you were safe.

He could take a breather and collect himself over the course of the next few days to follow. He was no good to Force 141 if he was all strung out with himself and unorganized. Ghost was learning how to be just as skilled and good at his job as he always had been, while simultaneously making sure that you were happy and taken care of. This safe house was a life saver for literal and metaphorical reasons. He was grateful to have it.

And for now, the lieutenant could rest.

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Sleeping never came easy for any of you when you were in the midst of completing a mission. When there was too much at stake and danger always on the horizon, a good night of decent slumber was hard to come by. Nights like this usually consisted of everybody spreading out and staying up until they had even the slightest urge to fall asleep. Ghost usually stayed on watch, considering he didn’t sleep much to begin with. 

This meant long night hours with hardly anything entertaining to do. The first night at the safe house was no exception. 

Gaz and Price showed up at the safe house well after the sun had gone down. They were cold, weary, and in need of a minute to decompress. Their arrival sparked enough conversation to last an hour or so. Price filled you, Soap, and Ghost in on what to expect in the next few days to come. You talked strategy and theorized on what could go wrong, but also what could go right if things worked out. The plan was explained and understood, and everyone was on the same page.

The initial buzz of excitement for having a legit place to hole up had worn off. Now the boredom had set in. The five of you had run out of things to talk about that weren’t work related, and you could only talk shop so much before it grew old. 

It was around 1:00 a.m. when everyone had hit burnout. Ghost was sitting on the battered sofa by the window closest to the front door, keeping a watchful eye out for anything or anyone that might appear outside. He had discarded his outer skull mask an half an hour before, but the infamous balaclava was clad to his face as usual.

Price was sunken as far as he could go into the armchair next to the sofa, cradling his left boot in his hand and inspecting the newly formed hole in the side of it. Of the five of you, he was the closest to feeling any kind of desire to get some sleep.

You accompanied Gaz in front of the fire, sitting on the floor as he prodded the logs to keep the fire burning. Soap was roaming around, scrounging for any kind of morsel of entertainment. No one said anything, and the only noises were the crackling of the flames and Soap’s rummaging through cabinets and drawers. Surely there had to be something to do here. Even if Alejandro intended for it to be an emergency safe house, someone had to have left something behind at some point.

“Ah! I hit the jackpot!” Soap shrieked from the small kitchen that was adjacent to the living room. He came barreling back in with a laugh, a small cardboard box in his hands. The box was ripped in places, and there was no way to really know what it was. “Anybody up for a game of cards?”

“Me!” You gasped.

“I’m in,” Gaz nodded. “Price? Ghost?”

 “The only card game I play is poker.” Price responded, which was his way of saying no considering there weren’t any chips or real items to bet with.

“I’m on watch.” Ghost mumbled, never once looking away from the window he was seated next to.

Soap was hardly listening as he joined you and Gaz in front of the fire, the three of you making a halfway triangle. This would keep you occupied for at least a little while. There were plenty of card games to play to keep you busy.

“Let’s start easy. How about Go Fish?” Soap questioned.

“Sure. Hopefully all the cards are in there.” Gaz remarked.

Soap slid the deck out of the box, his hands thumbing through the stack. The cards had definitely been sitting around for a while because they smelled of stale paper, and they didn’t look to be in the most pristine shape. Regardless, Soap shuffled the deck and dealt five cards each. You were sitting across from Soap on the left, meaning you were the starting player.

“Soap. Got any twos?” 

The Scotsman glanced over his cards, squinting at the numbers that had either faded or been rubbed off completely.

“Nah. Go fish.” He smirked.

There was a light grumble from your chest as you plucked a new card from the draw pile, adding it to your already hefty hand.

“Any queens, Gaz?” Soap asked.

“Nope.” Gaz sighed.

The banter back and forth continued until the end of the first round, where Gaz was the winner. It was a simple and rather bland way to kill time, but it definitely beat staring into the fire for the rest of the night. Price listened to and watched the game being played in front of him. He watched the three of you argue over Soap’s “adjustments” to the rules and listened to you giggle every time Soap nearly rage quit.

Ghost was listening to bits and pieces, picking up a comment here and there – and really only tuning in when your voice and laughter registered in his mind. For the most part, he was more focused on keeping his attention on watching through the window. 

Or at least, that was his focus until something very peculiar graced his ears.

“You have any sevens, G?” Soap asked, and you nearly passed out.

Ghost nearly gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned to look. His eyes were wide as he stared at his best pal. His cheeks were running red, and he couldn’t help but notice the overwhelming sting of annoyance in his chest. 

Gaz and Price sucked all the air out of the room and spit it right back out. Price’s eyes were trained on Ghost with a bit of a smirk, waiting for a reaction. Gaz avoided eye contact with anyone in the room – only boring a hole into the card that was in the middle of his hand.

Now, an outsider might say that you set Soap up for this rocky encounter that was about to ensue. After all, you had quite literally told him to call you the very special nickname that was generally reserved for Ghost. Ghost was the only one allowed to get creative with your call sign – it was an unspoken rule amongst the 141. It was common knowledge that you were Gecko and Gecko only to everybody except Ghost.

In your defense, that rule was lost on you…and also you didn’t actually expect Soap to try it.

But you would’ve been a fool not to notice how tense the room became after Soap’s test run of your Ghost-only-nickname. Based on the way that Ghost’s shocked stare had turned into more of a glare, you were pretty confident in saying that he wasn’t happy. 

“Sevens?” You cleared your throat with a meek tone. “Yeah, I have a seven.” 

You shoved your hand forward that was holding the 7 of spades, but Soap was hardly paying attention, because he could feel the searing stare of his lieutenant on the back of his head. Soap said had a silent appreciation for the fact that he was sitting with his back towards Ghost. Soap had regretted saying it as fast as he had said it. 

It felt wrong. It felt straight up illegal even uttering what he had said. Soap felt like Ghost could kick his ass all over the street, and he wouldn’t even have the right to stop him. 

“That’s Gecko to you, Soap.” Ghost nearly boomed.

So much for being sneaky. If Soap hadn’t caught on before to what was going on between you and Ghost, he definitely had a better idea now. At least it wasn’t a mistake he’d make twice. 

“Right. Uhm…” Soap chuckled nervously. “Sorry, L.T.”

“Sorry is not an answer,” Ghost went on, and suddenly the fire didn’t seem so warm anymore compared to the heat he was spitting out. “I don’t want to have this conversation again, Sergeant.”

“Understood. Won’t happen again, Lieutenant.” Soap gulped. 

You didn’t like the tone that Ghost was taking with Soap. You understood Ghost wanting to have something to himself when it came to you, but you’d be damned if you allowed him to get aggressive with his best friend like that. It wasn’t in your best interest to pick a fight about it right at this moment, but it was definitely a conversation that needed to be had. 

You gave Ghost a look. A look that was very annoyed and a look that read “what hell is your problem?” Ghost knew that look, and he didn’t like the way it sank his stomach.

The next hour to follow was rather quiet. 

Price was barely holding it together. Even though the room was incredibly uneasy, he found this situation exceedingly funny, and the burning red in his cheeks as he withheld his laughter was evidence of that. Every few minutes, a stifled chuckle would sound from him – which only made the tension worse. 

Gaz was too afraid to say anything. He tried his best to pay attention to the game of Go Fish once the three of you continued. He had debated on making a joke to at least try to ease the room, but he feared that no response to it would make this unbearable. 

Ghost’s mood had gone sour. He was irritated for the most part that Soap had said that, a little hurt that you were so okay with it. He returned to watching the window and was about one pout away from straight up sulking. 

In the back of his mind, Ghost understood that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. 

So what that Soap called you the name that only Ghost used? It wasn’t like Ghost had ever explicitly said that the name was only for his own use. Soap really hadn’t done anything wrong. Soap hadn’t done it with any intentions that weren’t innocent. Ghost knew that.

Ghost didn’t get much to himself. It had been like that his entire life. There hadn’t been many things that Ghost felt like he could really call his own. You were your own person, of course. You were as independent as could be and Ghost didn’t see you as anything less than the most wonderful, loving person on the planet.  

But Ghost would even admit that there was this part of himself that was so unbelievably happy that you were his. Happiness was something that was foreign to him for the longest time. It was something he didn’t understand as well as most people probably did. He had the seed for it, and it was well watered. But you were the sunshine that really allowed it to grow and blossom into something beautiful for him.

He didn’t like the thought of something or someone else getting in the way of that. There was nothing that he adored and cared for more. In a lot of ways, his harsh overreaction had been a defense mechanism, something that he was very familiar with.

Ghost knew that was something he needed to work on. Building a stronger sense of trust would prove beneficial to both of you. He didn’t want to ruin this just because he flipped out over every little thing. He needed to find a balance – a healthy one. 

Ghost’s busy mind traffic was cleared when he heard Gaz finally speak up, despite his previous hesitance.

“As much as I’d love to keep playing, I think I need to get some shut eye.” Gaz mumbled, returning his cards to the pile. 

“Not a bad idea, Gaz. Think I’m going to turn in for the night myself,” Price announced, rising from the chair with a groan. “Need to switch out, Ghost?”

Truthfully, he didn’t. Ghost could stay on watch all night without getting tired. But Price’s hard glance was a hint to Ghost that he needed to swap and take the opportunity to have a chat with you. 

“Sure, Captain.” Ghost shifted, standing from the window and fully extending his massive frame. 

“Alright then. Soap, you’re up.” 

Soap was quick to clean up the cards, shoving them back into the box and into his pocket. He was keeping them on him just in case. At least he could play Solitaire in the base of the window when he got bored. He practically rocketed to his feet, taking Ghost’s former position on the sofa to keep an eye on things.  

Ghost felt a pit in his gut when he realized that you had retreated to the bedroom without a word. That was a telltale sign that you weren’t very happy with him. Ghost shoved his hands into his pockets, dragging his heavy boots across the creaky floorboards to get to the closed bedroom door.  

He debated even knocking at all. Odds were that you would probably be a little easier to talk to in the morning…but Ghost didn’t like the thought of leaving this unresolved for the remainder of the night. 

“Hey, Gecko?” He called, and his voice nearly cracked. “Can we talk? Please…?”

There wasn’t a response, so he knew you were ignoring him.

“I…I really want to talk to you,” He tried again, a bit softer and quieter this time. “Please, baby?”

There was a quick moment of quiet on the other side, and then a reply.

“Okay.” 

He felt a jolt of relief, and he turned the brass knob to allow himself in. You were standing at the foot of the full sized bed, removing all of the items out of your pack to no doubt rearrange the contents as you always did when you had a spare moment. 

The room was fairly dark. There wasn’t much to it. There was a bed, dresser, and one bedside table on the left side. The battered curtains were drawn, and the full moon outside was the only source of light spilling into the bedroom. 

Ghost wasn’t sure what to say, but he wasn’t surprised when you hardly waited for him to come up with something. 

“That was uncalled for.” You started.

He swallowed hard, his head lowering as he shifted his feet,

“I know.”  

“He didn’t mean anything by it.” You went on.

“I know.” 

“He’s your best friend. You can’t just talk to him like that.”

“I know,” He repeated. “I’m sorry.”

His timid and meek apology brought a ping of sympathy to your chest. It was that same feeling of sympathy that plagued you any time you knew that he was aware that he had done something out of line. He took accountability and responsibility for his action and his words…and he knew when it was time to make things right. 

All at once, you were reminded of why he reacted to certain things the way that he did. 

All you could imagine was a young, tiny Simon Riley – a defenseless and teary eyed kid who was scared to death of every person in his life that was supposed to love him. He was once a little kid who was terrified of making anybody in his life angry (even over the small things) because of the consequences and emotional misery that always followed. 

Now, he was a grown and scarred man who shut down every time that he made a mistake. No one was harder on Ghost than Ghost himself.

He never wanted you to be angry with him. He never wanted anyone that he cared about to be angry with him over something that he did or said. Simon didn’t handle fights well. The two of you had only fallen into a real argument a couple of times. It was never anything permanently altering, and it was surely never enough to make either of you resentful of the other. If there was a way to resolve a situation without fighting, that was the route he always took.

“Simon…” You took a breath, keeping a level tone when you turned to look at him. “Why did that make you so upset?”

“I didn’t like him calling you that,” He answered, eyes trained on the tips of his boots that were as worn as could be. “It’s just…I like calling you that.”

“Did it bother you because Soap said it?” You went on.

“I don’t like the idea of anyone saying it.” Ghost admitted.

Ghost closed the door behind him considering that this conversation was just getting started. He didn’t want any of the rest of the team eavesdropping. 

“Okay, sure. But it isn’t that serious. It’s just a name, Simon.” You pleaded with him.

“It’s not just a name. It’s my name for you.” He stressed.

“So just because you came up with it, you get to yell at Soap for saying it?” 

“No, love. I don’t know what I’m trying to tell you,” He huffed. “I didn’t like it because I like having you to myself.” 

His wording was specific. You caught this, and it was just enough to let you take the invitation to transition to the real reason for all of this. 

“You…you always have me to yourself,” You said, a brow raised. “I’m nobody’s but yours. You know that.”

Simon was disappointed in himself more than anything. He had made a lot of progress when it came to himself. He worked hard to better himself mentally and emotionally to be the best person to you that he possibly could be. He was grateful that you were willing to work with him on a lot of things. He liked your support in helping him through some of the challenges. But every progress journey had its slip ups. Those moments of insecurity and doubt that would always set him back a step.

“I know,” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck through the fabric of his balaclava. “I guess I just had a moment.”

He was beating himself up over an issue that was far bigger than the fact that he had gotten out of line with his best friend. It was a battle that he had been fighting since long before he had ever been blessed with the chance to merely even lay eyes on you. It pained you to see him so hard on himself, especially when you had seen the progress he had made for yourself.

“Come here.” You stretched out a gentle hand, a sign of comfort and reassurance. 

It was an invitation that he always accepted, and one that he was always thankful for. He slipped his hand into yours, its size was always laughable with how it made yours look so petite. The skin of his palm was calloused as always as he held your hand in his. He towered over you from where you were now sitting on the edge of the mattress, the springs making a rickety noise as you sat down. 

He looked into those eyes of yours. The very same ones that he had gotten lost in the first time he had a real chat with you. They were pools of love, swimming with adoration and care for a world that was otherwise doomed. 

He had seen stars of joy dance over your irises on many occasions. He had seen your pupils dilate in an angry rage when things didn’t go as planned on a critical mission. He had seen rivers of tears fill their space and stream down your cheeks in moments of hurt and despair. He’d witnessed all the stories that your eyes could tell, and some of them were stories he was ecstatic to be a part of.

“Simon. It makes sense how you feel. I understand what you’re saying,” You spoke to him sweetly and smoothly. “But you can’t lash out like that when you feel that way. That’s not fair.”

“I know,” He said for what felt like the millionth time. “Just let my head get the best of me.”

“It happens. It’s okay. But I think you owe Soap an apology in the morning…or, well, whenever we get up again.” You suggested, noting aloud that it was indeed already technically the morning. 

He nodded. Soap wasn’t one to hold grudges – not against his pals anyway.

“Alright. I’ll talk to Soap.” He agreed.

You stood from the bed, your chest pressed against his sternum as you looked up at the giant of a man. 

“I’m yours. Completely and totally yours,” You smiled, and he felt every neuron in his body combust. “And I’m proud of you.”

He never understood it. How could someone like you be so wrapped up in someone like him? Not that he complained, of course. Here you were, praising him for doing nothing more than calmly working through his emotions and communicating his problem. He felt like that really should’ve been the bare minimum, but he supposed that if it was important to you, then it was important to him.

His free hand came to cup your face, his hand nearly engulfing the right half of your face. His thumb dragged across the apple of your cheek, which was his silent sign for you to do the honors. Your fingertips slipped under his balaclava just enough to raise it above his lips that were just begging to be kissed. He softened when you kissed him, as he always did. 

He loved nothing more than sharing moments like this with you. The ones that reminded him that one little fight wasn’t enough to destroy what you had. Those moments of conflict really were necessary for a relationship to grow. And with time, he’d learn to be more comfortable with that. 

He exhaled when you pulled away, returning his mask to its correct position on his face. 

“I’m going to get some sleep,” You told him. “Want to stick around and get some actual decent sleep?”

“You take the bed. My feet are gonna hang off the end I’m afraid.” He chuckled.

The bed was rather short. Tall people problems. 

“You sure?” You asked one more time.

“Yeah. Think I’m going to go talk to Soap now since he’s on watch.” Simon said. 

Another beaming smile spread on your face. He couldn’t help but grin a little too. 

“Okay, Ghosty.” 

Ghosty. That was a new one. He nearly melted all over again.

“Goodnight, my love. Call me if you need me, yeah?”

You nodded as he exited, your heart swelling with love for him in a way that grew stronger and stronger each day.

“Goodnight.”

[simonzmama]

creds: @plutism

‘magining simon helpin his pretty girl shave after he’s knocked you tf up

he’s heard you callin from the bathroom, panic settling into his chest like a heavy weight as he bursts through the door. yet, you’re sitting on the edge of the tub, rob thrown over your bare body messily as you stare up at him with sweet lil sad eyes.

which is how he got to where he was now, kneeling on the tub floor with his head between your wide thighs. his left hand digs into the soft, healthy meat on your thigh as his right gently drags the razor over the patch of pretty hair resting on your pubic bone.

he’s so gentle it makes your heart swoon, stomach fillin with nausea n heart pumpin with nothing but love for this sweet man.

his left hand slides down your thigh to peel your lips apart, his hand steady as he shaves you clean. he’d be murmuring soft praises n leaves light kisses to your knee trying to get you as comfy as he can. (def has a smile on his face the whole mf time too)

“want me to get your legs for you too, hon?” ‪‪❤︎‬

pls cuz he’d be so sweet, no embarrassment wich your mannnn!!

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Simon Riley who after coming back to his flat (courtesy of the government) from his first deployment as 'Ghost', finds a momma cat yowling and crying. She's hurt and has four kittens tucked into her side. Simon takes them to the vet only to be informed that only one kitten survived and the momma is dead.

So he raises the kitten. Bhe bottle feeds it every two hours, keeps it warm and safe inside a box with a heating pad and a hoodie of his. He's sure that it'll die but he keeps trying anyways with the heart wrenching hope that he's wrong.

The kitten pulls through.

Now six years later, he has a sassy sphynx cat who cries and meows whenever she isn't fed on time. When his usual pet sitter bails on him just days before his next deployment, he scrambles. He never knows how long he'll be gone and that's an issue with pet hotels. He has to find someone trust worthy and capable of caring for his darling pet.

Then he meets you by pure coincidence. Ruthie had slipped between his legs on his way out to grab some more of the wet cat food she liked then made a bee line right towards you. She meowed and meowed until you crouched down to pet her. Simon swears he had never heard her purr that loudly before.

You smile up at him and comment on how he has a sweet cat (he doesn't. Ruthie knocks everything over and has broken so many mugs, plates and cracked so many screens he owns plastic versions of everything plus keeps his phone on him at all times). Simon says something about trying to find a pet sitter to you and immediately realizes what he said when you smile. "I can keep an eye on her for you. She seems like a sweetie." You coo and gently scratch under her chin. Traitor, it took him weeks to get her to let him do that. But how can he say no when she's already taken a liking to you.

[deunmiu-dessie]

boyfriend!ghost who's just a little bit older. boyfriend!ghost who wears a black leather jacket. boyfriend!ghost who has a bad reputation. boyfriend!ghost who uses you to warm his bed. readers!mama who doesn't trust him. readers! mama who says, "he's only here for one thing," but, so are you. ˙ᵕ˙

"s'too big, si--!! wait!"

simon grips your chin and turns your head to face him, pressing a kiss to your pouty lips, thick cock spearing through your slick, gummy walls, his pierced tip nudging your spongey nerves. “you were jus' begging me earlier, hm? does it feel good sweetheart?”

your dripping cunt clings to him, a creamy ring of cum starting to form on his cock. you whine, lips parting and thighs shaking. your voice fails you, his cock bullying your cervix and punching the words from your throat, only a shamefully loud moan escapes your trembling lips.

simon snickers and covers your mouth with his hand. "don' want y'r mum to hear, do we?"

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

connected with this post!

[diorchids]

BACKYARD BARBECUE, SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY.

— dadsbestfriend!simon, age gap (r is 19-20), size kink, fingering, p in v, praise kink, choking, bruising, nipple sucking, nipple play, outdoor sex, tummy bulges.

you knew he was coming. 

simon is your father's best friend, the two met while stationed. you’d met him enough times to call him an uncle, about a year ago, getting more and more comfortable with him as the months passed.

your skirt billowed in the slight wind, the sun shone as you spoke to family. 

you heard your father chuckle before seeing simon, a few words being exchanged before he made his way over to you. 

he’s taken a liking to you out of all your siblings, making this extremely obvious to you just by the way he treats you. he gets closer to you and immediately hugs you, taking in your smell and planting his large hand on your back.

“hey there, sweetheart. how’s my favorite girl doing?” his scruffy beard scratching your face as his hands moved further down, stopping before breaking the hug.

“hey, si,” you gave a smile, not breaking eye contact for even a second. to anyone, this would be flirting. but it’s not like that. you’re greeting a family friend, attending to your daughterly duties.

“look at you, kiddo, so grown up now.” he stood back and looked you up and down, eyeing your body perversely. 

you two talked, having to practically yell because of the number of people speaking. he knew he had your attention, and he liked it.

“but,” he grinned, taking another step closer. his hand slid down your hip, fingers grazing against the bare skin of your thigh. "why don't we find a nice quiet spot to talk?" he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck.

this wasn’t completely new for him. there was an incident before when you had to drive with him to the beach, your car was broken down, and your parents' car was full. you sat in the passenger seat in your bikini, smiling and laughing at whatever he was saying, a little desperate. his hand rested on your thigh, thumb rubbing the supple skin back and forth. you could’ve sworn he was inching closer to your inner thighs as he drove. 

you waited for a second before answering, your head tilted before speaking, “‘kay.” a brief answer, no teasing this time. 

simon leads you to a secluded corner of the backyard, away from the bustle of the barbecue. he sits on an old, wooden bench, patting his lap invitingly. "now then, love," he began, his voice low. 

you sat promptly. 

simon's large hands roamed your body, squeezing your thighs and tracing the curves of your waist. his fingers dipped beneath your skirt, brushing against the thin fabric of your panties.

he groaned grossly under his breath, not getting enough of your body. the way you’d melt under his touch, so disgustingly needy for contact, made him want to take you even more.

his fingers dipped beneath your skirt, brushing against the thin fabric of your panties. your clit was so puffy, you were just so ready for his cock. “i’ve been watchin’ you, you know,” his thick accent making your thighs burn.

simon's lips were inches from your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. he brought his other hand to your throat, squeezing before moving it toward your breasts. “i've always thought you were such a pretty little thing.” he whispered.

his hands pinched your nipples through your thin shirt, in turn making you grind down on his bulge. :(

“mmm, really?” your poor clit twitched under his finger. he pressed his lips against your neck, kissing and nipping gently, “so grown up now… hm?” he purred. his hands traveled lower, pushing your skirt up around your hips. you had nothing to say, words failing to escape your lips.

both of his hands were circling your pulsing cunt by now, a finger finding you already wet with excitement. you whimpered as he pressed his finger against your entrance, rubbing teasingly. “you want this, don’t you, doll?” you nodded, “i do.”

without hesitation, simon pushed his fingers inside you, feeling your tight cunt grip him perfectly. he began to move them in and out slowly, picking up speed as he felt your wetness coat his knuckles. “so fucking tight.” he moaned.

you writhed underneath him, tears already starting to roll as your legs trembled. you babbled and shook as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, stretching you. 

simon used another hand to pull your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts. your back rubbed up against his chest before he pulled his fingers from your cunt, lifting and turning you so you were facing him.

he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard while pushing his fingers back into your starving little cunt. your mascara ran down your face as you pouted and cried, senses becoming overwhelmed.

he sucked hard while continuing to finger you. “you’re gonna make such a pretty little slut.” he groaned against your skin. “mhm! f-feels so fuckin’ good, si. m’gonna cum.” stupidly nodding and biting your plump lip.

he chuckled darkly, his fingers pumping faster and harder inside your velvety walls. your cunt constricted around his knuckles as you cried out, legs quivering as the knot in your tummy threatened release.

salty tears rolled down your face before he pulled his fingers out of you, leaving a trail of your juices on his hand. his fat cock pushed up against his slacks, straining against it, emphasizing every curve in his bulge. you cried loudly, lips puffy and slick, clit twitching pathetically.

your fingers curved around his clothed cock, being pushed away before he unbuckles his belt, pulling his pants down, pre-cum leaking through the fabric of his boxers. he pulls his waistband away from his hips, freeing his cock pressed up against his stomach. 

he pulled his pants off as you stood and watched, salivating at the sight of his cock. you’d do anything for him, getting more and more greedy at the thought of him finally pushing his cock into you. 

finally, he had you on your knees on the bench, facing away from him, cunt burning, waiting for his thick length. you waited, breaking the silence with a question, “you usually like college girls?” 

it was an honest question, you were serious. 

he rubbed the tip of his cock against your slick hole, teasing. “i like what i like,” he grinned. “and right now, i like you.” he pushed his cock into your tense cunt, causing you to dig your nails into his thigh.

simon thrust his hips forward, burying his cock inside you up to the hilt. you felt his chest rising and falling against you as he groaned against your neck. how badly he wanted to bruise it up.

“take it,” he grunted, “take all of it.” his cock stretched your cunts walls, filling you up with his thickness. you felt a hand trail up to your throat, another gripping your hips tightly, guiding him in and out of your soaking hole.

he was rough with you, increasing the force with which he pounded into you. his hips snapped forward which each thrust, making your ass ripple. “s-si, can’t take it n’more! agh–cock s’fat, go slow, si, please, hurt s’bad!” he laughed at your attempts to stop him.

his grip on your neck tightened with each thrust, surely creating small bruises to deal with later. “fuckin’ delicious. takin’ me so well.” he said breathlessly, continuing to pound into you without mercy. 

“s’too much… si, fuck!” he was hunched over, both of you a mess, hair stuck to his forehead, you, crying ‘cause of his fat dick! 

“g-go deeper, deep–mmf!” you begged.

simon hissed, pulling out almost completely before slamming his huge cock back in with a force that made your poor tummy flip. he continued this pattern of deep thrusts, grunting loudly with each one as he dove his cock deeper into your wet hole.

he brought a hand to your clit, thick finger lousily rubbing and rolling it roughly between his thumb and forefinger. “m’gonna cum!” you pushed yourself onto his cock more, greedy for his length.

“cum–cum for me, love.” he urged, thrusting into you even harder. you gushed around his cock, thrashing while your cunt showed its appreciation, orgasm crashing over you, causing you to clench tightly around his cock. you moaned like an animal as he continued his abuse on your walls.

“fuck–like that,” simon grunted, groaning loudly as he felt his cock shudder violently inside of you. with one last thrust, he let go and came inside of you, filling you with his hot seed. it spilled out of you before simon sloppily thrust a few more times, making sure to fuck his cum deep into you, like there were no consequences. 

he didn’t let go of you, still hunched over your body, small in comparison to him, tummy slightly bulged by his oversized cock. panting heavily, he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm. his cock twitched inside of you, releasing a few more spurts of cum. 

he helped you to your feet, smoothing your hair, drying your tears after wiping the cum from your inner thigh with his thumb, and sticking it in your mouth. you sucked his thumb hungrily, warm tongue making him softly groan. 

he’d heard your father call for him from the grill while he buckled his pants, kissing you before walking back into the yard. 

“good talk, sweetheart.”

[kiyinian]

Part two

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・��・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Ex-husband Simon who: Always does the month's grocery shopping with you, always coming up with lame excuses to spend more time with you. Always encourages your children to eat a lot, sometimes even more than they should, just to make sure the food runs out quickly and that you call him to help with the groceries.

Ex-husband Simon who: Never stopped wearing his wedding ring, even though you no longer wore yours. For him, you would always be his wife, no matter what, even if you refused to wear your wedding ring again.

Ex-husband Simon who: Is very attentive to the children, always picks them up from school when you can't, who takes them out every weekend, and on vacation, takes them on trips. And of course, always thinking about spending more time with you.

Ex-husband Simon who: Knows that divorce means divorce, but can't stop giving you Valentine's Day presents every year, even if you reject being his Valentine once again.

Ex-husband Simon who: Is always available when you need him, if something has broken in the house? Don't hesitate to call him. Need to buy something? Ask him and he'll sort it out. Want a shoulder to cry on? He'll be there for you.

Ex-husband Simon who: Always pays for things for you, especially when you go out with the children. He refuses to let you pay a single penny when he's around, even though he knows you have enough money to pay for whatever you want. Just as he won't stop sending you money, even if you work.

Ex-husband Simon who: Even though you live in separate houses, he always goes to the house where you and the children are living, the usual excuse being that he was passing by, so he decided to go and see the children. And you, too.

Ex-husband Simon who: Knows it's wrong to manipulate children like this, but he induces the little ones to dislike any other man you introduce to them. No matter how good your new romantic interest is, Simon can't stand the idea of you having someone else by your side. And the children think so too.

Ex-husband Simon who: Is happy when he hears that you haven't met anyone since you split up, that no other man had caught your eye. And he could only feel the relief and hope that this brought him.

Ex-husband Simon who: Tries to win you over again, always giving you presents, calling you to dinner, being the exemplary husband you needed. All the effort that was thrown away every time you denied him, he left with a heavy heart, but destined to try as many times as necessary. There was no other person who was like you, you were the only one for him.

Ex-husband Simon who: Almost felt his heart drop out of his mouth when he saw you all dressed up for your son's second birthday, you'd only prepared a small party, no big deal. But the sight of you was still breathtaking, even more so when you smiled so sweetly. He didn't take his eyes off you once that evening.

Ex-husband Simon who: Didn't hesitate to accept when you asked to spend the night with him, after the children were asleep. And you would have time alone after a long time apart.

Ex-husband Simon who: Made love to you as if it were the last time. He caressed every part of your body, made you feel butterflies in your stomach with every kiss he gave you. He pounded into you like a maniac, as if it were his last day on earth, telling you he loved you, calling you the nicknames he knew would make you weak in the knees. He made you see stars that night.

Ex-husband Simon who: Felt heartbroken when you said that everything that had happened was a mistake, and that it was a moment of weakness. It shouldn't have happened, that's what you said, but it all seemed so right to him.

Ex-husband Simon who: Didn't understand why you were distancing yourself from him after the night you shared together, that he felt he had done something wrong to you. Who didn't understand your nervousness, the way you stuttered and fidgeted next to him, he just thought he'd done something wrong and you were angry.

Ex-husband Simon who: Had no idea that you were actually nervous not because of some action of his, but because you didn't know how to break the news to him that you were pregnant, that your evening had resulted in an unplanned pregnancy. You were carrying twins.

Ex-husband Simon who: Almost fainted when you broke the news to him, he didn't know whether to cry with relief or joy. But in any case, he was sure that he would go through hell to get you back, he was going to do everything possible and impossible to make his family what it was before.