#simon ghost riley x Y/N

[hopelesslonelyghost]

part 2 for simon and his emotional support medic (protective mode)

part 1 can be found here

tw for assault, choking (the unsexy kind), violence, medical inaccuracies probably

i promise there will comfort, but i just love the idea of simon going feral if anyone ever laid hands on his medic

as always, this isn’t beta read, sorry for any typos. enjoy!

in all honestly, the enemy getting the jump on you while you were crouched and hunched over an injured soldier, trying your best to keep them alive, was a bitch move.

simon was always drilling it into you—

“never turn your back for too long. it leaves you vulnerable, love.”

oh how you should’ve paid more attention then, instead of ogling his huge biceps.

a strangled yelp escapes your throat, but is subsequently cut short when an arm bears down. you instinctively go to grip your assailant’s forearm, digging your nails as deep as you can in hopes they’ll release their deathly grip.

they snarl and bark something in a language you can’t understand. whatever it is they said must have been them voicing their displeasure at your action, because their vice grip tightens around your neck, effectively cutting off your ability to breathe.

that’s when the panic really sets in and you earnestly start to struggle against them. you tried all the moves simon taught you when it came to this exact situation. you tuck your chin into the crook of their elbow, then place your right foot behind his. you can feel your eyes drooping from the lack of oxygen, so with all your might, you bite down onto his arm.

you make sure to dig your canines as far as they can go, the taste of blood floods your mouth. the man screams, gripping your hair as they release you, tugging as they try to free themselves from your unforgiving clamp of sharp teeth. in the process of pulling your head back, you bite down harder and then throw your head back the rest of the way, ripping off a chunk of his arm, spitting it out.

there’s no chance for you to continue your attack before a fist comes flying down, hitting your face dead center and roughly getting thrown onto the concrete ground of the abandoned building you’re in.

despite the attempt to break your fall, your forehead comes into contact with the floor, a splitting pain running from the front, that travels through the nape of your neck and down your shoulders.

“гребаная сука! (1)”

your ears are ringing, but you try to bring yourself to sit up—only to be kicked back down, steel-toe boot burying itself into your ribs.

a groan manages to slip through, a small oof! as well when you fall to your side. it’s your first time able to see your attacker’s face. an angry snarl etched on their face. you feel a little satisfaction build in your chest when you see them tightly clutching their right arm, a stream of blood trickling down their fingers and onto the floor, forming a puddle.

“тебе не следовало этого делать (2)” the man spoke again, letting go of his arm and reaching behind him, a tanto coming to view as he holds it up, twirling it, “я действительно получу удовольствие, разрезая твою прелестную шейку. (3)”

his boot shoves at your shoulder, forcing you onto your back. you scramble to get up, but he’s in much better fighting shape than you are, and he jumps on you, straddling your waist and shoving you back down. your head hits the ground with a loud ‘thud’ forcing a pained whine from your lips. your ribs throbbed, the weight pressing down on your probably broken ribs was unbearable.

you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the cold metal press against your neck. you did not want your attacker’s face to be the last thing you see before you died. your mind immediately flew to simon. simon and his pretty face. his pretty brown eyes and his pretty blonde hair.

it wasn’t fair. there were more things you wanted to do with simon. you had your whole life ahead of you, and you wanted your sweet lieutenant to be in it.

suddenly the awful weight on top of you was gone. snatched and dragged off. you heard a growl. something so primal and scary. you slowly opened your eyes and sat up, leaning on your elbows as you took in the scene before you.

simon—no—ghost—sat on top of the enemy, just like he had you, thighs around his waist and was viciously landing his fist with all the weight and strength he could muster over and over again. once satisfied the man wasn’t in any shape to get up, ghost stood, unholstered his handgun and fired 3 shots into the bastard’s skull.

you could see his shoulders heaving up and down. his back expanding and deflating with every breath he took. you wanted to so badly wrap your arms around him.

you rolled over on your right side, feet dragging broken glass as you dragged yourself up onto you knees. your hand immediately pressed down on your left side, where the enemy landed that nasty kick. you swore you could feel your ribs shift, breathing getting more and more painful each passing moment.

you hunched over, left arm supporting you up, preventing you from face planting. your pained wheezing must’ve caught ghost’s attention. quick footsteps made their way towards you. from your peripheral you made out a pair of black combat boots, and then he was kneeling by your side.

a gloved hand delicately cupped your chin, moving your head up and to the side to face him. he inhaled sharply.

“jesus fuckin’ christ.”

he dropped your head, going around and coming towards the side your uninjured ribs were.

“cmon love. we have to get up.”

he threw your arm around his shoulder, gently lifting you. you gasp as what you can only explain a lightning bolt ran down your left side.

ghost crooned, shushing you, “i know love, i know. i’m gettin’ us outta here.”

once on your feet, he left go and turned to look at you, “can you walk?”

you nodded, “i can— i can try.”

all you got was a hum of acknowledgment, “grab onto my vest, we’re leavin’.”

•••

ghost and you were the only survivors. the mission was a bust, according to laswell. the intel was false. it was an ambush.

ghost finished up talking to price and laswell through his radio. yours, as you would later find out, was ripped out and stepped on during your fight. shattered into tiny little pieces.

through his sniper’s scope he had seen the enemy make a break for you shortly after rushing inside the building to assist a fellow teammate. he’d raced down from where he was perched, and hauled ass towards you.

“found ya in the nick of time.” he had said. he didn’t see the way you silently winced, the thought that you were mere milliseconds away from certain death.

you two settled inside a safe house, where he stripped you of your gear (and unfortunately) your top.

“hafta see your ribs love.”

after wrapping them tightly, he’d moved on to cleaning up your face. butterfly stitches carefully applied after he’d wiped the dried blood from your face. then came the worst part.

“your nose, it’s broken. i need to set it.”

you think you passed out, because you woke up bundled up on the dusty leather couch. opening your eyes was hard, feeling the effects of your nose being broken as it swelled with broken blood vessels and blood.

sitting on the floor next to you was simon. skull mask long gone, and so was his balaclava. staring back at you was your sweet simon. his face bared for you.

you reached for him, trembling palm making itself home against his cheek. your thumb rubbed his cheekbone.

you swallowed the knot in your throat, “thank you.”

his brows furrowed, “wha’ for?”

“coming for me.”

simon reached up and gripped your wrist, pulling your hand away. his hand moved up and cupped yours, leaning in and kissing your palm. you shivered at the feeling of his lips.

“don’ ever thank me for something’ like tha’.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but he beat you to it, “i’ll always come for you. always.” he shook your hand, “got tha’?”

you felt tears well up. despite the ache in your neck, you nodded.

simon kissed your palm again, “need to hear ya say it, sweet thing.”

“you’ll always come for me.”

he leaned forward, dropping your hand and gently cupping the back of your head, careful not to move you too much, and kissed your forehead.

“‘m proud of ya, you know tha’?” he murmured against your skin. you hummed. “tore off a piece of his arm, could see the bloody tendons.”

you groaned, “i swallowed his blood, si. gonna have to get tested now.”

that pulled soft belly laugh from him, “i’ll be sure to let the medics on base know.” he pulled away from you, pushing your hair away from your face, “rest up. i’ll keep watch.”

you gripped his wrist, “but you’re tired too, si.”

he only shook his head, grabbing your hand and pulling it off his, before kissing the back of it. he stood up, “‘m not the one who’s got broken ribs. rest love, i’ll wake you when we’re headin’ out.”

•••

you were placed on mandatory medical leave for 3 weeks. simon requested leave as well. said someone had to watch after you. which is how you ended up now, laying on your bed on your good side, watching tv that was mounted on your wall with simon laying next to you. his hand was on your hip, drawing lazy circles into your skin.

“you’re gonna put me to sleep if you keep that up.”

“tha’s the point, love.”

you hummed, settling further into your pillow. simon pulled the strap of your top down, allowing him to place a chaste kiss in the junction where your neck met your shoulder.

“sleep, love. i’ll be here when you wake.”

and who are you to say no to that?

“promise?”

“promise.”

•••

translations (done by yandex translate, probably not accurate!

1. гребаная сука! —> you fucking bitch!

2. тебе не следовало этого делать —> you shouldn’t have done that

3. я действительно получу удовольствие, разрезая твою прелестную шейку —> i’m really going to enjoy slicing your pretty neck open.

[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.”

———————————————————————

[tearsofastraeax]

thinking about simon growing out his beard. you want to love it but you just can't because every time you kiss him his scruff scratches your skin. 'stay away from me, you're too fucking scratchy!' you exclaim as you try to run from him. 

but simon has other plans for you, he stalks behind you, slower than you, knowing he'll eventually catch up to you. a predator stalking his prey. 

and he does, one moment you slam the bedroom door behind you, trying to think where to escape next, and the next he grips you by the waist, throwing you on the bed. you squeal in response, giggling under your breath. but all the fight ebbs out of you when you catch a glimpse of simon. he looks like he's about to eat you whole. 

he prances toward you, slowly crawling over the mattress toward you, grabbing your legs roughly and shoving them apart to make space for his large frame. he doesn't say a word as he strips you of your clothes. the only thing he lets slip is the way his breathing grows more and more labored, the way his eyes roam over you with a mischievous glint in them. 

he starts his torture on your right ankle, pressing sweet and gentle kisses on it, before he drags his face across your skin, the stubble irritating you and making you squirm, trying to get out of his hold on you. you scream, but laughter breaks through as you look down at him. 

'simon, please, you're torturing me', you press out, barely able to contain yourself as he continues to pepper your leg with kisses and gentle strokes of his stubble over your sensitive skin. your exclamation prompts a smirk to spread over his lips. what an evil man. 

he continues his torture, till he reaches your inner thighs and your squeals turn to soft little moans. at the sound of them, he gets motivated. so, simon licks and kisses and drags his goddamn beard over your sensitive skin, till he reaches your throbbing clit. making you scream and moan and curse him to the gods. 

when you cum on his tongue, whimpering his name, only then does he stop the mind-shattering torture. you barely have a chance to look down at him, resting between your legs, looking like he just worshipped you, with a satisfied little smile on his face. your skin looks red and puffy, sensitive from the torment you had to endure. 

'not gonna tell me to stay away from you again, are you?!' he exclaims, pressing sweet and gentle kisses to your abused skin. you can barely hum in agreement, too spent from the sinful pleasure. 

[moralesispunk]

Simon Riley versus the teddy you sleep with

It's an old, ratty thing, something you've had for years and has always found its way into the crook of your elbow as you slept

when you first started dating Simon, you hid it away from him on the nights he stayed at yours until one day he walked into your room and saw it on the pillows

"what the fuck is that?"

"not what, who" you glared at him and he raised an eyebrow back

after then, this teddy became his enemy. sometimes he places it high up on your wardrobe when he made the bed, other times he flung it from the bed while you slept only for you to wake up like the soft thud was a blaring alarm as you half crawled from bed to find it

and when he wakes up and finds you not curled against him, his eyes opening and he turns in search of you only to find you on the other side of the bed and holding your teddy against your chest... he glares at the teddy like it's smiling back at him

[hayleybarnesx]

Simon with Independent and easily irritable reader who can’t sleep without him after an argument over something small and silly- but she would rather die then ever admit it.

She storms into the dark bedroom, arms crossed tightly over her chest and a scowl on her features.

Simon smirks in amusement, knowing exactly that this would be the outcome. She was too much of a cuddler to stay alway for long.

She tugs on the covers harshly, and for a second Simon is genuinely questioning whether she will tear the damn thing.

“Be quiet.” she hisses to him, getting under the covers and pulling them right up to her neck, laying as far away from him as possible with her back turned to him.

“This means nothing. I’m still pissed at you.” She storms.

“I know lovie.” Simon replies, not wanting her any more irritated then she is already.

He attempts to cuddle her but she swats him away with a grumpy exhale, Simon has to restrain himself not to chuckle at her. God she was adorable.

-

Unsurprisingly she wakes up wrapped tightly in Simons arms, his hold on her so tight she couldn’t escape. His soft breathing lulling her back to sleep.

Sleep for now, argument later. She thinks to herself, closing her eyes again as her head remains on Simons chest.

As usual, not proof read and unedited. Sorry for any mistakes.

[qtboni]

New to leaving requests but Simon with a s/o who's new to using toys in bed and is super shy about trying them out

i hope this is okay 4u anon !! so sorry this took soo long for me to write :'( emphasis on long , have this almost 2k words smut cz we're freaky like that ☝️😻

╰﹒ 𝐒𝐇𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

OVERVIEW: Simon encourages and guides you on what he wants to do to you ;)

C/W: MDNI. smut w/ fluff + dom!simon riley, sub!f.reader, petnames (love, baby, sweets, good girl, pretty girl), use of toys (vibrator), teasing, kinda rough sex, praises, clit stimulation, semi-fingering, orgasm denial, semi-overstimulation, aftercare

W/C: 1.7K

"What?" you incredulously questioned.

"Just like this, love."

You watch Simon grab ahold of the vibrator again and clicked it on.

"You want that thing to stick.. inside my..." You anxiously stared at the material in his large veiny hands. It wouldn't fit inside you. Like at all. It was too protruding and you feel like it would hurt you if you did put it in. You shivered as your thought rummaged on.

"Simon..." you started, shyly looking at him through your lashes. "Um, I don't know about that.. whole thing inside me."

He kneels in front of your sprawled form on the bed. The vibrator still sits in his hands, unmoving. You watch as his expression turns to genuine confusion. He tilts his head, thinking about your words. Then he laughs.

"No, baby..." He cooes at you and leaned in closer to you. "Just goin' to lay it on top of... here, hm?"

You felt your body heat up when his hands softly carressed your things, fingers dangerously close to your core.

"My thighs?" You whispered, your breath turning heavy.

"I could," Simon smirks as he feels you trying to not move too much when his fingers now teasing alongside of your inner thighs. "But where's the fun in that, sweets?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you hummed in confusion.

"Just relax, baby," He replied as he now moved even closer to your body. You abruptly squealed as he grab ahold of your legs and pulled them to lay beside on each of his hips, still kneeling down. "Let me take care of you, hm?"

You felt his lips peppering soft loving kisses on your thighs and he got you nodding, breathless.

"Atta girl," He leaned back and you wanted to whine from the lost of contact when he swayed back again, the vibrator back in his big palms. You didn't even notice when he placed it back at the space behind him. "Y'know our color rules, baby, right?"

Simon watches you slowly nodding your head again.

"Alright," He continued, his thumbs now stroking circles on to your hips. "Tell me, pretty girl."

"Red, yellow, and green," You shyly replied as you try to regulate your breathing. You clenched your hands on to the velvety sheets.

"What a good girl you are," He hums in delight, satisfied with your answer. "Ready, baby?"

You breathily replied a yes to him as you bite your lip. You feel the hot tingles start to spread throughout your body and you haven't even gotten it to it. Yet.

Shit.

You tensed up when Simon pressed the tip of the vibrator in your folds. You meekly squirmed and felt a whimper coming out of your lips when he slid the vibrator up to your clit.

Simon watches you closely, and when you look up at him, he smiles softly, eyes ever so soft for you. You blushed and squirmed from his touch.

"Si..." You whined.

"Relax, baby." He mumbles softly, as his finger gently rubs your thigh. "'S not even on yet, hm?"

You take a deep breath and try to calm down. Just breathe. You close your eyes and lean back on the bed, giving in to Simon's touch.

The moment he clicks the vibrator on against your sensitive clit, a wave of pleasure immediately washes over you. You squirm from embarrassment, but Simon doesn't seem bothered by it.

"I'll be gentle, love." You hear Simon gently say but the pleasure you felt right now was almost blocking your hearing senses.

The vibrating sensation sends a jolt of pleasure and excitement through you. You let out a sweet moan as he continues to press the toy gently on to your clit.

"Please," You plead at him. Your hands unconsciously went up to his hand. To what exactly? You don't know. To stop? Definitely not. Simon must've had sensed your neediness when he grabbed your hand with his free hand, intertwining your fingers together.

"Right here with ya, love," Simon smiles at your action and kissed the back of your palms. He leaned back and continued presssing down the vibrator on your sensitive spot.

You mewled and moaned for him, bubbling away. You feel him lightly running the toy from side to side over your bundle of nerves, causing your hips to squirm if not for your intertwined hands holding your right hip down.

It's when Simon slowed down the vibration when he sees your slick spilling out of your hole, flowing down and soaking the sheets.

"Fuck, baby," He drawls out the vibrator as he prepares himself to do what's next.

You raised your head to look at him through your half-lidded eyes, panting heavily. You were about to call out for him to ask why'd he stop when you felt his finger move down to dip beneath your folds.

You cried out as he started lathering up your wetness and rubbed at your already puffy clit. And fuck, did you scream in pleasure when he put the vibrator back so suddenly again on to your cunt. This time, the vibrator you felt was somehow faster. It was so good. Your hips stuttered as you felt your orgasm building up.

Simon thought that you were trying to squirm away, so he grips your hips with his other hand, holding you in place, pulling the vibrator away from you, as well as your awaiting orgasm. "Color?"

"Green..." You whined and raised your hips up out of neediness. You began to dumbly blabber to him with pleases and how he was so mean to you depriving you of your pleasure.

That irked him, but in the good way as possible. As long as you were okay in this whole scene, then fine.

He was just concerned for you is all.

You sobbed out loud as you suddenly felt the familiar vibrating hum on to your sweet spot again.

But that doesn't mean you can insult him, do you, pretty girl?

Your legs shook violently to the deep vibrations. You’re already drooling all over yourself as your mind fogs up. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You can feel yourself reaching that sweet orgasm already.

Simon saw the way your body quivered and trembled from the slick still gushing out of you and to your hips occasionally stuttering. The vibrator was still against you and he really cannot contain himself.

Seeing your thighs quiver and shake sets off a hunger in him. He wants more, he wants all of you. He was filled with a primal desire for you.

Simon wants you to surrender, to let go and fall into his arms. He wants to see you melt into nothingness. He wanted to see you lose yourself in pleasure.

Grunting, he adjusts his grip on your hips and turned the vibration higher. You cursed so loud you thought the heavens were going after you.

“Simon,” you plead, already feeling the build up of your orgasm. "Feels s' g-good, please.. faster, I.. AH!"

The vibration heightened and it feels like it’s spreading like fire in your stomach. It's becoming harder to suppress your mewls as the pressure is becoming more and more intense. You close your eyes as you threw your head back, feeling the intensity grow.

Simon's ears were gracefully blessed with your cute needy moans as you arch your back from the bed, cries and sobs spilling out from your lips.

Simon, with a devious grin, increases the vibrations once more. You cried out his name and you feel tears welling up to your eyes as the pressure keeps building and building, about to burst. Your mind is spinning. Your body is at its breaking point. The pressure is unbearable, you are unable to suppress your sounds as it builds up.

You feel his warm hand on your thigh, then a finger is suddenly pushing in your drenched pussy. That drives you over the edge of the line and your orgasm came, causing you to clutch tight on his thrusting finger.

Your body tensed up as your tears spill out from your face. The pleasure was overwhelming you. Your whole body was so overstimulated with the vibrations that had you crying out.

"Si’," You whined, your legs tightly enclosing his hips between, the vibrator still vibrating in your cunt. "Can't.. anymore.. Red.."

"Fuckin’ hell, baby," You hear him groaning from his spot, swiftly pulling the vibrator away from you, turning it off. "Sorry, my love."

Your legs still shook as the aftermath of your hard orgasm. You lay there, panting for a second, as you watch your lover hovering your shivering form.

"Did so good f'me, hm?" Simon holds you close, caressing your skin and kissing your sweaty forehead. "How do you feel, love? You okay?"

"Mm-hmm... I feel..." You trail off as you're still trying to process what just happened and how it made you feel. You feel so happy, warm, and safe in his arms. "Better than a fine."

You shyly smiled at him and chose to hide your blushing face away from him when you lean your head into his neck. You feel his breath hitting yours as he laughs, adjusting his body to lay beside you.

"Glad to know," Simon continues to hold you closely. He rubs your back and kisses your neck, making sure you feel cared for and loved. "But did the toy bother you at all?"

"No." You answer neutrally when a subtle smirk formed on to your lips. "I don't think I'll ever be bothered by it, s'long as you're the one holding it."

"Oh? Where'd this freaky girl come from?" He pulls you close to him. "Where's my shy little lovie?"

You lean into Simon's chest and smirk as he comments on how much more confident you've become.

"Oh, she's still here, Si'" You say, your voice quiet and breathy as you kiss on his sternum, smiling when you feel him tensing up to your touch. "She's just not as quiet anymore."

You hear Simon exhale softly, your touch and words sending a tingle through his body. You laugh softly as you continue to kiss and nibble on his jugular. You feel his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath he takes. You look at Simon in the eyes and smile.

"Mm, said you liked her, didn't you?" You whisper close to his ear, nibbling as you do so, your voice full of confidence. "You like it when she's not as quiet."

Oh?

Oh.

Oh.

God, was Simon fucked.

navi / masterlist

[celestialwhoree]

🖋🕊

Simon Riley with a GF who's life is scheduled down to the minute in a planner they take with them everywhere, without which they'd probably have a meltdown and forget how to exist.

The planner literally sits on their bedside table and gets attention in the morning before he does, grumbling about how his girlfriend is borderline neurotic and could just use her iPhone calendar to keep track of stuff.

"You know I don't like the calendar app layout!" She whines in response and makes him chuff out an amused laugh.

She forgets her planner when they go to the supermarket, and therefore their shopping list and meal plan for the week and almost cries. He practically has to gentle parent her off the edge of a meltdown, muttering into her hair about that they can come back tomorrow and just get the essentials for today.

One day, when the planner is left on the kitchen table whilst she's in the shower, he has a root through to see what the big deal is, and is a little taken aback when he sees his own section in the colour-coding at the front.

Shopping

Events

Birthdays

Si

His section has everything from his deployment dates to where he's going with who, his favourite meals that she's made and the ones he hasn't enjoyed so much scratched out with a neat line through them. It has the songs he's mentioned he's liked and the things that set him off.

The planner isn't just for her, its for him, too. 🎀

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 ✦

simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader (delta) | smut, 18+ | 4.1k

summary: you, soap and gaz make a silly bet at ghost's expense for an invaluable prize.

cw: mw3 spoiler free. 141 ridiculousness, humour, attempts to remove the mask resulting in life threatening (not really) injury, mild exhibitionism if you squint, very talkative ghost, 'interrogation' wink wink, unprotected p in v sex, reference to f receiving oral.

ghost mlist | main mlist | taglist

"Y'know, I'm sure as shit that L.t's got brown hair," Soap pipes up in the middle of the silence that had settled inside the safe house. 

The members of Task Force 141 glance up one by one, querying eyes cast Soap's way as the guesstimated observation hangs in the air. It's louder than chopper blades, thudding against your skull and roaring in your ears as you attempt to recall the information you have on Ghost, what little physical attributes you can attribute to him. Each time, you hit a brick wall. The only image conjured in your minds-eye is the black voids of the mask's eyes and the piercing amber of his irises. 

The wind howls outside, battering the windows with Wyoming snow and creeping in through the cracks in the panes. It makes a yowling sound as it slips through the crevices, carrying your memories of Ghost's appearance with it. He truly was like an apparition, there one moment, then gone altogether. 

Gaz's brows crease in the middle, little crevices in the skin showing his mind working over the sentence. 

"He doesn't," he eventually retorts, eyebrow cocked while shaking his head, "He's blonde." 

"What makes you say that?" Price scoffs at his colleague's certainty, "You ever seen his face?"

The silence that follows makes the Captain chuckle. A wordless 'that's what I thought'. 

"You willin' to bet on that?" Soap pushes Gaz with a lopsided smirk. There it is, that ridiculous playfulness that the Scotsman continuously let slip over coms. Simon had once reprimanded him for how it would get him killed– you were almost certain if he continued down this path in particular, he'd be in a box by daylight.

"I am," Gaz counters thoughtlessly, a smug lilt to his tone as he leans the crown of his head back against the rotting wooden wall, "He's got blonde eyelashes. He's gonna have blonde hair."

"What're ya gettin' so close tae him for?" Soap grins wide, loading the new ammunition and hitting a bullseye on the first shot, "You been snoggin' him or somethin'?"

"Lads," Price warns. It's only one word, but it says a lot; 'he'll have your head.' All of you know Simon 'Ghost' Riley well enough to know it's not a joke. Seen enough of the mangled bodies he left behind to know it wouldn't be clean, either. More like he'd hack your skull from your neck, picking out the dullest blade that'd struggle to slot between vertebrae.  

"Bets on, then," Soap continues, white teeth gleaming in the low light, "First to confirm gets the honour of shootin' Hassan between the eyes." 

It's like throwing a match at a body doused in diesel. 

                           ✰

The parameters of this wager are as follows... First: the competition is between you, Soap and Gaz. Price was ruled automatically exempt the moment he admitted he had, indeed, seen Ghost's face. It was a revelation that caused quite a storm- and a promise from Gaz of £100 if he'd tell.

The Captain, quite frankly, told him where to stick it. 

Second: None of you could just ask Ghost himself. That was boring; no fun in that. 

Thirdly, there are no other rules. Acquire the information by any means necessary to claim victory. Perhaps this rule should have been revised- because to say that 141's tactics for getting Ghost to reveal his face were a little unorthodox is an understatement of the highest order. 

Despite his hulking frame, Ghost is like a cunning fox, cognizant of even the slightest changes in energy and hypervigilant of those approaching. The midnight void of his grease paint that frames his eyesockets contrasts the whites of his eyes as they dart back and forth between you all. He appears to have noted the devious scheming, practically hearing the cogs turning in your heads the moment he returned from his watch. Something is amiss, and you know Ghost knows it. 

He says nothing. 

Day One; the grumpy, black-clad special ops soldier sits back in his seat as he crosses his arms over his vast chest, cautiously observing the minute movements the three of you made. He'd bristled when Gaz stood from the sofa simply to enter another room, poised and ready to pounce at whatever fuckery the younger soldier would attempt. 

"Hey, L.t.," Soap's drawl cuts through the humorously tense atmosphere in the room, and you brace yourself for his master plan. "When was the last time ye got a haircut?"

Ghost hesitates. Waits a beat. The silence stretches almost uncomfortably until he answers, thick, bassy voice almost booming in the box room. "What're you playin' at, Johnny?"

Soap shrugs his shoulders, exuding complete nonchalance as he settles into the seat across the table from the hulking mass of man. "Just wondered if the mask ever came off. How do you cut your hair?"

Amusement ripples through you in the sound of a chuckle, both men glancing your way. Ghost peers at you, suspicion pooling thick in his pupils. 

"Shave it," Ghost rumbles bluntly, with an air of finality that leaves no room for argument or for Soap to encourage him to try something stupid like curtain bangs or, God forbid, a mohawk. 

You can't help but grin from ear to ear as you watch the Scotsman's shoulders slump in defeat, already waving a white flag upon seeing how unwilling Ghost is to play whatever stupid game you're all partaking in. Even you can't deny the anxiety that prickles across your nerve endings when you see the way Ghost's biceps flex beneath the camo fabric of his uniform, primed for action. 

When Ghost's aqua irises slide to you, your shoulders shrug comically, putting on the performance of your life to appear as though you had no idea what Johnny was up to. You see the way Ghost's blacked-out eyelids squint in suspicion. He doesn't believe you, but doesn't say as much. 

Day Three and the polite, roundabout tactics had been discarded in favour of the nuclear option. Gaz had tried ambushing Ghost in the shower, opening the door without knocking as if pretending he didn't know the Lieutenant was in there. The door slammed so quickly into his head that an egg had been steadily growing on his forehead for the past hour and a half, blood seeping from his almost certainly broken nose. 

"You'll stay out next time, Bravo 2-6, if you know what's good for you," Ghost had growled through the crack in the door before shutting it with a click of the lock. 

Holding his face and slinking away, mortally wounded, Gaz uttered a humiliated 'Yes, lieutenant'. 

Soap, clearly not having learnt from poor Gaz, decided that the next best option was a trip, so to speak. Executing a ludicrously overexaggerated stumble, Johnny reached out to grab Ghost's mask to 'steady himself' and ultimately drag it from his superior's head. 

Ghost had leapt from his seat with a roar, threatening to send Sergeant MacTavish back to Scotland in a box with the Saltire draped across the lid. The standoff only settled upon Captain Price's barked orders to stand down or hang up the uniform. 

By Day Six, Ghost had bruised your opponent's egos enough that neither Soap nor Gaz dared attempt to peek beneath the mask again. They look at you like you're absolutely bonkers when you finally announce it's your turn to try and tame the beast. 

"Yer fuckin' mad, hen," Johnny grumbled, watching you observe Ghost from across the room. He'd settled on a chair in the corner of the room, ensuring no one could sneak up on him. "You can't seriously be plannin' on-"

"I want Hassan," you shrug, a smile playing on your lips. Though, at this rate, you couldn't care less about the terrorist and the honour of dispatching him. No, Ghost had made this ridiculous game far more competitive than needed, and you planned to win.

"Have fun," Gaz scoffed bitterly, still icing the blotchy green and purple bruise that had welted on his forehead as a medal of dis-honour. You hadn't exactly helped the healing process, poking it harshly with the pad of your thumb as you laughed at his mortifying misfortune. 

You wait patiently for Ghost to move, like a stake out on a mission. Lying in plain sight in a ghillie suit, a sniper rifle pointed right between his eyes and your finger on a hairpin trigger. You wait for him to break, for exhaustion to creep in. Thankfully, you don't have to wait long. The Lieutenant rises from his chair, announcing to 141 that he's headed to bed. 

A quiet mumble of 'goodnight' from each member grants him leave, and Ghost walks out of the room without further word. You waste no time in hurrying to your feet. 

"Are you gonna...-" Soap winces when you stand, trailing off when you start after Ghost, not allowing either of your colleagues to talk you out of this suicide mission. 

Though, the moment you turn the corner, you wish you had. Ghost's broad frame practically fills the narrow hallway like someone had plucked Everest from Nepal and shoved its hulking mass into a matchbox. He's ginormous, his usually silent footsteps causing the aged, rotting wood beneath the soles of his boots to creak with the weight he applies when he turns to face you. 

The dark hallway obscures Ghost's skull-face mask, but a glittering reflection of the golden light bleeding from the bulb in the living room area flickers across the wet surface of his eyes as he observes you. You can't allow the weighty pressure of his stare to phase you if you're to push ahead with your plan- so you step forward, swallowing down the nerves that Ghost's attention inevitably dredges up. 

"Lieutenant, sir," you address him smoothly, voice low as you gaze up at him through your lashes. Ghost's eyebrow arches in response, noting your somewhat suggestive behaviour. "Permission to spea-"

"I'm hopin' you'll tell me what you're all up to," his eyes spear your nerve as he interrupts you, "They're not lettin' up, but I'll get it outta you one way or another." 

"What... Did you have in mind?" You chance, heart slamming up against your chest when you realise just how obvious you're being. It's dangerous- you hadn't planned to be so forward. The idea that he'd be able to read your flirting so soon set off mortars in your veins. 

There's a pause. It dizzies you, throwing your previously sturdy confidence off kilter when Ghost tilts his masked head slightly. He's turning it over in his mind, considering the past few days' events. Then, he turns everything on its side. 

"I know what you're doing," he speaks suddenly, the rich baritone of his voice ricocheting off the walls and ringing in your ears like he's just discharged a round of ammo with each syllable. You jerk upright, standing to attention. 

"I don't know what you m-"

"You want the mask off," he interrupts you again, cutting your pathetic excuse short as he steps forward. It's ridiculous, the sheer size of him as he looms over you. "You lot made a bet."

Another beat. Ghost waits for a response, an admission of guilt. It feels like he's cornered you; every answer that springs to mind is incriminating. You know he can see your rueful expression, wide-eyed and panicked by the ease with which he puts you on the ropes. 

"Was this your plan?" He murmurs, reaching to grasp your chin. His palm settles on the hollow of your jaw, fingers fanning out across the bone. "Get me into bed and see if I'll take it off?"

Trembling in his hold, you whimper as Ghost's thumb stretches across to trace the curve of your lip. It follows the delicate arc, lining the shape of your mouth and trailing the dip of your cupid's bow. 

"'M sorry," you mumble weakly, cheeks hot beneath his touch. Again, you fold beneath the intensity of those honeyed irises. It's a miracle your knees don't buckle when he pushes the pad of his thumb just past your lips, so that it brushes the edges of your teeth. 

"That was your plan. Y'can still give it a try, love. But..." he hums, his voice throaty and quiet and settling in the pit of your stomach. It's embarrassing, the ease with which he figures you out, but his words drip over you, easy and warm, and all you can focus on is the slip of his thumb as he presses the pad against the flat of your tongue. 

"The mask stays on." 

Ghost’s insistence makes you giggle sheepishly and your stomach flip in dread, like a child caught with its hand down a bear trap. Despite the lewdness of him pushing his thumb past your lips, you know that he’s being serious, deathly so. You nod clumsily in recognition of his executive order, and Ghost gently taps the skin of your cheek with his free hand, the soft slap of his palm against your flesh standing your hair on end.

“Go.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighing heavily in the claustrophobic space of the small hallway. It takes a moment for your mind, rendered utterly useless by Ghost’s imposing presence, to understand exactly what he’s implying. Only when he removes his thumb from your mouth to shove you forward towards a bedroom door does his intention become clear.

Oh. Oh!

Scrambling to force your feet forward, they practically float across the threshold of the bedroom door. You can feel Ghost looming just behind you, can practically feel the heat radiating from his chest warming the expanse of your back. Fingers clasp over your shoulder, practically swallow the curved flesh, and shove you back against the bedroom wall.

The force of impact winds you, the air expelled from your lungs swallowed down by Ghost’s lips bearing heavily down upon your own. He’d ripped the mask upwards, the hem of the ski-mask balanced across the bridge of his nose. Simon’s tongue licks into your mouth– intrudes upon the space like he’s kicking down a door, like he’s swallowing the breath he’d expelled from you with his heavy hand. 

Once the dazed dizziness dissipates, you moan in relief at finally getting what you wanted. Ghost’s gigantic paw takes hold of your jaw in a firm grip to fit his mouth perfectly against your own, his swirling fingerprints indenting in the soft flesh there in a mottled bruise. The soft pine he coaxes from you bleeds past your open mouth despite your attempt to suppress the frankly pathetic noise. 

Fuck it, this was worth it– all of it was worth it. The fear of getting it wrong, the anxiety of being caught, the panic that Simon could turn you away… All of it seeps into the darkness in the corners of the room when your superior drags his tongue across your lower lip. It’s though he’s relishing in the taste of the aftershocks of the arousal he sparks between your legs, the dopamine that rushes through you.

“Was this your plan?” Ghost grunts, grasping ahold of the scruff of your neck. Gasping weakly, you’re almost certain your eyes roll back in your head when he uses his harsh grip to steer you towards the bed. “Get me out of my fuckin’ mind so I don’t notice you takin’ off the mask?”

“That’s–” you huff, rendered breathless by Ghost’s intruding tongue, “That’s not it–”

Your pitiful attempt to excuse yourself is made useless when Ghost practically launches you onto the mattress of his bed, the rusted metal frame screaming under the sudden weight of your body. 

“No?” he queries, the usual boom of authority in his voice replaced by something that sounds far more like goading amusement as he places the hefty weight of his palm against your sternum, holding you down and thwarting any attempt to escape. 

He needn’t worry. The last thing you wanted was to leave. 

“Tell you what,” he muses in that smug tone you always hear over the comms, his free hand quick to grasp at the leather of his belt. The buckle clinks in the quiet as he works his fingers over it, “We’ll run through this mission, yeh? See if you can complete your objective, Delta?”

Your retort, or lack thereof, dies in your throat when Ghost pushes his crotch into your own. If it weren’t for the yelp of bliss that the Lieutenant had to smother with his palm, you’d hear the way he’d practically purred when he dragged his cock against you. 

“C’mon then. Try it,” he urged. 

It’s pointless, his mock-support. You just desperately reach for the waistband of his khaki uniform trousers, cockdrunk from the tease of its shape against you. Even in the low light, you can see Ghost’s scarred lips, the way they stretch into a smirk at your desperation. 

“Abandoning mission, Sergeant?” He asks you, unzipping his trousers. “Price’ll be disappointed to know this is all it takes for Delta to go AWOL.”

“Shut up,” you moan into the cold air of the cabin. You can see your breath. “Shut up and fuck me.”

When Simon removed himself from his trousers, making some glib comment about you being demanding, you marvel at the size of him. Girthy, swollen, the ruddy tip leaks precum down the arch of his cock and traces the pulsing veins. He’s rock hard and throbbing, framed by a thatch of pubic hair. 

Fumbling with your own trousers, you awkwardly try to remove them given Simon’s weighty palm still pins you down by your sternum. He watches, a glint in his eye in the low light that would almost embarrass you if you weren’t so focused on the task at hand. 

“What was the prize?” 

“H-Huh?” you stall, mind fried by Ghost’s unexpected line of enquiry. He picks up where you left off, violently yanking your trousers down your thighs and pushing your panties aside to expose your glistening cunt to his prying eyes. 

“What. Was. The. Prize?”

You hesitate for a moment, feeling Ghost’s fingers press against the inside of your thighs as he probes this unexplored territory of you. His touch skirts the areas you want him most, teasing and goading you for more information. “H-Hassa-ahh!”

You barely manage the first syllable of your answer before Simon rests the arch of his cock against your slick pussy lips. His body jerks slightly at the heat of your swollen cunt, the ease with which he can slide himself through your drenched sex. 

“You got to kill Hassan?” he asked for confirmation, his voice unwavering. You wonder how he manages to stay so steady– you’re coming apart at the seams, trembling as the head of his cock bumps your clit clumsily. 

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes rolling back as he continues his laboured, steady torture. His free hand settles on your hip, arching your pelvis up slightly to meet his own. You grind your hips upward against his cock, and Simon expels a soft scoff from lungs, those piercing eyes settled on your contorting expression. 

“Mhmm,” he hums, rolling his hips again. This time it’s even slower, teasing. “A temptin’ reward–” 

Simon is interrupted by the moan that splits your lips when he drags the length of his cock heavily against your clit. It sparks arousal deep in your abdomen, clings to the inside of your thighs wetly. 

Perhaps the disturbance is one transgression too many tonight, because Simon grasps your hips so hard that you are forced to stop gliding over the length of his cock. You pine in protest, but you choke on the pitiful sound when Ghost suddenly plunges his cock inside of you. It spears you open, breaks you apart, and you find your back arching desperately against the mattress. 

The palm that had rooted itself to your sternum flies up to clasp against your mouth, smothering the shriek of bliss that threatened to expose your extracurricular activities to the rest of your squad. You sob through your teeth beneath his life line, tears welling in your eyes as you feel him stretch your walls open to make room for his intrusion. 

You can’t help yourself. You need something to grasp onto, and opt for his wrist above your face. Digging your nails into the inked flesh there, you watch as the pain sparks something dark and twisted in Simon’s pupils, his azure irises swallowed by the expanding blackness.

He likes it. You can tell. His cock arches up inside of you, pushing deep and rocking against something earth shattering inside of you. Damp with sweat already, the skin of his wrist ripples as he tightens his grip on your face, refusing to withdraw from your pussy walls and instead opting for sharp, shallow thrusts that push you up the mattress with each connection of your hips. 

“Fuck,” he spits, using his tight grasp to pull you back towards him. It’s obliterating you, ripping you apart and pushing all your pieces back together in a mangled, jumbled mess. You whimper as you suffer through his brutal pace, marvelling at how good it feels when he consistently spears your g-spot. 

“When would you have done it?” Simon asks you, a little breathless now as he chases the high that begins to build at the edges of your body, tingling and pulsing. 

“Shut up–” you beg him, the low rasp of his voice launching you towards that pleasure that threatens to consume you. Jerking your hips up to meet his, your body mindlessly reacts to the sound of his timbre. 

“Oh, no,” he chuckles, shaking his half masked face. There’s a silver laden scar that stretches across the base of his chin. It matches the one that splits his upper lip to the base of his nose, the ski mask hovering tantalisingly over the bridge. “When?” 

The seriousness of his tone makes your thighs quiver when paired with the sharp thrust he punctuates his question with. Years of training in maintaining a cover-story while a hostage are blown to bits as though Ghost has launched a mortar at your resolve, because suddenly all your state secrets are spilling out of you quicker than you can shove the incriminating words back into your traitor mouth. 

“I’d– Hagh… I’d do it j-just as you’re cummin–hhah!”

“And spoil my fun?” Ghost hums, that heavy timbre licking up your spine and sparking viscous embers at the base of your spine, “Anyone ever told you that you’re very fuckin’ selfish, Delta?” 

You’d offer a witty comment, but Ghost’s angled his hips just right, and your jaw is falling loose to let out a panicked whimper. 

“There it is, shit. Look at you, Sargeant. Fuckin’, you’re so tight–” 

You’re like a slip knot, tightening around him further with each knock of your g-spot with Simon’s ridiculously large cock-head. Prickling tears of bliss threaten to spill over the edge of your waterline, continuing to sting even when you shut your eyes. You’re shaking, trembling beneath his rocking hips as you mewl his name. 

“S-Simon! Fuck–”

Wild, wet squelches of Simon sinking into your soaked cunt echo in your skull as he ramps up his violent thrusts, the springs of his mattress screaming an unmistakable rhythm to anyone walking by. He doesn’t seem to care now though, his eyes zeroed in on your expression like he’s stalking a victim with his sniper scope. Aiming for complete obliteration. 

“C’mon Can feel you squeezin’ round me,” he murmurs, the steady tone he’d offered earlier shuddering slightly as you squeeze impossibly tight around him, coil threatening to snap, “You’re so close, Delta. C’mon, paint my cock an’ I’ll eat you out with my cum in you–” 

                           ✰

“He’s blonde.” 

Gawping jaws drop to the floor at your very simple observation, Soap’s eyes nearly rolling across the uneven, rotten floorboards after falling out of his skull. You can’t help the smug smile that threatens to tug at the edge of your lips, especially given the sensation of Ghost’s eyes boring holes into the back of your skull. 

The awe only worsens when Price gives a subtle nod of confirmation from the corner of the darkened room, crowning you the winner of this utterly ridiculous joust. 

“How do you know?” Gary is as shaken as Soap by the confidence with which you’d offered your final answer, in disbelief as to how you could have possibly obtained it without being maimed, given the egg on his forehead was still throbbing despite days of icing it with the snow from outside the safehouse.

“His pubes are. I assume the curtains match the drapes,” you shrug dismissively. 

The sheer incredulity that flashes across Johnny’s face is utterly hilarious. The smirk that had been threatening to break finally cracks across your lips at the confirmation of your victory. Ghost’s eyes appear to have lazered through your skull, singing brain matter with the ferocity of his scowl. Frankly, you couldn’t care less– you can see it in your mind's eye; the gorgeous contrast of a blood-red crosshair settling across Hassan’s forehead, the weight of the trigger beneath your finger as you pull it back.

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

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[daisies-daydreams]

Ghost x shy reader? Would love a spicy scenario where he coaxes us into learning how to dirty talk with him

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Shy!F!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut (18+) Warnings: P in V Sex (you know the drill), Dirty Talk (obvs), Pet Names (baby, sweetheart/sweet girl, hon), Swearing Word Count: 1.2k+ A/N: Hello! Thank you for your sweet request! I love shy reader prompts so much.😭I hope you enjoy! MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Simon murmured in his low, gruff voice. You held your hands over your eyes and burning cheeks, his cock pushed half-way inside your slick cunt. You shook your head and raised your shoulders. Your lover sighed. "Love, am I hurtin' you?" he asked. You peeked from between your fingers as you shook your head.

"N-No," you squeaked. Simon grunted as he gently grabbed one of your wrists.

"Then what's wrong?" he asked. You bit the inside of your cheek as your heart thrummed against your sternum. You took a deep breath.

"I-I just..." you huffed, cursing yourself for not being able to just spit it out. Simon rubbed up and down your arm, his dark eyes still as he patiently waited for your reply. You inhaled deeply again as you tried to relax beneath him.  

“Hey, look at me,” Simon said. Your lip quivered before you slowly peeled your hands away. Your love gazed down at you with such deep admiration, you thought your heart was going to explode. “Love, I need you to talk to me when we're like this, remember?” he said as he cupped your cheek. You glanced away. 

“I know. I'm just not good at it,” you sighed. Simon hummed as he stroked his thumb over your cheek. 

“Well, no time like the present,” he grunted. You blinked.

"What?" you asked. Simon gave you a wry grin before he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I'm gonna teach you how to talk dirty," he said bluntly. Your jaw went slack.

"B-But I-I'm not good at it!" you flushed. Simon tilted his head.

"Do you want to learn how?" he asked.

"I mean...well...you know...yeah," you muttered. Simon chuckled.

"Alright, sweet girl," he said before kissing your cheek. “You comfortable?” Simon asked. You nodded and bit your lip. “Good,” he grunted. “Now, dirty talk doesn’t have to be a long, flowery poem,” Simon murmured as he brushed his cheek against yours. You gulped when he planted his lips on your neck, sucking on it lightly before letting go. 

“You taste so good, baby,” he purred. You swallowed thickly before parting your lips. “See? Simple. Let’s just start off with what we’re feelin’ and go from there, yeah?” Simon suggested. You licked your lips and nodded. 

“Okay,” you grinned. Simon beamed before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“Such a sweet girl,” he groaned as he pushed his hips forward. You moaned as his dick sank further inside your tight pussy, the stretching sensation making your toes curl. 

“Mmm,” you moaned as you gripped his large shoulders. Simon continued to kiss along your neck as he gently rocked his hips, his cock sliding against your gummy walls. 

“What are you feelin’ right now, hon?” he whispered into your ear, his hot breath falling against your skin. You blinked away a few tears of pleasure as your chest heaved. 

“I-I feel your cock stretching me,” you swallowed. Simon grunted and raked his teeth over the shell of your ear. 

“Yeah? Does it feel good?” he asked. You nodded. 

“Y-Yes! Feels really good, Si,” you moaned. You cried out when he pulled back and pressed his thumb against your puffy clit. You scrunched your eyebrows together as he drew slow circles around your bundle of nerves. 

“And how does this feel, hm?” he asked as he continued to thrust into your squelching cunt. Your walls fluttered around his thick length as you gasped for air. 

“So good, fuck,” your eyes widened before you slapped a hand over your mouth. Simon chuckled as he switched between circling your clit and swiping up and down. 

“It’s okay, baby. Just say whatever comes to your mind,” he encouraged you as he continued to massage your engorged button. 

“I-It’s not that-oh!” you mewled as Simon began to pump his hips a little faster. Your breasts began to bounce with his thrusts as he moved around your clit in tighter circles. You arched your back as he rested a hand next to your side. 

“Feel so fuckin’ good wrapped around my cock,” Simon growled lowly. You whined as you dug your nails into his ivory skin. Your mouth pooled with saliva as you heard your flesh slap against his. 

“Ahh, Simon!” you moaned and ducked your head against your shoulder. You felt his warm lips against your temple as you wrapped your legs around his sharp waist. 

“You can do it, lovie. C’mon,” he urged you as he dragged his cock along your walls. Hot tears poured down your cheeks as you bit your lip. You wailed when he snapped his hips forward, the fat head of his cock sliding against your g-spot. 

“God! Right there!” you sobbed while clinging onto his muscular body for dear life. You felt him smile against your face before he started to thrust against your sensitive spot repeatedly. “Yes, yes just like that!” you whined while hooking your ankles together. Simon groaned into your ear as he continued to paint sloppy shapes around your clit, his cock throbbing deep inside you. 

“I-I love how much you stretch my pussy, Si!” you cried out. He puffed a hot breath of air against your ear as he thrusted even faster, his balls slapping against your wet skin. 

“Atta girl,” your lover praised. You moaned as he hungrily kissed your lips, his tongue swiping over yours before he pulled back. 

“Fuck, (Y/N). Look so pretty when you’re takin’ my cock,” Simon grunted. You whimpered as your walls pulsated around his shaft. He chuckled. “You look even better when you cum,” he grinned as he gently pinched your clit. You felt the cord inside you suddenly snap.

“S-Simon!” you moaned as your pussy clamped down on his dick. You sobbed as you rocked your hips against his as waves of pure bliss crashed over you. 

“Good girl, that’s it,” you heard Simon mutter as he let you ride the rest of your orgasm on his meaty cock. Your legs shook around his waist as you gasped and moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders. You blinked your eyes open just as Simon began to thrust again, his strokes becoming more sloppy as he flared his nostrils. 

“Hold on, sweetheart. Just a little bit longer,” your lover grunted. Your limbs felt like jelly as you basked in the afterglow, your body filled with a divine sense of warmth. Simon growled into your ear as his cock twitched inside your walls. “Fuck,” he hissed. You tilted your head, your lips close to his ear. 

“Cum inside me, Simon,” you whispered. Simon’s eyes widened before he released a deep, feral groan. You mewled as he stiffened above you, his cock snug against your cervix as he flooded your tight hole with his warm cum. 

“So, good, you’re so good to me,” he murmured repeatedly as he finished releasing inside you. You caught your breath as his body went slack, his chest heaving as he gazed down at you. 

“Sorry, I don’t know if I was good,” you blushed. Simon gave you a half-lidded grin before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get better. We’ll just have to try again next time,” he beamed. Your heart fluttered at the prospect of next time. Simon hummed before kissing along your jaw. Your pussy clenched around his softening cock. 

Next time might be sooner than you thought. 

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️ Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999 @lavenderbabu @famouscattale @thedevax @galaxy-dusk @tayleighuh @zombieblogx @mrswhitethornbelikov @migueloharastruelove Want to be a part of my taglist? Comment down below!

[hopelesslonelyghost]

Affection

poly!task force 141 x gn!reader

warnings// suggestive-ish, tooth-rotting fluff, a sliver of angst at the end, NOT BETA READ; apologies for any typos

word count: 364

i loooove tf 141 poly fics i just had to hop on. it’s pretty short but i would love to write more about them <3 this one’s short bc i wrote it on a whim bc my worms were worminggg

I think about how each of the members of the 141 are so different when it comes to showing their affection for you:

There’s John who loves to rest his palm against your cheek and softens when he sees you melt against the warmth of his hand. You love placing a quick kiss to his palm, hearing the way he purrs under your ministrations sending a shiver down your spine.

Then there’s Soap who loves to just yank you gently against him and wrap his arms tightly around you, giving you a good squeeze with those beefy arms of his while placing a soft kiss to your forehead. You squeeze him back, trying to reciprocate the same energy he gives you, tilting your head up enough to place your lips against his neck, living for the way goosebumps erupt on his skin when you do.

Then, of course, there’s Gaz who loves picking you up from the waist, twirling you around, making you giggle. You wrap your legs tightly around his waist, gripping on his shoulders as you stare into each other’s eyes. Pulling him in by placing a hand on the back of his neck, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss. He always ends up pinning you against the wall, holding you there as the two of you reconnect after a long mission away from each other.

And last, but most definitely not least, is Simon who isn’t very comfortable with open expressions of affection, but shows it in the way of fleeting touches. Standing next to you during debriefs, pinkies softly brushing against each other, his way of saying ‘I’m here.’ Or sitting next to you at the mess hall, legs spread and his knee gently knocking against yours under the table. You think back on the time you got the ghost alone in the hall, looking both ways before standing on your tippy-toes, gripping his shoulders and tugging him down, placing a kiss onto his skull mask and whispering, “Please be safe.” just before he left on a solo op.

The four of them knowing without needing to say it, that you truly love them and cherish every moment you have with them. Soaking in each other, because you’re all painfully aware that tomorrow is never promised.

[rileyslibrary]

It’s lunchtime at the military base, and you can’t decide what to eat. Ghost is getting hangry.

———————————————————————

“It’s a simple question,” he says. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know, Lieutenant.”

“Are you hungry?” He asks and lifts his hands.

“Yes, sir.”

“What exactly are you hungry for?”

“I-I don’t know.”

He drops his arms to his sides and sits at the corner of his desk. He touches the back of his neck with one hand while supporting himself with the other.

“Every fucking day, you do this to me,” he murmurs. “If you don’t decide this time, I’ll go eat alone.”

“Oh! Is that so?” You squint and hunch forward at your desk.

“Yes!” He yells as he stands up and walks towards you. “Yes, I will. In fact, I would love to.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and your jaw drops. How dare he? You’d been teammates for years, sticking with him through thick and thin, never betraying him once. But now he...

“...Would love to?!”

“That’s right!” He snaps and slams his hands against your desk. “So, for the last time: What. Will. It. Be?”

You lean back in your chair and bite your pen while considering your options. Ghost’s gaze darts from you to the pen, then back. He groans and grabs the pen from your hand, tossing it to the side.

“Pens are off the menu today,” he declares, snapping his fingers, “I need an answer. Now.”

Dumfounded, you stare at the pen on the floor. If someone else had done this to you, you would have slapped them in the face. Worse, if he had watched anyone else treat you that way, he would have ripped their limbs off their body.

But he’s hangry. As insignificant as this conversation appears, he doesn’t handle his hunger with the same poise he handles other, more complex situations. Not only that, but your indecisiveness doesn’t help, either. You need to make a decision quickly, so you sit up straight and place your hands on the table.

“What are my options again?” you ask.

“Pizza or burger.” He replies sternly.

“I don’t want piz—”

“Burger it is, then,” he says with a nod. He knocks his knuckles twice on the desk and strides towards the office door.

“W-wait, Ghost, wait!”

He sighs and leans against the door, his hand on the handle.

“I don’t like the base’s burgers.” You mumble.

“Nobody likes the base’s burgers!” he yells. “But we still eat them!”

“I was wondering,” you say and lower your voice, “if there is another choice?”

He’s softly bashing his head against the door, and you try to persuade him that there should be a third option—a vegetarian meal, perhaps. In response, he begins making whimpering noises. He’s the one getting on your nerves now.

“You know what?” you snap, “I’ll go check by myself.”

He extends a hand in your direction and shows you his palm.

“No, no, no, no!” he cries. “You join the others in the queue, and the entire base will starve until you decide!”

You scoff at his sarcasm, and he opens the door.

“Listen,” he says, “I’ll go check and call you, okay?”

“LIEUTENANT!” you shout, but he slams the door behind him. You peek over at his desk. “You forgot your phone...” you murmur to yourself.

The lieutenant was a very cold man when you first met him. His responses were limited to yeses and nos with the occasional shrug, and he never joined you in everyday job activities, especially at lunchtime. You’d always eat alone in the mess hall, and if your breaks coincided with that of Gaz or Soap’s, you’d sit with them and eat lunch together. Ghost would normally sit in the office or hide in a corner around the base and eat since he didn’t want anyone to see him without his mask. But slowly, he came to trust you all with his face, and you’d eat together, locked in your office.

You look at the time. Given his hunger when he left, he should have returned five minutes ago. What if he gave up on you and is already eating with the rest? Sure, your indecisiveness annoys him, especially since he has to deal with it daily, but he’d never let you eat alone, right? On the other hand... he may be trying to teach you a lesson.

You take another glance at the time. This doesn’t feel right. You start cleaning up your desk to head for the kitchen, but someone knocks on the door.

“It’s open,” you announce, “come on in!”

“I’ve got my hands full.” You hear Ghost reply.

You walk up to the door and swing it open. Ghost stands there with a serving trolley full of dishes.

“Thanks,” he murmurs while he pushes the trolley inside the office.

“You forgot your phone!” you inform him.

“I didn’t forget it,” he says as he stops the trolley in front of your desk. “I’d rather put my bare hand in a fire and let it simmer than add a third option to your dilemma and let you decide while there’s a queue of starving soldiers behind me.”

He removes the plates from the trolley and arranges them on your desk. “Here’s the fucking pizza, the fucking shitburger, and the tofu version of the shitburger.”

He places another plate with five pizza slices on his desk. He removes his mask and immediately slaps a piece in his mouth.

“That’s a lot of food, Lt.,” you whisper, scanning the plates before you.

He turns his head towards you and keeps chewing. “Yeah,” he says, swallowing, “better have all the options in front of you than squeeze any reserve of patience I have left.”

You take a slice of pizza from your tray and bite into it.

He stares at you, raises his plate to the sky, and rambles about how “you didn’t want pizza before.” You clarify that, while you still don’t want pizza, it appears to be the best option among the three.

“However,” you continue, “I would murder for a good burger.”

He swallows and takes a second pizza slice from his plate.

“I know a place,” he explains. “We can go tonight.”

“Lieutenant, you smooth operator!” you tease, “like on a date?”

He nods and takes another mouthful. He doesn’t even bother looking at you. He’s too preoccupied with nourishing his massive body to worry about your mocking.

“What kind of a place is it?” You ask.

“It’s a shithole,” he says, “but it does the best burgers you’ve ever had.”

“So, what should I wear?”

He stops eating and aggressively shakes his head.

“Nuh-uh,” he says. “I won’t get involved in your woes again—I’ll give you the address, and you’ll be there at 8 p.m.”

“Are you going to email me the menu so I can decide what to eat ahead of time?”

He swallows and looks at you. “I wouldn’t worry about that,” he says, taking another bite.

“Why?”

“Because there’s no menu at my place.”

———————————————————————

[tearsofastraeax]

hello, i hope u’re doin okay 🫶 i wanted to ask you could u write smth where we have an age gap in our relationship w Simon (legal ofccc) and we’re a bit scared of 141’s reactions ? thank u sm even if u don’t feel like writing this <3

hi, hun. hope you enjoy ♡

⊹ simon riley never made a big deal about you being younger than him. he rather adored how sweet and innocent you were for him. he loved to have you by his side, and so he suggested you’d meet the 141. you were nervous, you weren’t bad with new people, that wasn’t it. but you couldn't stop thinking about what they might think, these guys were such an important part of simon's life, you wouldn't be able to handle it if they didn't like you. and what did your relationship look like to them? him being the older guy that spoils you and you being the bratty younger plaything? they probably wouldn't even take you seriously, maybe they’d see you as just another stupid girl. 

but simon was persuasive, he knew how to convince you to do his bidding. he trailed sweet kisses down your neck, whispering into your warm skin. 'they'll adore you, my love’, he'd say. his hands wandering from your waist to your hips, grabbing you in the sweetest way he could, just hardly leaving bruises behind. 'please come with me, just meet them.' he punctuated his words with a nip on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving a faint mark behind. you sucked in a low breath, hardly able to focus. his skilful fingers winding their way around your thighs, massaging them, and ever so slowly moving toward your throbbing core. 'trust me, love.' he captured your lips with his, pulling you into a dizzying kiss that left you breathless. you could only nod, barely able to register what you were agreeing to. 

            ⊹ so, the day came when you would meet the guys. with simon at your side, you stepped into the bar everyone had agreed to meet. your heart was beating so wildly in your chest that you were sure everyone would know just how nervous you were by just looking at you. but against your best beliefs, it was nothing like it. first, you met gaz or kyle, how he had introduced himself. oh, and how happy you were he was the first one of the bunch. with his easy smiles, he made you feel so at comfortable. so much so, that it barely shook you when you met the stoic captain price next. thankfully, the short-lived introduction was interrupted by no one other than soap, who with no time to spare swept you up to join him at the bar and ‘get fucking drunk, bonnie’. 

a few drinks and a couple of shots later you couldn't stop yourself, your brain-to-mouth filter having stopped working approximately 3 drinks ago. so you blurted out, 'I'm so happy that you guys like me, you know, I was kind of scared that you would think it's weird that simon and I have such an age gap.' you smiled shyly, immediately regretting even saying anything at all when everyone became a bit quieter than before. now you had ruined it. 

but instead, a low chuckle turned into a laugh. 'no, no, see we're happy for the old man here, getting some fresh meat', soap exclaimed, earning more laughter from the guys and you. except for simon who looked like he was ready to pounce on the poor guy. 

[moralesispunk]

retired! Simon who starts to find joy in a lazy lie in

who whines - actually whines - when you try to get out of bed before 9 on a Sunday, his bear paw hands gripping at your thighs, waist, tummy, anything that will have your back pressed against his chest and have your head tucked under his chin

soon you're being lulled back to sleep from the weight of his body half pressing you into the mattress and the sheer warmth of this human radiator, his even breathing against your neck and his heartbeat slowing as he falls back to sleep, the occasionally tightening of his hold like he's pulling you against him even in sleep

(nsfw below minors dni)

and then you wake to his sleepy body rocking against yours, kisses being pressed along your shoulder and across your back, his rough sleepy voice asking so nicely if he can be inside you, just the tip, please love, and when you nod he's pulling your shorts down and sliding his hand between your legs until your wet enough for him to slide inside, and when you're both coming and you're squeezing around him, you both start to fall back asleep again with him still inside you

[hayleybarnesx]

Thinking about Simons dog, Riley, cuddled up at the bottom of your bed after Simon kicks him out the office for disturbing him while he’s working.

This big scary German shepherd snuggled up with you like a cat while your both fast asleep under piles of blankets and pillows, a stark contrast from the single pillow and blanket Simon sleeps with at night.

After the first night, Simon finds Riley missing more often the not. A quick look into your room when Riley’s due a bath and he’s found him.

He can’t help but internally smile at the sight, his favourite pair basking in each others warmth, Simon quickly noticed Riley’s been brushed and washed already. His fur sleek and fluffed up, smelling like vanilla.

Simon took excellent care of Riley, he was properly pampered and it warmed his cold heart slightly seeing the same care applied from you, perhaps Simon would trust you with his sunshine.

[grippingbeskar]

coming home - simon ‘ghost’ riley

— simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

— warnings - adult content minors dni (18+) mxf, ghost has a filthy mouth, praise kink (?), pretty soft compared to all the ghost s*** out there tbh, slight description of injury and mentions of death. kinda sad ghost but he fucks it out :)

a/n: i have fallen down the ghost hole. just wanted some domestic shit, also the shower description is just something i want in my dream home so it’s self indulgent as fuck! hope you enjoy. xx (also shout-out to @dinahmadanimybeloved for the lil nudge in the right direction!! i appreciate u. xx)

He’s quiet, and that’s how you know somethings off. Most people think it’s just the way he is, being able to count on one hand the amount of words he’s spoken to them over the years. Ghost doesn’t talk unless he has to, or unless he gives enough of a fuck about whoever’s talking to him, which is rare these days. He could go hours without talking when he was away, a fact that always broke your heart a little.

The truth is, you can never get him to shut up. When he’s home, he’ll talk your ear off about anything. The dog he ran past that morning, the way you should organise your socks, how good you looked wearing his shirt. He was talkative, which is how you knew that something was wrong when he came home this time.

Being the biggest guy you knew, it amazed you how he could walk with such stealth. Even the floorboards seemed scared to creak under his frame as he came through the door. You shot up, nearly flying over the back of the couch. He wasn’t due home for another two weeks— you knew because you were supposed to pick him up from the airport. He was home early, and of course you were ecstatic, but then you saw his face, still covered in that bone white mask, and you knew it wasn’t all good news.

“Simon.” You whisper as you walk towards him. He’d closed the door behind him, locking it, but hadn’t moved from there. Usually you were both bursting with energy when he came home, excitement and adrenaline pumping through your bodies at the long awaited reunion. He was looking down at you, and when you finally stood close enough, one of his hands came up, gingerly cupping your face. “You’re home!”

“Hey, baby.” He says slowly, eyes holding yours. The hand he had behind his back touched your side, and you looked down, seeing about a dozen roses in a bouquet, stalks fisted in his gloved hand. “Got ‘em for you.”

“They’re gorgeous. Here—“ You take them, letting the sweet smell fill your senses and move quickly to put them in a vase on the counter— a spot reserved for whenever Simon brought you flowers. It seemed to be a constant thing, and it never failed to have you feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. “I love them. Thank-you.”

“‘Course.” The tone of his voice only confirms your suspicions about something being off, and it has your heart dropping through the floor.

“You should of told me you were coming home. I would of come picked you up!” You smile up at him, trying to gage where his mood is.

“Finished early. Thought I’d surprise you.” His hands come back to your face, holding your head up at the perfect angle. There was a significant height difference between you, so you were in a constant state of looking up at him.

“Did everything go… good?” You ask tentatively. He’d told you some of the things he’s done over there with the 141, but you always try not to pry. You know it’s brutal, and he sees the worst of the world, so when he trusts you with something, you take it to the grave. When he doesn’t, you don’t ask.

“No. Nothing did.” He says, still holding your face up to his. You bend up on your toes, pressing a soft kiss to the nose of his mask. “I just needed to see you.”

“I’m glad you’re home.” Your arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer. You press your face into his chest, sinking into the feeling of him being home. After so long, it never gets any easier. Watching him leave, never really knowing when he’d be back. If he was safe. “You want something to eat? I can make dinner.”

He shakes his head, gently pulling your face back from his chest. When your hands snake up his front, he just watches you. He hadn’t even changed out of his clothes— still had that black paint smudged across his eyes. He must of gotten straight on a plane after whatever he was doing had come to an abrupt end. Your fingertips brush his jaw, the bottom of his mask, and when you go to pull it up over his mouth and nose, he doesn’t stop you.

“Can I take it off?” You check, feeling how stiff he is under your hands. He nods once, and tilts his head, allowing you to pull it all the way off. “There you are.”

“I missed you.” He says simply, but the words pack such a punch when he looks like this. To an outsider he’s hard at nails, sharp and pointy and dangerous to get close to, but you see him under the paint and the body armour. “Missed you so fucking bad, baby.”

“Prove it.” You see a flash of his teeth, just the smallest hint of a smile, and your stomach does a backflip because it feels like a win. Then, he leans in, kissing you softly, with the care he would hold broken glass— hands guiding you forward and up, thumbs tracing gently along your cheek bones.

You sigh, nearly melting into his body. Your hands wrap around his neck, toying with the short hair that he’d cut while he was away. You always have to fix it for him when he comes home— he just hacks away at any hair hanging out of his mask, mostly getting frustrated and buzzing it off until he can get you to cut it again. When your fingertips scrape lightly along his skull, he groans into your mouth.

“Fuck.” He mutters as you catch his bottom lip between your teeth, careful to only apply a little bit of pressure. You were sure he was covered in enough painful marks as it was— you didn’t want to add to it. He leans down further, chasing your mouth, foreheads pressing together.

“You wanna talk about it?” He shakes his head then dips down, kissing your jaw, nose nudging you to the side to get better access to your neck. Your breathe hitches and you sigh his name, him smiling in response against your skin. You can feel the black smudge of his face paint slowly covering your own, like a trail of all the places he’s touched you.

“I only wanna hear you sayin’ my name like that. Don’t want to think about—“ You say his name again, drowning out the thoughts of whatever happened over there. That wasn’t now— he was here, and safe, and if he needed to be distracted, that’s exactly what you would give him.

“Need you to wash this paint off first.” You murmur, your voice a little lower than normal, making him almost shudder. You drop your hands from his neck, letting them fall slowly between your bodies before you loop your fingers in his belt buckle, walking backwards. “You’ll get me all dirty.”

“I would’a thought you’d like that.” He grabs a handful of your ass, nearly making you trip over as you step back, but he catches you easily and picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. He presses his paint covered face to yours, kissing your nose and face wherever he can reach, and you can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous you must look now, covered in smears of black.

“I do. Just want an excuse to see you naked.” You taunt in his ear as he finally reaches the shower and flicks it on, still fully clothed. “You buzzed your hair again.”

“You know I can’t do it right without you.” He puts you down, quickly ripping off his own shirt before reaching for the hem of yours.

He’s slower with it, the fabric brushing against your sides, giving you goosebumps. It doesn’t matter how many times you take your shirt off in front of him, he always looks just as dazed as he did the first time, and you always get just as nervous.

“You’re so fucking perfect, baby. Come ‘ere.”

He pulls you fully under the stream of the shower. It’s one of your favourite places in your shared house— a giant shower head that let the water fall as fine as rain, with enough space for his giant body not to have to bend at awkward angles to wash his hair (when he had some). It was also well big enough for the both of you, a feature you both utilised every morning and night you spent together.

He works at your shorts next, easily slipping you out of the now wet cotton, leaving you just in a set of underwear. They weren’t particularly cute— like you said, you would normally dress up for him to come home, but he wasn’t due for two weeks. Simon didn’t seem to mind, hands running wildly over your body, eyes on fire. You were starting to see him clearer now, the paint running off his face and down his bare chest in shadowed droplets.

“God, Simon…” You lean back just an inch, seeing the new marks on his chest and shoulder. A new bullet wound in the right arm. A gash that extends all the way up his left side. It still looked like it was healing— the stitches must of only come out a few days ago.

“I’m okay.” He says, kissing your collarbone.

“I don’t like when you get hurt.” You whimper, feeling his strong hands grab your hips, pushing your underwear down. “Are you sure—“

“Let me take your mind off it.” He leans down further, kissing your chest, and then drops completely, landing on his knees in front of you. He was so tall that he still needed to bend lower to kiss his way down, feeling his lips press softly on your hip bones, then your stomach. “Look at you. Such a pretty girl.”

He taps your inner thigh with two fingers, a silent command. You follow, spreading your legs slightly. He’s not satisfied, hooking one leg over his shoulder while the other is pinned between him and the wall. At this point you weren’t even holding yourself up— the display of brute strength making your head feel fuzzy.

“Dreamt about this.” He kisses closer, skin that hasn’t been touched in weeks nearly sparking under his manipulation. “Out on base. Couldn’t keep this pussy out of my head.”

“Simon, please.” You beg shamelessly. You have no pride when it comes to him, not when he’s holding you like this, reducing you to putty in his hands before he’s even really touched you.

“Never leaving this house again.” His words nearly get lost between your thighs. You arch your back to encourage him, but he holds you flat. “Gonna keep you here forever. Right here, just like this.”

“Simon.”

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you? You’d say my name all pretty like that and let me do whatever I wanted.” You were nodding furiously, hands finding little purchase in his short hair but it was all you could do to get him closer— “Want you to ride my face. Give me everything you’ve got.”

“Okay, please… please just—“

“What, baby?”

“Fucking touch me, Simon. Please.” You know he doesn’t respond to bad manners, so you throw as many around as you can. He smiles between your legs, kissing your thigh once more before you lose sight of his now clean face, burying himself in your pussy. “Fuck!”

He’s no stranger to eating you out— he always tells you how much he loves it, like it’s a reward for him. He always makes you see stars, too, but right now, the way he’s practically taking you apart from the middle out, it wasn’t like anything you’ve felt before. He keeps one hand on your hip, pinning you under him, the other slipping a finger inside of you, working in perfect tandem with his mouth.

You can’t decide what it is, but fuck— maybe it’s the water, how soft it falls on the both of you, combined with the overwhelming feeling of having Simon back early and safe— it was having a physical affect on you. Weak knees that were taking none of your weight in them, choked gasps of his name— your eyes roll back in your head before long, hips bucking wildly against his hold as your whole body shudders with pleasure.

“God— so fucking good for me, princess.” He says, taking a second to pull back and admire how strung out you look before diving back into you. His gaze never leaves you then, watching as your face contorts with every glide of his tongue over your clit, or how every time he moves his hand just right your whole body jolts. He seeks it out again and again, and you can feel him smiling underneath you, watching you writhe as liquid heat spreads all the way through your veins, carrying pleasure to every nerve ending you had.

It was an entire body experience, and you couldn’t even keep your eyes open anymore. You let him get rougher, at some point hooking your other leg over his shoulder, so you were completely suspended in the air. Your thighs clamped around his head, trapping him in position as you neared your high, and Simon only gripped you tighter, his hands kneading the flesh of your ass. He held you hard, in a way that you knew would leave the good kind of bruise, and the image only sky rocketed your state.

“Don’t stop, Si. Fuck— you’re so good, so fucking good, I… ah—“ You cut yourself off when he groans— really groans into you, and you feel him switch gears at the praise. He must like hearing it, how good he is at this. How good he makes you feel. While you still have the ability to talk, you keep going— anything to get him not to stop. “You feel so good, Simon. Gonna make me c— oh fuck, right there.”

You feel the stretch of two of his thick fingers, easing you open, and you know it’s out of your control. There’s an electric feeling in your stomach you don’t recognise, bordering on too much of a good thing. You almost don’t want to fall into it, but Simon, with his talented hands and mouth that’s never satiated, you wouldn’t get much of a choice. Your brain couldn’t move your legs anymore, only able to blank out and take it— take all of what Simon was so desperate to give you, and who were you not to indulge your man?

“C’mon, princess. Let me see you… just let go. Want it so bad, pretty girl.” The pet names, his tongue lapping at your sensitive nerves, his fingers curling inside of you— there was no way to avoid the plummet into overwhelming pleasure, Simons hands being the only thing holding you to the real world.

You cum with a choke of his name, and a string of indiscernible words babble out of your mouth. You hear Simon saying something, but it sounds so far off, your only focus on that feeling. He doesn’t stop, still buried inside of you as close as he can, and he doesn’t let up until your physically clawing at him, flinching away from the lap of his tongue.

You feel wrung out— like you’d just been suffocated and were slowly coming back to consciousness. It was possible you really did pass out, if you were honest. Simon was still holding you up easily, hands now holding your thighs to his shoulders, eyes wide and staring at you in fascination.

“Holy fuck, baby. That was fucking… you are so hot.” Out of breath and energy you manage to burst out laughing at his compliment, feeling yourself slowly sliding down the wall of the shower. Everything felt like jelly, but as Simon bent down to kiss you, your hand brushed against his boxers, and you tugged at them. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you now, baby?”

“Mmm.” You hum, body still twitching from the aftershocks of the biggest orgasm of your life. You tug harder at the seam of his boxers, and he kisses your forehead.

“Shh. Take a minute.” Your eyebrows furrow together, feeling a little juvenile in your fuzzy state.

“Please, Si. I’ve waited so long for this. Please, just…” You slip the fabric over his cock, already hard and waiting, and duck your hand under to stroke him gently. He swears, shuddering under your soft touch. “Don’t make me wait.”

“Turn around, princess.” He breathes, and you smile victoriously, getting another laugh out of him. “Fuckin’ insatiable.”

“Only for you.” He helps you get onto all fours, rough palms of his hands smoothing over your ass and lower back.

“Mhmm. Mine, aren’t you?” You nod, feeling him lean down to kiss your shoulder blades before you feel his cock, sliding between your legs and settling at your entrance. He gives you a second or two— it always takes you a while to adjust to the pure size of him when he gets home. You’d never say it, but you hope you never get used to it. A bit of pain with the pleasure he rings from you seems a fair trade for all the dirty things he says when he finally enters you.

You push back against him, making him hiss as a little more of his length disappears into you. He lightly smacks your ass just once and you arch into the touch. He’s never been one to throw you around, not wanting to even think about the possibility of hurting the one good thing he has in this life— but he can’t help but be memorised by the way you react when he treats you a little tougher. He does it again, and hearing your moan is apparently the last thing he needs to bottom out behind you.

You both sigh— finally feeling each other this way. There was something to be said about the first fuck when he came home. It was so much more than that. It was like something from a movie, how they called it making ‘love’. You’d always thought it one and the same— until you met Simon. He starts slow, purposeful as he drove his hips back and forth in a pace that had you feeling dizzy after just a few thrusts. He was so strong without even knowing, you had to smack your hand to the wall to keep from sliding away every-time his hips collided with yours. He hit spots inside of you you never knew you had until you met him, and it was borderline embarrassing how quickly you felt that ball of pleasure in your stomach tighten— preparing for release.

“So tight. Always t-take me so fuckin’ good. Jesus Christ.” Hearing Simon Riley stumble over his words was the ego boost of the century.

“Just like that, Si. Fuck.” You feel one of his hands sliding up higher, touching any part of you he could reach— hands brushing over your side, your tits, reaching up to tangle in your hair. When he pulls slightly it has you squeezing your eyes shut, the combination of his touch all over you making you dizzy.

He starts to come back to himself, talking constantly as he drives his hips harder and faster. Constant praises come out in a low, raspy voice, only interrupted by you chorusing them back to him. It had always been like this with him, the filter between his brain and mouth broken as soon as he got inside you, leading to a string of compliments too dirty to repeat anywhere else— but it was the hottest fucking thing in the world to you.

“C-can’t last much longer, princess. S’feels too good.” He slurs, and you look over your shoulder. His shoulders are completely relaxed, jaw slack and eyes half open, and there’s none of that stiffness from before when he came home. Now, he was in his element, not thinking about whatever went wrong on the outside— he was just here with you.

“Fuck, gonna cum, Simon— just a little m-fuck.” You didn’t have to tell him, he knows your body better than you do, and when his hand slips under your hips so that he can circle your clit in soft, quick movements, your arms drop out from under you as pleasure overwhelms you. This time, you’re pretty sure you do pass out, the only thing you can hold onto in that in-between is Simons voice.

“There it is. Fuck—yes… yes. Fuck!” He swears the whole way through as he cums, and you feel him pull out at the last second, warmth spreading over your ass and lower back. You try to pick yourself up, giving him a pretty picture, but your body is so weak that you just stay right where he puts you. His free hand grips your waist, keeping the backs of your thighs pressed to the front of his.

The water was still running a warm stream over the both of you, and when Simon’s orgasm wrings out the last few jolts of pleasure, he’s just as fucked out as you are. All but collapsing over the top of you, he keeps himself up with one arm, the other wrapping underneath both your bodies. He kisses along the back of your shoulder blades, murmuring praise into your skin.

“Baby… baby. Missed you.” He repeats, and you turn your head, finding the strength to hold yourself up a little to kiss him. Once he knows your starting to come back, he switches positions, using the arm underneath you to hold you to him as he leans himself against the wall of the shower, your back tucked to his chest.

“Missed you more.” You look up, finding him staring down at you. He smiles then, and your still a little dazed but he just looks so good when he smiles— “I love you.”

“I love you.” He repeats.

It might just be the heat of what you just did mixed with the warm stream of water above you, but you swear he blushes. No matter how many times you say it to each other, he still reacts like that. You both sit in silence for a little, your body now tired and slumping against him, held up by his arms wrapped around your middle, holding you tightly.

“You scared me a little, when you came home.” You say softly, your hands tracing along his forearm. “I never know how to make it all okay— I can’t make it okay.”

“You just gotta be here. That’s all I need.” His head dips to lean down, leaning on your shoulder.

“I will be. Always.” You say, never meaning anything more. It’s been years of you knowing Simon, just a little less than that being his, but you know this is it for you. Even when you first met him, you knew you’d always be there when he came home— waiting for him.

“We… we lost some good people this time. Just makes me think.” He hugs you closer, feeling his hands splay out in your sides. “This guy got caught in the crossfire, I don’t know what happened, but I watched them tell his girlfriend. She just lost it.”

You swallow hard, hearing his voice crack.

“The boys said they found her photo in his wallet. A ring, too. Was gonna propose.”

“Jesus.” He nods, head still firmly tucked into the crook of your neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“I had to get out, come home for a bit after this one. I don’t want… there’s so much stuff I need to do, stuff I want to tell you about, and if I didn’t make it back—“

“Don’t think like that. You’ll always come home. You promised me you would.” Your throat tightens, trying your best not to cry at a time like this. You couldn’t help it when he spoke like that.

“I know, baby. I just mean…” He takes in a long breath, then looks up, tilting your head so he could look you in the eye. “I don’t wanna leave here without you knowing how much I— that I…”

“I know.” You let your fingertips drag softly along his jaw, but he shakes his head.

“No, I… fuck— I’m sorry.” You sit up, a little worried about where this is going. His hands leave your waist, holding your face in the same gentle way he did when he came home. “It just… you deserve so much, and I want to give it to you. The whole flight over— longer than that, I’ve been thinking about asking you something. I just don’t know how.”

“You can ask me anything.” Kneeling between his legs, your hands press to his chest, feeling the racing of his heart. You lean forward, kissing him, telling him all the words you can’t fit into the moment. Whatever he takes from it seems to be enough— because as well as he knew you, you knew him too. He pulls away, and when he does, you don’t see any traces of the man people seem to fear, or hate.

You just see him.

You nearly hold your breath in anticipation, watching as his eyes flit between your mouth and your eyes.

“Simon.” You say again, and his eyes flutter closed. Then he pulls you forward, and utters two words that shift your entire world on its axis.

“Marry me.”

[qtboni]

╰﹒ 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

OVERVIEW: After an argument with you, Simon feels a deep sense of remorse for the pain he caused and the distance he has created between himself and you. He proposes watching a movie together as a way to reconcile however, during the movie, Simon notices that you were zoning out. And when confronted, you burst into tears and reveal deep-seated emotions that you have been keeping to yourself.

C/W: Angst + hurt w/ comfort !! mentions of alcohol (drinking), offensive languages, mentions of overthinking for reader, both parties are hurt 'nd crying

W/C: 3.5k bubs

The silence was almost unbearable as you sat alone in the dimly lit living room, feeling increasingly claustrophobic. The weight of Simon's words hung in the air, making you feel like you couldn't catch your breath.

The room felt cold, the air thick with your tension. You tried to breathe deeply, filling your lungs with oxygen in hopes that it would calm the pounding of your heart. But it was no use.

You were trapped. Trapped in the silence, trapped in the aftermath of the argument.

You couldn't shake the feeling that this was all your fault. Maybe if you hadn't said anything, or if you had just kept your mouth shut, things wouldn't have escalated like they did.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you fought back the urge to cry again.

This wasn't how your night was supposed to go.

The pain in your heart was all too real, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. You wanted to scream, to cry, to let go of the emotions, but you couldn't.

Instead, you lay on the couch, your body motionless except for the tears running down your face.

"Can you just stop being a bother?"

Exhaused. You felt so exhausted that you find that sleeping right now would've sufficed your hurt. Even if the tears would have left dry tear marks in the early morning when you get up.

Your thoughts raced, your mind filled with the sound of Simon's words, replaying over and over again like a broken record.

"I didn't even ask for any of these."

You couldn't stop obsessing over what he'd said, what he'd meant, whether or not he meant it. All you knew was that the hurt was too much to bear.

Until your body had enough.

After taking a moment to process what had just happened, you felt... numb. Your breaths came slowly and evenly, your eyes no longer brimming with tears, and your hiccups no longer piercing the silence of the room.

You sighed and sat up properly on the couch, rubbing your eyes as you tried to banish the images of Simon's anger from your mind.

You decided to distract yourself by focusing on the task at hand: cleaning up the living room from the party's remnants. You made your way over to the coffee table, picking up the empty plates, the two drinks for you and Simon, and the now cold popcorn.

You took a deep breath, feeling the familiar scent of butter and salt waft up from the table, and started to gather everything up.

As you worked, you couldn't help but think about what Simon was up to in the bedroom. You didn't want to know, but the silence was deafening, and you couldn't help but wonder.

'Maybe he's finally sleeping...' you sincerely thought.

After cleaning up the living room, you made your way to the kitchen, your feet dragging against the hardwood floor with each step. You opened the fridge and grabbed a light alcohol, pouring yourself a glass as you made your way to the countertop.

You sat down, swirling the liquid around in the glass, then taking a slow sip. The familiar taste of alcohol burned in your throat, sending a shiver down your spine.

You closed your eyes, feeling the headache coming on, and massaged your temples. Your mind felt tired, your body felt heavy, and all you wanted to do was slip into bed and sleep.

You took another small sip and sighed, feeling a little bit better as the alcohol began to take effect.

Suddenly, a hand gently touched your arm, making you jump. "What-" you muttered to yourself.

You turned to face Simon, who was standing behind you. He looked exhausted, with red eyes and bags under them. He couldn't look at you in your eyes after that and so he resorted to lean himself closer to you when he noticed that you eased your body to him, obviously calm with him touching you after the argument you guys had.

"I'm so sorry," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to say those things. I was just so angry, and I didn't think about how much they would hurt you."

His voice cracked as he spoke, and you could feel the sincerity in his words. You could also feel your heart breaking all over again at the thought of the things he had said, even though it was clear that he was truly sorry.

"I know it doesn't make it right, but I just wanted to apologize," he continued, his tone softer than you've ever heard before. "I shouldn't have let my anger get the better of me like that."

Despite your hurt, you found yourself nodding. "It's alright, Si'." You replied, eyes averting away from him. With a sigh, you took a sip from your glass. "Everyone has their moments, hun."

"Can we just start over?" he asked gently, reaching out to touch your hand. "I'm sorry, I... I just want us to be happy..."

Your gaze met his, and even though it was filled with regret and remorse, you could still see the love and care in his eyes. You knew that he meant every word he said, and that he would do anything to make things right between the two of you.

"I'm..." You said softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "willing to try, sweetheart..."

As you sat beside Simon, taking in his words of apology, you felt a pit form in the bottom of your stomach. You had wanted to hear those words from him for so long, to know that he was truly remorseful for the pain he had caused you.

But as you looked into his eyes, you couldn't quite escape the feeling of hurt that still lingered.

"I'm willing to try, for us." You continued so softly, your voice tinged with a hint of sorrow. "I know it takes a lot to admit when you're wrong, and I appreciate you doing that."

You reached out, taking hold of his hand in yours, trying to convince yourself that everything was going to be okay. But deep down, you still felt the pain of his words, and you weren't sure if you could ever truly forgive him.

"I can't deal with this right now."

You had buried your true feelings deep inside, hiding them in the dark, just for his comfort. And in that moment, you didn't know which way was up.

Just for his comfort? What about yours?

The silence stretched between you and Simon, a small part of you wanting him to say something to make it better, to make it all go away. But he merely looked at you, his expression a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

"Thank you," he said finally, his voice filled with sincerity. "I know it won't be easy, but I'm ready to do whatever it takes to make things right between us over and over again."

You wanted to believe him, to feel the hope and love that you had once shared. You really do.

But the pain still lingered, a constant reminder of the broken promises and the tears that had come before.

You sat in silence for a few moments, processing Simon's phrases. His words sounded sincere, and you wanted to believe that he was genuinely sorry for the hurt he caused you.

But you can't shake the feeling that you may never be able to fully forgive him.

Simon reached out and took your hand in his, and you couldn't help but notice the warmth in his touch. His voice was steady, soft, with a hint of tenderness that sent shivers down your shoulders.

"Say, love?" He called out to you. "Do you want to go and have that movie night again? 2.0?"

You were caught off guard by the proposal, and your eyes widened in surprise. "I..."

You had been expecting to spend the evening alone, nursing your wounds and attempting to forget the hurt in your heart. The thought of going back to that place was excruciating, but the look on Simon's face was one of pure determination.

He wanted to make it up to you, and he was willing to do whatever it took. You hesitated before speaking, not wanting to give in to the emotions that were racing through your mind.

"Do you really want to?" You asked, turning your face away from him as tears began to form at the corners of your eyes.

You had been trying so hard to stay strong, but your heart ached with the realization that you still loved him, despite the hurt and betrayal.

'God, were you just so pathetic.' A voice in your head echoed.

"Of course, sweetheart," he replied, his tone gentle and full of affection. "I want to make it up to you. Please, let me prove it to you."

Despite your doubts and insecurities, you nodded slowly, allowing yourself to be overcome by the overwhelming love you felt for him.

"Let's do it," You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

You can't believe it, can't believe that you would really put him first than yourself. You can't believe that you considered the proposal just because Simon's words and actions spoke volumes to you.

You could see the determination in his eyes, and the way he looked at you made your heart ache. You had been so torn apart by his previous actions, the thought of him trying to make it up to you and showing he cared about you brought you even more glumness.

You watch as Simon's face broke into a wide smile, and he reached out to take your hand again, exclaiming, "Fantastic! You won't regret it, love. Let's make it the best movie night we've ever had!"

The movie became a haze, and you barely spoke a word, lost in the emotions that were running through you as you sought out comfort in the awkward room.

Save from Simon's often comments about the movie, it was just your thoughts swimming around. It was quiet. It was making you feel self-conscious.

But you wouldn't want to upset him, god, was it so wholesome trying his best to make it up to you. You couldn't afford to do something that might impact this negatively. So you stayed quiet, only answering in small replies to his comments about the movie.

Even though you were with Simon, you felt like you were alone. You were battling thoughts and feelings that would take over if you let them. But you were holding on for Simon, not wanting to break what you guys have in this moment.

You appreciated his efforts but it was hard to forget what happened. You wanted to let it go but it was still so fresh and raw.

The silence was deafening but you didn't want to break it with how you were feeling. You were still processing what happened and didn't want to burden Simon anymore than he already was. So you stayed quiet, watching the movie with Simon and trying to distract yourself from your thoughts.

So you sat silently next to Simon, watching the movie in front of you as he blabbered on and on about the movie. At this point, you don't even give a shit at watching it anymore.

You tried not to let your thoughts wander to the things that were weighing on your mind, not wanting to ruin the peaceful moment. It was so hard to keep up the façade, though.

You knew that if you let even a little of the sadness seep through, it would be so hard to keep it all contained in the face of his concern. It was so nice to have him by your side, but the thought of him seeing how much you were hurting just made everything worse.

So you stayed quiet, trying to keep your emotions in check. Then, you felt a lump forming in your throat. You were unsure of how to move forward from here.

And what will happen onwards? Like nothing had happened?

Suddenly, the silence was broken by Simon's voice. "Hey," he muttered, his eyes fixed on you now. "What's wrong?"

You swallowed hard, feeling your emotions welling up inside. "It's nothing," You dryly replied. "I just zoned out is all."

You wanted to tell him how much his words had hurt, but the words refused to come. Instead, you just sat there in silence, staring at the floor, your heart pounding in your chest.

Simon seemed to sense your discomfort, and his expression softened. "I know I have a lot of things to work on," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I promise I'm going to do better. For you."

His words seemed to fall flat against your ears, almost lost in the overwhelming pain you felt. You wanted to believe him, to believe that things could get better, but a part of you was still unsure.

The silence filled the room again, thick with the weight of your emotions. You wanted to say something, to tell him how you felt, but you just couldn't. Instead, you remained there, silent, feeling the loneliness settle around you like a blanket.

Tears started to well up in your eyes as the words and emotions started to bubble up from inside you. You tried to hold back the tears, but they just kept overflowing, streaming down your face.

"Simon," you managed to say through choked sobs, the words barely intelligible. "I don't know how to say this, but I just can't keep it all inside any longer. You've hurt me so much earlier, over and over again. And I know I've probably hurt you too, but it's just that I can't seem to fix it. I feel like I've tried everything, but nothing works."

Your voice was shaking with emotion as you spoke, the words coming out like a river. You weren't sure if Simon was listening, but you kept talking anyway, the tears streaming down your face.

"I feel so hopeless," you managed to utter, the words catching in your throat. "I don't know if we can ever make this work. But I love you so much, Simon, and I want to try. I want to try so hard, because I know there's something between us that's worth fighting for. I just don't know what to do. I don't know anymore."

The silence filled the room again, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. You were left feeling vulnerable and exposed, with nowhere to hide.

You continued to say how you felt, the pain in your heart pouring out with every word.

You told Simon about how much his words had hurt you, how his refusal to listen to your thoughts and feelings made you feel like a burden to him. You couldn't help but wonder what you had done wrong to deserve such treatment.

As you talked, the tears fell from your eyes, each one representing the pain that you had been holding inside for so long. As you cried, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders, a weight that had been dragging you down for far too long.

"I've been trying so hard to show you how much I care," you sobbed. "I don't know why it's not enough. What else can I do to make you see me? To make you understand that I love you, and that I'll do anything to make this work?"

As you finished speaking, you fell silent, the tears still streaming down your face. The room was filled with a heavy silence, the only sound the soft sob of your breath. You felt a sense of exhaustion wash over you, as if all the emotions you had been holding back had finally been released.

The silence continued to fill the room, and for a moment it seemed as though time itself had stopped. Neither of you spoke, and it was as though the weight of your words hung in the air between you.

After what felt like an eternity, Simon reached out and took your hand. His touch was warm and comforting, and it seemed as though some part of him understood the pain that you were feeling.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never meant to hurt you like that. I just got caught up in my own thoughts, forgetting how important you are to me- which is a pretty damn shit move. I'm really sorry, darlin'."

You looked up at him, tears still streaming down your face. You wanted to believe him, to believe that he truly understood the pain that you were feeling. But you couldn't shake the fear that it was all just a temporary moment of kindness, and that soon enough he would go back to treating you the way he had before.

You didn't want to get hurt again, but you couldn't help but hope that this time might be different.

Maybe this time, he truly did understand...

Simon reached out and gently wiped away your tears, his touch providing a small measure of comfort.

You watch as tears pooled into his eyes too, but he still continued, "You're not a burden, my love, and you never have been. Fuck, I'm so sorry. I'm the fucking asshole here. I want to show you that.. that I can make things right."

Simon's voice was hoarse with emotion as he spoke, his words barely above a whisper. He couldn't believe what he'd done to you, how he'd hurt the person he loved the most. He hated himself for the pain he'd caused, and he cursed himself out for not being able to do better.

As you watched, tears pooled into his eyes as well, his emotions rising to the surface. But despite the pain he was feeling, he was determined to make things right. His love for you was stronger than any mistake he could make.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice shaking with emotion. "You deserve so much more than what I've given you. I want to make things right, to show you that I love you, more than anything else."

His words seemed to echo in the room, filling the space between you with all the love and guilt that Simon was feeling in that moment. You watched as he wiped away his own tears, his determination burning bright in his eyes.

For a moment, there was silence, as you both stared at each other, overwhelmed with the weight of everything that had been said and done. But then, slowly, you reached out and took his hand in yours, and you knew that despite everything, you were both willing to fight for your love, to make things work.

You felt a small spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he truly did mean it this time. Maybe, despite the hurt and disappointment of the past, there was a chance for something better.

"I believe you," you said softly. "But I need you to show me. I need you to put in the effort... to try."

As you finished speaking, Simon could only watch as tears continued to stream down your face. The guilt and remorse weighing heavily on his shoulders was almost too much to bear.

How could he have let you down like this, after all you had done for him? After everything you guys had been through together?

He wanted nothing more than to turn back the clock and make everything right, to show you that you meant more to him than anything else in the world. But he knew that it would take more than just words to convince you that he was telling the truth.

Simon would have to show you with his actions, prove to you that he truly was committed to making this relationship work.

"I promise," He said through gritted teeth, his voice barely above a whisper. "I promise to do whatever it takes to make this work, to show you that I love you no matter what. I'm sorry, my love, sorry for all the pain I've caused you. Fuckin' hell... I'm going to make things right, I promise you."

As he spoke, his resolve only grew stronger, his determination stronger than ever.

"Don't cry anymore, pretty girl."

He might not deserve your forgiveness, but he was going to do damn everything to earn it. Even if it meant fighting tooth and nail, even if meant facing his greatest fears and demons.

Because in the end, you were all that mattered to him. And Simon would do whatever it took to mend this relationship.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt the weight of the world lift off your shoulders.

A/N: now that we've made up, i can now sleep peacefully 🙏🙏 i hope you’ve all been enjoying the second part of this. i have to say though,, your support and enthusiasm has been overwhelming, and it means the world to me to know that you’re all enjoying my work <//3 this has been the heaviest fic ive ever written holy shit. listening to nbhd songs to this, esp this playlist, is such a vibe !! i couldnt stop rereading all this and crying my ass off on repeat 😘😘

special mentions <//3 . @mockerycrow @pandoramyst @monanight @casualunknownrunaway @invaderzim13 @xsoftdead18 @colorfulbanditempathhero-blog @aliilium @rhyanna6012 @ghostlythots @duskwo0d @b1rds3ye [ thank you guys for loving this lil silly fic of mine and for the supports, really, i am like so over the moon that y'all liked it ! thank you so much for your patience and support while waiting for the p2. i'm so grateful that you've been willing to stick with it, and i really appreciate all the comments you've given me along the way. i rlly hope this brings you all the comfort you guys were looking <3 ]