#simon riley x small!reader

[deunmiu-dessie]

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

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ - 𝒸𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓂𝑒! ⁽ nsfw ⁾

[mrsariariley]

ghost and his tiny gf !

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

simon riley, who is huge! he takes up half of the couch - but when he manspreads? you cant even see the couch under his enormous body!

simon riley, who has to bend down when entering a room otherwise he'll hit his head on the doorframe. he can't possibly live without a high ceiling!

and simon's girlfriend..

a tiny little thing, has hardly ever grown! youre so small, simon has to bend down to kiss you. simon has to lean down slightly to hold your hand - and even then, you can only wrap your hands over 3 large fingers!

when you wear his clothes, it pretty much fits as a blanket!

when the boys from the force first laid eyes on you, they were just so shocked. ghost? as in big lieutenant riley? with a small thing like you? no way!

simon loves seeing his girl all curled up on the bed when he gets home, hardly even taking up half. he loves seeing you nuzzle your face into his big chest when he wraps his large arms around your tiny frame, warming you up instantly.

but, he would be a liar if he said it didnt turn him on.

seeing you whimper and whine when he pushes half of his big cock into your tiny little hole, writhing and letting out small sobs of pleasure.

"mmf.. s-si..!! it wont fiitt!!" youd whine through slutty sobs.

"y'r taking me so well, doll.. y' can do it."

and when he does fit it all in, youre just a mess under him. completely braindead and rambling nonsense about how it just feels too good, and he's too big! all drool and tears :(

but dont worry, he'd be so good to you !

finishing inside of you and pulling out, removing his head from the crook of your neck. he'd kiss all up your body, leaving red hickeys that will eventually turn purple. he'd wipe away your tears, leaving you to rest as he runs you a bath.

and then, when youre back in bed, exhausted, he'll snuggle you into him - youd never sleep any better.

-

do not re-publish OR translate my work !

mdni / masterlist

a/n: first post kinda nervous !

[sagi-tori-ous]

Simon Riley aka Ghost has returned home from work— his muscles sore and fingers cramped from the drills he had to teach the subordinates. It's not unusual, more so common than not seeing his position. He was passionate about his job, you could tell the way Simon Riley put his all into it, day in and day out.

Yet, that wasn't the only thing he was passionate about...nor was it the only thing he put his all into.

"f-fuck~" you moan out, hands slipping on the smooth marble counter, fingers scratching at the surface as your pushed forward. An ache settling in your mid abdomen from the counter being pressed against it.

"mhm..." Ghost groans, palming your right ass cheek before delivering a loud smack to it, "just like that," he encourages whilst his hips slam against your backside, slithering the same hand up to encircle your engorged hips, "take it just like that."

The deep velvety tone of his voice does nothing to help the slick trail dampening your inner thighs and lubricating you where you needed it the most.

With each push and pull you could feel the knot in your stomach growing— the pressure building up is unbearable in the best way.

You lean on your pointed toes, driving yourself farther up the counter in an attempt to put some distance between you and the pleasure.

"too much.." You whimper when your stomach starts to cave and your legs start to shake.

Ghost is quick to grab the back of your neck, pulling you back until you settle against his chest.

clicking his tongue, "you were doing so good." You hear him mumble closely to your right ear, lips brushing against your lobe "you want me to stop?" He questions rhetorically, settling into a slower pace.

"No!" You shake your head hastily—you never wanted him to stop—you try to push your pelvis back against his throbbing cock but the hand on your hip halts your movements.

A tremble sets into your body as you feel him pull all the way out until your pussy could only flutter against the tip.

"No?" He questions, circling the hand on the back of your neck to the front, grasping it firmly and angling your face towards his, "but you said too much." He teases, easing only a portion of his cock into your sopping cunt.

A chill slides down your spine at his dark unwavering gaze, "don't stop." You whine, desperation painting your face.

Ghost looks at you expectantly— he wasn't one to give commands to, if you wanted something you had to ask, or beg.

"please!" Your ass impatiently wiggles against his lower half but you couldn't back up enough to get what you craved, "please, I'm sorry! Please don't stop!" You beg him shamelessly, apologizing without reason.

Your body suddenly lurches forward, breath catching in your throat as he impales you with his cock, a groan leaving his lips as your cunt greedily welcomes him back.

"Then stop running."

𝐃𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: @deunmiu-dessie (I'm taking my ass to sleep friend but I owed you🩵)

𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫/𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫: @cafekitsune @pwixi

[vanderlesbian]

dating simon riley means constant clinginess. large arms wrapped around your waist at any given moment, simon is most comfortable when he's holding you. after being away from a long mission, he'll find you wherever you are in your shared apartment and silently crawl into your arms like a puppy. he'll bury his face into the crook of your neck, slowly inhaling to bask in your scent that he missed more than anything. with an amused chuckle, you'll wrap your arms around his warm torso, gently rubbing his back. "no hello?" you'll tease, to which you always earn a content hum in response, along with simon's hold tightening ever so slightly.

dating simon riley means lots of playful teasing. if you make a typo in a text message, he'll begin spelling the word as your typo for the rest of the day. if you believed in a silly fact, he'd bring it up for the rest of your life. "this is like when you thought our blood was actually blue" he'd snicker, which would cause you to whine for him to stop and swat his arm.

dating simon riley means constantly being cared for. simon is a man who can do everything, or at least tries to. he somehow manages to get to all the chores before you do, which has ended in you reassuring him that you can handle it many, many times. when doing something potentially dangerous like standing on a ladder, handling a knife or using tools, simon will constantly glance in your direction to make sure something won't slip and injure you. like a spidey sense, he's quick to pull you away or come to your rescue if you're in a situation where you're about to hurt yourself. "you alright?" he'll mumble softly, dark eyes laced with worry that is a rare sight to be seen by anyone else.

dating simon riley means you have a second wardrobe. his large clothes are just too comfortable to resist, and he's often left searching the apartment for a shirt that you had placed amongst your own clothes. though, he makes no effort to steal them back from you, as seeing you in his tshirt, his boxers and his hoodie fills him with a loving possessiveness. he'll walk into the kitchen to see you turned away as you wash dishes, wearing one of his shirts as a short dress. managing to silently sneak behind you even with his bulky frame, he'll wrap his arms around you from behind and place a kiss against the nape of your neck. "you look so pretty in my shirt, love." he'll then purr into your ear.

dating simon riley means seeing a side of him that many never do. whether it be physically or personality wise, you see so much of simon that you can't remember the last time you referred to him as ghost. his large pointy nose, his dirty blonde hair that he always forgets to fix in the mornings, and his lopsided smile that appears when you tell the corniest of jokes are all things that many have never seen and never will. he speaks so softly to you; a low tone that you can feel reverberating in his chest when you lay against him. simon is kind, patient and vulnerable with you, and will mutter the words "i love you" against your lips, just loud enough for only you to hear.

dating simon riley means being friends with the rest of the 141. you were the one who wished to host hangouts at your apartment, wanting those closest to simon to like you. despite their intimidating demeanors, you quickly realized just how kind they were. they know just how important you are to simon, which is a rare feat in itself, so they would never treat you in an ill manner. soap will always refer to you as "the missus" when speaking to simon, which never fails to make you giggle when you overhear their conversations.

masterlist

[rileyslibrary]

Exhausted and in the middle of a week-long field exercise, you seek comfort and visit Ghost in the command tent.

———————————————————————

You step into the command tent, letting the entrance flap fall quietly behind you. The only light illuminating the place is a small hanging lamp above the worktable, filled with maps and scattered paperwork.

Your eyes gradually adjust to the dim interior, and your focus settles on the back of the figure before you. Ghost leans over the table, absorbed in a discussion over the comms about the field exercise’s next steps.

His leg is crossed in front of the other, and he glances over his broad shoulder as he senses your presence. He raises his fist, silently signalling for you to wait until he’s finished.

However, you’re not one to obey such commands from him; he knows that all too well.

You drag your weary feet across the ground, and the sound of rocks and dust echoes softly in the confined space. The lieutenant motions with his palm for you to move quietly as he continues the conversation with his comrades. This time, you decide to comply.

You walk cautiously and approach the workstation, closing the distance between you. Although behind him, you can see him better now; his head is lowered over the map spread across the table. He listens to the soldiers on the other end of the line, briefing him on safety protocols, emergency procedures, and potential hazards for tomorrow. He nods and murmurs the occasional “mhm” in response.

You place your thumbs into his pants’ belt loops and gently pull yourself closer to him. He doesn’t budge. You exhale through pieced lips, releasing the tension that had been building up, and nestle your face between his shoulder blades. You take a long and deep inhale, breathing him in. That’s the only scent you want to fill your lungs with right now—not the bitter odour of gunpowder nor the dry breeze of the fields—just him.

A stray wind ruffles the tent’s fabric from the outside, and he stiffens up. His head turns towards the source of the disturbance, and his hand retreats from the table to rest on your back as if protecting you from the outside.

“It’s alright,” you whisper into his back, “just the wind.”

He relaxes, shifting his attention back to the comms. His hand migrates from your back to your forearm, gently urging it out of his belt loops. He lifts it to his lips, kissing your hand beneath the balaclava he wears. He sets it against his stomach and holds it there. You follow his lead, repeating the gesture with your other hand and wrapping yourself around him, intertwining your fingers.

He delivers the final instructions over the comms and signs off. He straightens up.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs, yet still holding your wrapped hands around him.

“You shouldn’t have let me in,” You reply.

You feel his right hand moving, grabbing a pen and writing something on the map. “It’s not as if you ever ask for permission,” he remarks.

You take another deep breath into his back, followed by an audible sigh.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Nothing,” you reply. “Just tired.”

He puts the pen down, lifts his right arm, and you slide beneath it. He hugs your shoulder, and you rest your head on his chest. You both look at the worktable in front of you.

“What’s all this?” you ask.

He shrugs and kisses the top of your head. “You know what they are.” He replies, his voice muffled by your hair.

“I don’t wanna do tomorrow.” You frown as you gesture at the map. “It looks... chaotic.”

His hand shifts from your shoulder to rest on your waist, gently guiding you until you stand between him and the table. You look up into his sleep-deprived, bloodshot eyes. He, too, is tired.

“Nobody does,” he replies, “but we have to, yeah?”

You nod and brush your fingers against his chest. He plants one final kiss on your forehead, then taps your hip twice with his hand.

“Off you go,” he commands. “tomorrow will be a long day.”

You pout and grumble, but he doesn’t back down. You have no choice but to yield to his authority. You walk towards the exit and lift the tent’s flap.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” You venture.

He shakes his head. “Too many eyes, love,” he says, looking over his shoulder. “Wait until we’re back at the base.”

You sigh softly. “I miss you.” You confess.

He turns his entire body towards you as he leans against the work table. The hanging lamp reveals his eyes; there’s a smile hidden within them.

He nods. It’s his way of saying ‘Me too,’ and that’s all you need. He may not voice affection openly, but he doesn’t have to. You understand each other in ways words could never express.

He extends his hand towards you, palm facing down. He makes a small, subtle wave with his wrist, insinuating that you’re standing in the middle of the entrance with the flap open, making yourself an easy target to spot for whoever passes by.

You snap back to reality, excuse yourself, and exit his tent. You make your way towards your own, longing for the moment you’ll finally be reunited at the base.

———————————————————————

[bleuu-moon]

i’m so caught up on that fact that john looks like he’s got a signature smell that just clings to you whenever you’ve been near him, whether it was was for ten minutes or an hour. and it’s so easy for people to tell when you’ve been with him.

especially simon.

he knows you spend time with john, it’s all apart of the mutual agreement between you three. he knows john keeps you company when he’s not there, keeping your bed warm and all of your needs satisfied, its vice versa for him too. but he can’t deny the twinge of resentment he feels within his chest, when you spend too much time with him; when he can smell him in on your skin, on your clothes, in your hair. even the way you taste changes, and simon does not like it — to say the least.

“you’ve been with john today.”

it’s a statement that he hums against the bare skin of your inner thigh, before pressing a kiss to the same spot, giving the tops of your legs a squeeze. you, not computing what he’d spoke properly due to his face being so close to your pussy.

“hm?”

“stink of him”

“o-oh, this morning, stayed at his.”

you swear you hear hear him tut at your reply, but you can’t help but smirk at his clear, compressed jealousy. your eyes still closed in bliss, already knowing that he’s scowling up at you from between your legs.

“best get you in the shower then, love, get rid of the smell—”, he growls, before he’s jumping from the bed and snatching you out of your place, throwing you into the fireman’s lift over his shoulder.

“i’m home now.”

[decojellyfish]

Hatchling.

Hi guys! Sorry it’s been a bit. I’ve been busy! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, and feel free to request anything!

——————

Dragon! Price x Baby Dragon! Reader x Werewolf! Soap (And a little bit of the whole hybrid crew :))

!!No Romance For Obvious Reasons!!

Angsty Fluff

Warnings: Death via gunshots

───♡───────────── Beginning

It all started when Price found an abandoned egg on a mission. It must’ve fallen out of the nest, or perhaps the mother must’ve left it behind to protect it from predators or hunters. But he took the egg, holding it protectively with one burly arm while the other held a gun to keep both him and the egg as he retreated to the helo.

His task force members were screaming for him to hurry up, their faces having a tinge of confusion at the sight of their captain with a giant splotchy egg that seemingly appeared out of the blue.

“I had to.”

Was all Price said as he got settled into his seat, the egg resting in his lap with both his clawed hands holding it in place.

With this sudden, out-of-the-blue, parental instinct that Price had when it came to this mysterious egg, he was put on indefinite leave. He spoke about how it was a dragon egg, and that he couldn’t leave it behind. Not without a parent.

Now, here Price was. The egg was in a makeshift incubator, under a heating lamp, and cradled into a pile of neatly folded blankets.

He was in his foldout chair, reading a book, right next to the incubator. He would glance at the egg from time to time, wondering if he heard the little dragon inside of it shift around. He would even just have one of his hands rest a top of the egg, thumb gently stroking at the shell. He could faintly feel a little heartbeat inside of it.

It made him smile.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Price’s mates visited from time to time, checking up on the egg, checking on him as well. It was still strange how Price suddenly wanted to become a dad and with someone else’s abandoned baby too.

Gaz, being a harpy, would sometimes bond with Price over the fact that both of their kinds laid eggs. Gaz would share tips on what his parents did with him while he was a little bird, and Price would share stories of what he was like when he first hatched.

Soap was fascinated by the egg, his ears perking up whenever he watched it move slightly. He would bark at Price in excitement, “Price!! It moved! It’s gon’ae hatch!!” His tail violently wagged as he watched.

“Nope, little one’s got a few more weeks, Soap.” Price chuckled as he walked over to his comrade.

But for now, it was just Price and the egg in this moment. On this day, when it happened. You hatched.

It was a few days after your estimated hatch date, so Price was extra alert. He was walking out of his bedroom, he had woken up not even 5 minutes ago when he heard a tiny crack, and then a little rustle. Before he heard a faint, muffled, and quiet chirp.

He snapped wide awake and practically ran over to the incubator. A tiny crack had appeared and it was slowly growing. He didn’t want to interfere, you had to hatch on your own unless there were complications.

“C’mon, little one… c’mon, you can do it…” he whispered as he watched the egg wiggle and move about as you began your journey of entering the world.

The crack got bigger and bigger, branching off into other cracks all over the egg before your little fist finally punched out of the egg. Price nearly grinned from ear to ear at the sight, and waited for the rest to come.

Then the rest of your arm was pushed out, then your two feet kicked a good portion of the egg off of you. And that’s when you really began to wiggle and squirm about to get that damn egg off of you!

Price chuckled at the sight of your kicking legs and flailing tail as you tried to get the rest of the egg off of your upper body. Soon, you tore the eggshell away from yourself and you revealed yourself to the new world around you. Covered in membranes, blood, and other fluids that your egg held throughout your development. Now, Price took this moment to gaze at what a perfect little dragon you were.

You were scaly, like him, only your scales were a shade of coral red. Your tiny wings, still folded into your back, had little talons at the tips. Your horns were tiny, so tiny, barely budding out of your head from your slimy skin. You lay there, curled up and exhausted from the exercise you had to endure. Your eyes closed, and your tail tucked in around your body.

He stared at you for a bit, mesmerized. You were a beautiful baby, peaceful and comforted by the soft blankets and warmth of your heating lamp.

Price would reach for you, gently taking your little frame into his large, calloused hands. You squeaked at the sudden feeling of his sandpaper-like fingers. But as he pulled you to his chest, keeping you curled up and tucked away into his big arms, you adjusted yourself to the new source of warmth.

A little purr left your throat, your heartbeat syncing up to the one that held you. You accustomed yourself to the smell, the scent of protection, warmth, and safety. Your father.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had been a few years now, you were still tiny but were now able to toddle around. Which meant you were able to follow your father around wherever he went in the house.

Price would be in the laundry room, unloading the dryer when he would feel a pair of tiny, chubby hands grasp at his tail followed by the sound of your sweet giggles. Or if he was in the kitchen, preparing dinner for that night, he would eventually feel your tiny form hugging his calf. He had grown accustomed to this, it meant you wanted to be held.

As you had grown, so did your wings, tail, and horns. Your horns were slightly curling back toward your head, kind of like a ram, and you had gotten into the habit of incessantly flapping your wings as you tried to fly. To no success.

But your father would always hype you up whenever he saw you doing it, cheering for you even if you weren’t able to lift yourself off the ground even a little bit.

“Maybe next time, sweetpea. I know you can do it.”

His mates loved visiting even more now after you’d hatched. Soap would playfully chase you through the halls of the house, letting you pet and hug his fluffy tail. Gaz would try and teach you to fly, desperately trying to get you to watch him as he flapped his wings. Only for you to get distracted with something else and immediately toddle off to get a closer look.

Even Ghost liked being around you. He would hold you and pretend that you were flying around, calling you a ‘little chopper’. He would even tolerate you being a curious little one, who would tug his mask off and put it on your head. Only for it to be way too big and completely hide your face.

With you being a little more grown than when you were a fresh hatchling, that meant that Price was able to return to service. He had a nanny already in place for you, and of course, you loved her. She was Price’s neighbor from across the street, she was a harpy. That also meant that you would still get your flying lessons in while he was away.

When he was testing the waters with you and the nanny, he was more worried about being away than you were. He would only return to service for a week or two, small missions, just to make sure he could come back home to you as fast as possible.

Every time he returned home, he would find you playing with the nanny or sleeping on the couch. Either way, when you saw him after he returned home, you would squeal loudly and run up to him and nonverbally beg for a hug. In which he would happily oblige, holding you tight and petting your little head.

After a few months, getting the routine down of being away for a bit and returning to your smiling face, knowing you were safe and sound, Price began to go on longer missions, mostly lasting for a month or two.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Gunshots rang out throughout the battlefield, with no intention of stopping. Price ducking for cover behind a cracked, decaying wall. Moss beginning to grow on it from the floor, tiny white flowers blossoming from it. He looked at it, a smile flashing upon his face as it reminded him of you. That smile was quickly wiped off of his face when he heard a few members of the enemy team approaching. He held his gun near his chest, ready to fire.

He eventually turned around the corner and began to fire at the men, his teeth grinding against each other in his closed mouth. He didn’t stop firing until they dropped to the ground, dead, despite the sudden throbbing pain in his chest and abdomen.

Once he knew they were dead, he was finally able to feel the pain in full force. He dropped to his knees and leaned up against the wall he was previously hiding behind. His hands clutched at the areas he felt the pain, only for him to pull his hands away and see the blood that coated his gloves.

He had been shot in the stomach and chest. Close to his heart, too.

He reached for his radio, desperately calling for any of his men or a medic, his other hand clutching at one of the bullet holes in his abdomen. He let go of his radio and used the other hand to put pressure on the hole in his chest. He tried to control his breathing, feeling like his entire body was on fire.

Soon rapid footsteps could be heard approaching, and a familiar werewolf entered Price’s line of sight.

“Price! Price! Holy shit, don’t die on me, you bastard!” Soap barked at him as he dropped down to his knees to try and help him.

He held him in his arms, barking out into the field for any kind of help.

Soap looked down at him, seeing Price’s eyes grow tired and weak, similar to his breath which was short. The dragon reached a shaky hand up and gripped at Soap’s arm.

“Y-You… take- care of my- gh…my little one…that’s an-… order…” he choked out, blood filling his lungs with every second.

“N-No, I can’t! They- they need you! I’m no dragon!” Soap tried to control the shake in his voice, but the burning lump in his throat made it near impossible.

“Soap… ‘m not gonna make it…Soap… y-you… and the boys… t-take care of them…o-…okay…?” Price coughed, a bit of blood spitting up from his mouth and onto his tactical vest.

Soap stared down at him, trying everything he could to blink back his tears before he slowly began to nod. “Yes, sir… I’ll make sure the wee one never forgets their papa either…” he said through sniffles.

Price would smile, weakly, before a long, breathy exhale left his throat and he slowly went limp.

“Price? Price?? John!?” Soap called out to the lifeless captain that rested in his arms. It was then that Ghost and Gaz were finally able to get to Price’s spot.

Ghost stared at Price’s body, trying to process the fact that this was actually happening. Gaz could already feel the tears stinging at his eyes, witnessing the lifeless body of his mentor who was practically a father figure to him in a small sense. He covered his mouth before turning around and holding his head in his hands, muttering small curses under his breath.

Soap would let out a shaky sigh, reaching for his radio.

“Watcher 1, this is Bravo 7-1. Bravo 0-6 is KIA.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Soap never thought he would ever approach Price’s home with such dread. The feeling of horror and anxiety locked into the pit of his stomach as he went up the steps of the front door.

He held his fist up and knocked on the door. His ears would slightly twitch when he heard, on the other side of the door, the sound of tiny footsteps rapidly approaching the door. Followed by more urgent ones, along with the voice of your nanny laughing at your urgentness.

She would open the door, but soon noticed that Price wasn’t there. “Oh, hello. You're one of Price’s friends, right?” Soap would nod before being interrupted by a tiny dragon hopping up and down.

“Untle Johnny!! Untle Johnny!” You called out excitedly, your wings fluttering rapidly to fly up to him. But only lifting yourself up about a centimeter off the ground. He looked down at you and soon slapped a bit smile on his face.

“Agh, look a’ you! Already flyin’??” He chuckled and rubbed your head. Before he looked back up at the nanny, his smile slightly weakened as his voice softened. You didn’t need to hear that your father was dead. Your little ears didn’t deserve such ugly words.

Your nanny’s face turned to one of horror, sadness, and shock. You noticed and soon began to climb up on her to wipe at her eyes. She noticed and held you in her arms.

“Don cry!” You squeaked out, your little hand rubbing at her face. “Why you cry?” She looked at you, a solemn look on her face. Soap looking at you the same way. “Just… some people leave our lives too soon, sweetie.” Your nanny spoke softly, petting at your hair. “Why dey leave?” “‘Cuz it’s their turn to go to heaven.” Soap spoke up. “Tha’s where your daddy is. Heaven.”

Soap knew damn well that Price wouldn’t be in heaven with the atrocities he’s done throughout his military career. But no toddler needs to hear that their father is suddenly in hell for murdering people.

“Will daddy come back?” You asked, blinking your eyelids over your big, innocent eyes. Soap and the nanny glanced at each other, Soap being the one to take a small, sharp inhale.

“No, lil one… when daddy goes to heaven, daddy stays in heaven…” “Why?”

“Because he has to take care of his own mum up there, but that means he can’t stay here… so he sent me, and uncle Simon and uncle Kyle to keep you safe. But, you need to always remember this, lil one…” “What?”

“He loves you. Forever and ever.”

───♡───────────── End

[ghouljams]

I finished the medieval Ghost drawing and I drew what I imagined the Royal Crest to look like. The chainmail wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Fun to draw 10/10 would recommend.

Let's fucking goooo, that's my MAN!!! I could stare at this for fucking hours, I'm going to stare at it for hours, thank you. Also the crest?? The Crest???? So good.

God!!! The hand on the leg(too far up to be proper I see u Ghost) and the way he's sort of bowing to her like I can feel the emotion in my teeth I want to eat this. Have some fic.

"You're wearing your helm," you keep your voice low, hardly moving your head to speak to the knight behind you. This is one of those tedious things you have to do sometimes. You stand with your seated parents as they hear the people's complaints, and try not to think about how you would handle things. You're supposed to be pretty, not smart. Although you are smart, and you do have ideas, you're expected to keep them to yourself.

"Didn't want to show you up," Ghost jokes, voice as monotone as ever. You smile a little to yourself.

"If you're so much prettier than me, you can take over being the show pony," you joke back.

"And rob the kingdom of seeing you all dressed up? Wouldn't dream of it," you can hear the slight chuckle in his voice, it's a comfort. Having Ghost nearby is always a comfort. He has such a way of calming you, keeping you from pulling to far into yourself. He treats you like a person, not a princess, when you need him to.

"I'd quite enjoy seeing you in a dress, something to emphasize your waist maybe?" Although finding something to fit his broad shoulders might be a bit more tricky. All that swinging a sword around has certainly built him a nice physique. It's silly, but the thought makes your placid princess smile a little more genuine.

"What do you know about my waist?" He asks, you can still hear his amusement in his tone. That's good, you'd hate to offend him.

"Only what I've seen of it," you hum.

"Sneaking peaks are we?" He clicks his tongue and the sound reverberates through your bones, you feel it like he's physically touched you the way it slides down your spine, "Naughty girl."

You tell yourself he's only joking, but that doesn't dull your reaction. Heat blooms over your cheeks, you swallow the feeling that wells in your chest, and wet your lips. Does he know he can take you apart with just those two words? That the depth in his tone, the growl in his voice, makes you want to melt where you stand?

You turn to tell him you absolutely were not sneaking peaks, and that even if you did happen to it would only have been while you were on the road together. Which you hardly think counts considering there's hardly any privacy when camping anyway. You catch your mother's glare at the first twitch from you. You keep your eyes forward and do your best not to pout.

"If you stand there nice and pretty like a good girl I'll tell you why I'm wearing my helm," Ghost never whispers, but he speaks so that his voice doesn't carry. You watch your mother for any sign that she's listening, and she hardly bats an eye. You suppose you're both far enough back, and her attention is far enough forward, to grant you some level of privacy. You give the barest hint of a nod for your knight, and he lets out a breath.

"Good," Maybe one word is all he needs, you like the way he says it, the way it brushes over your skin. He's quiet for a long while. Two people get up to air their grievances before he speaks again. It's long enough that you almost want to ask, to jog his memory. If you didn't know better you might squirm.

"Wanted to make sure I wasn't caught staring," He tells you finally.

"What are you looking at?" You smile to hide the quick twitch in your brows. It's not like Ghost to be distracted doing his duties, you wonder what-

"You're clever, what do you think I'm looking at?" His voice is so thick you wonder how he was able to speak at all. You take stock of the room, the throng of people and servants. His eyes should be everywhere, there's only one place they truly shouldn't be. On you.

You can feel them, the weight of his gaze as it travels over you. You can feel where it settles: your waist, your hips, your chest, your neck, your lips. You let out a breath and know his eyes have settled on the movement of it. How are you supposed to survive the rest of this interminable function with his eyes on you like this?

"I am clever aren't I," You tell him, knowing the way he hums in assent will do nothing to stop the heat that follows his gaze.

"You are."

It's strange how you can have so many eyes on you and never feel their pressure, but knowing your knight is watching makes you almost self conscious. You can feel every brush of your skirt, every shift in your posture that your breath brings, every little twitch in your body magnified under Ghost's watchful eye. You haven't wanted to fidget since you were a child, and yet here you are. Your skin crawling, your bones begging to move, if for no other reason than to give Ghost something to look at, some reason to watch you.

Suddenly you're not standing for your parents, or out of duty to your position, you're standing for him. And that's so much different isn't it? You can't move, can't directly speak to Ghost, and though your fingers ache to touch him neither of you would dare. What pleasure does he get from this?

More so, how is it so pleasant for you?

You wonder if he looks at you often, if he likes what he sees. You wonder if he has favorite dresses, favorite jewelry, if he ever hopes you'll wear something again. You wonder if he has favorite parts of you, if he likes your eyes as much as you like his, if he thinks about your hands as often as you do his. You hope he does. You hope he looks at you and thinks of you sweetly.

It's all either of you gets.

[bigassmoonchild]

The Hearing

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

The first four parts give context, but may not be required for this read.

Summary: Being stuck in hearing sucked. Especially when Price revealed things about yourself you hadn't even known, and now Ghost was unsure of the choices he'd been making.

Content Tags: Separation, Mentions of Violence, Mild Storybuilding, Scenting, Mentions of Possible Pregnancy, Ghost Walking Out, Ghost being Unsure, No Use of Y/N, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost

A/N: This took me half of The Wolverine, 16 minutes of Hamilton and 12 episodes of Bluey to get through. No sex yet, but if y'all don't want the pregnancy ark do let me know. This series may be coming to an end soon, but that doesn't mean Doc is going away forever. As always, content under the cut and requests are open <3

P.S: I was going to adjust part of this, but I've figured out a way to extend this story a little further, so I'm removing it from being privately posted. My apologies!

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

This keeps fucking happening. It took four months before you and Ghost got in trouble again. Instead of having each other, now you were stuck without the other. The rest of the 141 was busy smuggling items between yourself and Ghost, it finally having gotten out that the two of you were mated.

That you were an Omega.

You were removed from training your squad for the time being, currently being investigating for the incident that had happened. Too many times you had seen the same people for hearings. Too many times you were stuck sitting in the same room and looking among the same people.

"Can you explain to us how no one knew that Michael wasn't taking his suppressants?" Was the question posed to you.

You adjusted in your seat, smoothing down the pair of nice pants you'd thrown on and smelling the thick perfume you'd put on to block the distressed scent you'd been throwing off. "No one in the compound is capable of scenting other people, those abilities are blocked with the military grade suppressants we are given. Scents are also dulled with the suppressants, so no one would've been able to tell," you explained. Short and simple, not nearly as scientific as it should've been.

"And you couldn't tell? Being mated means off of suppressants, which means you should've been able to scent him."

"It takes a minimum of two days off suppressants for a scent to begin coming back and another week before the androstenone in an Alphas body to increase dangerously high. I was on leave for three weeks prior to the incident, so I had to have returned back to base at nearly the two week mark," you wanted to see Simon.

You each had a babysitter, swapping out in shifts so neither of you were unattended for more than five minutes. You'd began self-soothing, rubbing the gland on your wrist aggressively against your neck gland, the clothes you were receiving weekly from Price wasn't doing enough.

No matter what, you were still stuck in this god damn hearing. Until you could smell Simon. You spun in your seat, searching the general room for him, watching as he was led forward, taking a seat across the aisle from you.

"Now, Mr. Riley, what caused you to attack Michael?" You were still watching him, only his balaclava to protect his face from those around you. You could just barely see his side-profile, his hardly blinking eyes as he stared down the person questioning him.

He glanced briefly at you. "My Omega was being attacked, I could smell her distress from a few halls down so I was going to find out what was happening. I heard him screaming at her and threatening her life, so I did what I had to to protect her," he answered, no hesitation. They hummed and nodded, glancing at you before looking back to Simon.

God, he smelled so much better than his clothes.

"Doctor, please try and pay attention," you looked down into your lap, giving a small sorry before the hearing proceeded. "What caused Michael to attack you?" At this you had to pause. It all happened so fast and you'd shoved the memory to the back of your head.

"He wanted to get out of the squad, he didn't want a Doctor ordering him around. I assume Mr. Riley said something to him, as he was causing problems with the soldiers covering my squad while I was on leave. He tried to press for information regarding my relationship with the Lieutenant, but I wasn't going to allow him insight he didn't need to know," they were writing everything down, clacking of keyboards and scraping of pens and pencils against paper.

"Do tell us what happened next,"

Looking away, you had to take a deep breath. You could feel the panic setting back in. "I told him that he wouldn't be able to remain in the military or find a new branch if he left. He had too many infractions and I pulled his file to show him, and he lunged for it. Michael was trying to take his file from me, and he could smell I was an Omega. That's when I realized he was going feral," you picked at your fingers, not looking at the group of people as you tried to remember what happened.

They glanced back at their notes, speaking with each other for a moment. "How would you know he was going feral?"

"I have medical documents of my squad. I know when their last heat or rut was, and I decide when they go on leave to ensure they aren't on suppressants for too long that it becomes dangerous, such as what occurred between myself and my Alpha. The androstenone inside an Alpha increases, albeit being dormant, the longer suppressants are taken without a natural rut occurring," you explained. This was the easy part, the things you knew exactly the ins and outs of.

They nodded along with you, fingers still clacking on keyboards as you explained.

"Once someone stops taking suppressants, the androstenone becomes active again. The longer they go without the rut, the more that become active. If they don't rid themselves of the androstenone, it'll force them into ferality to keep the increasing hormones from severely hurting them," they interrupted you for a moment.

"What does ferality do for the Alpha?"

"It ensures that they mate with the nearest Omega in or out of heat to naturally expel the androstenone. If they don't, their rut gets worse and they begin to have different areas of the brain shut down until they are no more than an animal, looking for the next thing to breed," you explained. "Most cases are euthanized, to ensure they don't suffer for long," you added, ensuring they would understand why it was so dangerous.

You had zoned out once they began talking with Simon again. His scent was washing over you every now and again as the AC unit blew cooler air into the room. This room had no windows and was in the middle of the building so they installed AC's for the stifling summer, which meant scents were wafting around with each other and mixing.

But Simons? It was amazing, being able to get it damn near straight from the source. You were waiting for all of this to be over so you could crawl into your nest with Simon. Your heat had been due a week ago, but with the proceedings dragging on you had been far to stressed for your body to allow it to happen.

And you could feel it building within you. You were exhausted all the time, eating more and building a larger nest, moving things in your room around. Now that you had your Alpha near you, you could feel your mind slowly slipping away from you.

You had to think harder, trying to remember how long ago your heat was and when you had to expect it. To be honest, you didn't really want to think that hard right now. You were still exhausted, you didn't get much sleep, considering you'd been without your Alpha for weeks now.

"That should wrap today up, we'll reconvene tomorrow. Same time and location, we'll review what we have learned from you two and Michael and give you our final decision in one week. For now, you two will stay separated and we'll have people watching to ensure you don't meet up," you wanted to argue. So badly, you wanted to tell them that he was your Alpha and he was supposed to be with you.

Even then, you knew that they wouldn't rescind their decision. You watched as Simon was led out, giving you one more look before leaving.

"Listen, kid, I'm really sorry," Price leaned in next to you, whispering as you waited for Simon to get far enough away that you could leave as well without possibly getting in trouble. "I know another week is going to be hard on you," he looked away.

You sighed, leaning back. "It's no harder than the first few weeks mated to him. The only problem is my heat isn't coming and I'm past due," he gave you a weird look before nodding with you.

Standing up, he gestured for you to follow him. You stood and followed him out, allowing him to lead you back to your room. It stayed quiet between the two of you, you figured he was deep in thought and you were just thinking about the nap you were gonna take in your nest.

Quite the exciting life you held now, being stuck back in hearings. You could only do paperwork and most of the work for the week you'd finish right away. It was so boring, the task force only being able to come by every now and again.

When you walked in, he handed you a bag. You looked down and back up at him, brows furrowed. Price gave you a smile and walked back out, the door shutting behind him. You sat on your bed, running your hands down your face and sighing deeply.

You reached into the bag, pulling out another of Simons hoodies. The amount you had at this point made you wonder if he had any left, just about the entirety of your nest was made out of his shirts and hoodies. The scents on some of them were fading, but you didn't remove them just yet.

Without him to be in the nest with you, the scents were fading quicker and quicker. You hated it. You had grown accustomed to having him scenting you at night and before he had to leave in the morning, him remarking your gland every now and again when you were able to.

Moving to throw the bag in the bag of bags, you felt something move inside it with your movements. Setting it back down, you opened it to look inside.

A pregnancy test.

"Price!" You shouted, his office door slamming open. You were heaving, having run straight to his office after finding his last little gift. "What the hell?"

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was talking to my own Omega and they mentioned giving you one. A lot of the symptoms you'd been mentioning had lined up with their own pregnancy. You don't have to use it, obviously, I just figured you'd want it," you stopped to think.

How had you been exhibiting all the signs of a pregnant Omega and yet you'd been unable to recognize it? You were a bloody biologist, so you'd already known exactly what the signs were. Intense nesting urges, increased eating, increased amounts of sleep.

Jesus, were you pregnant? Maybe you should take the test, just to be sure. Price opened his mouth to say something before shaking his head and going back to his paperwork. You were going to pester him about what he was going to say, but you didn't.

"You could get this hearing pushed off if you're pregnant. They'll consider it an Alpha protecting his pup. You didn't hear this from me,"

The next day Simon was back where he'd been sitting, in the back of the hearing room waiting for them to call him forward. He could see you, some rows ahead of him. Your scent had become more delectable to him over the last few weeks, even if he hadn't been able to smell you directly.

The rest of the task force was playing a dangerous game, smuggling items between the two of you. He knew that, if caught, they could be put on a probationary leave and investigated to figure out if it was more than just items.

Simon watched as you stood from your seat, hands folded in front of you. He could smell you better than when you'd been sitting, the scent sweetening to something he couldn't explain.

All he wanted to do was scent mark you and hold you in your nest, maybe find you some food and feed you. What the hell was up with him? He'd been stalking as close to your room as he could get, snarling at every Alpha who walked near.

"I haven't made you aware yet, but I have been in for a pregnancy test," everyone went silent and Simons eyes widened. "The results should be coming in another day or two, depending on who will be finalizing them. I'd like to request that the current predicament be pushed back so my mate and I can speak about possibilities," he watched as the group leading the hearing leaned together to speak and his eyes never left you.

He could smell your distress from where he was, and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Pregnant? He thought you'd been on birth control, even if it you'd still gone through your heats.

To be honest, Simon was terrified. A father? Him? All he could do was walk out, even if he heard his name come from you and your scent changing sharply. Winding through the halls, he found himself walking outside with a cigarette lit, the slight burn as he inhaled the smoke.

Neither of you had talked about this. You'd been mated for a few months, not even hitting a year yet and prior to that you'd only spoken professionally. He knew you, but you hadn't even shared a room yet.

Was he wrong? For biting you, when neither of you had agreed upon being mated. For getting the two of you in that situation in the first place, he should've been the one who had gone and swept the building to make sure everyone was safe.

Simon knew exactly where his life would be had the two of you not been stuck in that situation. He'd never imagined his life moving this way and it terrified him. He was almost... regretting the choices he'd made.

Regretting mating with you.

Next

[deunmiu-dessie]

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

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

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

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

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

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

connected with this post!

[ureternalmajesty]

Into it || Simon “ghost” Riley

Simon "ghost" Riley x wife!reader

Warnings: Mentions of belly buldge, fem!reader, breeding, dom ghost, poc friendly, is my shit ever proofread? No!

Every since he saw you at the park helping a kid look for their parents on a walk that you both were supposed to be taking something in Simon snapped. He wanted to see you waddling around with a round stomach carrying his kid.

That's how you ended up on the bed naked under your husband as he pressed a kiss to your nipple before taking the hardened nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. Back arching off the bed hands pulling at his hair. "Simon fuck me now." You tug on his hair pulling his head back looking into eyes.

Sitting up and forehead now touching yours as his nose bumped yours. “You want me to do what lovie?” Large hands running down your beautiful skin that shined with the light sheen of sweat. Tilting your head up pressing a kiss to his lips. “I want you to fuck me…please Simon fuck me.” The pleading was enough for Simon.

Sitting up and leaning on the backs of his legs as he rubbed the tip of his dick between your wet folds before he took both legs and threw them over his shoulder as he sunk into your sloppy pussy. Hands firmly placed on your upper thighs pulling you closer and himself deeper in you.

Pulling out and thrusting back in forcing a moan out of your mouth. “Fuck Simon!” As your reach to grab Simon but your hand rubbed along the bulge that was from your husband’s cock.

The feeling of being full and the slight pain from the tip of Simon’s cock nudged your cervix. The sound of skin slapping and moans and groans filled the room drowning out the sound of the headboard hitting the wall.

“Almost there love doing such a good job taking my cock.” He praised placing a kiss to your calf. Eyes looking down at you as the bulge a groan fell from Simon’s lips as he thrusted even faster. “Fuck lovie this cunt…can’t wait to make you a mother.” He moaned out as you arched off the bed. “Wanna see your belly swollen with my kids..can’t gotta fill this pussy.” A whimper fell from your lips followed by a moan as you convulsed around him covering his dick in your juices.

Simon’s thrust stuttered and faltered a bit as he got closer to his own end. With a moan of his own thrusts slowing as his cum leaked into your pussy as he rode out his orgasm making you wince from overstimulation. Pulling out and propping your hips up with a pillow as he plopped down next to you placing kisses along your shoulder. “I want a boy Simon.” You turned your head towards him.

[theholygh0st]

DOMESTIC GHOST- GIFTS

✦ he’s thoughtful, not usually extravagant, and he enjoys surprising you. he likes the way you react and it makes him happy.

✦ he’d come home (especially after being gone on missions for so long) and have something like flowers for you, especially in your favorite color.

✦ if it’s not flowers it’s usually something that you like regardless- a cup of coffee, a new book, perhaps even a blanket, whatever he knows you like.

✦ and if you’re not a gift person he understands that, he would then instead take the time to take care of you by running a warm bath or stopping to get you both your favorite food.

✦ he’s not overly affectionate and he knows that, plus with being away a lot he tries his best to take care of you and to keep your happy.

✦ whatever it is he never comes through that door empty handed.

[urmomschocolatemilk]

➜ I literally just want need him in my life

Ghost walking in on his s/o cleaning their makeup brushes, watching them scrub the bristles of the brush against their palm before rinsing it and placing it on the towel next to them to dry along side the other brushes.

Ghost listening to them mumble about how they need to get a “cleaning pad thingys” as they dip another brush in the cleaner, thinly coating the tips of the bristles with soap before starting the process again.

Ghost watching in confusion and amusement until his s/o notices and forces him to come help them, shoving a fluffy brush into his hand with a simple command of “help me” before continuing on with their share of work.

[demons-darling]

cw: rant, but not directed at anyone in particular, more of a general observation // i don't post very often but this frustrates me so much that it has to be written down and yelled into this void

one thing that frustrates me about written work in the cod fandom, specifically headcannons about ghost, is the idea of ghost coming home in his gear, but particularly his mask. why the fuck would he do that? if he goes home in his mask, in the identity he has chosen to fucking hide himself with, to a place where his personal life resides, he effectively exposes that identity to the public which COMPLETELY DEFEATS THE PURPOSE OF THE MASK.

military operators who have alternative identities and code names often don't show that identity to the public, which means that includes most variations of y/n, r/n, whoever else, etc. even if his civvie s/o knew that he was in the army, there would be absolutely no fucking way he could allow a secret about his position to be exposed in that way lol he'd get the sack so fast and poor r/n would be subject to the men in black type of mind wipe even faster

in fact! none of them! none of these men come back in their uniforms or gear and especially not their masks! they probably go home in some boring fuckin clothing from primark/walmart/other generic boring clothing store because they're men who very likely have little to no fashion taste either LOL

so what would ghost do? he goes back to base, gets out of his mask and his gear, and then goes home in normal fucking clothing. normal. civvie. fucking. clothing. no gear, no mask, no gun, nothing. why the fuck would he be out in his mask if it exposes him to other potential threats especially when he's off the job, less likely to be equipped against those threats? that's the equivalent of him having his motherfucking dick, balls, and ass out in public.

although i bet some of you would like that ;)

[gazs-blue-hat]

Injections and Ivermectin pt.2 (Small Town UA) Ghost X Reader (Tens)

AN: Continuing the small town UA! This is another chapter featuring our favorite veterinarian and broody SAS operator.

Word Count: 2,382

Summary: After an unfortunate encounter with a goat, Ghost manages to slice his arm open. Luckily you know how to fix it without messing up his sleeve of tattoos.

TW: Blood, Injury, Stitches, Canon typical language, Mention of a dog having puppies (Ethically). Briefly mentioned Bisexual reader (LMK if I missed any)

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO ANYBODY HERE OR ON ANOTHER SITE TO REPOST, COPY, TRANSLATE OR FEED MY WORK TO AN A.I OF ANY KIND.

The 141 had been on Lamb's farm for four weeks now and you had gotten into a pattern of seeing them. You often went over to help with her leg. Something had been really irritating it lately and she never would take care of it herself. (Stubborn bitch)

You were getting to know the men pretty well actually. MacTavish, or Soap practically followed lamb as closely as Nikon did. He knew a thing or two about livestock to Lamb logically trusted him with most tasks she would have done herself.

Garrick, or Gaz spent a lot of his time at Keys' place. She was in the middle of reorganizing and cataloging her library and she was very thankful for the help. Although, you wondered how much work was actually getting done. Gaz knew all about the series she liked so instead of working, the two were probably gushing over who kissed who and what was going to happen in the next book.

The Captain was no stranger to you (even if he avoided you like the plague). He would give simple head nods in your direction and calmly leave whatever room you had entered. You had no details about the meeting he had with Skip. But there was no broken glass or shattered doors when you and Lamb entered the house again.

The person you probably spent the most time with, however, was Ghost. Ghost was by far the most enigmatic of the group but he was also the most…genuine. You could see how his face would make invisible expressions under the mask and how he was incredibly expressive with his eyes. (That man could murder someone with a side-eye)

Whenever you would be at Lamb's house (Which was more often than you were at your own house), you always managed to be in proximity of the large man. Lamb often sent him over to help with whatever it was you were doing. You mostly came over to check on Moosie and her illness. The prognosis wasn't good and you had even walked in on Soap holding her as she cried into his shoulder.

Today though you were at the office, helping a sweet chocolate lab deliver her second litter of puppies. You watched closely as the lab huffed and grumbled in the large padded box next to you. You had decided to sit on the floor next to her so she would feel more comfortable. She held her head in your lap as you typed on your laptop, finishing up some documenting how many rabies vaccinations you would require for next year.

You turned your head as you heard the small yips of a newborn pup. You beamed down at the lab and pet her head softly.

"Atta girl. So proud of you." You whispered. The dog huffed again and got back to work. After checking on the puppy and documenting its health your receptionist stuck her head in the door.

"Lamb is calling you. Should I send the call in here or should I take it?" Maryanne asked softly. You really liked Maryanne and hired her on as your secretary a week ago. There wasn't much work she could do in town due to her health issues and you were more than happy to be accommodating for her.

"You can take the message, Maryanne. I'm gonna focus here with Debbie." You said while documenting the successful arrival of a second puppy. Maryanne nodded and you heard her wheelchair slotting back to the desk.

"She said someone named Ghost was coming over for some stitches. Said it was urgent." Maryanne called. You nodded and added him to your calendar. You wondered what Ghost could have done to himself that would cause a need for stitches so bad that he or Lamb couldn't do it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour or so later, you heard the little bell above the door of your office ring out.

"Hello, sir! How can I help you?" You heard the soft voice of Maryanne say from the front room. You stood from your seat on the floor and started to scrub up. You sanitized your hands and moved to the secondary room, gathering the materials you would need to do some serious stitching.

" 'm here to see Tens." A gruff voice said. Maryanne made a sound of affirmation and you heard the door to the first room office swing open. Debbie opened her eyes and huffed, only turning over so her six puppies could keep nursing.

"Over here!" You called while putting a layer of absorbent cloth down on the chair's arm. The chair you had in this room was not like one found in regular doctor's offices. This was a modified tattoo chair that you had gotten from an estate sale. Waste not, want not.

Ghost walked into the room holding a blood-stained towel over his left forearm. You winced and made a hissing sound.

"What happened to your lovely artwork?" You said kindly, gesturing to the seat. Ghost said nothing as he sat down, resting his arm on the chair's armrest.

"Was fixin' up the water toughs in the goat pens when this big bastard decided to use my side as ramming practice." He grumbled, making no sound of pain as you peeled away the towel.

"Jesus Christ on a bike." You mumble as you take in the extent of the damage. Six large lacerations dug deep in his forearm. Blood leaked from them and dripped down his arm, being absorbed by the towel.

"Bugger shoved me hard enough to cause my arm to hit the barbed wire next to the fence," he continued to explain. You nodded in understanding. You too had been headbutted by the 'big bastard' as Ghost had called him. He was a rather young goat with the fury of a thousand suns crammed in his tiny body. it didn't matter how big you were or how strong. He would always try his damnedest to knock you on your ass.

"I know how that goes. Frankie always was cantankerous." You say while donning a pair of gloves. These gloves were specially made for you by a medical friend of yours. He had molded them to your hands so they fit absolutely perfectly. It was almost like wearing no gloves at all.

"Oh, Lamb said to give this to you. Said that you deserved it?" Ghost said while handing you a folded note. You nodded and gestured for him to place it on the tray next to you. You didn't want to have to scrub everything again.

You began by cleaning the area of blood as best you could with some gauze. You then reached over for your saline bottle and opened the cap with your other hand.

"Okay, you probably know the drill but I'll go through it anyway. This is just saline, it will sting a bit but not nearly as much as Isopropyl or whisky." You say with a smile. You can notice his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise.

"I was a combat medic Ghost. We used what we could find." You say with a wink. You irrigate the wounds and watch as he flinches from the pain slightly. The cuts weren't actually as bad as you had thought and that made you smile.

"Do you by any chance have a reference image for what the tattoo looked like before all of this?" You ask while holding pressure on the wound with one hand and grabbing your suturing supplies with the other. Ghost shook his head and you frowned. You'd have to guess then.

"Why does it matter? You don't need a reference to do stitches." Ghost said calmly. You could tell he wasn't irritated, he was genuinely curious about your question.

"Well look at it! I don't want to butcher it with messy stitching!" You say while gesturing to the undamaged parts of the tattoo. It truly was amazing work. The level of detail that went into the ink honestly deserved an award.

"I don't even want to think about how much this cost or how long it took to do. That would be a slap in the face of the artist." You continued, shaking your head at the thought.

Ghost chuckled and you felt your stomach do a little flip thing.

'odd...' you thought to yourself.

"Never had a medic care so much about my tattoos before." he chuckled. You could practically hear the smile in his voice and it took great restraint not to melt into a puddle.

"Perhaps you've been hanging out with the wrong medics." You say softly. You really didn't mean to make it sound so...sultry. You numbed the surrounding skin with some cream and you got to work stitching. You did your best to line up the skin perfectly so the details of the tattoos would be spared.

"Who are the right medics then?" he asked softly. You almost didn't hear him and you looked up, only to meet his piercing eyes.

Oh God

You could have fallen into those eyes. A deep brown that reminded you of freshly tilled earth after a rain storm. They reminded you of the dark bark of a steady spruce tree, green throughout the cold winter. His eyebrows were perfectly molded to his face but just unkempt enough to give him a scruffy appearance.

When you died, would have to slap God for making a man so fine.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you properly. Could you repeat that?" You asked. He leaned over in the seat a bit, getting closer. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest. He smelled divine. Like work and pure man. He also smelled slightly of cigarettes and bourbon with a hint of Lamb's homemade soap.

How dare he smell delicious? How dare he make you salivate at work with his stupidly strong arms, thighs, chest, and-

"I asked, who are the right medics then?" he repeated. You swallowed and hoped he couldn't hear your heart pounding in your chest.

"The ones who give a shit about you I suppose." You manage to say without stuttering. Never had a patient made you react this way. Not even the one time that smoking hot petty officer had gotten a steam burn on her side, showing you plenty of side-boob as you bandaged her up.

He only hummed and sat back, closing his eyes as you worked. It took you about three hours to stitch the wounds up enough to your satisfaction. You gently wiped the area clean with more saline and you put some antibacterial cream on the stitches. You looked up to say something to him but a rough snore caught you off guard. He was sleeping.

Somehow this large man had fallen asleep while you were giving him stitches. You said nothing as you gently wrapped the wound with Tegaderm so he could watch the healing process and come back if there were any issues.

You simply draped a thin blanket over him and turned out the lights. You cleaned up from the procedure and grabbed your laptop from the other room. You didn't want him to be alone when he woke up since you knew how disorienting that could be.

You sat on the floor once more and continued typing your reports, ignoring how the sun had long since set.

--------

It was around midnight when Ghost blinked his eyes open. He was strangely comfortable in whatever seat he was sitting in. He looked around to see where he was and he furrowed his eyebrows when he figured it out.

He was in one of Tens' medical rooms, sitting in a tattoo chair with his arm all bandaged up. He examined the work and was incredibly pleased that you had done a perfect job. The lines of the tattoo were perfectly aligned and the stitches were so perfectly symmetrical that if there even was a scar, it would look like it belonged in the tattoo anyway. Absolutely incredible.

A soft snore alerted him that he was not alone in the room. You sat in the corner, your laptop still on and shining a dull white light on your face. You slept peacefully but not in the cute ways that movies or books would show. You slept with your head on your shoulder, your mouth open slightly and a small splotch of saliva pooling on your coat collar. You still had your coat on that was dotted with his blood. Your hands rested on the keys of the keyboard as if you had fallen asleep while typing.

Simon smiled down at your sleepy form. You had stayed in this office with him so he wouldn't be frightened when he woke up. You stayed way past closing time and even fell asleep on the floor to make him more comfortable.

He stood up, closed your laptop (but not before saving your work), and gently picked you up. He was careful of his stitches and he was shocked when he didn't feel pain as the skin pulled a bit. You had numbed him up, even if you knew he was well used to stitches without pain relief.

You mumbled a bit as you shifted in his grip, nuzzling into his chest. it was a cute action and Simon felt a bit of blood rushing to his cheeks. How long had it been since he actually blushed? he made his way to the other room where he had seen a bed. It was a medical bed sure, but a bed was a bed in his opinion.

"Don't forget to... wash your haaands." You mumbled while making the motion of rubbing hands together. Simon smiled softly under his mask as he set you down. You curled up a bit, shivering in the late autumn air. He returned to the room he had been in and grabbed the blanket you had placed over him. He draped it over you and closed the door behind him.

Returning to the room to pick up your laptop, he noticed the paper that Lamb had instructed he give to you unfolded on the floor. The words written upon it made his stomach flip in the strangest way

'Have fun with Skullface. Don't ever mock me again bitch.'

-Lamb

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taglist: @plumteaa-remus @ghostlythots

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[annetti-spaghetti]

Made some last minute (self indulgent) Ghost buttons before I close my shop this weekend for the holidays.✨🎄 You can choose what kind of finish you want (regular, sparkle dot, heart holo)! 

Come get your bby girl today! 🥰💖🎁 Shop link is in bio and replies! Reblogs are much appreciated and help me out as a small artist! Ty for looking!