constantwritingblock

[constantwritingblock]

Reader offering her body to viking!simon as an appreciation present for protecting her xx

yes yes absolutely yes everything about this is beautiful

c/w: pillaging, death, murder, blood, loss of virginity, p-in-v sex, you and simon have no game, simon is a blunt dickhead

perhaps the village gets raided in the middle of the night :( rival clan tearing through your lovely town and pillaging it. your husband is immediately storming out of bed, throwing on his armor and grabbing his axe. he’s silent when he picks you up, slings you over his shoulder and throws you into the wardrobe,

“stay.” he commands and you respond with a quick nod of your head, looking up at him with frightened eyes until he slams the doors closed

you’re there for a good hour until you hear movement in your home. you think for a moment it might be simon but you soon hear the sounds of wood splintering and crashing as this invader trashes your home

you keep a hand over your mouth, praying whoever this is decides not to check your hiding place. that was wishful thinking, you realise once the wardrobe door is ripped open and you’re met with the cold eyes of a rival warrior who wastes no time snatching you up and throwing you to the ground, desperate screams immediately leaving your throat

you pray that someone hears you but you’re not hopeful when all you can hear through the closed windows is the muffled sounds of screams, cries and burning buildings

you pick up whatever your trembling hands can reach and throw them at the warrior as you crawl back. but everything just seems to be bouncing off of him, causing no damage whatsoever

you close your eyes when you watch him raise his weapon, ready to bring it down on you. tears slip down your cheeks and you flinch, preparing for your short lived life to be over in such a brutal manner

but no such blow comes, instead you just hear the sounds of gargling. when you open your eyes, you see the soldier on his knees in front of you, your husbands axe hanging from the side of his neck as he chokes to death on his own blood

simon is stood above him, chest heaving and rage clouding his vision as he pulls the axe out, swinging it into the man’s neck one more time for good measure

he looks at you, the storm disappearing from his expression once he sees you trembling on the floor below him, frightened out of your mind. with one arm, he effortlessly scoops you up, holding you against him. with his other hand he retrieves his axe from the corpse at his feet

he carries you out of your destroyed home, not saying a word when you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and sniffle

“thank you…” you mumble, the delicate brush of your lips tickling his skin, filling him with a warm feeling that he’ll deny ever existed

he grunts in response, hoisting you up when you start to slip in his grip. he doesn’t speak much, is the first thing you figured out about him on your wedding night

you shield your eyes from the bloodshed and horror that now bestows your village, people of your clan lay dead in the once safe streets. simon says nothing as he carries you away from it all,

“is it over?” you ask, taking your face from his neck to look at him. he gives you a firm nod of his head. you don’t say anything about the dried blood he’s coated in, nor the fact that you can feel it staining your nightgown

after a while he carries you to a secluded part of the village, with survivors gathered around and setting up tents. being the second-in-command to the chief was clearly a perk as you and simon had been set up in a small, cozy cabin

“draw me a bath.” his rough voice cuts through the silence, shrugging off his armor and stripping down until he was bare in front of you. it never failed to bring a blush to your cheeks whenever he causally exposed his naked body to you

he hadn’t bedded you once since you had been married, you had shared once chaste kiss at your wedding ceremony and since then he had barely touched you. he didn’t seem particularly interested in having you perform traditional wifely duties, he never rejected it when you offered to bathe him after a long day or when you had dinner presented on the table for him

you both just kind of exist around each other. it hadn’t really dawned on you that he’s never even called you by your name, only speaking to you in blunt sentences

“oi. did you hear me?” he says, stopping to turn to you when he realised you hadn’t moved from your spot. you shake yourself from your thoughts and nod your head, scrambling over to the fire to begin boiling the water for his bath

he carries the heavy pots of boiling water for you, snatching them from your hands when he sees you nearly burn yourself. once his bath was finished, he climbed into the steaming water

you watch him from the bed, chewing on your lip and playing with your fingers as he scrubs his skin with the soap. his back is to you as your map out the scars littering the rippled muscle

you feel indebted to him. whilst he wasn’t the nicest man, he certainly wasn’t the cruelest. he was good to you in a strange way. he never forced himself on you, even on your wedding night. he had never uttered words with intent to hurt your feelings

you stand from your place on the bed and nervously stumble over to the tub, kneeling beside him. he doesn’t look at you when you take a cloth and begin cleaning his back

he lets his hands fall into the water, leaning forward ever so slightly. you notice how his eyes fall shut. he’s probably exhausted, you think to yourself

“would you like me to brush your hair, husband? I… I can-“ you question, looking at him as you run the soap through his hair and making an effort to detangle the mop on his head

“do what you want.” he grunts, shrugging his broad shoulders and dropping them down with enough weight to make the water splash

you nod your head even though he can’t see you. after a few minutes of, quite frankly, uncomfortable silence, you place the soap down as a silent signal that you were finished

he stands to all his glory, 6’4 with water dripping down from his hair all the way down his thigh defined thighs and back into the water. you immediately avert your eyes when you drag your eyes down to his cock, hanging heavy between his legs and pass him a towel

you gather a comb and place a pillow on the floor between your legs. still not bothering to get dressed, he just drops his tired body down leaving you no option but to spread your legs to accommodate his large frame

you spend a good 30 minutes trying to get the comb through his shaggy dirty blond hair but you eventually manage to tame it into a clean and detangled state. you use a tie from your wrist to tie it up into a messy bun so it will stay out of his face

“I-I’m finished…” you say, placing your hands on your lap to prevent yourself from reaching out and tracing the tattoos on his shoulder blades. as you expected, he just gives you a grunt, his way of saying thank you

you stand from the bed, watching as he moves around the room with his back to you

“simon?” you call out with hesitation, “would you… would you like to come to bed… with me?”

he turns to look at you, his brow furrowed with confusion, “I am… I’ll be there in a minute.”

you shake your head, taking your hand up to untie the front of your nightgown, “no… I mean… would you like to be intimate with me?”

you’re certain that your face must be bright red with embarrassment, but you power through as you slip your gown off. you’re stood naked in front of him, shifting on your feet as he stares you down with an unreadable expression

he shifts his whole body to you now, folding his arms over his chest as he looks you up and down

“say something, please.” you squeak out, your hands coming up to poorly cover your breasts. he lets out a small laugh in response and you think you’ve completely humiliated yourself

“you want me to fuck you?” he asks bluntly, taking one hand down to lightly fondle his flaccid cock. you nod your head eagerly, biting your lip

“you ever done tha’ before?” he smirks, cocking his head to the side. he’s quite enjoying this newfound confidence, if you can even call it that. you shake your head, fiddling with your fingers

“it’s gonna hurt.” he warns, raising his eyebrows and scanning your face for any form of hesitation

“will it feel good eventually?” you ask, a small glimmer of hope spreading in your eyes when you realise he’s actually considering your request. you expected him to shoot you down with a laugh

“maybe.” he shrugs, “you still want me to fuck you, little one?”

his hand is wrapped firmly around his cock now, stroking it until it was fully erect. you can’t take your eyes off it, not even to see the cocky smirk across his face

“yes.” you whisper out, “please.”

he cocks his head to the side, “get on the bed. spread your legs.”

you crawl onto the bed, laying on your back and folding your hands across your stomach. you chew on your lip, your eyes trained on the ceiling. you can’t bear to look at him as you spread your legs, giving him a clear view of your most intimate area

“want me to lick your cunt first?”

his words make your pussy ache. his blunt tone would be horrifying on anyone else but you know him now. it’s just who he is. it’s so amazingly him. the question is followed by the sound of spitting and the slick sounds of him stroking his cock

“I- yes- I just- I’m not sure i’ll like it.” you admit, sheepishly. you glance down when you feel the bed shift and his big hands wrap around your thighs. you see him knelt between your legs, lips inches away from your aching pussy

he grunts, and with no warning, he closes the gap and runs his tongue from your opening then all the way up to your clit. he wraps his lips around the bud, giving a harsh suck

you throw your head back, letting out a stuttered moan. your hands shift from their place to his hair, tugging on it and loosening a few strands which fall around his face

he spends a good bit of time trialling things out, learning what you like based on how much you yanked at his hair or bucked your hips

he slips a finger in your entrance once he’s sure you’re wet enough, groaning at the way your legs slam around his head. the feeling of your thighs clenching around his face makes his cock twitch against the mattress

your cunt takes his fingers greedily, sucking around his thick digits when he slips another one in. your hips buck up at his mouth when he flicks his tongue around your clit

you feel a tightening in your stomach after a fuck minutes of his fingers fucking in and out of you, scissoring them to stretch you wider for him. he waits until he can feel you right on edge and he hears your moans pick up to pull his fingers out

you let out a whine at the lack of contact, handing right on edge of your ruined orgasm

“quite yer whinin’. you can cum around my cock instead.” he groans, pumping his cock a few times before lining it up with your weeping pussy

he places one hand on the underside of your thigh and pushes it up as he pushes in slowly. you let out a gasp and grip his forearm, nails digging into his skin. he doesn’t stop, only slows his pace

“nearly there…” he groans just before he bottoms out, his pubic bone pressed against your clit. he grinds his hips slowly to help you adjust to the feeling of being stuffed full

“do that again…” you whine out, arching your back for him. he grinds his hips a few more times, waiting until there’s no resistance from you before actually beginning to fuck his cock in and out of you

you slam your hand over your mouth when you feel the tip of his cock brush against this spongy spot inside of your cunt

he shifts his position, moving so he’s kneeling on the bed. he wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs you so your ass rests on his thighs

he wraps a hand around his cock, gliding the tip through your folds one time before slipping back inside you. he uses his grip on your hips as leverage to fuck into you faster than before

the room is filled with a mixture of your moans and his grunts along with the sound of his balls slapping your ass

your hands move to rest on his shoulders to keep you straight as he rams his cock into your cunt. that familiar tight feeling creeps up on you soon again. you tap his shoulder lightly

“si- simon… ‘m gonna- fuck-“ you cry out, throwing your head back against the pillows

“me too, little one. come on… cum around your husbands cock…” he grunts, leaning forward to put you in a mating press. his permission was all you needed to let go, your cunt pulsing around his cock erratically

he gives you a few more sloppy thrusts before pulling his cock and out, desperately jerking it a few times before he paints his load all over your tummy. he rubs the tip against your clit to milk your orgasm, the final remnants of his cum dribbling out onto your pussy

he doesn’t enjoy the afterglow of his orgasm very long before he’s standing up and grabbing a cloth to clean you both up. he blows out the candles that light up your bedroom before wrapping you both up in blankets and furs

he lays on his back, tucking you under his arm so you can rest your head on his shoulder. you lay away from him, wrapping your arms around his bicep and pressing your face into the muscle

in tune with his usual character, he doesn’t say a word to you but this is progress, you think. a soft smile gracing your lips as you drift off into a peaceful slumber

[constantwritingblock]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twelve —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: *hint at sexual assault. please be cautious!* death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Dense mud packs onto the soles of your boots. You shift the near-empty backpack on your shoulder and slip back a few sweat-laced strands of hair from your face. Never before were you a morning person. In fact, you used to purposely sign up for all the afternoon lectures in uni. But now, time and sunlight are precious. You set out to search for the camp this morning with only a sliver of sunrise as your companion. 

You hope Ghost was right.

He suspected that their camp would be situated in a location with easy access to the military base, river, and nearby village so they could draw resources from all three. So that's the direction you're headed in, squinting at nearby landmarks and interstate signs to help guide you. It's quite the hike: grueling, hilly terrain and moist air that you can't distinguish from your own sweat. You've stepped over some interesting sights along the way. An old forest station with CAMP FEES and LEAVE NO TRACE posters still outside. A small skeleton tucked in a bush with only child-sized rainboots left on it. For a moment, you saw Joseph. Toddling around in the puddles outside your sister’s house. You had to force yourself not to look at it for too long; you wiped your eyes, gritted your teeth, and prayed it had been painless for them.

You come to a narrow creek, crossing over a stone bridge that spits you out among dense evergreens. Finally, a faint column of smoke comes into view just above the forest's canopy. 

That must be it.

It's certainly a sign, so you suck in a shaky breath, ignore the rush of blood in your veins, and do what Ghost suggested: climb a tree to get a better look. 

There was a time not long ago when climbing trees was your only means of survival. This time, it feels so much easier to hoist yourself up and grip the bark as your muscles flex to steady yourself on a high branch. Luckily, there wasn't much to bring in the backpack Ghost gave you. For now, there's nothing in it other than your lighter, a roll of gauze, that romance book, and a small piece of dry wood. 

Squinting your gaze, you make out the silhouette of triangular, orange tents and uneven fencing. Definitely a camp. The fence doesn't appear barbed from here, but it's at least a meter higher than the one that surrounds Ghost's place. You're close enough to see a few blue crates in the center that look like those ones from the military medical site. Is that what they're keeping the supplies in? It seems like the only obvious place based on the layout.

What you really want to know is how many people. Soundlessly, you shift your boots to get a different angle and finally spot movement coming out of one of the tents— a sizeable male wearing a leather jacket.

One.

Is that it?

Your eyes stay locked on the stranger for a minute, tracking his movement as he cooks something over the fire. He gives out a long whistle, the high-pitched sound audible even from where you stand nestled in the treetop. Panic seizes your breath: did he somehow see you and is alerting someone else? But no— you're much too far, and his eyes never shifted in your direction. 

Instead, there's more movement, the faint shuffling of paws on the ground, and then a large dog appears at the man's side. He tosses something in front of it, what must be a slab of meat, because the dog is quick to start chowing down with the enthusiasm of a mindless Grey.

"Fuck me," you whisper to yourself, fingertips splintering against the bark. "Couldn't prepare me for that, huh, Ghost?"

The plan he instructed you with is fairly simple and straightforward— you'll just have to stick to it and be mindful of the additional obstacle. You've survived much worse even just a few days ago, so with that in mind, you slip down the column of the tree and purposefully backtrack your steps, gaining a bit more distance between you and the camp. 

You need a ruse, something to draw the man out for enough time for you to grab the ammo. Ghost told you to bring the book to help get a fire started since the twigs and leaves here are damp after the storm, so you find a good spot and start ripping out the pages, crumpling them up. You arrange the piece of wood and paper in such a way that you have a minute or two before the smoke really gets going. You pull out your lighter from the pocket of your jeans, start it, and then head back towards the camp, this time going around so you can approach it from the side. 

You keep your footsteps as light as possible while moving quickly. Once the man notices the smoke and leaves to scout it out, your timer starts. There's another whistle followed by a gravelly bark from the dog. You sneak close to the side of the fence, pausing behind a tree, just when you catch a glance of the stranger shucking a rifle over his shoulder and exiting out the gate. He shuts it behind him with a series of padlocks.

It won't take him long to find the source of the smoke and realize it's nothing, so you muster all your strength and begin climbing the fence, rusty links digging into your palms. You try to do it without making much noise, but the moment you jump down with a thud, the dog's head snaps in your direction. It begins to growl, flashing thick canines under its bloodied muzzle. You break out into a sprint toward the blue crates, but it crosses the span of the camp in mere seconds, clamping down on your forearm before you can even begin to look for the ammo.

The pain is white hot. You silently cry out as the dog shakes its head, tearing through the fabric of your coat and the tissue of your muscle. 

"Fuck."

You tug at your arm, but it doesn't let go. Remembering the piece of squirrel meat you brought as a snack, you dig it from your pocket and wag it in front of the dog's face.

"Come on, let go— please."

It's enough to catch his attention, the bite on your arm loosening once you toss the meat a few meters away and he follows it. You clutch your arm with a ragged breath, ignoring the blood and pain that radiates from it.

The squirrel can only distract him for so long, so you urgently flip open the lid of the first crate. Staring back at you is a mix of what appears to be severed limbs and various animal parts. The pungent smell floods up your nose. You instantly clamp the lid back down, fighting the urge to vomit, and move on to the next one. 

Ammo.

Plenty of it.

Without a second to waste, you sling off the backpack and begin stuffing it with the cardboard packs of cartridges, hoping it's the kind Ghost needs. When you tug the zipper closed, a decision pops into your brain: to keep looking through the other crates for medicine, or to get the fuck out of there. You take a millisecond too long to think about it because suddenly, you notice the dog from the corner of your eye, done with the meat and moving towards you with another throaty growl. 

You tug the heavy backpack on and make a beeline for the closest side of the fence. In the panic, you fail to notice the creak of the gate opening until you are stumbling into a hard chest. A strong hand wraps around your bicep.

Fuck.

He's back.

This is it, then.

"Rocky— sit."

The growling behind you ceases. A whole new fear washes over you as you blink up at a rugged face. The stranger uses his other hand to take hold of your jaw, hard enough that your teeth are forced to grind together. In a heart-pounding silence, he inspects you, bluntly looking you up and down. Then, he takes out a knife and presses it to your neck. Your throat bobs against the icy metal. 

"Fucking bitch," he mutters. "Start a fire to try and steal from me?"

"N-no!" Your brain reels for a lie. "No— I don't know what you're talking about. I-I came here looking for help."

"Try a better lie, sweetheart." 

"I mean it," you stammer, holding onto the fact that he hasn't slit your throat yet. Raw desperation speaks for you. "My… my friends are gone. Someone attacked us a few days ago and killed them. I've been alone ever since and then I found your camp, hoping someone would be here to help me."

This seems to grab his attention. Dark eyes narrow. It's now you realize he's quite young, maybe in his thirties.

"Someone attacked you, huh? Who?"

"Um, some guy. I don't know. I didn't get a good look at him because he was… he was wearing a mask."

"So some guy killed all your friends by himself?" When you slowly nod, cringing at your terrible story, his jaw flexes. "I've lost my friends, too. They went out on a hunting trip three days ago and haven't come back."

"Oh. I'm sorry," you lie, swallowing. "So you… so you believe me?"

"I believe your friends are dead. I don't believe you didn't start that fire to distract me."

His words make your heart race. Again, his eyes trail down, and the knife follows, lowering to the floral fabric of your blouse and popping open one of the buttons. 

"Take it off," he suddenly orders. 

"W-what?"

"The shirt. Take it off. Let me decide if I should kill you or keep you."

You put on a brave face and do as he says, not given much room to protest despite the sick feeling that twists your gut. You drop the backpack, half-inclined to swing it at him, but then what? There is no way you can take him in a fight, especially since he's armed with a knife and gun, and there is no Grey this time to help you out. 

The coat falls to the ground at your feet before you shakily undo the buttons of your blouse, wincing from the movement of your bitten arm. Crisp air greets your bare skin. Your nipples tighten uncomfortably and his gaze darts right to them, intensifying the churn in your stomach. 

He gives a low whistle. "Lucky me."

Your nails jab crescents into the palms of your hands. "Am I… am I worth keeping, then?"

He bears a sick, toothy smile. "Pretty for a thief," he confirms. "Haven't seen someone so pretty in a few years now." His eyes flash to your arm and he reaches to grab it, making you choke. "Hell, Rocky. You gave her an ugly bite, though. Might get in the way of what I have in mind for you."

Half-naked, you are dragged by the arm to one of the blue crates. He slips the knife into his pocket in order to search through it. You notice pills, liquids, and a single glass bottle of what appears to be clear alcohol, which he pulls out along with a cloth.

"Tell me your name," he says, forcing you to sit down on a folding chair. "Before I enjoy you.”

You tell him quietly.

With an eery gentleness, he sits across from you and dabs the bite with some alcohol. The sting is immeasurable, but you roll your eyes to the sky and silence yourself. The feel of his cold, calloused fingers makes you imagine how they would feel touching other parts of your body. You need to think of something quick before he gets the chance to. He still has the gun on him, and the only knife you brought is in the jacket on the ground. Your eyes flicker to the bottle, which he set down by the leg of his chair.

"What's your name?" you ask, looking back at him.

"Leo."

"So, um, Leo— how did you end up here?"

"I was a new recruit in the military when shit started five years ago," he explains idly, fixated on your arm. "Stationed at the base nearby."

"I saw medical tents there," you mutter, clearing your throat. "Did you help with that?"

He chuckles. "For all of a day until some buddies and I decided to take what we could and leave. There was no point in trying to help people. We figured that out pretty quick."

"Oh. Were those the buddies who haven't come back?" 

He nods. "I'm sure they're dead by now. But, one good thing is," he reaches for the gauze, sniggering lowly, "—that means I don't have to share you."

As he begins to unwrap the gauze, you decide he’s distracted enough. It happens in one, urgent motion. You clasp the alcohol bottle by the neck, arch it above his head, and thrust it down. The glass shatters, drenching him with alcohol and blood as a piece slices open his forehead. He immediately drops the gauze and hisses in pain.

"Bitch," he snarls. "I'm going to fucking kill you!"

He leaps to his feet and pulls the knife out again. As he does, you dig the lighter out of your pocket and ignite a flame, bringing it to his soaked shoulder. Instantly, fire flashes up his neck and face in hues of orange and blue, even catching your wet fingertips. It renders him blind as he howls and tries to swing at you, but you immediately run away, rubbing your burned hand against your jeans.

You grab your discarded clothes and backpack before flinging open the crate with medicine in it. You begin stuffing as many bottles into the side pockets of the backpack as you can, breathing frantically.

"I'm going to kill you," he seethes again, and the firing of a bullet somewhere behind you means he must have grabbed his rifle.

But he still can't see, his eyes blistered by the flames that continue to lick his face. Each shot bites the ground as you heave the backpack on your shoulders and take off toward the fence.

The dog barks, louder and louder as he runs after you. You don't look back. You wad your clothes up in a ball and toss them over the fence to free up your hands. Then, you quickly climb up, the muscles in your face tightly clenched as the full backpack weighs you down. 

You're too slow. 

Teeth grab hold of your boot.

You're pulled back down, hands spreading out to break the fall. 

In the mud, you wrestle beneath a snarling jaw, dirtying up your hair and exposed skin. This time, you don't hesitate to hurt the animal. You grab your lighter again and thrust the flame into the dog's eye, making it leap back with a pained squeal. 

Freed, you scramble back up the fence.

You leap down. Grab your clothes

You can still hear him shouting as you run away, weaving through the thicket of trees. Only when the sound fades do you stop to catch your breath, sinking down against a tree and putting your clothes back on.

"Here."

A moan of relief escapes your lips the moment you shrug off the backpack and drop it at Ghost's feet. He crouches down, swearing under his breath when he unzips it and the ammo practically spills out. He grabs a few boxes, opening and inspecting them under the violet light of sunset. The walk back took you hours longer. You were almost tempted to sleep in a tree for the night, but the threat of Greys or any more strangers kept you going. 

"Good. This is good, Twix." There's a hint of disbelief in his voice before he clears it away, zipping the backpack up. He stands and offers a lengthy look from your head to your boots. "How many were there?"

"Just one."

"Just one," he repeats, brow lifting. "And you look this roughed up. What happened?"

"There was a dog," you say dully, lifting your arm up to show him the bitemark in your sleeve. Beneath it, you already bandaged the wound, not wanting to draw attention to its scent. “Just a dog and a cannibal rapist guy."

"What?"

You shake your head. "Nothing. I'm going to sleep."

Before you can take a step past him, warm fingers latch onto your wrist. So warm. You inhale a breath, a burn of moisture lining your eyes.

“Please don’t touch me," you request in a whisper.

You can no longer see the details of him with how bleary your eyes are, but you feel his touch disappear.

"What happened?" he asks again, voice lowering.

"Nothing. I got your ammo and I handled it. When can we leave?"

There is a pause before he responds as if he is debating whether or not to drop the subject. For now, he does.

"Tomorrow, hopefully."

"Good." The back of your hand smooths over your eyes. "Don't— don't forget our deal, Ghost. Promise me."

A firm nod. "I don't back out on my word."

As if to prove it, he shucks off the jacket and hands it over.

[constantwritingblock]

I was wondering if it were possible that I could request something about, Simon and Fem!Civillian!reader are dating and then one day Simon brings the 141 back to his place, but there was a new recruit (a female sniper?) And reader is seeing how close Simon and the sniper are and gets really insecure and pushes Simon away for a while, and when Simon figures out what it was he shows the reader that he loves her and only her (iykyk) Sorry if this doesn't make since my English isn't great :(

hey hey first of all don't apologize for your english, we're all here learning (I mean it english isn't my first language too

I didn't feel like writing smut for this one so enjoy a bit of hurt/comfort hehe

Summary: your boyfriend's task force recruits a new female soldier and you're not happy about it.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x civ!f!reader, hurt/comfort

It took a while for you and Simon to get together, it took you even more to build trust in him, but once he finally asked you to be his girlfriend, you couldn't be happier. 

He had his flaws, everyone had, but he was so good for you in a way no one could even imagine. You taught him how to love and he learned what it felt to finally be loved again.

He always had his eyes on you whenever you two went out, he never laid eyes on another woman, never gave you a reason to be jealous of him. You thought you'd hit the jackpot, having the privilege of a scary boyfriend that only had eyes for you and would do anything you said just to see you happy.

And he also had his job — a very deadly one, so he would often come back from missions all fucked up and demanding your attention, to which you never complained about. You'd take care of his dislocated shoulder, kiss the bruises on his knuckles, wipe the blood off his wounds. For some reason, you found him really hot like this, all devoted to you and your care.

It was all so perfect, to the point where he mustered up the courage to bring his team to your shared apartment to have lunch together on a beautiful sunday, just for you to get to know them.

You knew Price, the sweet english captain with the fishing hat and the beard that smelled like tobacco when he gave you a hug, there were two other guys that Simon talked a lot about and… a girl?

You stared in disbelief as she entered your home and greeted you, but you just didn’t want to be rude and cause a scene. She was sweet, you couldn’t deny that, but something about this felt off. The way she looked at Simon wasn’t the way she looked at the others, or maybe you were just making it up to have a reason to dislike her.

She was new, as they said, a new sniper on the team, fresh and young like a breath of fresh air. She also seemed to be closer to your boyfriend, but she didn't cross the line, at least not in front of you as far as you know.

You played it cool despite the unbearable pain in your chest, but you weren’t in your best mood, so the food you and Simon had prepared was making you nauseous. You had barely touched your plate, and you bet he noticed, but he just didn’t want to embarrass you in front of his friends.

Once the laughter left your apartment and left the two of you in silence, you were left with a pile of jealousy and a man you couldn’t bring yourself to face. The beating in your chest was the only thing you could hear when you excused yourself to the bathroom and wiped away the tears.

He was silently doing the dishes when you approached the kitchen and served yourself a glass of wine. “What do you think of ‘em?”

You sipped the drink and looked at his back. “Johnny’s cool, you’ve talked ‘bout him.” You swear you could see his face contorting into a frown by the tone of your voice, some bug definitely bit you.

But he didn’t push you, and a part of you felt relieved. He did notice the way you chugged the rest of your glass and left on the sink just right before disappearing into the bedroom. After a while of overthinking and trying to make yourself fall asleep, the mattress shifted behind you and his cold hand pulled you close. You didn’t move, not even when he kissed your shoulder in an attempt to melt you down a little.

“What’s wrong, love?” He asked in a sweet tone, trailing kisses down your arm, but you brushed it off.

“Not feeling well.” You answered coldly, but his hand was still glued to you, caressing the exposed skin on your arm. As much as you enjoyed it, the way he treated her still hurt you. "Can you… not?"

He didn't understand what you meant, you had never turned down his love, and now as he watched you put your slippers on and walk to the living room to stay away from him, it felt like his world was caving in. Needless to say he followed you like a puppy, watching you groan as you saw his figure blocking the tv screen. "You're gonna tell me what's wrong. Now." 

He stood with his weight on one hip and his arms were crossed in front of his body, waiting for you to open up. "I think I need some time, Simon."

"Time f' what?" He watched as you turned your head away, hiding your tears from him, and immediately kneeled down in front of you and cupped your face with his large hands. "Love, what are you saying?"

"You deserve someone who understands what you do." A wave of insecurities hit you like a bucket full of cold water, and frowned at how you started to sob uncontrollably.

"Sweetheart, is this about my teammate?" He asked, eyes going soft at you as you nodded. "I can't believe you think I like her. I mean, not in that way, she's just my teammate, nothing more." He took a seat next to you, pulling you onto his lap so you straddled him. "She's new to the team, I saved her ass from getting killed once and she thinks she owes me something. That's why she's closer to me, love, that's all, I promise. You can ask Price, Gaz, Soap, anyone. I love you and only you."

"You do?" You finally talked, wiping away the tears on your cheeks. He smiled at you, pulling you closer and kissing your jaw.

"I do." He kissed your neck and your collarbone before pulling you into a warm kiss. "You look hot when you're jealous." 

He smirked in between kisses, his hands roaming your back and keeping you close to him. He never meant to hurt you in any way, so seeing you crying because of him broke his heart, he loved you too much to fuck things up. And as you felt warm towards him again, he knew he didn't lose you.

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╰﹒ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

OVERVIEW: Simon woke up to you sleeping far away from him in the bed so he pulls you back to him <//3

C/W: none just clingy simon missing u in his sleep (pure fluff) !!

W/C: 944 bubs

Simon shifted in his bed, feeling the empty coolness beside him. He reached out, wanting to feel your warmth, but his hand met nothing but empty sheets and bed covers.

"Love..?" He whispers faintly, his voice filled with a quiet desperation to find you.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Simon slowly opens them to find you there, on the other side of the bed, lying with your back turned to him.

He lets out a quiet chuckle at the position you're in, your legs flung out in a starfish, snoring the night away. It's a silly sight, but it cracks him up, and he can't help but chuckle softly.

"Baby..." Simon sleepily whines to himself, calling out to you. "C'mere.."

Simon gently moves closer to you, pulling on the sheets to free himself. You feel his arm encircle your waist as he pulls you towards his warm body, spooning you in his arms.

Your skin meets his, and the warmth from his body causes your heart to skip a beat. You feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, feeling peaceful and safe in his embrace.

As he holds you close, Simon's thoughts drift to you. He thinks about how soft he is for you, how you make him feel alive and whole, how he doesn't want to let go, ever.

You're his everything, his world, and he can't imagine life without you. He feels his heart swell with love for you, and the need to be close to you and hold you tight, to never let you go.

With you in his arms, Simon feels complete. He would do anything to keep you close, to love and cherish you every day for the rest of his life.

You're the love of his life, and he will never forget the moment he first held you close, feeling your heart beat against his own, and knowing that he had found his soulmate.

As he holds you close, Simon's body moves instinctively, nuzzling his face in your neck, wanting to feel your warmth, to be closer to you. He wraps his arms around you tighter, unable to bear the thought of ever being apart from you again.

The warmth coming from his body slowly roused you from your slumber, your eyes fluttering open as Simon's arms tightened around your waist. You could feel his heart pounding against your back, beating in time with yours, and your heart skipped a beat in response.

"Simon?" You called out to him, voice still slightly hoarse from sleep, and you could hear the smile in his voice as he responded.

"I'm here, love," he whispered, his voice low and full of love, and you could feel his body pressing up to yours, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His hands softly carressing your waist and hips. You felt his breath upon your neck, his heart beating in yours, and you felt a deep sense of peace wash over you.

"I love you," he whispered, almost inaudible.

As his arms wrapped around you, you felt a rush of warmth and comfort wash over you. His voice was low and gentle, and you could feel the love and intensity in every word.

You loved him more with each passing moment; each time he held you, each time he told you how much he loved you, and each time you felt his heart beating against yours.

"I love you, too, Simon," you whispered back, further relaxing into his embrace as you pecked his bicep that was hugging you close by your shoulders.

You could feel the love and intensity in every part of his body, from the warmth of his breath against your neck to the way his heart beat in time with yours. You knew that you would always be by his side, loving him and cherishing him for all eternity.

As you drifted back to sleep, his arms wrapped around you tightly, unwilling to let you go and wishing to always be this close. You could feel the love in every part of his body, and you knew that this was the love that could never be broken.

Simon pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck, his breath warm and soothing against your skin, and you felt a pang of love and comfort wash over you.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, unwilling to let you go even for a moment, and he held you against him, feeling your heartbeat against his chest.

"Goodnight, love," he whispered, his voice low and filled with all the love he felt for you as he cuddled you close.

"G'night..." you sighed dreamily and closed your eyes.

As you drifted off to sleep, with your head resting against his chest, Simon couldn't help the rush of affection for you. He knew that you were the love of his life, that he would do anything for you, and that he couldn't imagine a future without you by his side.

Holding you close to him, he felt your heart beating slowly and regularly against his chest, and he felt a deep sense of peace wash over him. Every fiber of his being told him that he loved you, that you were everything he had ever wanted in life, and that he would always be there to protect you, to love you, and to cherish you.

He whispers your name softly, almost inaudible, as he drifted off to sleep, holding you tightly in his embrace. The love and intensity in his voice, in his touch, and in his eyes, was overwhelming, and he knew that you felt it too.

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The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes

call sign: Freyja

warning: mentions of violence and death (ofc), blood,

Keep reading

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do you think you could write something where you and aaron have just moved into the neighborhood and live across a sorority or something where girls hit on aaron? and you’re affected by it at first until you realize Aaron doesn’t care about them but you overhear them thinking he’s gonna cheat on you but he does something that basically makes them embarrassed when they try to decide him hahah im sorry did this make any sense

the self indulgent side of my came out in this one. also aaron 100% has dilf energy in this <3

***

A large two-story house sits in the middle of the block with a white picketed fence and a welcoming exterior. The cobblestone on the walkway leads from the sidewalk to the front yard, where the newly renovated space is decorated with greenery and other complementary decor.

It’s your dream house and you bought it with the money you’ve made as a neurosurgeon.

When you met Aaron all those years ago, dating had been the last thing on your mind. You met purely because of luck. Running into Spencer (an old friend from a medical program you’d both been involved in) led to running into his teammates, and that Saturday might became much more than picking up takeout.

You still aren’t sure how you caught Aaron’s attention. Spencer told you Aaron’s got a habit of professionalism and remaining stoic for the most part. At the time, you don’t think Aaron’s your type and you left it at that.

But he had asked Spencer to put in a good word with you, shocking both you and Spencer. Despite your reservations about dating because of medical training and other commitments, you gave in.

Aaron’s been the easiest person to be with. He understands your hectic schedule because of his own line of work and understands that there will be times when neither of you are able to prioritize the relationship for a few days.

And it works. It works so well that Aaron asked you to marry him.

This house is on a property you’d bought when the both of you first decided to move into a house instead of Aaron’s large apartment. Years of savings (we well as publishing rights, conferences for your method, and your general salary) allowed you to purchase land and build your dream house in your dream neighborhood.

The both of you moved in six months ago with no hiccups. A few boxes have been left unopened but for the most part, you’ve stuck to decorating the interior in your free time. You keep to yourself mostly, letting Aaron do the mingling with your neighbors and introducing yourself when necessary. But everyone here seems to be friendly and they seem to love the two of you. You’ve got everything you could ever want. A loving husband, a thrilling career, and your dream home.

You have to remind yourself of that when three young women sublease the rooms in the house across your street.

They’re young, pretty, and far too interested in your husband than you’d care for.

Poor Aaron doesn’t know what you mean when you ask him if you think those girls are spending too much time in small bikinis in their driveway and front yard, washing cars or sunbathing where he could see. Aaron had been truthful when he told you he wasn’t aware that they were out for some of the day and you know his eyes don’t wander, yet it doesn’t quell your worries.

But you know these girls and their intentions. You’ve been there before, vying for the attention of a boy you had a crush on. However, the object of their affection is married. To you.

You find it disrespectful above all else.

The girls ring your doorbell just before dusk on a Friday night and the both of you are wrapped in a blanket on the couch, choosing what to order for takeout because you’re both too tired to go out and cook. You’re about to get up when Aaron tells you he’s got it. He slips from underneath you and you’re able to tell by the incessant giggling that it’s the girls from next door.

“Hi,” Girl One says.

“Can I help you?” Aaron asks quizzically.

“We’re new to the neighborhood and wanted to introduce ourselves,” Girl Two explains before they introduce their names that you don’t bother to remember.

“Just wanted to show our neighbors we care by giving out cookies,” Girl Three announces. You watch as Aaron accepts a plate of tin foil-covered cookies when she pushes it into his hands.

“Oh. Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it,” Girl Two replies.

“Well if you need anything, we live across from you in the 952 house,” Girl One says. Her voice dips and it sounds eerily seductive.

“Thanks,” Aaron says curtly before closing the door on them.

He comes back to the living room with a confused expression and holds the paper in plate in front of him. You roll your eyes when you see they’ve tucked a small handwritten card beneath the foil and pluck it out when Aaron sets the cookies onto the coffee table.

“Hey neighbor,” you read aloud. “Enjoy the cookies. You know where to find us if you want more.” You take notice of who they addressed it to and toss the card to the side, dismissing the plate in front of you. “Are they aware you have a wife?”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Aaron says, pulling you onto his lap. You squeal in surprise and latch yourself onto him with your arms around his neck, his own fingers raking the sides of your body from underneath your (his) t-shirt. “I don’t want anyone else but you. I’m not looking at them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I love my hot, sexy, neurosurgeon of a wife, even if she prefers to hang out with my team over me.”

He’s uncharacteristically charming in an extremely cliche way. You see the glint in Aaron’s eyes and smack the back of his head gingerly, much to his amusement. He attaches his lips to your neck, peppering slow kisses to your sweet spots and you have a hard time trying to remember why you were so worked up in the first place.

***

It’s a hot Sunday morning when you tell Aaron you’re meeting a friend for brunch before offering to cover groceries for the week ahead. He kisses you goodbye without worry and you blow a kiss at him from your spot on the driveway before you meet your friend twenty minutes from your neighborhood.

Coming back home feels like somewhat of a nuisance when you see your neighbors barely covered in bikinis and white tops that seem to end mid-torso. But you give them credit anyway, their Jeep looks as clean as can be.

You’re somewhat mortified when Aaron meets you outside upon hearing the garage door open. The girls are not subtle with their side-eyeing and you’re aware they’d much rather stare at your husband all day than wash their car.

It doesn’t help that he’s wearing grey sweats and a tight fitting shirt either. Not even you can stop your staring and Aaron looks at you from beside the car when he catches you taking his figure from where you’re standing.

“You’re not very subtle about it either,” Aaron teases, taking the grocery bags out of your hands.

“Well, I’m your wife,” you say with a blush after having been caught despite having your relationship. “I get to stare.”

“I love it when you’re jealous, baby.” You roll your eyes at his attempt at a joke.

“I’m not jealous.” You hold the finger with your wedding hand. “I don’t particularly enjoy these girls assuming I’m temporary, though.”

“Well you aren’t,” he reassures. “You’re Rossi’s favorite out of the two of us, so you aren’t going anywhere.”

“Speaking of Rossi, does he still need up to bring dessert for his party?”

“I scheduled to pick it up on the way to his place.”

You grab the other bags.

“Let’s go inside,” Aaron says as he gives you a quick kiss. “I’m not particularly interested in watching topless girls wash their car. Unless you want to change into a bikini and wash the Porsche?”

You smack Aaron’s shoulder but he just laughs.

***

Dave proposed a nice evening with the team and their significant others after months of being unable to plan a day where everyone was free. You aren’t sure how everyone’s schedule has aligned as perfectly as tonight’s, but you’re looking forward to seeing everyone.

Aaron’s dressed like he’s ready to break hearts and so are you. His black suit compliments your black dress and he finds it impossible to keep his hands off of you on the drive to Rossi’s.

The upscale bakery from down the block has the desserts aligned in boxes for you when the both of you pick them up. You’re dismayed when you see the girls waiting for their order as well, but you pay no mind as Aaron waits for the last box.

“He keeps looking at me whenever we’re outside,” Girl One says in a not-so-hushed tone. It’s entertaining, really. “I’m pretty sure I could convince him to cheat on his wife when she’s gone.”

The girls erupt in giggles and you do your best to keep your composure and to avoid rolling your eyes for the umpteenth time. Aaron finishes paying and the both of you resume your ride to Dave’s without a word.

“So, I’m definitely not going to cheat on you,” Aaron says between the silence. He says it so fast out of nerves that you almost miss it.

“I know,” you say when he brings your hand to his lips.

“As in, I’m quite in love with you and don’t have eyes for anyone else.”

“Baby,” you say, squeezing his hand. “I know. It’s just annoying above anything else.”

“Let’s just get to Rossi’s and have a fun night, yeah?” Aaron says.

The party was brilliant and you come home feeling as elated as ever. It’s two in the morning and you’ve had your fair share of champagne and wine, leaving Aaron the designated driver for the evening.

You get out of the car quick than Aaron does to his confusion. You make you way around the hood of the car and throw your arms around Aaron’s neck, thanking him for being the perfect date and the perfect husband. He laughs and kisses your forehead, mumbling a quick ‘I love you’ into your cheek before pulling you into the house by your hand.

Aaron’s not oblivious. He sees the light to one of their bedrooms flicker on and three faint shadows from behind the sheer curtain. He knows they’re watching the two of you and when he sees one of the girls accidentally rise above the others, he pulls you into him and holds your waist with a tight grip.

You’re pressed against the car door when Aaron puts his mouth on yours. He grips your hips and you whimper against him. It’s enough for him to pull you through the front door and into the bedroom because there’s nothing he wants to do more than make a sweet love to his wife.

Aaron just hopes the girls get the idea.

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You forgot your lunch at home, so simon decides to show up at your workplace with it and like the dumbass he is still has some gear on, the eyepaint and skeleton balaclava so all of your coworkers are gossiping about the very scary but

V e r y hot guy arguing with security that he's just here to meet his S/O, and not cause trouble. Of course you've never mentioned that your partner was a 6'2+ military British guy so you have a LOT of questions to answer once he finally manages to leave without the cops being called.

The way I squealed when I saw this in my inbox - this is the cutest thing I've ever seen. Nonnie your brain is delicious.

Lunch Date - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Strong language - no other warnings apply.

The strangest things can become close friends to us should we experience them enough. What is normal for one, might be outlandishly alarming for another, and vice versa. For Simon those things included; Death, Duty, and an M27. So when he returned from the base after a rough training exercise, still kitted out in full tac gear, balaclava and all; he didn’t even think when he spotted your carefully prepped lunch bag on the counter top. He simply sighed, huffed something under his breath that resembled ‘she won’t eat', and wandered out the door without a second thought.

It didn’t strike him until the moment he wandered in front of the reception, swiftly confronted by two aggressive security guards pointing guns at him, that he had wandered in there dressed like some sort of terrorist.

He doesn’t even get as far as asking for you, the first you hear of it is when Sandy comes back up to the office from her lunch break with a startled look on her face and the team flock to her for the gossip.

“There’s some insane man here with a suspicious package.” She whispers, excitement laced underneath her frightened tone “Security are dealing with him, but he’s huge - and, why the hell would someone want to target this place? I mean, we have nothing here but a broken coffee machine and a stack of unfinished paperwork.”

“A bomb might actually solve that paperwork problem” Another of your co-workers mumbles grumpily.

You don’t make any kind of connection until Sandy utters something about ‘dressed as a skeleton’ and your ears prick up.

“A skeleton?”

“Yeah - big skull painted on his balaclava. Do you think he’s with some sort of gang?”

Any sane person would have stayed in the office, but your gut told you that this was no normal skull balaclava wearing intruder. This was your skull balaclava wearing intruder.

You race down the stairs and spot Simon, less than gracefully, attempting to avoid confusion with the security guards. They have their guns raised, but instead of putting his arms by the side of his head like anyone else would, out of instinct. Simon was waving them around as he loudly declared his innocence to them.

One of the guards attempts to step closer to him, shouting for him to get out of the building and nudging him in the shoulder with the butt of his gun. Simon barely moves under the smaller man's strength and instead responds by pushing the man in his chest and knocking him clean onto the floor.

“Don’t fucking touch me-” He spits “You fucking muppets.”

“Simon!” You shout, attempting to draw his attention and prevent him from escalating the situation anymore.

His head snaps to you and his shoulders instantly drop from their tightened position on his shoulders. You get a good look at him as you run to his side. It’s true, he still has on his balaclava. He still has everything on - black face paint and all.

Why the fuck was he here dressed like that.

“You know this clown?” The second security guard shouts over to you as he helps his friend off the floor.

“Clown!?” Simon questions aggressively taking a step towards the men, they take a few hasty steps backwards.

“Babe.” You manage to reach him and grab hold of his shoulders just in time. You use what strength you can to influence him and force him to turn towards you. “What the fuck are you doing here in your work gear?”

“I didn’t fucking realise-” Simon, waves his hands defeatedly “-And this pair of fuckwits wouldn’t let me explain that I’m just here to drop off some sandwiches and a packet of fucking crisps.”

“Simon, you still have knives strapped across your chest - what are they supposed to think?”

He doesn’t seem to have a response, instead he simply holds out your lunch bag for you to take, as innocently as if he were here dressed in a casual pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

“I also got you a coffee on the way, it’ll be cold now.” He extends his other arm with the to-go cup and looks accusingly at the two guards.

“You really came all the way out here like this just to give me my lunch?”

He shrugs, “I knew you wouldn’t eat, if I didn't.”

Your heart melts. Simon Riley was an expert and tactical killer, cut an imposing and intimidating figure, and donned a disguise in which he compares himself to the likeness of a lifeless being - but he came all the way out here just to make sure you’d eat.

You reach up and grab the edge of his balaclava, slowly pulling it over his head as he looks down at you. Once it’s off you can see the love drunk smirk that has settled on one side of his lips. You reach up, leaning forward onto your toes, to meet his lips in a sweet and simple kiss. As you drop back down onto your heels you find Simon’s face in the exact same grin, but with his eyes closed as if he was savouring you for a moment longer. His eyes open slowly.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

“See you at home, gorgeous.” He responds simply, affection thick in his tone.

He throws one last look of boyish anger towards the security guards as he backs away slowly, before turning and exiting the building.

As you return to the office your head is turned downwards in a daydream-like state.

That sweet, sweet man.

Your gaze turns upward as you head through the double doors, you find a group of gossiping women waiting to corner you - led by none other than a cross-armed Sandy.

“Who the hell was that?”

“No one.” You shrug, placing your lunch and coffee on your desk.

“No one?” Sandy questions “No, no, no, no. Some 7-foot god shows up here dressed like he’s ready to kill us all, brings you lunch, and looks at you all googly eyed. You do not get out of telling us about this... Sit. Down."

Sigh,

This was going to be a long afternoon.

[constantwritingblock]

Ghost w/ a Petite S/O

Warnings: 18+, mention of size kink, Reader is small, no pronouns used for Reader except 'you', mention of spooning, mentions of smut, pet names, mentions of possessiveness, abuse of strength (but it's consensual), just Ghost in love

Size kink.

He loves how much smaller than him you are. Also can’t believe how small you are.

Pulls you to sleep on top of him when you’re in bed, or cocoons himself around you, putting himself between you and potential threats.

Is always the big spoon. No compromise.

Loves comparing how large his hands are to any part of your body.

Makes you sit on his lap when others are around (given they know you’re dating) because he’s just that proud to be your boyfriend.

Also makes you sit on his lap when you’re alone.

Likes when you shift in just the right way so that you catch him.

Usually ends up in you two doing the deed.

Calls you pet names like “Doll”, “Prince/Princess,” “Tiny,” “Small,” when you’re alone.

He tries not to let you get too involved with the people he works with.

Lowkey fears that doing so will make you more accessible to whoever he’s sent to hunt down next.

Uses his immense size to shield you from the view of anyone he doesn’t want seeing you, or the weather if you’re out and about and it’s cold.

P o s s e s s i v e.

Hugs you at any given opportunity (usually in private, though).

Has a penchant for pinning you down and watching you “struggle” to escape his grip.

Definitely gets off to being way stronger than you.

And you do too, to be honest.

Loves when you come and give him back hugs because your arms are too small to fit all the way around him.

Will absolutely melt if you tell him he makes you feel safe.

Gives his life purpose.

He just loves you so much.

Would do anything for you.

Except put everything out of your reach on a lower shelf.

He adores the way you have to come and ask him to pass you things because you’re too small to reach them.

Half does it because he likes you being reliant on him, half because he finds great pleasure in the way your body rubs against his when he’s stood behind you, pressing you into the counter as he reaches above you to pass you whatever it is you were asking for.

This also usually leads to very long nights.

Sometimes you do this just to get him hot and bothered lol.

Speaking of, he gets off on how big his cock is compared to you.

Lives for the way your stomach bulges when he’s inside you.

Always gentle with you (unless you ask him not to be, but even then he’ll hold back until he’s seen how well you can take his full strength).

Worries that you’d be vulnerable when he’s not around, though.

Teaches you how to defend yourself in his absence.

All in all, would tear the stars from the sky for you if you asked him to.

Loves you unconditionally and unfathomably.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist

Masterpost

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perhaps, ghost/ a masked reader?

Thank you for the request! I had a lot of fun writing this! Please excuse the delay! I hope you have a great holiday!!! Thank you for letting me doing this request! The only difference I gave, was the reader has a Codename: Grim and a slight background, but it is very vague on the details. Hope you enjoy!

Ghost x Masked!Reader

Drown In You

“So… You wear a mask too?”

Soap seems completely baffled by the presence of yet another member joining their Task Force…

Who is always masked.

Though the mask isn’t anything like their Lieutenant’s… It’s black, covering most of her face, he can see her eyes, and though they are a striking beautiful color…

He is drawn to the paint that covers where her mouth is. It’s a smeared crimson reminding him of his youth; where kisses lingered for too long and he wore prints of where his lovers lips laid - with a wicked Cheshire like grin, spread from ear to ear.

And if he thought Ghost’s mask was creepy.

He would be wrong.

“I do, what’s it to you?”

“Are you ugly?” He repeats the words he had spoken to Ghost, hoping to get a reaction… To get a feel for the newest member.

“Not in the slightest.”

“So, why the mask?”

“Why does it bother you so much?”

“It doesn’t… So, what do we call you?”

“Grim.”

“Grim?”

“Yes.”

“Like the Grim Reaper?”

“Could be, guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

She fits right into the team – as if she had been part of the team since day one.

She’s quiet, doesn’t overly talk too much…

As time moves on, and she becomes like a third member of Ghost and Soap’s party, she starts to become part of their banter.

And finds herself teasing the masked Lieutenant and Sergeant at any given opportunity.

Her tongue is laced with venom, watching as Soap falls victim to her words.

Ghost can appreciate anyone who puts the Scottish man in his place.

She has managed to weasel her way to Ghost’s side…

“She has a wicked eye, MacTavish… She would be a good sniper, to have our backs.”

Soap can’t believe the complement.

But he holds judgement – for where judgement is due.

-

“So, what do you know of our lovely new member?” Soap leans into Gaz’s side, while the team is in the air – waiting to get home.

He watches from the corner of his eye as Grim stills close to Ghost, but not close enough to invade his space.

The mission had been successful – too successful for Soap’s liking, it left an odd feeling like bitter milk sitting on the back of his tongue.

And he hated milk.

Grim, had taken down any enemy that stood in their way.

She was good – REALLY good.

But just as she was good with a rifle, she had proven she was just as good with hand to hand, and even more crazed with a knife.

Soap could still feel his blood running wild at the sight he witnessed.

“You’re never gonna let this go, are you?” He answers the Scottish Sergeant with an eye roll.

“Nope,” he leans back, resting his head against the metal frame of the aircraft’s walls, “We’ve already got to deal with one masked loony… And now, another?”

“So, you’re calling her crazy?”

“Did you see the mess, she left? When I finally got to her, she just shrugged her shoulders and walked off… She’s mad I’m telling you, probably could put Ghost there to shame.”

“So, what if she is masked? Maybe she has scars?” Soap shrugged, “No… There is defiantly something going on beneath that mask.”

-

She’s watching him.

It’s become something supernatural to her as if by some force of nature, she is drawn to him… She doesn’t remember when, and she doesn’t remember how it all started.

But she feels it.

And it’s unsettling to her in every sense of the matter.

She’s grateful for the mask – it can hide the blush, hide the smile that takes her by surprise every time he draws near.

Every time he speaks.

His voice is rough and gravely.

If she could play it on repeat.

She knows it would keep the nightmares at bay.

His height is overpowering.

It’s meant to make men tremble before him

And yet, she finds herself wanting to be caged in his shadow.

His presence as strange as it sounds inside her head – is soothing.

Fuck, she is grateful for the mask.

But…

Now, she has never wanted to rip her mask off more and breathe in the air around her; she can feel her mouthwatering…

It’s training day.

Price told them, they needed to stay sharp.

With the looming threat of General Shepard and now Makarovs’s face has reappeared… It was only time before a training day, was bound to happen.

Currently Ghost has made multiple recruits tap out in shame.

“Grim!”

Price yells over the chaos.

Now – she is more than grateful for the mask.

“Yes, sir?” She steps into the space of men.

“You and Ghost…”

Fucking hell.

Ghost powers her in strength and height…

But she is wiry, flexible, and sharp.

She uses it to her advantage.

-

She watches him.

And he watches her.

They circle each other; muscles tense as the sun beats down on already kissed soaked skin.

She can taste the salt in the air.

He’s stepping closer.

She can see where his eyes move – studying her movements.

He’s waiting.

But she’ll wait him out, till his nerves grow tiresome and he grows bored…

She knows the game.

And knows that Ghost has little patience when it comes to training day.

“Fuck this,” he lunges forward.

And that’s when she finds her moment to strike, and she sees it – the sliver of weakness, all have.

Punches, and kicks are connected.

She can taste the blood, as she feels the sting burning with her split lip.

She can feel the bruises forming, beneath her shirt where fist connected with ribs.

She steps back, rolling her shoulders as they square away again.

“You’re starting to piss me off, little Grim,” Ghost’s voice is bitter, it’s exhausted from the heat of the sun, it’s laced with annoyance.

“That’s the point, Ghosty…” She sets her fists, “Thought a big man like you, would have caught on by now…”

Ghost stops, matching her stance, “You’re asking for it, girly.”

“Let’s go big man, ain’t got all day… I can already see you’re starting to wither away the longer we stand here.”

“I’m gonna wipe that smirk right off your face.”

“Let’s go handsome.”

“Uh… Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Gaz whispers to Soap.

“Did Ghost just get his ass handed to him by Grim?”

“Looks like it.”

“Should we walk away?”

“Would probably be best.”

“Fuck he looks angry.”

“Let’s run for it.”

-

She’s straddling his hips, hands pinned above his head, legs wrapped like scissors so tightly around his waist…

She hovers over him, breath mingling beneath the mask, “Well who would have thought?” Her eyes crinkle as she feels herself smiling.

“Thought what?”

“You have the prettiest eyes,” she meets his gaze, and winks.

“Get off.”

“Do you tap out?”

Ghost gives her pause; he can feel his heartbeat in his throat, can hear the blood rushing through his veins.

Can smell her perfume.

Vanilla and strawberry.

And he was never so grateful for his mask.

Wiggling his arm free, and eyes never leaving hers, he taps his hand against the hard floor.

-

“Shit, what am I doing?” She’s pacing outside his door, hands wrapping around her torso, so tightly, she feels restricted of air.

Fuck, this mask has never felt more uncomfortable.

She wanted to apologize.

Wanted to talk to him.

Wanted to try to make amends.

It had been a day since the training incident, and Ghost has been avoiding her and her every waking moment.

She suddenly feels uncomfortable in her own skin.

And the scars beneath the mask itch with a renewed flame.

She can feel her hands growing sweaty, feel the anxiety creeping up and settling only skin deep.

And she was ready to crawl at her skin till she bleed.

“Are you going to keep pacing outside my door, or are you going to come in?”

His voice is muffled from the door, but it sounds as if he stood there, waiting.

Her hand hovers over the doorknob, and she contemplates for a brief second if she should make a run for it.

“Just get it over and done with,” she whispers to herself, opening the door.

His room is just as she thought it would be.

Clean…

Bare…

As if he barely lived in his room…

Her eyes scan the room once, till she found what she was looking for.

He is laying on his bed, dressed in a light shift, the usual hard white skull mask as been switched out for his usual black balaclava.

“Ghost?” She whispers into the room, almost afraid to disturbed the peace.

“Why do you wear a mask?” He speaks into the chilly air surrounding him.

The question catches her off guard, but one she waiting for.

She closes the door behind her, “Why do you?”

“I asked first.”

“I’ll answer, if you do.”

Ghost sighs heavily, and she can hear the clocks turning the longer he thinks…

“I don’t want anyone to see the real me… It’s better that the world doesn’t know the real you… Even the people you trust can still betray you.”

She listened to him.

As if he speaking poetry… She could hear the disgust in his voice, the mask could only hide so much, and she knew from experience…

He was slowly barely his soul.

She watched as the skull mask faced her, “Your turn.”

“May I?” She pointed to the bed.

“Might as well,” he moved his leg giving her space.

She sat down…

Feeling a wave of dizziness cross her eyes as she was surrounded by everything Ghost.

His scent.

His voice.

His presence.

Staring into her lap, she traced over her fingertips, trying to figure out how best to recall the moment she put on the mask.

She didn’t want to beat around the bush.

Ghost was her Lieutenant.

Her teammate.

And in turn, she wanted him to trust her to have his back.

Even if these wild feelings that had been growing and nagging at her for the months since she joined would be laid to rest in silence.

She still wanted to earn his trust.

“My last team…” She started, clearing her throat, “Our Captain betrayed us…”

Might as well rip off the bandage.

Her hands trembled as they reached towards her mask, the fabric – suddenly felt glued to her skin.

She felt heated under his gaze.

“I had been sent in to gather intel… I got the intel,” she began rolling the mask off, revealing her neck, chin, and lips.

Ghost could feel the breath in his lungs growing colder by the moment.

He could see the scars – they were scattered, not many… But he could understand, why she feared.

“But my Captain cornered me in a room, with members of the enemy we had been targeting… And beat me an inch from my life.”

She took in a deep breath of air, as if it was the first time, and lifted the rest of the mask off.

Her hair was loose, wavy, messy… But she ran her fingers through it and relished in the feeling of freedom.

The mask sat heavily in her hands.

Her eyes remained glue to the flimsy fabric, so ridden from years of wear and tear, she could see holes starting to form.

“When I came too, my team apparently had found me and carried me out… Our Captain was in the wind, and we haven’t been able to find him since.”

She felt the sudden shift on Ghost’s bed, as he moved around to sit beside her.

“Look at me,” his voice was soft, not demanding like she was used to.

Looking up to meet honey-colored eyes, she felt her heart sinking at what a mess she must have looked in front of him.

And felt her heart launch in throat.

Ghost had lifted his mask, just above his lips, and she was star-struck by the strong lines that created his face.

“Beautiful,” he reached out, ever so softly, taking her chin between his fingers.

She wasn’t ready for it.

Oh, she had dreamed of it.

But it was still a shock to her system.

His lips were soft, so warm, and so inviting.

She trembled beneath his touch, her scarred skin so sensitive to touch, she had nearly forgotten what another’s touch felt like.

When her lungs demanded air, she pulled away ever so slightly.

“It’s nice to meet you love, my name is Simon Riley,” he gave her one of his rare and genuine smiles.

“Simon Riley,” she repeated his name, and he thought it sounded like heaven.

He wanted to hear it again.

“But why me?” She studied him, “You told me before about trust… I don’t understand…”

Simon sighed heavily, leaving the mask above his lips, his eyes sincere, “Because I’m learning… As long as you’ve got my back, I’ve got your back, deal?”

She smiled, bringing her lips close to his, “Deal.”

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May I request a thing for Simon where the 141 meet his spouse and they're like the opposite of him very friendly and is like wearing pink(or bright colors pink is just my favorite) ik it's cliché but I love the opposites attract moments 💖

did you say.. cliché? you have my attention already >:)

Summary: The 141 meets Simon's girlfriend and learns that opposites really do attract.

WC: 1,175

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Warning(s): Not beta-read by anyone so let me know if there are any insane errors lmao

You weren’t expecting Simon to be home for... Well, you never really knew how long. When he leaves, he always assures you that he’ll be back. But it’s always a guessing game when it comes to his return.

So when you heard a vehicle pull up to the property at nearly 1 am, you couldn’t help but assume the worst. You hadn’t heard from Simon today, so it couldn’t be him.

When you and Simon got together and you learned about his job, he told you from the get-go that if you ever moved in together, he was taking you far from the city. It was to protect you and keep you as far away from his work as possible.

He wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

You hear chatter of male voices outside, and when you peer out the window and look around, you sigh in relief when you see his mask in the distance. He was with a few other men, and you trusted that they were friendly. 

Multiple sets of heavy boots can be heard entering your home, and when you walk down the hallway and into the living room and kitchen area, you’re met with Simon’s gaze along with three others who looked… surprised and almost bewildered, to say the least.

You were clad in pink, satin pajamas, and you had fuzzy slippers on your feet. Quite the contrast to your boyfriend and his crew that stood in front of you.

“Did we wake you?” Simon asks, and while his voice is still gruff, it’s... different.

It’s a tone that’s reserved just for you.

You shake your head and cross your arms over your chest to preserve some of the warmth from being in bed, and it’s hard to ignore the other pairs of eyes that are looking between you and Simon.

“No, I was up already.” You assure Simon, and he gives you a small nod before he takes off his helmet and headset and puts them down on the table near the front door, so he was left in just his balaclava. He’s not convinced, but he leaves it at that. 

“Okay, uh- you two know each other?” The man with the mohawk and scottish accent asks, and he��s pointing a finger and motioning between you and Simon.

You hear a small grunt come from Simon, and he looks at the men beside him before he turns to you.

“Y/N, this is Soap, Gaz, and Price. We needed somewhere to lay low for the night.” Simon explains, and you nod while giving the guys a small wave, which they return, along with a few nods of their heads.

“Wait, so… Ghost, you’ve had a misses all this time? And we didn’t know?” Gaz asks, and you can’t help the grin that rises to your lips.

“If I had it my way, it would have stayed like that.” Simon replies while he takes off his gloves and drops his bag to the ground, and he takes his boots off.

“All due respect, but.. How does someone like you, meet someone like Ghost?” Soap asks, and Simon shoots him a look. 

You laugh, though, and shake your head in amusement while you move over to the kitchen table and take a seat. 

“I’m sure the Ghost you know in the field is much different than my Simon.” You tell them, and Simon grumbles a quiet “boots off” to the others, who quickly work on leaving their boots at the door.

“But, uh, you boys are free to wash up here, the loo’s down the hall and there’s linens in the closet.” You tell the crew with a kind smile, and Gaz is quick to call dibs on showering first, and he makes his way to the bathroom.

You stand up while Simon makes his way down the hall and to the bedroom, and you turn to look at Soap and Price.

“You guys help yourself to the kitchen, yeah?” You tell them, and the two of them nod while you catch up to Simon in your bedroom.

Simon was taking off his gear when you entered the bedroom, and you shut the door behind you. In turn, he removes the balaclava with a small sigh. You can tell that he’s tired, but you’re glad to have him home. Even if it’s just for the night.

Simon is seated on the edge of the bed as you walk over to him, and when you stand between his legs, he presses his head against your abdomen with a content sigh.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to meet them. I want to know whose hands you’re in when you’re gone.” You tell him softly, meanwhile your hands find their way to Simon’s hair that’s messy from being covered for who knows how long. You’d always wanted to meet the guys that Simon worked with. And after meeting them for just a few minutes, you know he’s in good hands. Even if one is named… Soap.

“They’re idiots. Except Price.” Simon mutters against you, and you let out a soft laugh while you continue to mess with his hair.

“Well, they must be okay if you’re bringing them here.” You try to reason with him, and you just receive a huff in return. 

Simon tilts his head to look up at you then, and you reach down to gently rub away some of the black paint from his eye with your thumb.

“It’s not that hard to believe that we’re together, right?” You ask him with a small grin, and Simon rolls his eyes in amusement.

“I don’t know. You’re like.. A care bear, and I’m-”

“Simon!” You laugh, not letting him finish his sentence. You could swear you heard him laugh too, and you lean down to kiss his forehead.

You pull away then, and you give his shoulder a little nudge.

“Go take a shower. You smell like.. I don’t know. But I just washed the sheets and you’re not getting in bed like this, as much as I love you.” You tell Simon, and he stands up and heads for the ensuite to clean himself up after letting out a quiet huff of laughter.

While Simon cleaned up, you decided to sit down in the living room with the others and actually talk with them. Both Gaz and Soap had taken quick showers and came out to sit with you while Price was still cleaning up.

“Does he ever smile?”

“Does he sleep in that thing?”

“Have you ever gotten him to wear pink too?”

“Shut up or both of you are sleeping outside.” Simon calls from your bedroom, obviously having heard your conversation.

You laugh at his comment and get up, telling Gaz and Soap that you were going to get some blankets for them to use during the night.

As puzzled as they were when they first met you, Simon's squad mates are happy that he has someone to go home to. No one can be a lone wolf forever.

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introduction: a comprehensive guide of anything and everything relating to spending the night with leroy jethro gibbs. i’ve been writing and headcanoning gibbs for about four years now, so i’m basically an expert. so i’ll impart my wisdom upon all you gibbs fuckers out there. half-headcanon, half-character breakdown on how gibbs breaks your back.

table of contents

rule 9 - never assume (smashing stereotypes)

rule 1.2 - never screw over your partner (courtship)

rule 20 - always look under (this is his rifle)

rule 23 - never mess with a marine’s coffee (what he likes)

rule 38 - your case, your lead (doing the do)

rule 45 - clean up the mess that you make (or: aftercare)

conclusion

Keep reading

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NCIS - Gibbs: Jealousy

Imagine: Jealousy Word Count: 1637 Fandom: NCIS Pairing: Gibbs x Reader Rating: Teen Gif: Not Mine Requested: @anycsirp Prompt: Ok so can u maybe write something with Gibbsxreader where the reader gets jealous of maybe one of gibbs ex wife’s or someone else that flirts with gibbs bc no one knows about them dating

The bullpen is eerily quiet when you walk into it, fresh from your afternoon coffee run. This is surprising for two reasons; the first being, you’d hardly been gone a full ten minutes and second, because you expected the rest of your team to be at their desks, seeing as you were in the middle of an investigation.  DiNozzo’s desk is littered with papers, no doubt from the notes you’d seen him taking from the crime scene. McGee’s is less so, opting to go with taking notes on his phone, and only the important stuff goes onto paper. Bishop’s looks as though she never came into work today, with the blonde agent preferring to use her techno-savvy self to take notes on whatever electronic device she’s using at that moment. You place your coffee cup on your desk and walk around to settle down in your chair, ready to do more research on your victim.  Ten minutes pass and there’s still no word from either your teammates or your team leader. You have half a mind to go searching for them, but decide against it; they could be following up on leads… Another five minutes pass before you hear scrambling. You look up to find your three teammates looking at you, guilt and excitement gracing their expressions. You’re about to ask just what’s got their panties in such a twist when you hear Gibbs’ voice at the other end of the room. You look up, only to see your teammates gazes laser focused in the direction of Gibb’s voice. They’re behaving weirdly, more so than usual, so you decide to check out what has caught their attention so completely. You follow their lines of sight until you see it.

Keep reading

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Squad Room Slumber

gif is not mine

Pairing: Gibbs x Reader

Word Count: 847

Warnings: fluff

A/N: This wasn’t requested but I had the muse to write this and I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! :)

It was late at night and you were stuck at the office.  Since someone was after Gibbs’ female co-workers, you weren’t allowed to leave the building.  You had stayed the night at the office before, but this was different.  This time you didn’t have the option to leave and you didn’t have a bed to sleep in either.

You envied Tony as he stood up and stretched his limbs.  The very special agent was gathering his things to leave and you could only think about how he was going to go home for at least a couple of hours.  You missed your bed dearly.

“Don’t stay up too late [Y/N],” DiNozzo teased.  “I’m sure you’ll have pleasant dreams while I’m gone.  I know I will.”

You shot Tony a displeased glare as you leaned back in your chair.  When Gibbs came up to the two of you, he slapped the back of Tony’s head and continued towards his desk.  You stuck your tongue out at Tony, who only mimicked your action in return.

“I’m gonna go get some coffee,” Gibbs mumbled.  “You want anything [Y/N]?”

“No thanks Gibbs,” you politely declined.  “I think I’ll just relax for the time being.  Can you do me a favor though?”

Gibbs stopped in front of your desk and raised an eyebrow at you.  “Depends,” was Gibbs’ low reply.

Keep reading

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Not Yours, But His.

Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader (One Sided)

Author’s Note: Just something I’d been rattling in my brain. 

Keep reading

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I often wonder what happened to authors of unfinished fanfictions.

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Stolen Worlds rewrite

Hi it has been a while, but I am thinking of moving and doing some rewrites to Stolen Worlds and publishing on AO3 instead. I want to get all the chapters done that have already been uploaded first, as well as a new one for those who have liked the series.

I shall link it in a new post once it's up. Reply to this post if you wish to be tagged when it goes live on AO3 :3

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casual competition

Poly!Marauders x fem!reader. Sub!Reader, dom!marauders. Casual dominance, d/s dynamic, pet names, no explicit smut.

word count: 1.3k

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius calls, rushing down the stairs after the boy, leaving Remus to finish getting ready in the dorm alone.

“Yeah?” The bespectacled male slows his descent, allowing Sirius to catch up. When he does, he leans in close, a grin on his face.

Keep reading