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#Simone ghost riley x you
ghostlychief · 1 year
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Scary Dog Privilege
Pairing: one shot; Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader
Wc: 1,100+
Warnings: none; just some guy being annoying; fluff
Summary: Ghost being protective when you go to a bar
A/N: Ok, this idea for this drabble came about when i had a scary incident happen to me on public transportation. In the moment, i was thinking how nice would it be to have a large scary looking dog with me bc men always find a way to make you feel uncomfortable and scared. It really sucks that we have to turn towards other men to "protect" us because men don't take no for an answer or simply will just not leave us alone. But this is fantasy land, so I'll allow it this time.
Anyways, here is a short drabble lmao. Hope you enjoy! <3
-Lee
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To say that Ghost had a staring problem, was a little inaccurate. It’s not like he was on one of the most skilled, and covert teams in existence or anything. He was trained to have a good eye, and follow his target with precision. It just so happened that whenever you two went out, you became his target, and stole away all his attention.
One way you liked to rewind after a mission was to go out drinking with your friends, or occasionally, squad 141. This was how you coped, let loose, hell, forget about all the terrible shit you saw on a daily basis. And seeing that Ghost was your boyfriend, he usually (always) tagged along with you when you went out.
Why did he come with you every time?
One might say he also wanted to blow off some steam, and what better way than alcohol? And for you, what better way than dancing, and being carefree with your friends?
Others might say that he couldn’t let you out of his sight. He was very conscious of his surroundings, and also the surroundings of everyone around him. Whenever you were in the same room as him, he always had his eye on you, following you, and knew your position within his proximity.
When you were out, whether it be at a bar, restaurant, store, he always slightly blocked you from the view in any doorway, always standing closest to it. Somewhat shielding you with his body.
He would slightly walk in front of you, hand stretched behind him to grasp yours when you were walking on the sidewalk. And of course, he always walked on the side closest to the cars, you were always in the inside of the sidewalk.
If by some chance you weren’t, he would wrap an arm around your shoulder and gently move you over; so now he was on the outside. He kept his arm around you though.
In restaurants, he always sat in the seat where he could see the whole room, and the entrance. You didn’t notice this at first, but on one of your dates when you initially starting dating, he sat in the booth seat. You joked and said, “Oh, usually that’s my spot.”
He didn’t get your reference and simply stated, “What? This is the spot where I can analyze the whole room in case something happens.”
You let him have the booth.
It was no different when you went out. His brooding stare and massive height and size deterred any man who even had the thought to approach you. And on top of that he was always sporting his black, half skull balaclava, which added on to the intimidation he exuded. Great for you, you think. The last thing you wanted to deal with was a random man.
Needless to say, you hated dealing with men while out. Especially drunk, pushy men. And there was always at least one during these occasions.
Tonight, everything was going smoothly, and just as planned, like your usual nights out. You were dancing, and having a good time with your friends, Ghost was somewhere in the near distance, and you didn’t have to look at him to know that his eyes were already on you. You might have thrown in a couple extra moves while dancing.
You seemed so carefree in this moment. All your troubles wiped clean from your face, your body relieving any tension it held. You moved to the beat of the music, drink in your hand. You were drunk by now, the full effects of alcohol finally hitting you.
Suddenly, you felt a hand grasp your waist. At first you thought it was your boyfriend, and you turned around smiling, but only to be met with a much shorter man, with no skull balaclava covering his face.
Immediately your lips turned down, and eyebrows furrowed. Your body flinched at the unfamiliar contact. Leaning away from the man, you waited to see what he wanted.
“Wanna dance?” His lips upturned as he asked this, and his grimy hand was still grasping your waist, and even started to move downward.
Bold move, you think.
“No, I’m good.” At your response, his friendly (more so creepy) smile vanished form his face and his brows started to furrow, signaling to you he was offended, shocked that you would ever reject him.
He started badgering you, trying to get you to dance, and you grew more and more uncomfortable by the minute.
“C’mon, just one dance.”
“What’s the harm?”
He also kept trying to touch you. Something you didn’t appreciate at all, and he wasn’t listening to your no’s.
All of a sudden you feel your body being tugged backwards until you hit a firm chest. Recognizing the smell of your boyfriend, you immediately relaxed into his embrace and place your hand on Ghost’s forearm that was holding you.
“She’s with me, fuck off.” Ghost’s rough voice cuts through the air.
The man’s face pales as he fully takes in Ghost’s presence. He lifts up his arms as if surrendering, then swiftly left, tail in between his legs.
Once he was out of sight, Ghost turned you around and brought up a hand to gently cup your face, tilting it upwards so you could look at him. His thumb rubbed back and forth on your jaw, soothing you.
“Are you alright?” His voice much softer than when telling off that man.
You sigh, “Yeah. Thank you, baby.”
You grant him a sweet smile and then wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.
--
On your walk home, you’re holding Ghost’s hand, swinging your conjoined hands back and forth. Absentmindedly, you say, “You know, you kind of give off scary dog privilege.”
Ghost knows that you’re drunk right now, and he looks down at you to already find you beaming up at him.
“And what do you mean by ‘scary dog privilege’, hm?”
You start gesticulating with your other hand, “You know, if you own a big scary dog like a German shepherd, Rottweiler, Akita, etc., men are less likely to approach you or harass you; i.e., scary dog privilege.”
You hear him hum in acknowledgement and he squeezes your hand.
You bring you other hand up and rest it on his bicep, and lay your head against his shoulder, basically leaning on him as you continue to walk down the street.
“So, what kind of dog am I then?”
“Hmm. Definitely a Cane Corso. They’re known for being noble, intelligent, loyal and strong. All the things you are; but they are also low key the sweetest on the inside. Also like you.”
You feel him let out a brief laugh and he squeezes your hand again.
“Mm, thank you sweetheart.”
You smile against his shoulder and continue walking with him all the way home, the creepy man from before long forgotten.
--
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You stir awake, sighing as you roll over to face your sleeping husband. You sit up, fixing your stretchy shirt over your very swollen belly. You pat Simon’s side. “Si? Si! Si!”
He groans as he wakes up, rolling over and shoving his head into his pillow. “Go back t’ sleep.”
“I want a big mac.”
He groans louder. 
“Please, Si? I’m super hungry. And bubby keeps kicking.”
He sighs, “Look ‘t the time, lovie.”
You almost tear up. 
When he notices the frown on your face, he sighs again, getting up. “Which one is the closest?”
You smile, almost jumping with joy as you lean up to press a million kisses to his cheek. “The one on 42nd.”
He leans down, kissing your belly and your lips before heading off to get dressed. 
He returns 20 minutes later, a bag and 2 drinks in hand. You practically moan at the smell as he hands you the bag. 
“I love you,” you moan as you take a bite of your burger. He chuckles, eating his own. “Bubby loves you too. He’s kicking every time I take a bite.”
“Bet ‘e does.” Simon kisses your belly as you stuff a few fries in your mouth. “Lovie?”
“Yeah?” you ask with a mouth full. 
“Do ya think he’ll like me?”
“For the millionth time, my love, you are nothing like your father. You’re far too kind and too amazing and too sweet. He’s going to love you. Just like I do.”
He chuckles, “Love you too.”
He leans down, kissing your belly. 
“Both of ya annoying little buggers. Always fuckin’ hungry.”
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scribbledghost · 16 days
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You're out walking yours and Simon's dog, Riley, one afternoon when some guy you've never met all but saunters up to you.
He tries to chat you up, laying the flirtation on so thick it congeals into sleaze. You shut him down bluntly at every turn, but unfortunately, he's... determined.
Riley growls as he takes a step closer, the retired military dog pushing himself in front of you with hackles raised and teeth bared.
And still, the stranger doesn't get the hint. He merely huffs out an amused laugh as he looks from Riley to you.
"Didn't realize you had a guard dog -"
Suddenly, his gaze wanders past you. The cocky grin on his face drains away in an instant as he pales.
Like he's seen a Ghost.
"She's got two, mate."
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whateveriwant · 16 days
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NSFW Size Difference HCs with Simon
F!Reader, Part 2, SFW version
“It’s too big” girlfriend 🤝 “I’ll make it fit” boyfriend
Seriously, there’s no such thing as a quickie with this man. Before you have sex, he always has to stretch you out either with a toy or a couple of those thick fingers of his
Speaking of which, you’ve become well acquainted with the taste of his fingers from how many times he’s gagged you with them as he’s fucked you when you have guests over
Oftentimes, he doesn’t even verbally tell you when he’s horny. He’ll just walk up behind you and press his hard cock against your lower back (he calls it “show, don’t tell”)
He’s always teasing you about how small your hands are in comparison to his, especially how you can’t even make your fingers touch as they circle his thick dick :(
Sometimes when he’s going down on you, you think your hips are actually going to dislocate from how far you have to spread them to accommodate for his shoulders
Before he pushes into you, he loves to lay his cock against your stomach and measure how deep inside you he’s going to reach (hint: it’s deep)
Not only is Simon big but he’s strong, meaning one of his favorite positions to fuck you is hoisting you in the air and bouncing you on him
Missionary/mating press can be dangerous because there’s a genuine risk of you getting smothered by his massive chest :(
In a similar vein, good luck trying to kiss this man while you’re having sex because your mouths are nowhere near each other regardless of your position
On more than one occasion, you’ve had to lie to your coworkers/family about the reason you lost your voice. It’s not because you’re sick like you’d said, but rather because your boyfriend had battered the back of your throat with his dick the night before
Truly, there’s no prettier sight in the world to Simon than when you’re lying beneath him, your hands clawing at the bedsheets, little tears sliding down your cheeks as his big cock stretches your pussy open 🥰
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bi-writes · 22 days
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mmmm i have these thoughts about being sorta kinda drunk and hanging out with simon. you're so touchy when you're tipsy, and you're giggly, and you're sitting on the couch next to him, hugging his big arm and pressing little kisses into his shoulder. he doesn't react much, just keeps his eyes trained on the tv as he sips his whiskey; he's so indifferent to your affection, but he never pushes you away, lets you kiss him and touch him and whine and coo, and he never tells you to go away or leave him alone.
you nuzzle your face against his masked cheek, kissing along the cotton fabric there. you're so warm from the alcohol, a little dizzy, and now you're babbling, but he doesn't seem annoyed.
"love you so much, simon," you whine, and he just pats your thigh gently.
"can't ever live without you," you coo, and he squeezes your knee in acknowledgement.
"i'd do anything for you," you whisper into his ear, and he just grunts, pushing his mask up as he takes another long sip of his drink, and you tilt your head to the side, watching him, your pretty, pretty man.
"would you do anything for me?" you ask softly, leaning in close. he licks his scarred lips, but he doesn't look at you yet. "w-would...would you kill for me, simon?"
and then he finally looks at you, dark eyes meeting yours, and you squeak when he wraps that big hand around your waist and tugs you against him.
he smirks, tilting his head to the side. "'v already killed for ya, luv," he says lowly, and this is simon, and simon doesn't lie, and you know by the look in his eyes he doesn't mean this happened at work, either.
suddenly, you feel sober. but his hand tightens, and it lowers, and you swallow when he grabs a handful of your ass and forces your mouth against his.
"now be a good girl. 'n sit down."
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ghostly-whiskey · 18 days
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simon riley who you "meet" through a program where you can send care packages to soldiers. you don't think much of it at first, just a simple package with a few necessities and treats. and along with that, a short, but genuine and handwritten letter thanking the unknown soldier to you for their service.
and when you go to retrieve your mail a few weeks later after getting home from work, brows furrowing together as you shuffle through the stack of envelopes.
bill. another bill. advertisement. paycheck. handwritten addressed envelope from 'ghost'.
your brain doesn't even connect the dots until you are inside, fingers gently picking at the envelope until your able to drag a finger through the seal to open it. a simple piece of what looks like notebook paper is pulled from inside. unfolding it, eyes quickly scan the letter to get an idea what it's about.
you've done plenty of care packages before. never did you get a personalized thank you letter back, so, this was a first. the letter starting off by thank you for the package and that he enjoyed the items, especially the "sweet treats". the two words put in quotations as he referred to what you referred to them as in your own letter. your own brain cringing slightly as you remember what you wrote.
again, thank you for all that you do and enjoy the sweet treats!
and while you expected the letter to end after thanking you, it didn't. additional lines asking about you. the sets of questions ranging from asking how long have you been doing the care packages to general questions about yourself. then, at the very end, after signing off as 'ghost', you couldn't help but notice the chicken scratch of handwriting that added:
p.s. you don't need to respond back if you don't want to, just figured it be nice to get something back in return. thanks again.
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dante-mightdie · 9 days
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i read somewhere that vikings used to gift new brides kittens and immediately thought of viking!simon and a little kitten
big man with small animal? absolutely yes i’m ovulating
c/w: none
you cannot and will not tell me that he will not pick the scrunkliest kitten known to man. little black scruffy thing tucked into his palms and he just puts it in your lap the day after your wedding. mumbles something about tradition before skulking off
he expects you to dump the thing on someone else, not even give little scruff a name. but to his surprise you’re absolutely in love with this little ball of fur. you don’t go anywhere without it, fashioning a little collar for it and speaking to it as if it were your own child
he doesn’t expect you to be in tears when you tell him that the cat didn’t come home last night :( that you’re worried a wolf got to it and you just miss your baby!
huffs and puffs as he hunts around the dark forest, looking for a kitten who may as well be invisible. breathes a sigh of relief when he finds the thing handing on a tree branch. he’d grab it by the scruff before beginning his trek back home,
“ya gave your mum a right scare. don’t do that again.” he’d grunt to the cat who just meows right back at him, tail swishing in the air
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cntloup · 24 days
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18+ MDNI Simon fucking you in a headlock
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You've been obsessed with his arms since day one.
And you finally asked him to do what you wanted for a while.
He made sure that you were comfortable, asking multiple times if you were ok.
And you breathed out 'yes' eagerly each time.
And now here you are as he fucks into your sopping pussy while having you in a headlock, thick veiny arm wrapped around your neck.
The burly mass of muscles puts enough pressure to make you dizzy, increasing the already intense pleasure of his fat cock splitting your weeping cunt open.
His other hand reaches around your body and lands on your sensitive puffy clit, rough fingers circling and pinching it while his wide hips slap against your rear with each ferocious plunge into you.
"You gonna be a good girl and cum f'me?" he grunts into your ear as he feels the ever increasing pressure of your pulsating pussy on his cock.
And you can only hum in response, the razing pleasure too much to bear, too much to let you form any coherent words.
You hold on to his strong arm wrapped around you, nails digging into his bicep and forearm, surely leaving crescent marks on his skin.
The delightful mix of sweet sensations, the aching drag of his thick cock along your sensitive walls repeatedly with the dizzying pleasure of his arm around your neck,
while his swollen red tip viciously attacks your gummy cervix and his calloused fingertips rub against your puffy clit send you to a state of pure engulfing euphoria.
And streams of your juices and cream gush out of you as you let out hiccupped moans, blended with his low growl of sheer pleasure as he fills up your welcoming womb with his seed.
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tacticalprincess · 1 month
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simon and könig being unable to stop bickering for a second, even when they’re balls deep inside of you. they’ve got you in an Eiffel Tower, könig’s cock filling your glossy pussy while simon stuffs your mouth. it took ages of convincing for them to even consider this position, but eventually they decided to put their discrepancies aside for the sake of you, their precious, spoiled little thing. it didn’t last very long though…
“jackhammer much, mate? you’ve got her choking on me over here.” simon points out, his heavy hand stroking your hair soothingly. könig’s using your hips as leverage, bucking into you at a rabid pace, each of his thrusts lurching your body forward and forcing you to take more of simon’s dick down your poor throat. “what happened to treatin’ the princess with care?”
“it’s okay, she likes it. isn’t that right, maus?”
your cheeks warm up as you hum around simon’s dick noncommittally. nothing gets passed the l.t though, and suddenly he’s gripping you by your hair, pulling your mouth off his cock.
“wait, you let him fuck your face?” he asks, sounding genuinely offended.
you wipe the line of spit that trails from your swollen lips all the way to his still hard dick, hovering just out of reach. you huff. “he’s more sadistic than you…” you say sheepishly in response, voice staccato from könig’s thrusts.
“you tellin’ me i’m the soft sex guy? the aftercare fuck?”
“‘s alright, mate.” könig reaches over your naked body to pat his comrade on the shoulder. “youve got boyfriend dick. happens to the best of us.”
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ghostlychief · 1 year
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Weighted Blanket
This is part 2 to Pockets of Peace
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader
Wc: 3.8k+ (First half is in Simon’s POV, second is reader’s POV)
Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of children being victims on a mission (nothing graphic), brief, BRIEF mentions of self harm (this part is italicized if you want to skip OR can read it as wounds from fights or missions; emotionally vulnerable reader and Simon; some fluff; some cuddling
Summary: After your last mission, things changed between you and Ghost. Although feelings shifted and emerged, your quiet routine with the Lieutenant stayed the same. He never failed to provide you with little pockets of peace throughout your tumultuous life, and you treasure these moments, holding them close to your heart. Except this time, it’s you who returns the favor, and offers him a warm embrace to grieve quietly.
A/N: HELLO! Part two to Pockets of Peace is finally here. I really can’t express my gratitude for all the love that fic received. I really appreciate all your likes, comments, and reblogs. Comments are always so fun to read and same goes for the reblog tags <3 This is another purely indulgent fic lmao and I found this part harder to write than the first, so I hope you enjoy it just as much. As mentioned, the first half is written from Simon’s POV, so that was fun to explore and write. Sorry for any typos/grammar mistakes </3
ENJOY!
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Simon didn’t have much to be grateful for in his life. Sure, he was thankful for the camaraderie he found within task 141, and his friendship with Soap (although he will never admit that they’re true friends). Outside of those two things, there wasn’t much, and he was okay with that. Comes with the line of work, he supposed.
It’s hard to trust people when majority end up pointing their gun at you, even after years of working together, training together, living together. Hell, it took him years to feel somewhat comfortable around the task 141 members. When he first joined, he barely talked to anyone except when necessary either when preparing for a mission, or during a mission. Afterwards he would float off to his room and be alone. He ate alone, trained alone (unless sparing was required by Price), he went out alone. Not that he went out a lot, but if he had to leave the base, it was alone. He was somewhat of a recluse, a phantom hiding in the shadows that the team rarely ever saw.
The team member he first grew closest to, not without them trying, was Soap. The outgoing sergeant was able to make a friend out of the standoffish lieutenant, and even got Ghost to crack jokes during missions, a big deal for task force 141. This happened a little over a year and a half after Ghost joined the team. And now fast forward almost seven years later, and here he was, still on task force 141, but with a friend of sorts. That was one thing he was grateful for.
About two years in, he started to eat breakfast when the other team members did. Did he sit with them? No, of course not, but he was eating at the same time, just a few tables away. He started training with the other members more regularly, and on occasion, would coach them and give them tips here and there. And after a mission, he would sometimes tag along with the other men when they went out to a bar to wind down.
--
One night, shortly after you joined task 141, Ghost begrudgingly accepted Soap’s invite to go to a bar with the other male team members. Once they got there and had a few drinks, they were poking fun at him for having a “soft spot” for the new recruit.
He just rolled his eyes at their comments, and muttered “Fuck off,” up until they started talking about your skillset. Specifically, your lack of skills in sparing.
“Well, she certainly could improve her technique. We were sparing the other day, and I almost squashed her like a bug.”
“Yeah, she’s fast, but sure doesn’t know what to do with her speed and size. I pinned her down almost every time.”
“Yeah, last week, I had her in a headlock and almost made her pass out.”
“Hey Ghost, haven’t you been training with her? I’m sure you crush her each time you spar; she doesn’t have a chance against you.”
“Doubt she’s improved at all, even with Ghost’s help.”
Ghost couldn’t help but notice the frequent use of the word ‘almost,’ and at this point, he had enough. The comments the 141 members made weren’t even accurate. Sure, you had some improving to do, but by no means were you bad. He felt like they just felt threatened by you, a young woman with much more potential than them. He also had a feeling that they were jealous of your mastery at sniping. To put it simply, Ghost knew they were full of shit.
“She’s actually improved quite a lot.” His rough voice pierces through the air, silencing the banter surrounding him.
Embers burned at the pit of his stomach at the thoughtless comments his teammates said so flippantly about you. Embers that soon caught fire, and burned bright crimson flames. He stayed composed, but his eyes flickered, darkened by the shadows of the black paint surrounding them, and the tarnished skull that covered his nose and mouth. All the more imposing to those who looked at him.
“Plus, someone had to give her pointers for fighting a highly skilled, large, and imposing person; something you short fucks couldn’t do.”
Ghost was met with silence once again, and he smirked under his balaclava. Since then, the other men of task 141 have not commented on your sparing abilities, not wanting to be cursed out by Ghost.
And hey, it was all worth it when the next day you defeated Soap, match after match.
--
New recruits of 141 typically come and go, retention isn’t all that great. So, when you joined the team, he wasn’t expecting you to persevere, and stay. He was impressed by your skillset; snipers are always impressive in his mind. But your agility and speed that allowed you to take down opponents twice your size, is what mainly caught his eye. Sure, you needed some improvement, but you were promising.
When you first joined the team, you were so nice to everyone, even him. That’s not something he’s privy to in his line of work. Yet, you didn’t seem intimidated by him at all, not in the slightest. He didn’t have the slightest clue as to why. You just kept being so warm to him and he didn’t know what to do with that.
Of course, he wasn’t nervous to be around you, no that certainty wasn’t it; but he couldn’t help the warm feeling that would spread through his chest whenever you would talk to him. At first you only conversed with one another in meetings, debriefs, missions, etc. All work related, with no cross over into ‘personal life territory’. Simon was content with this, he rarely ever crossed that boundary with the other 141 teammates, so why would he with you? Incidentally, you and him started to get paired together mission after mission, and he couldn’t help but want more.
Ghost was immediately impressed at your abilities to smoothly get in and get out during missions, especially with what little experience you had. Not that you were any less competent than any of the other 141 team members, you just hadn’t been in the field for as long as some of them. You were smart as a whip though, and you got the job done quickly and quietly, and never got in his way. That was something he deeply respected about you. You understood the task at hand, asked questions if needed, but otherwise were highly independent. An admirable trait that takes some weight off of his shoulders as a Lieutenant. Something that he quickly added to his list of things he was grateful for.
You also had the curiosity to learn more, and to learn from the more experienced team members. Always ready with a question, and never embarrassed to ask. Sure, you were quiet like him, but when it came to job stuff, you didn’t hesitate to make your presence known.
He still remembers, one night after completing a mission, you and him were sitting in the helicopter. You turned to him and asked, “How is it that you’re never scared?” Your sweet voice traveled over to him through the coms and he felt confounded by your question. He felt his stomach warm at your tone in which you asked him this. Did you somehow look up to him?
“Who said I was never scared?” He glanced over at you and saw your eyes sparkle at his response.
--
To say that Ghost was concerned after you got shot in the leg was an understatement. Although he tried his best to stay composed, he was having a full-blown crisis inside his mind while trying to get you to safety, which, was a safe house miles from your current location. He couldn’t properly examine your wound, so he had no idea how bad of a state you were in, and he hated blind spots.
That was the first mission he ever felt real fear for you; distressed with thoughts that said you wouldn’t make it back. Thoughts that kept bouncing around, tormenting him the whole journey to the safe house. Luckily when you guys arrived, he was able to fully assess your wound and it didn’t look life threatening. No, all he had to do was clean, stich, and bandage it.
Simple enough, right? Wrong.
Of course, of course the best way to get the wound clean and ready for stitching was for your fucking pants to come off.
Things were never easy for Ghost.
His nerves didn’t stop him though and he somehow managed to get through everything without making a complete fool out of himself. Though, if you could somehow hear his heartbeat, at all, it would have been a dead giveaway, as it thumped erratically in his chest. There were moments when he was afraid it would burst.
Then, only to make this mission even worse, was him waking up to your blood curdling screams in the middle of the night. His first thought was that the enemy found you guys, and they got to you first. He thought that he failed to protect you, which was a silent promise he made to himself after the first night you guys drank beer in his room.
However, when he entered the living room, he saw that no one was in the room, it was just you on the couch where he left you. Your screams turned into cries, then sobs, then screams again. It was deafening and he couldn’t stand to hear it any longer. It took a few good shakes to wake you and he felt his heartstrings pinch in his chest when you apologized to him for waking him up, completely disregarding the trauma you were currently experiencing.
He decided right then and there that what you needed right now was not a work colleague, but a friend. He carried you to bed that night, hoping to provide you with some consolation, wanting to provide you with anything that would make you feel safe again. And before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself closing the distance between your lips, and he felt you kissing back. He may have added that to the list of things he felt grateful for.
--
It’s been a few weeks since then. Your leg is pretty much all healed, and you have full mobility. All thanks to Ghost’s handy work. Although you felt fine and ready to get back out there, Simon insisted that you continue to rest. He even managed to convince Price not to assign you to any missions for the next month, which thoroughly pissed you off.
Who was he to boss you around and tell you when you were ready or not to start working again? He was technically your direct supervisor, so he did have the power to boss you around, but still!
Even though you were slightly peeved at him, you knew that it came from a good place. He was just worried about you, and this was his way of showing it, well, in front of the team at least.
In private, he had other ways to show you how much he cared for you. After he learned about your nightmares, he insisted that you come to him whenever they occur. You were hesitant at first to take him up on his offer. What if he just said that to be nice and he just feels bad for me? You didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. Even though, you found yourself slowly start to cross more and more boundaries with him as the weeks went on.
So, the first night you experienced another nightmare, you found yourself in front of Simon’s door. You probably stood there for at least a minute, racking up the courage to knock. But before you could even do that, the door swung open to reveal a sleepy looking Simon decked out in black sweats and his signature balaclava.
Since he was so close to you, you had to crane your neck to look up at him and meet his eyes. Why he was still wearing his mask at this hour, you were unsure. He usually took it off to sleep, but you were too unmoored to ask.
“I heard your footsteps approach my door.” His gravelly voice fills the space in-between, and he casually leans on the door frame.
“Oh.” You looked down at your slippers and twiddle your thumbs.
“Why don’t you come in, yeah?” Simon’s voice lifts up a bit at the end of his question, and you look back up at him and offer him a small smile.
“I’d like that, thank you Simon.” It still felt weird on your tongue to call the Lieutenant by his first name, but your chest sparked each time you did so. He held out is hand and you fit your palm against his, and he leads you into his room, his thumb caressing your knuckles.
You and Simon talked for what felt like hours before you fell asleep, head on his shoulder and his hand rubbing your head.
It was a common occurrence after that, to visit Simon’s room at night whenever you woke up screaming in the dark of your own room. It felt like nothing could happen to you in your dreams, so as long as Simon’s arms were wrapped around you, almost like an anchor. Weighing you down, preventing you from drifting too far away.
But even with this new sense of security surrounding you, some nights when you fell asleep with Simon next to you, the nightmares would still creep into your mind. Though, Simon was right there to help bring you back.
If for some reason you both separated during the night and were sleeping apart, you’d reach out to him after waking, your hand patting the bed, searching for him.
“Simon?”
“I’m right here.” He’d then swiftly pull you back into him.
He’d rub your back. Up down, up down.
Wrap his arms around you. Squeeze.
Kiss your forehead. Smooth back your hair.
Whisper affirming words that reminded you that it’s all in your head, you’re safe in this reality, he’s here. No one is trying to harm you.
Other nights, you found yourselves simply enjoying each other’s company. You love to outline his forearm tattoos with your fingers and trace your hand up his arm to his broad shoulders, to his chest. You like to trail your hand across his abs and just love to explore his whole body with your hands.
He does the same, and his touch always feels so heavenly. Though his hands were calloused and rough, they were always extra gentle in handling you.
His hand brushes over the top of your thigh and his fingertips graze over the slightly raised bumps that span across your tender skin. Your once smooth legs, now marked permanently with light lines. You feel his hand pause after it initially goes over this area of your leg. And you know, that he knows.
Before you can say anything, and push him away, his warm hand comes back up to rest at the top of your thigh, and his thumb gently traces circles over the scarred area. He doesn’t say a word, but his touches mean everything to you, and it’s all you need.
You feel him squeeze his arms that are already wrapped around your form, and feel a slight pressure against the top of your head, like a kiss was laid upon your hair.
You feel your breathing start to slow, and before you know it, you’re drifting off to sleep, the steady rhythm of Simon’s heart calling out to you like a siren with a lullaby.
You started to feel a deep sense of familiarity within the four walls of Simon’s room, and you knew that it would always be a place of condolement for your aching self. Little did you know, that you provided just as much relief, if not more, to Simon as well. Although more rare than yours, Simon had bad days too.
--
Tonight was no different than any other; you and Simon are lying in bed together and you’re semi-on top of him, leg thrown over his waist, head on his shoulder, fingers mapping out his entire being.
“If you want to talk about it, you know that you can, right?” You absentmindedly trace your pointer finger across the span of his chest as you ask him this. Drawing small circles into the fabric of his black t-shirt.
To Simon, it felt like there were small sparks leaving your fingertips every time you touched him, causing his heart to ignite.
“I’m always here to listen.” You remind him one more time.
Simon just came back from a particularly brutal mission, one that he has told you very little about. They were gone for almost two weeks and all you were able to find out from Soap was that children were involved- a sensitive subject for Simon. You can only imagine what he went through during the mission, and now, what he’s dealing with in the aftermath. You’re trying not to push too much, but you want him to talk to you.
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know that. But you shouldn’t have to.”
You pause your ministrations and crane your neck to look up at him with a slight pout on your lips. This was always a struggle with him, he didn’t like to talk to you, let alone anyone when he was going through something. He would just put up a wall and it broke your heart. Sometimes you would get bits and pieces, but never the whole picture; it was always fuzzy to you.
You wanted him to feel safe enough that he could confide in you, vent to you, about whatever was on his mind, but you knew it wasn’t that easy and that these things take time. You’re patient with him, as he is with you. It’s the least you can owe him for all he’s done for you. This is his time to lament, not yours to be nosey. So, you just let him be.
He lets out a sigh and then moves you so you’re laying completely on top of him. He tries not to be too rough as his hands grab onto your waist to situate you further, and he tucks your head under his chin.
One arm wraps around your middle and the other comes up to hold the back of your head.
“I just want you to be here with me right now, like this. That’s all I need.” His breath tickles your hair and you succumb to his wish, relaxing against him.
“Ok, I can do that.” Your hands come up to wrap around his neck, and you pull him impossibly closer to you, no inch of yourself is left untouched by Simon.
He likes to put you in this position whenever he can’t find the right words to explain. He instead craves the comfort of physicality, liking the weight of you on top of him.
Your hand comes up to play with his hair at the nape of his neck. You found that his hair tends to curl a little at the end, initially not expecting his hair to be this long. Silly, you know, but you’re honored that you’re one of the few people that get to see him like this.
You don’t know how long you and Simon lay like this; time always seemed to bend and disappear when you were with him. Since you guys had been lying in silence for so long, his voice startles you when he speaks for the first time in what felt like hours.
His hand that was resting on your lower back is now softly stroking your spine in a steady up and down motion.
“I felt scared for the first time in a while, on the last mission.”
His admission surprises you, but you wait a beat to see if he’s going to say anything else before you respond.
You’re glad that you do, because he continues to speak in a hushed voice.
“I- I didn’t know how to help them and they were looking towards us to be saved. And yet, we couldn’t save all of them. Some were left behind.”
You feel your heart start to crack again, the beginnings of the break started forming the moment you saw Simon step out of the plane when he returned back to the base.
And now it feels as though a chisel is working its way through your chest, chipping off piece by piece as you listen to Simon morn the loss of little lives. Lives he couldn’t rescue. You know it’s eating him up on the inside, with no respite in sight.
You personally have never been on a mission where the victims were children, and you’re thankful for that, so you can only empathize as much as your experience allows you to. You just have to remind him that he does the best he can, and not everyone can be saved, no matter how much you want to help.
You shift a little so your head is no longer tucked under his chin, and instead rests more on his shoulder. Since you’re so close to him, your lips touch is jaw.
You sigh, “I’m really sorry you went through that, Simon. I know that nothing I can say will change the outcome of what happened, and it doesn’t really matter what I say, but I do want you to know that you and the team did all you could. You did your best with what circumstances you were given.”
You feel him stir under you, and his arms warp tighter around your frame.
“You’re wrong.”
You feel you the pieces of your heart break into smaller and smaller pieces, losing hope that they will ever fit back together.
“You’re wrong to think that your words don’t matter.” Oh. “They actually mean the most to me.” Your chest doesn’t feel like it’s going to concave anymore.
“I really appreciate you; you know that right, Little Swan?” You feel him kiss your forehead and your chest warms at his term of endearment.
“Of course I do, Simon.”
“Ok, good.”
You bring him in for a kiss.
--
Simon found that he didn’t have much in his life, let alone much to be grateful for. Yet over the years, he realized that he grew quite the list.
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deunmiu-dessie · 1 month
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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 ⁾
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emoelvin · 2 months
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swordsandholly · 10 days
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Thinking about a mechanic!AU where the 141 boys run a garage and need a new receptionist. They hire you because you’re just so cute (great tits) and have a decent resume but it becomes a slight problem when they realize you’re a bit… dense.
Total ditz to be precise.
But they can’t really get mad when you get the keys for clients mixed up and look at them with those big eyes all teary and a little pout pushing out your lower lip.
Price is the most patient, perfectly content to walk you through how to file paperwork and fill out forms. Instructing you in a low voice while his breath brushes the shell of your ear. It’s really their fault for having such a terrible system, you know? Don’t worry about it too much, dove. He’ll settle his big hands on your shoulders and gently trace up and down your arms. See? You’re getting it. Just needed some more practice, hm?
Johnny is more than happy to show you around the garage, rattling off everything he knows about all those nitty gritty details that go right over your pretty little head. He’ll pop open the hood of some sports car and point to the engine to show it off. No, bonnie, you’ve got tae get in close. Closer.
Until you’re bent entirely over in one of those too-short skirts you wear everyday. It takes all his willpower not to yank you into the supply closet.
Gaz is just so sweet to you. Always bringing you little treats and candies to suck on. To help you concentrate, of course. Always greeting you with a soft ‘baby girl’ at the beginning of your shift. Whenever you’re standing around be it at the printer or counter - wherever really - he’ll slip a hand on your waist. It always trails a little lower, his pinky just edging on the hem of your too tight jeans.
Ghost gets frustrated with you to the point of causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes. He’s feels guilty, sure, but bloody hell just print the damn receipt. He avoids you for the most part. Until one evening when it’s pouring down. You forgot your rain coat of course, silly girl. He offers you a ride which you take happily.
After that he can’t get rid of you. You bring him coffees (how you remember his order word for word but not where you last left your own cup is beyond him) and giggle at his jokes. When a client gets too snappy or too loud he’s the first to step in - standing behind you glaring at them with his huge arms crossed over his chest until they back down.
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scribbledghost · 4 months
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Simon Riley who gets your initials tattooed over his heart, but not in the conventional way.
The idea of getting your full name spooks him, cause what if he gets captured and some enemy agent sees? It's just too much of a risk for him. But initials are safer. Twice as much if they're hidden behind roman numerals.
So he reveals his new ink one day, during a quiet moment a few weeks after he gets it once it's healed up. He explains what the roman numerals are (they correspond to letters of the alphabet: A would be I, B is II, and so on) and what they mean, and you spend so long marveling at Simon's dedication that it takes you a minute to notice something... strange.
"There's no number for my last name."
He takes your hand, puts it over the numbers, and puts his forehead on yours.
"That's cause I'm hopin' you'll let me put the number 18 there, love."
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bitten-fruit · 3 months
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Simon forgets how strong he is
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18+ MDNI - cw: bruising - ~700 words
just some Simon Riley NSFW brainrot ♥︎ - part 2-ish, and part 3-ish here!!
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Simon forgets how to be gentle.
When he's at war, fighting and shooting and killing day and night, all he knows is hardness. Brutality. Ruthlessness. His hands and heart grow calloused and rough in his months away from you. Using his unfathomable strength to survive is what he grows used to, it becomes second nature.
But it's your softness he remembers, to keep himself sane. It's all he thinks about. Dreams of.
The way the flesh of your hips, your ass, your breasts, your belly, pillows so deliciously between his fingers when he squeezes his handful - so warm, so supple. The way your vanilla-balmed lips graze his scarred skin so tenderly, however undeserved your sweetness is.
And when he finally returns home, after months of missing, craving you - when you stand in the door, honey thighs bare by virtue of the black panties you wore just to torture him, soft tummy peeking out from under your crop-top - he just can't restrain himself.
You greet him with your sugary smile, stretching up on your toes to curl your loving arms around his neck - your gentle voice, music; "Si, ah! I'm so glad you're okay…"
The moment your velvet skin touches his, his shackles crumble. Like a beast starved, he clutches you. Mammoth arms curl around you, constricting, gripping you eagerly like you might be a dream; liable to turn to a memory, to smoke.
His avaricious embrace lifts your feet from the ground, though he doesn't mean to - he burrows his nose and mouth into the crook of your neck, lets the curls of your hair smother him and fill his chest with the faint scent of your fruity shampoo. Fights every urge to take a bite, like you're a ripe nectarine.
Growls into your skin, through his jaw; "I fuckin' missed you, love. Christ, you have no idea how much I missed you."
"I missed you too, baby…" you coo into his ear, even your breathing is tender - he can't take it.
So he ferries you immediately to the sitting room, scoops you up like you weigh nothing, lets you coil your buttery thighs around his waist as he sits you on his lap on the sofa.
His wide hands take their greedy handfuls of your body - of your waist, of your hips, of your thighs, of your ass. Finally indulging the impulses he had dreamed about for so long - the very image he had fucked his fist to more times than he could count while parted from you.
With his teeth on your shoulder, tongue laving your warm skin; "So fuckin' soft," he grumbles deeply, and urges, "pretty thing. So soft. Fuck, I missed you."
His cock is hasty to grow boulder-solid under his trousers, and he chastises himself - but you answer with a cloying giggle, grinding your mound against its rigidity as if to torment him.
"Mm, you did miss me," you tease, little brat.
Then in an instant, all he can think about is the softness of your syrupy pussy, the gumminess of the inside of your cunt as its walls caress and milk his cock like it was built just to fit him.
You make him fucking ravenous, so voraciously eager to have you that he doesn't even notice his hands turn to vices around your flesh - fingers burrowing so deeply into the cheek of your ass that he might break through the skin.
"Ah!" You yelp, "Ow - Simon - you're hurting me-"
Your squeak of pain is enough to immediately shatter him - so he rapidly lifts you off of him, protecting you from his impulse. Stands you on your feet so that you're no longer victim to his inability to control himself.
"Shit, I'm sorry-" he grunts under his breath, "I'm sorry."
"It's okay, it's-" Your brows curl in worry, turning to look at where he had clawed you - and he sees the purple bruises where his hand had wrenched the flesh of your ass, the red lines where his fingernails had nearly punctured you. "Oh," you breathe at the sight, "…wow."
Drowning in visceral shame, he can barely bring himself to touch you again. But your soft hand caresses his hair, running through the sandy tresses - you, somehow, the one to comfort him.
"It's okay, baby, I know you didn't mean to," you purr fondly, and he leans forward to shamefully press as soft a kiss as he can into the bruise he gave you. Fucking monster.
"I'm sorry," he croaks into your skin, hoping his guilt will reverse his barbarity. "I just missed you."
"I know," you croon, turning to plant a loving kiss into his hair. "It's okay."
You guide him to lean back, mounting his lap again, letting your pelvis grind against the erection you were quick to reawaken.
His hands barely ghosting over your skin, he restrains himself, touches you carefully.
You whisper, into his stubbled cheek; "I'll show you how to be gentle again."
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cntloup · 2 months
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18+ MDNI
imagine you're just chilling with simon on the couch watching trash tv while his hands rest on your waist
but one hand starts to drift lower and lower into your panties and his rough fingers begin to lazily toy with your clit, pinching and circling the sensitive bud
and his other hand trails higher under your shirt, playing with your boobs, kneading the soft flesh
you're just so warm and soft he can't help it :(
all the while his lips are pressed to your ear, cooing praises like "You're so pretty, baby... so soft... such a good girl f'me... jus' sittin' back and lettin' me play with you."
and now you're all worked up and whimpering, leaning closer into his touch
your pretty pussy all wet with your slick, begging to be filled up :(
and he rewards you by inserting two thick fingers into your weeping cunt
"Simon!" you gasp as he rolls and twists his calloused fingers against your sensitive sticky walls
he scissors his fingers inside you, making your sopping pussy squelch
your cheeks start to heat up at the sound
but soon the combination of his hand on your breasts, rough fingers rolling your perky pretty nipples between them and the pumping of his fingers inside your tight wet pussy makes your brain all foggy
and you're too far gone to care as your slick walls start to tighten around his fingers
"let go, baby. cum f'me." he murmurs while picking up the pace
and the all-consuming wave of your orgasm washes over you with a loud moan as your milky white cream coats his fingers
and he licks them clean off your juices
then brings his fingers to your lips and you lick the mix of your cum and his saliva off his fingers
i need him so bad it's not a joke anymore :(
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