#simon ghost riley x any reader

[fallenneziah]

Virgin!Reader who is shy and closed off about the idea of their first time. Who is hesitant when first getting with Ghost.

Virgin!Reader who gets in bed with their collosal boyfriend and is immediately a blushing mess when he touches them.

Virgin!Reader who has almost zero stamina and can cum on Ghost's fingers easily as he pumps his thick, calloused fingers deep inside. Purring sweet pet names in their ear and making them feel so good. Whimpering from the sensitivity.

Virgin!Reader who drools over Ghost's cock despite it's large size. Whimpering and asking if it'll hurt and if it'll fit as he lubes his cock.

"Only a little bit sweetheart. It'll feel really good after, I promise." He whispers against your ear, feeling so fucking hard from the idea of corruption you into his sweet little whore.

Virgin!Reader who clenches on Ghost's cock, mewling and letting out the sluttiest, unfiltered noises as Ghost starts to move, loving the feeling of just his cock sliding slowly in and out of you.

Ghost who is slow and gentle with you at first, peppering you in kisses and making you feel loved and adored, but the lewd sounds of your hole absolutely begging for more of him makes him feral.

Getting rough with you, fucking you hard, rubbing and stroking you, making you feel so fucking good. Hand clasped in your hair, calling you his sweet girl/boy. "There it is, fuck, you're so tight around me angel," he will curse, teeth grit against your shoulder or watching your back arch.

Virgin!Reader who absolutely eats it up. Cumming on his cock until their hips jolt and they have salty sweet tears rolling down their cheeks. Puffy lips and sore vocal chords from everything he's done to you.

Ghost who can feel the damp sheets under him from you absolutely leaking from the way he's treating you.

How you try to dirty talk back but your words are slurred and you can't make out a thought with his thick cock stretching you out ruthlessly.

Virgin!Reader whose told not to cum but can't stop from jerking, hips uneasy and organ abused and oversensitive from the amount of orgasms.

Virgin!Reader who passes out when Ghost gets really going, the pleasure too much for them before they find themselves back awake and being pumped full of seed.

Ghost who couldn't help himself, filling his baby to the brim with his nut, tainting your insides as his and only his. Claiming you, ruining you into his perfect partner.

Ghost who gives you the sweetest aftercare. Full of kisses, soft words of praise, caressing and holding you. Chances are he'll keep his cock buried in your warmth for a while longer, or maybe he'll pull out and watch his cum drip from your writhing entrance. If he does he'll be instantly hard and ready for more.

Seeing your fucked out look and how much rest you need just from one round of him playing rough up with your body.

Knowing that he's left you unable to ever seek pleasure from another man because your first experience was with him and he has never left anyone unsatisfied.

Knowing he's tainted you into someone who now thinks of his cock two times a day and whimpers when he has to leave for long times at work, knowing you'll miss his cock.

And that's how he likes it. Knowing you'll be missing him, wanting him and no one else. He's made you hungry, he's corrupted you and he couldn't be more proud.

#cod smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader smut #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x any reader #simon riley x reader smut

[konigsblog]

tug on simon's nipple piercings whilst bouncing on his wide, veiny dick and he'll be a grunting, sweating mess. simon's hair tangled, with the black eye paint smearing down his cheeks, running down in droplets from the sweat running down his forehead.

he throws his head back, furrowing his eyebrows and lets out breathless groans as his sturdy, muscular hips jerk upwards into you through the pleasure against his hard nipples. his big cock sloppily sliding into you on repeat as he thrusts skywards into your slicken pussy, giggling at his reactions when you toy with his pierced nipples.

#could see this with any of the 141 actually... #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #ghost headcanon #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost would come walking (definitely not running) into your room because you called him at 2 a.m., screaming that there’s a bug flying around.

The guy’s pissed, alright? You gave him a heart attack, it’s a long day tomorrow, and he had to change into his uniform and put on his mask. Also, you could have handled this alone, being a soldier yourself. You know how to eliminate targets; you could have used your slipper in this situation.

On the other hand, he could have stayed in bed and let you deal with it. Hell, he didn’t even need to answer that call. He cares, though he’d rather endure five consecutive hell weeks than admit it.

And then he’d just stand at the door and stare at you being all frantic. You’re running around, tugging at your clothes and shuffling your hair.

He finds it amusing; You’re not in real danger, and that bug is smaller than your big toe. Plus, you didn’t receive any reports of hazardous predatory insects in the area, so it’s safe to assume that this little guy cannot eat human flesh.

But you’re almost in tears, and beg him to stop standing there and do something. He notices how distressed you are and understands that he stalled a little too much. He waits for it to sit still and stomps on it or smashes it with his hand if it’s on the wall.

And then he’d pick it up with a tissue and, instead of throwing it away, he’d just show it to you—indicating that it’s okay and you can calm down—murmuring something like, “this is why you woke me up for; remember it next time you whine about a surprise wake-up call.”

#random acts of kindness Ghost would do instead of showing any form of verbal affection #for the anon who send me that request in July #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #cod ghost #ghost cod

[alwaysshallow]

someone mentioned here that would like to see more of higher ranked reader x ghost so......

i feel like johnny would try to set you up. like, play a little bit of matchmaker y'know?? and be a little brat about it considering simon is a bit stern about the whole thing.

he's like "bruh i don't like her" and the second johnny starts flirting with you, he's just deadly staring at him bc it doesn't sit right with him. watching you giggle at his jokes and your smile when you tell him you like a bit older men so his flirting won't work even if it's good.

simon is older. if he had a tail, it would wiggle when he heard that, spying around. probably he would be like hmmmm and then he'd bring you tea the next morning, acting like it's casual, but everyone knows he has a ritual with tea, he makes it for special people.

you're special. he even offers you to train with him, so he could teach you some things and you will teach him. he teaches you boxing - you punch his face a bit too hard and his nose bleeds a bit, but that apparently arouses him and his pupils dilate when you're apologizing. out of his lips almost slips that you could do this again.

ANOTHER THOUGHTS ABOUT THEM OOF

and something longer w plottwist

another!!!

#it's a little au at this point #i don't regret a thing bruh #if anyone has any idea im ur guest #call of duty #cod x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #ghost call of duty #call of duty x you #call of duty x y/n #exiles.simon

[ghouljams]

I need more ghost ghost

Like their dynamic and how it evolves. Do they eventually reach an understand does ghost ever move on and let go😭 does he get jealous if she has friends over

Please I'm feral for the spooky idea even crumbs would satisfy me

Any day now, he'll get bored.

You keep telling yourself that, but it hasn't happened yet. Your ghost just seems to be settling in to his roll as household haunting. If anything you're getting too used to him. You're used to the cold watched feeling when you lay in bed at night. You're used to the handprints in fogged glass after your shower. You're used to putting things down and having them disappear. Hell you're even used to the rasping whispers that sometimes fill the air when you're not listening.

You're really not that interesting. If you were a ghost you would've moved on by now. You certainly wouldn't be haunting some barely liveable house or bothering the only person stupid enough to try restoring it.

You set a mug of tea on your ghost's little corner altar and drag a chair to sit down in front of it. He likes black tea, English breakfast or Earl Grey, splash of milk and a dash of sugar. You know the order well enough by now, all the ingredients he'd previously tipped over to make a mess of your kitchen. "I'm thinking of tackling the bathroom today, got the tile in so-" you reach down to tug a square of green tile out of the bag at your feet, "-I gotta start ripping up the old stuff." The tea on Ghost's altar bubbles in annoyance. "Don't get fussy you helped pick the new tile, remember?"

A single bubble pops on the tea's surface. A dismissive yes. Good enough for you.

"Be a lot easier if you didn't go scaring off the contractors," you grumble. The air is still for a long moment as you sip your morning tea. You feel a little silly staring at a mug of tea and waiting for it to talk to you. One bubble for yes, two for no, not a perfect system but working well enough so far.

You reach to tap the rim of the mug, see if the metaphorical mic is still on, and notice its been drained. Then all the hair on the back of your neck stands on end, the air around you dropping degrees by the breath.

"Can't trust them," his voice, so low and rumbling, fills the space beside your ear. Your stomach drops, and you have to stop yourself from reaching back to brush the sensation away. Fuck he's gotten chatty recently.

"You just don't like them," you keep your eyes on his altar, "you just gotta get to know them, I mean, you didn't like me when I first moved in!"

"Still," there's a long breath, a rasping wheeze that sounds painful, sometimes you wonder if it has to do with how your ghost died, "don't."

You gasp, standing from your chair and feeling whatever ghostly hold was talking to you dissipate. "See if I make you any more tea," you tell him. You will, obviously, but you try to make the threat sound sincere. He doesn't need to know that you don't mean it. After all what's a dead man going to do to you?

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost!au #ghost!ghost #sarcasm doesnt really translate well through the death intercom #u ever fall in love with a ghost? #any of you ever seen a ghost? i have

[tojisun]

biker!simon i’m eating my fucking fist

OH MY FUCKING GOD I SCREAMED NO BECAUSE YEA!!

the tats! the bulk! the attitude!! I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I-

biker!simon def sent that video to his girl <33

—

“you filmin’?” johnny asks, hopping out of his bike and ambling towards simon who grunts as he crosses his arms over his chest before subtly flexing.

johnny snorts before angling himself so he can fit in the screen. he shoots the camera a toothy grin, knowing that this one’s going to be sent to you.

“oh? we sendin’ a checkpoint video to peanut?” kyle adds, slipping his helmet off.

johnny shoots him a thumbs up before shifting to give kyle and – he turns to his side and sees john walking towards them with a cig already pinched between his lips – john room to fit themselves in the video.

“who said you guys can be part of this?” simon grumbles as though he isn’t reaching for his phone to retake the video. naturally, no one takes his complaints seriously.

they all fall into poses when simon starts recording, and johnny can’t hold back the appreciative whistle he lets out because, “damn. we look good.”

kyle groans, embarrassed. johnny laughs, ignoring the youngest as he and simon begin to flex – simon doing the subtle ones again while johnny shows off his arms shamelessly.

what? a man’s hard work is worth appreciating.

-

m&ms variety pack

ghost: [video]

peanut: wow, yes youre all dashing but was someone robbing the bodega behind yall?

soap: what

soap: holy shit??

gaz: no fucking way

peanut: 😭⁉️

—

#anissa <3 #stargirlrchive #ask #NO BECAUSE I STARTED SCRATCHING THE WALLS I FEAR #biker!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #suns #sorry ani!! i didnt mean to write a drabble but this one made me SCREAM

[naivegh0ul]

that post about ghost being into you ignoring him,,

I thirst for more

the brainrot is reeeeaaal ughhh

I wanna cockwarm him but instead of grinding and whining and complaining that I want him to fill me so good like I usually do I wanna just sit there and actually cockwarm him, pretend he isn’t there, go on my phone and maybe respond to all the guys in my DMs right in front of him, maybe linger on one dick pick from some rando just to rile him up and watch out of the corner of my eye as his twitches in frustration, but he won’t say anything about it :(( I wanna be sitting in the living room on the couch all sweet and pretty and have him come up to me and try to grind on me or get me to touch him but all I’ll do is lay there and read my book or watch my show, pull my hands out of his when he tries to pull them towards his cock for me to stroke him :(( he’d be so mad and pent up after probably only a day, and when he does get to slip his cock into my tight hole?? baby I’d pretend I couldn’t feel anything and start reading some yummy smut while he ruts into me :(( but it’s okay bc he likes it and it gets him off and makes him try harder to please me, so it’s a win-win!!

YESSS you get me this is exactly what I was thinking.

He thinks that if he gets you in his lap and stuffs you full of his cock, he'll get a reaction. Maybe have you squirming and whining. But you just sit there, on that stupid little phone of yours.

And god, if you even dare start looking at some other guy's dick pics? He gets so mad, hands balling into fists and his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. He knows he should control himself, at least on the outside.

On the inside, he's fuming. He's picturing kicking that guy's ass, beating him to a pulp and then sending you a photo of his limp, unconscious body. Just the thought of it gets his cock twitching inside you, has him groaning and bucking his hips up into you.

You're so right about sitting and looking all pretty on the couch for him. In your cute little pyjamas, book in hand as you smile and get butterflies from what's happening in the story. You haven't look up from your book in ages (it's been 10 minutes) and he really wants you right now.

He tries so hard to get your attention, pulling out all the stops. He spreads his thighs, rubbing them lightly as he groans and shifts his hips. No response. So he tries something a little more hands on, shuffling closer to run his hands along your torso and chest. Still, no response.

When he tries to grab your hand to pull it away from the book, you let him; teasing him a little, leading him on. You let him pull your hand towards his crotch, his sweats tented from where his cock is hard and leaking but you don't let him put your hand on it, simply pulling your hand back and flipping the page nonchalantly.

Once this goes on for longer than a day, and you're denying him what he wants, he gets really annoyed. He's walking around the house with a permanent hard-on, sometimes waking up to find himself grinding against your ass.

It's torture and he loves it.

When he finally manages to get his hands on you, it's over for him. He's cumming before he's even fully inside you, just the tip pressed into your hole as he moans and throws his head back. You don't care, acting as if you can't feel Ghost's thick cock stretching you out and twitching inside you as he cums.

And Ghost is determined to make you react. Anything, a shaky sigh, a tiny moan, anything. Just something to show that, yes, he does affect you. His balls slapping against your ass does affect you.

He does affect you - he does have you fingering yourself in the bathroom when he goes to bed because you're so pent up from not letting Ghost touch you - but he doesn't know that. To him, you're completely fine. You don't care when he bottoms out and cums again, choosing to rut against your ass slowly so he doesn't shoot his load for the third time.

Don't even think about pulling up some smut on your phone because that will be his last straw. As much as he absolutely loves being ignored, loves seeing your bored little expression as he fingers you open, he wants you to react. He needs you to react.

So that phone is being tossed onto the carpeted floor and you're being flipped onto your back, your legs slung over Ghost's shoulders as he puts you into a mating press and enters you again, leaning down so you're face to face and Ghost can watch the minute details of your expression, checking to see if your eyebrows furrow a little or if your eyes cloud over and your lips part.

#i wrote this all in one sitting #without my glasses on #sorry for any mistakes #gender neutral reader #ghost cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x gender neutral reader #simon riley x gender neutral reader

[kissitbttr]

kiss it, kiss it better, baby

☆ ghost is insecure with the way he looks, but you’re there to help him realize he’s pretty ☆

pairing is with fem!reader

-

first thing you had learned about simon is how much of a closed off person he is. to the point where he shuts almost everyone out except his colleagues.

so when he first met you, he had no expectations whatsoever. sure, he thought you were breathtaking. ethereal even. the first thought when he saw you walked into the room for the first time is ‘how could God let His prettiest angel roam around free on earth? why had he not have any desire to protect you?’

your aura and smile is enough to make his knees wobbly. the sound of your laugh makes his lips twitch into a genuine smile. almost.

and he’s trying to figure out why your presence is making him turn into a puddle.

but he’s been there before. manipulated by soft and delicate looking people only for them to be a complete different person once he gets a little too attached. that reason alone was enough for him to protect his heart even more. despite your affection and your warm nature, he was still cold. harsh even.

and you understand completely. fully taking your time in getting to know him, being patient and soft, because a person could only handle so much given to his story. you heard from soap about how much he had to endured and your heart was torn.

‘poor lad… went through a lot’

is what soap had said.

so you made it your mission to make him feel at ease. become his person. his home. moving slowly but surely. this made simon baffled by your actions. why do you still hang around? why do you keep giving him affections? why can’t you just go and find someone who’s not bottling too much of emotions and trauma?

answer is simple. you love him.

and boy, was he shocked. in a good way. because it has been far too long someone had said that word to him. and not just say it but you actually prove it.

in time, simon begins to learn how to properly love again. he learns how to be someone’s someone. he yearns for you now. opening up a bit more about his past and he can’t forget the way you clutch his hands tightly around yours as he spoke. a simple act to remind him that it’s just you and him and no one else.

there’s only one thing he has been afraid of.

unmasking.

the thin scars decorating his face is one of the things he has always been so insecure about. and he’s scared that you might think of him differently after seeing. in your own opinion, he’s stupid to think that — will all due respect— encourage him day after day that you wouldn’t think so, still he doesn’t budge.

despite you being impatient on wanting to see his handsome features, you never push him. you would never do anything to make him feel uncomfortable. you adore him too much to do that.

“so i said to her… ” you emerge from the bathroom while brushing through your hair, eyes focusing on your long locks. “ ‘bitch, please you are looking at the owner’ and i kid you not… she went pale as shit” you chuckle as you tell him a about what happened at work

he hums, pretending to listen. the only thing that matters to him is how beautiful you look tonight. the way your fingers running softly through your hair, your glowing skin, your cute giggle and fuck,

how your night gown leaves little to no imagination,

“and then i took my G19 and shot her in the head”

“that’s good, baby” ghost mutters lowly, his eyes falls down to your exposed thighs. his train of thoughts were interrupted by you throwing a pillow at his direction.

“ow! hey!”

“you aren’t even listening!” a grunt of protest falls from your lips, arms crossed over your chest. “i was telling you about my day!”

he puts his hands up in defense. playful smirk across his face. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry! you just look so good standing there in your night gown, love…”

putting down your brush on the bedside table, you roll your eyes. though you can’t help but smile.

“that good, huh?” pulling the covers next to him before slipping inside. “i look that good to you?”

his large hand moves to palm your thigh. “more than good. you look absolutely divine”

your smile grows, and you can feel him smile too underneath the mask. both of your eyes locked for a while before you sit up a little bit and pat your chest.

“wanna lay?”

ghost quickly nods with a grin, scooting closer towards you before carefully laying his head. his fingers tap your leg, signaling you to put it over his thigh, you oblige.

a sigh of contentment escape from his lips once your press a kiss on top of his masked forehead. gentle fingers tracing lightly against his traps.

a question bubbles into your mind. a question you have been dreading to ask. tongue clicking against your teeth as you contemplate.

“what’s on your mind, beautiful?”

it’s like he could read your mind. you can never escape him.

shrugging you reply, “just wondering”

“wondering what?”

you inhale a sharp breath. “about when i can see this handsome face of yours.”

a smile on ghost’s face falters a bit. he knows you have been waiting for him to unmask. it has been months since you begin your journey together, and he knows that you have waited too long to see him. it isn’t fair to you, he knows that.

but again, he doesn’t want you to think differently of him.

“hm?” you place another kiss on his head when he’s not answering. “am i getting closer to getting the privilege to see that handsome face?”

the question is playful, though ghost could feel his heart beating far too loud. he believes every word you say to him, because he knows you would never lie to his face. except this one particular thing

“ ‘m not, lovie” he squeezes your thigh, fingertips grazing your soft skin.

you gasp, moving your head back a bit to the side so you can see him. “and who told you that, huh? soap? gaz?”

he’s quick to shake his head. “no one has ever seen me. i just know that i am”

“baby, that’s bullshit and you know it” you argue, bringing your other hand to rub his cheek with your thumb.

a silence falls between you two. he doesn’t know what else to response to that. it has been too long since he lets anyone see how he really looks like.

he moves his head closer to your chest, pressing his cheek against it to listen to your heartbeat better. “i just don’t want you to regret being with me, tha’s all”

if a heart could break, yours would in that moment. for all the times you’ve spent together with him, ghost is not the person that would showcase his vulnerability nor emotions. he’s tough. cold. stoic. he’d rather die than to do that.

but something in the way he speaks in a tone you’ve never heard from him before just makes you want to protect him even more. the insecurity laced in his tone is enough to do so.

“do you trust me?” your voice is gentle as ever, seeing him nod slowly. “then you know i would never do anything to make you feel small, yeah?”

he snakes his arm around your waist, nodding again. “yes”

your eyes casting down to him. “can i see my pretty baby, then?”

he feels his cheeks warm at the compliment, swallowing a small gulp as he tightens his grip a little.

simon is quiet for a moment, making you almost feel guilty for pushing him a bit. but you can’t help it. you want to see him.

you want to see your man.

and as you’re about to apologize, he speaks up,

“okay.”

a wide grin slowly makes an appearance on your face, “yeah?” he nods slowly, looking up to you with a soft smile.

“yeah” his voice is low. husky. “i trust you.”

“you do” you confirm, fingers moving gently to the bottom of his mask. for a moment you stop to see any sign of him fighting back or fidgeting. but he gives you nod, telling you to continue

with a smile, you tuck both of your thumbs underneath his balaclava. slowly you remove the material up to his nose, familiar soft pink lips that has been brushing against yours for the past few months appears. you stop for a moment and let your finger thread lightly on it, goosebumps rises against his skin as he feels you getting closer to fully unfold him.

the beat of both of your hearts are thumping. one part, you’re excited and the other he’s anxious. anxious that you’re not going to like it.

he closes his eyes the moment you completely remove the balaclava from him. hearing a gasp falls from you is making his nerves go up even higher.

‘please don’t leave me, please… please don’t’ he thinks

“simon you—you are so. fucking beautiful’

the moment he hears those words, his eyes snap open. seeing your wide eyed gaze travel from his forehead and down to his chin. both of your hands move to cup his face with jaw slightly wide open. no words are uttered.

you are truly speechless. taking the time to observe every single detail of his features. from his dirty blonde hair, big brown eyes, sharp nose, thin scars around his eyebrow and down to his cheekbone. you believe those things compliment his entire face.

he is absolutely handsome.

“my god” your voice comes out in a whisper, his breath hitches. hand still gripping tightly around your waist. “you’ve been hiding all these from me?”

a hearty chuckle rumbles from his chest, avoiding your eyes because he fears that you might see him blush.

“you don’t have to lie to me love, i—“

“fuck i ain’t!” you exclaim with a laugh, head shaking at his response. “simon you don’t realize how handsome you are, do you? and these?” finger pointing at the faded scar,

“prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

he cocks both of his eyebrows, eyes glinting full of hope. “you think so?”

“i know so, my darling.” plants a kiss on the tip of his nose. “gorgeous.” one on his eyelid. “my pretty man.” one on his cheekbone. “my baby” last one on the scar.

he pulls your body closer to him, melting at the feeling of your lips all over his face. “‘m not” he mutters

“definitely are. my handsome man” you argue, ruffling his hair. wide smile spreads across your lips as you watch your handsome man hides his face in between your breasts. “are you my pretty baby? hm?” you coo in a soft tone, not stopping to pepper him with kisses and praises.

he becomes shy, because he’s not used to this. choosing to find comfort in your chest yet he can’t help to admit how much he enjoys the affection. you feel him smile against your chest, and he’s hiding it but you can definitely sense him blushing too.

god, you love this sight. your hardcore, stone cold, military boyfriend becoming putty in your embrace. one you truly never thought you would see, and you’re enjoying every bit of it.

he does too. perhaps even more than you enjoying yourself

“me, me me. I’m your baby.” he mutters softly, eyes fluttering shut

-

i love babying a man, arrest me

#wrote this at 1am when i was sleepy so I’m terribly sorry if some doesn’t make any sense hdhdbdjd #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley fluff #ghost x reader

[python333]

soft spot — python333

— — — —

synopsis you've been having a bad day, and ghost feels like being extra nice to you. plot twist you're an age regressor and him being so nice is NOT helping.

relationships platonic agere cg!ghost & gn little!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 6.7k.

warnings a victorious reference, age regressor reader, usage of c/n [call sign/code name], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself]

note please feel free to attack me as much as you want if this is inaccurate. i don't even care if it's not constructive criticism. i am begging for everyone's thoughts and opinions on this!! this is also the longest oneshot i think i've ever written!

“Having fun there?” 

You turn in your seat and find Ghost leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and one eye slightly wider than the other—an indication that his eyebrow is raised. 

“Not really,” You answer, setting down your gun. You’d been disassembling it, trying to take your mind off of the slowly growing headache that’s been building up for the past few hours. You don’t think it’s a migraine or anything, but it still bothers you greatly. 

“Yeah, no, I can tell,” Ghost chuckles, pushing himself off of the door frame and walking over to you. He eyes your gun for a moment, the magazine already removed as well as any live rounds left in the rifle ejected, and the bolt locked to the rear. You were only maybe a quarter of the way through your disassembly, even though you started around thirty minutes ago. 

For some reason, you woke up upset today. You were too tired, you felt awfully sluggish, and there was a throbbing pain clustered in the back of your eyebrows. So, in short—you were reasonably very upset. It showed visibly in the way your eyes twitched every so often, and in the way you felt the need to pinch the bridge of your nose to distract you from the pain that was still building up behind your brows. 

“What’s going on?” He asks, leaning on the table. 

“I have this headache that won’t go away,” You respond, sighing as you move your gaze from your gun to Ghost. You can barely see it, but from his eyes you can tell that his face scrunches up beneath his mask. He knows a thing or two about bad headaches, being someone who frequently gets migraines himself. 

“Have you taken any meds for it?” You shake your head ‘no’. Ghost holds up a single finger in a ‘one moment’ motion and rummages through the pockets on his tactical vest for a moment, before he pulls out a small bottle of ibuprofen no bigger than his palm. He hands it to you. 

“Here.” You blink at it for a moment. 

“Thanks,” You take the bottle gingerly and Ghost nods, watching you as you struggle with the child-proof lid for a second before getting it open. You shake out a small tablet, one the size of a low-dosage aspirin, and pop it into your mouth. You don’t have much of an issue dry-swallowing it, and it only takes one attempt before you successfully swallow the tablet.

“You’ve been feeling pretty bad this whole week, haven’t you?” Ghost frowns underneath his mask. 

You think for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, I guess. I think it’s mostly just stress.” 

You know it’s not just stress. 

For a while now, you’ve used something called ‘age regression’ as a form of stress relief. You don’t know exactly when it started, but you do know that it was before you were recruited for the 141. And originally, you made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t regress while on base, and you kept that promise for maybe a month before you broke it. 

You think it was Ghost that was the trigger, actually. You can vividly remember the first time you regressed while on base; you had just finished talking to Ghost, and he called you something—you think he called you something similar to ‘kid’—that made a flip in your mind switch immediately. You can remember excusing yourself from the conversation quickly, leaving your lieutenant slightly confused but otherwise unbothered by the strange action. 

And, worst of all, you can remember being in your quarters and practically burrowing under your blankets. You were curled up into a fetal position, trying to fight the urge to suck on your thumb or at least chew on something, but ultimately lost the fight and succumbed to your urges. You spent maybe a few hours like that, wide awake when you just wanted to try and sleep it away, thinking about that interaction you had with Ghost over and over again. 

You’re not stupid. You know that Ghost has some sort of soft spot for you—albeit, you don’t know exactly how soft that soft spot is, but it’s definitely soft. Soft enough that he goes the tiniest bit easier on you compared to other recruits, soft enough that he spares you more time than he does for others, and the most obvious of all—he initiates most of your conversations. 

Contrary to popular belief, he’s not the scary super-soldier most people think of him as. Sure, maybe he is kind of scary, and maybe his mask does jumpscare you when you’re doing missions in particularly dark spaces sometimes, but other than that he’s not scary in the slightest. If anything, he’s awkward. Awkward enough that he’s almost never the first person to talk to someone—except for you, of course. You don’t know why he acts so differently around you, but you don’t complain about it. 

“That’s rough,” Ghost looks down at you with concerned, empathetic eyes, “Sorry you’re so stressed. Mind me askin’ why?” 

“I don’t, but I also don’t know why I’m so stressed,” You huff out, even though you know the answer completely. You stand up, “I think it’s just me being sleep deprived. I’ve been having the tiniest bit of trouble falling asleep lately.” 

“You should’ve told me earlier,” Ghost tuts, “I have melatonin.” 

You give him a confused look. “You do?” 

“‘Course I do.” 

You blink at him for a moment before sighing, “Could I have some then?” 

“What’s the magic word?” You give him an unimpressed look, ignoring the way the words make your stomach twist, and his eyes crinkle in a way that lets you know that he’s grinning under his mask. 

“Could I please have some melatonin?” 

“The magic word was lotion, but I’ll let it slide,” Ghost hums, “There’s some in my office. I’ll grab it for you later.” 

“M’kay,” You look over at the door, unintentionally zoning out as you do. Your vision goes unfocused as the throbbing pain behind your eyebrows grows and something else grows inside of you. 

Jesus. Why can’t you choose any other time to get the urge to slip into a younger mentality? Why does your headache have to make everything worse for you? Why does Ghost have to be so nice and helpful? 

“Hey,” Ghost frowns, tapping a finger on your shoulder to snap you out of whatever trance you’re in, “[c/n]?” 

Oh God. 

Your eyes—that you try desperately to keep neutral—meet Ghost’s, his eyes soft and his eyebrows dipped downwards in a confused manner. His eyes are searching, flitting over you, trying to find something. The way he looks at you makes you want to squirm, and you can’t help but just slightly shuffle in place. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, voice as concerned as his look. That should be the breaking point for you, but you remain as big as you can be, and nod affirmatively. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You try to assure him, hoping you don’t sound as nervous as you feel, “I think I’m just a little tired.” 

Ghost doesn’t look convinced. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder, the act like a hammer putting another dent in the wall you had put up. The leather of his glove is warm even through the thick material of your shirt, and it feels like hot metal against your cold skin, the clothing covering your shoulder be damned. 

“You can tell me if you’re not okay,” He tells you—what is he doing? Does he know something I don’t?—while his thumb starts rubbing circles into your shoulder, “I feel like you’re more than a little tired.” 

You stay silent for a little bit. You don’t know how to explain yourself, the words seeming to liquify and leak right out of you, making you speechless. He seems to notice this, sighing and letting his hand slip down to your hand, holding it and giving it a quick squeeze. 

“I think,” He looks around for a moment before turning back to you, “that we should head to my office so that nobody can bother us, and then you can tell me all about how you’re feeling right now. Does that sound okay?” 

You nod wordlessly, not trusting yourself to talk with how heavy your tongue feels, and you let Ghost lead you back to his office. It’s only a hallway away, but that’s still enough time to overthink everything that could possibly happen. How does he know something’s wrong? What gave it away? Did I do something bad? What did I do? Wh—

The creak of his office door opening snaps you out of your thoughts, and Ghost steps aside to let you enter his office first. Hesitantly, you take a few steps inside, and you hear the door click shut behind you as Ghost walks in. He takes your hand again, making you look at him as he guides you to a chair. 

You sit in the chair that’s in front of his desk, and he quickly drags out the chair that’s behind it so that it’s right next to yours. He sits down. 

He’s looking at you expectantly. 

“Uh.” You’re not sure what to say. He’s looking at you so reassuringly, it’s hard to keep yourself sitting upright. 

“I know something’s wrong,” Ghost says, leaning forward the tiniest bit, “I need you to tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.” 

He’s got to have at least some idea of what you’re experiencing, You think, trying to form some sort of explanation, He’s being so… weird? 

You swear there’s some other word you could use, but your vocabulary feels so limited, and you would mentally curse if you could because you know that now your explanation is gonna sound weird. You can’t use the words you want, you’re gonna be forced to use simple words, ones that can’t convey exactly how you feel. Words that—and it physically pained you to admit this—were childish. 

You can explain your situation. Just, now it would be more… blunt. And short. And also you’d feel like killing yourself afterwards. You won’t, obviously, but you can predict that you’ll come very close to doing so.

Okay, I have to say something because Ghost is looking more and more worried the longer I stay silent. 

“I feel…” You trail off for a moment, trying to get your thoughts in order for the next two seconds to actually say something that makes sense, before continuing in a far less confident tone, “… small.” 

The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret it. Ew. Ew. Ew. What. Why? Why that word? It leaves a sour taste on your tongue and yet you can’t think of any other word that would better suit how you feel. Still. Ew. 

Your thoughts are a jumbled mess ranging from fleeting thoughts of disgust to thoughts lodged in the back of your mind begging you to go anywhere else just so that you can stop having to have this conversation. This conversation requires words bigger than you have access to, and a sort of control over yourself that you can’t grasp. You can feel your hands twitching, wanting something to hold onto, anything to keep you distracted from the overwhelming urge to just regress. 

Ghost blinks. He didn’t expect that answer. 

“Small?” He repeats in a questioning tone, eyebrows furrowed, “I mean, compared to me, I guess you’re kind of short—” 

“No, no, not like short small,” You try to clarify, feeling just slightly discouraged by Ghost’s confused words, “Like…” 

You struggle to find the words that properly describe how you feel, only finding words like small and little in your current vocabulary. Your findings are making you increasingly upset, and you can feel your face start to grow hot with frustration and embarrassment. 

Oh my God. 

“Like…?” Ghost nudges your knee with his, trying to encourage you to talk, “I’m not leaving until you tell me.” 

There’s still a level of care in his words, no matter how confused he seems, and that adds all the more struggle to your predicament. Not only do you not want to tell him, but you can’t describe how you feel in a way that’s acceptable for someone your age to describe anything. At least, not in a way that you deem acceptable for yourself to describe anything. 

You’re far too old to be describing yourself as small. 

“[c/n]?” Ghost nudges you again, and you blink at him. Your eyes are flickering all over his mask, going anywhere but his eyes, since eye contact with anyone would make everything significantly worse for you right now. 

“It’s just—” You try to take a deep breath but your breath hitches. Everything is starting to make you feel so frustrated, and you’re starting to think that you might just throw a tantrum if you can’t do at least one thing right. You try to find the words you want to use but your throat is disobediently closing on you. Your mind feels like straight mush, and the quickly softening look that Ghost is giving you isn’t helping you at all. 

To your horror, in your inexplicable inability to talk in the way you normally do, you let out a small whine. It sounds obnoxious to your ears, and worst of all, sounds like something a little kid would do. 

You put your head in your hands, the quickly reddening skin of your cheeks getting cooled by the cold of your palms as you try and hide your face from Ghost. You can picture how he looks right now—somehow more confused than earlier, possibly annoyed, weirded out—and all those mental images make you bite your tongue to prevent another noise. 

“What was that?” You don’t answer him. 

To your non-answer, Ghost sighs, and you think, This is it, this is where he kicks me out of his office, oh my God I’m gonna get dishonorably discharged and he’s gonna give me a really mean look on my way out—

“Look at me.” You shake your head negatively. 

“Why not?” He sounds so confused, it makes you want to cry. There’s still a level of worry in his voice, and it adds to the fog that builds up in your brain. 

You move your face just slightly up so that your eyes peek out from above your fingertips, your hands covering the rest of your face. Ghost reaches out both of his hands, and ever so gently removes your hands from your face, uncovering your red cheeks and your lips—the lower of which quivers, like you’re about to cry. He notices this quickly, and you can practically feel the level of his worry shoot up. 

He doesn’t say anything, instead just holding your hands in his for a moment, before he sets them down into your lap. He looks at you, concerned, and asks, “Is it hard to talk right now?” 

You nod. His gaze shifts to his computer, and then back to you. 

“I’m gonna go look a few things up really quick, okay? I’ll just be right over there,” He nods over to the space behind his computer, “and I’ll be right back here in a few seconds.” 

You reluctantly nod again, and Ghost gets up from his seat. He grabs the back of the chair and drags it back around behind his desk, sitting down in it and powering on his monitor. It turns on almost immediately, much to his relief, and he goes to his browser and searches up a few things. You can’t tell what he’s searching up, only hearing the clacking of keys and the occasional final click that indicates that he’s hit the enter button. 

He stays there for maybe a minute or two. It’s a long few minutes, and you can feel yourself slipping more and more the longer he stays at his computer. And the more you feel yourself slipping into that younger mindset, the more you start to crave Ghost’s attention. 

The way his eyes are glued to his computer starts to irritate you. You’re aware that he’s doing something important, he must be, because why would he be so intent on looking something up otherwise, but still—you manage to feel the tiniest bit jealous of the computer. You know you’re too far gone when you can’t find it within yourself to realize that you’re jealous of a computer. 

Your eyes linger on him and he must notice this because he looks up from the screen of his monitor and looks over at you. As if he can read your mind, he reassures you, “Just a few more seconds.” 

But you said you were gonna be back in a few seconds a few minutes ago. 

You don’t voice your thoughts. Instead, you nod, because God forbid you annoy Ghost with your need for attention now when he’s being so patient with you. He looks at you for another moment before going back to his computer and looking something else up, this time with a little more fervor. 

Another few seconds pass and, true to his word this time, Ghost stops and gets up from his chair. He walks over to you, and your eyes follow him intently. He kneels down in front of you.

He looks hesitant to say something to you. That’s a first. That adds to the exponentially growing blob of fear that lives inside your mind, one of the only things that’s still prominent in the fog that conquers your brain. 

“Are you…” You feel like you know what he’s gonna ask you. You’re bracing yourself for the question, and he looks like he’s bracing himself just to ask it. 

“How, uh,” He’s trying to find the right wording, and you’ve never been able to relate to him harder than you do in this moment, “How… do you feel right now? How old?” 

How old? You don’t really like that question. As much as you like that you’re now getting attention, you’re starting to remember how little you actually enjoy this type of attention. The question is pretty vague, but at the same time so specific, and you’re almost ashamed to know exactly what the answer is. Or, at least, you would feel ashamed if there was room in your mind to feel so. 

“You said you feel small, right? Not like short small, just small?” He sounds more unsure of himself now, and you don’t think you like seeing him so reluctant to say something, “I looked up what it means to feel like that. Took some time, but I got to some person’s… website, and the person who wrote it was talkin’ about feeling like that. Something about regression, feeling a little bit younger than usual?” 

He’s being so awkward about it, and while you typically find his awkwardness funny, now it’s anything but that. 

“Uhm,” Your voice comes out as a mumble and you see Ghost perk up at it. You don’t know what to say. For a moment, you’re silent again, before you get over your embarrassment for a quick two seconds and force yourself to say, “Four.” 

“Four?” Ghost asks, before quickly realizing, “Right. Four. You feel four?” 

You nod, and your hands instinctively start moving back up to cover your face. Ghost swiftly grabs them, keeping his grip gentle as he keeps them from reaching your face. 

“Hey, don’t try to hide again,” He says, tone softening as he holds your hands, “everything’s fine, okay? Do you— what, uh— do you need me to do anything? Do you want me to leave you alo—”

“No!” You quickly answer, a little surprised by your own volume, before you clear your throat and answer in a much more quiet voice, “Don’t leave me alone.” 

“Okay, okay,” Ghost’s thumbs rub across the back of your hands, a soothing gesture that makes you the tiniest bit more relaxed, “what do you need?” 

You sniffle, and you can see an immediate look of panic cross Ghost’s eyes. You don’t know how well he is with crying children, and don’t want to impose such a situation on him, but you also can’t stop the tears that begin to well up in the corners of your eyes. 

“Hey, don’t cry,” He borderline begs, “everything’s gonna be okay, okay? Please do not cry. Take a deep breath.” 

You try to take a deep breath, you really do, but your breath just hitches and gets caught in your throat. It only makes you more distressed, adding to the urge you have to just disappear. Ghost notices your failed deep breathing and lets go of one of your hands, before taking the other and holding it to his chest.

You can just barely feel his heartbeat, his thick tactical vest and gear in the way of it, but you can still feel it. Ghost takes a deep breath, holding it for a second or two before slowly exhaling. 

“You copy me, okay?” He tells you, his words an order but his tone suggesting otherwise. He takes another deep breath, this time hoping you’ll follow his lead, and you do. 

You try to breathe with him, your hand on his chest helping, but your breath keeps getting caught in your throat. Ghost notices this, but continues his breathing anyway, hoping you’ll catch on soon. You do, thankfully—after a few more attempted breaths, you finally manage one almost identical to Ghost’s. The next few after that go similarly, and that’s when Ghost decides you’re alright to take your hand off of his chest. 

“I need you to tell me what to do,” He says, keeping your hand in his hold, “or at least tell me how all of this works. I want to help you.”

 You really don’t want to tell him what you need right now, but you also don’t think you have a choice. 

Wordlessly, you stand up from your seat, balance just slightly off-center before you quickly get your footing right. Ghost watches you, not moving, before you tug on his hand to try and urge him to get up as well. He obliges, getting up. 

“What—” You interrupt him by taking another step forward and letting your head thump right into his chest, ignoring the itchy uncomfortable feeling of his vest against your face. You don’t bother to wrap your arms around him to at least try and form some sort of hug, preferring to just smush yourself into him and hope for the best. 

After a moment of stunned silence, he wraps his arms around you. 

“You mind if we move behind my desk so I can look up some more stuff on all of this?” He asks, voice quiet, “Unless you want to just tell me?” 

“Desk,” You simply mumble into his vest, making him nod. 

“Alright, but you’re gonna have to stop hugging me for a second,” Ghost warns you. You reluctantly step away, and Ghost smiles softly down at you, bringing his hands away from your back and instead holding one of yours. 

He leads you behind his desk, and lets go of your hand before sitting down in his chair. Pausing, he quickly realizes you have nowhere to sit, and thinks for a moment before getting back up. He drags his chair just slightly to the side and looks back at you. 

“Sit down,” He nods to the chair, “It’s only gonna be a minute or two, alright?” 

You nod, hesitantly moving to sit in the chair, not really liking how far away from Ghost it is. It's not that far, You try to rationalize, I’m gonna be fine. 

Ghost can see your hesitation and tries to work as quickly as he can, grateful that he didn’t turn his computer off earlier, typing away on his keyboard. You don’t care to see what he’s looking up, more focused on looking at the time on his monitor. 21:44. 21:45. The time ticks by and even though it’s only been a few seconds you already want Ghost’s attention again. His attention has actually turned into good attention, and that’s the type of attention you’ve been craving for the past week. 

The clock reads 21:47 once Ghost is done, and he powers his monitor off this time, the small whirring the device makes dying down to a low hum before going completely silent. He turns to you, and somehow can sense that you need more attention. 

“Am I not paying enough attention to you?” He teases you, making you conflicted on whether you should be annoyed by the teasing or happy you’re finally getting attention. As if he can read your mind, he chuckles, and kneels down to your level. 

“I’m gonna give you as much attention as you need, alright?” He promises, “I just need you to stay in this room.” 

— 

Ghost watches you nod non-verbally, and it only adds to his softening expression. 

He’s always had a soft spot for kids. He knows that you aren’t technically a kid, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still see you as one. You’re young for someone in the military, much less someone in this 141, and now that he’s found out that you’re an age regressor, that you’re a little—well, that doesn’t help how he sees you at all. 

He thinks that maybe the reason he has such a soft spot for kids is a few encounters he’s had with them in the past. He’s seen far too many in compromising positions while on missions; positions like being held hostage, being held as prisoner, or just generally being mistreated or even just living in bad conditions. 

He looks at you, and he just sees another one of those kids. 

He sees how you act around him. He’s not stupid. When he talks to you, you’re actually engaged in the conversation, compared to when anyone else tries to talk to you—maybe excluding Price, or Soap, or Gaz, heavy on that maybe—you’re more likely than not brushing them off every chance you get. You’re standoffish with everyone else, but with him, you’ll always accept any conversation he initiates. 

He can also see the way you look at him. It’s like you’re looking at your idol, or your savior, the way you look up at him. He can see that curious glint in your eyes when he tells you about a recent mission, or when he tells you anything, really. He can see when you try to mimic how he holds his weapons, and when you try to copy his techniques. 

He remembers catching you one day in the shooting range trying to mimic how he aims at the targets—looking through your scope with one eye closed, the other focused only on the dot centered on the scope, taking a deep breath in and out before shooting, and keeping the gun exactly like that even seconds after the shot’s been fired. 

In fact, the copying has gone from guns to melee weapons recently. Ghost swings only his forearm when he uses a knife, thumb resting on the very end of the knife’s handle, and entire arm stiff as he does. He does a slow windup when behind someone, a fast one on the off-chance that he’s in front, and buries the weapon to the hilt in whoever’s flesh he’s penetrated. He’s already seen you do the same on a recent mission. Not only that, but he caught you using a knife almost identical to his. 

And now, you’re still looking at him like that—except, different. Sort of like how a kid might look up to their parents. 

“What do you feel like doing, kiddo?” He asks, hoping the pet name isn’t too much. 

From the way your eyes light up, he suspects it isn't. 

“Mmm…” You hum, thinking for a moment, before requesting, “Coloring?” 

“Coloring, huh?” Ghost looks around for some blank paper and some sort of marker or pen thick enough to act as one, but can only find some highlighters. He turns to you, frowning, “Sorry, but I don’t think I have any paper, kid. Anything else you wanna do?”

You shake your head, and Ghost is just about ready to jump off of a bridge before you point to his arm and repeat, “Coloring.” 

He looks at his arm for a second, confused, before he remembers a conversation the two of you had a month or so ago. 

“If you ever wanna get tattoos, I know a guy in Brighton,” Ghost said, reclining his chair back so that he can lay down in it. You were sitting across from him in front of his desk, fiddling with one of his pens. 

“Good to know,” You hummed, “You have any tattoos?” 

“Yeah,” You perked up at his admission, and he sat up for a second to roll up the sleeve of his shirt. He wasn’t wearing his usual gear, only one of those standard issue army-green shirts. 

“Here,” He pointed to a large tattoo covering his whole arm like a sleeve, a few designs you could point out to yourself being a skull, a few Roman numerals, and some kind of scythe. 

“Very emo,” You commented, making Ghost snort, “I like it.” 

“I’m glad,” He rolled his sleeve back down. 

There’s a lot of blank space in the tattoo, despite it being a sleeve, and he can already tell that you mean you want to color in that space. He thinks about it for a moment, a fleeting thought of is that even safe? crossing his mind before he ultimately decides that he doesn’t care and would rather kill himself than see you disappointed because he denied your request, his own health be damned. 

“Alright,” He hums, grabbing a few highlighters from a mesh cup on his desk in the colors pink, yellow, and blue, “Go for it.” 

You give him a small smile and if he cared about if he’d get ink poisoning two seconds ago, he sure as hell doesn’t care now. You gingerly grab the highlighters from his hand, your grabbing not too secure and sort of clumsy but secure enough that the markers stay in your hand.

You hold them with both hands, and it makes Ghost realize how small your hands are—sure, you could hold the highlighters with one hand, but he’s glad you aren’t because now he can admire just how small you are as a whole. 

You set the yellow and blue down on his desk, making sure they don’t roll off for a moment before uncapping the pink and hesitantly holding out a hand for Ghost’s arm. He rolls up his sleeve and obediently holds out his arm for you, watching curiously as you press the cold tip of the highlighter to his skin. You’re starting by coloring in the skull a neon pink, much to his amusement, and you’re starting in the dead center of its forehead. 

You’re so much more quiet than you usually are when you’re little, and you’re so much more hesitant, it makes Ghost want to just wrap you in a blanket and keep you safe and in his sight forever. 

Your tongue slightly pokes out from between your lips as you concentrate on coloring in Ghost’s tattoo, making him grin beneath his mask. The ink of the highlighter doesn’t stay within the black bounds of his tattoos at all, but he doesn’t care one bit, and he doesn’t think you care either. You finish up the skull quickly, and move onto the scythe that’s right next to it, this time capping the pink highlighter and grabbing the yellow. 

Ghost is pretty sure this is gonna stain his skin for a day or two, but he couldn’t care less.

He can’t help but notice how much more relaxed you look in your regressed state. More at peace, he should say. There’s no longer a hunch in your shoulders, your eyes aren’t twitching from your headache, and you’re not bouncing your leg like you usually do when you’re sitting down somewhere. It’s like any anxieties you had pre-regression had evaporated, like slipping into a younger mentality had taken away most of your worries, if not all of them. 

He also can’t help but wish he could see you like this more often. Not necessarily the regressed part, but the relaxed part. Well, maybe the regressed part too. You’re being such a sweetheart right now, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to live through this experience. 

“You having fun there, darling?” Ghost asks, his grin evident in his voice. The corners of your lips quirk up at the pet name and you nod silently, and now Ghost is starting to think you’re actually trying to kill him. You’re being so uncharacteristically shy, and you’re being so quiet, and you’re just being so sweet. 

It seems you’ve moved onto the blue highlighter now, coloring in the last bit of his tattoo. He doesn’t think he’ll ever wash it off—or, at least, he wouldn’t if he had a choice. He knows that he has to shower sometime soon, but surely he can put that off for a bit, right?

Once you’re finished with your coloring, you cap the highlighter, and set it down next to the others you’ve discarded. You turn Ghost’s arm the tiniest bit towards him so that he can see your work better. 

“‘s it good?” You ask quietly, watching intently for Ghost’s reaction. He looks over your coloring job and hums approvingly. 

“It’s amazing, I love it,” He assures you, smiling down softly at you, “You did great.” 

You seem to preen at the praise, and you take your hand off of Ghost’s arm, moving to put in your lap. You’re keeping yourself very contained, Ghost notices, Why? 

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when he hears you yawn, and you quickly move to cover your mouth as you do. He’s reminded that it’s almost twenty-two hundred, and while that usually wouldn’t be an issue for him, it’s an issue for you. You originally came to the 141 as someone who had a sleep schedule almost as fucked up at Ghost’s, but soon developed a habit of going to sleep somewhat early considering the training you had in the morning. So, now you get tired anywhere from eighteen-hundred to twenty-one hundred. After that, your only goal is to find somewhere to sleep. 

“Sleepy?” You nod tiredly, making Ghost coo, Ghost, the man who quite literally haunts some people’s nightmares, coos at you, “Aw, of course you are, sweetheart. Pretty sure it’s way past your bedtime by now.” 

“Nuh uh,” You deny, making Ghost chuckle. 

“‘Nuh uh’?” He asks, amused, “What d’you mean ‘nuh uh’?” 

“No b’dtime,” You shortly elaborate. 

“Ohhh, okay,” Ghost feigns realization, “You think you’re too big for a bedtime, huh?” 

“Mhm. Way too big.”

“I dunno about ‘way’ too big,” Ghost hums, checking to see if the highlighter on his arm has dried before he pulls his sleeve back down. “You seem pretty little to me.” 

“No,” You whine, dragging out the ‘o’, “Not lil’.” 

“Hmm… you sure, kiddo?” Ghost asks, “So if I ask you if you need to go to bed, you’re gonna say ‘no’?” 

That makes you hesitate, and Ghost almost thinks he’s won, before your own pettiness wins and you nod affirmatively. He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Alright, well, you’ve gotta sleep at some point,” He says, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair. 

You think this over for a second, and he watches as you look over him for a moment before looking down at his lap, then looking back up at him. He can already tell there’s some sort of plan forming in your mind.  Wordlessly, you get up, and Ghost does nothing to stop you as you decide to just plop yourself down into his lap. You straddle his thighs, moving until you’re sitting comfortably on him, and then let yourself slump forward so that your face is resting in the crook of his neck. It takes him a moment to process what just happened, before he laughs lightly and wraps both of his arms around you to keep you in place. 

“Oh, okay,” He grins, resting his chin on your shoulder, “you just wanna cuddle with me until you fall asleep? Is that what this is?” 

He feels you nod against his neck, and his grin grows as he rubs one hand against your back, trying to soothe you to sleep. He doesn’t say anything else, not wanting to distract you from your attempts to sleep anymore, simply letting you stay slumped against him. Your breathing wasn’t too fast-paced to begin with, but as you relax even more in his arms, he can feel your breathing even out. 

You’re falling asleep fairly quickly, and the only complaint he has is that he didn’t get to spend nearly as much time as he wanted to with you while you were awake and regressed. 

Once he’s sure you’re barely awake, he murmurs, “You’re such a sweetheart, you know that?” 

— 

You don’t know how long it’s been since you fell asleep, but you’re woken up by the slight rustling of clothes, and then you feel yourself moving up. 

Your mind still feels foggy and you can tell you’re still somewhat in that younger mindset of yours, but now you’re significantly less bothered by it than you were before. You’re awake enough to be aware of what’s happening, always having been a light-sleeper, but not awake enough to know exactly what’s happening. You don’t dare open your eyes, and try to keep your breathing even—though that isn’t much of a challenge. 

That headache that had been building up earlier has fully disappeared, thank God, and you no longer feel the tension in your shoulder that you’d been unconsciously carrying. 

You can sort of feel someone’s arms snaked under your back, and you know that you’re being moved somewhere. Quickly, you remember that it’s Ghost carrying you, and that you had fallen asleep on him, much to your embarrassment. Or, at least, it would be much to your embarrassment if you had the mental capacity to feel embarrassed about that right now. But you feel so comfy and so safe that it really doesn’t matter to you right now. 

You can hear the clicking of Ghost’s boots against the concrete floors of the hallway, and he’s carrying you off somewhere; you imagine that somewhere to be your sleeping quarters. He’s walking pretty fast, not hurriedly but still at a somewhat fast pace. 

Soon, he reaches a stopping point where he has to awkwardly put one leg up to support your back on his thigh as he quickly reaches one arm out to turn the knob of the door to your sleeping quarters and pulls that arm right back to support your back again. He sighs as he puts his foot back down, kicking open the door and walking in. 

He’s quick to reach your bed, and he pauses as he considers what to do. You can practically hear him thinking, wondering how he’s gonna get you under the covers while he’s still carrying you, and for a second you think about showing him you’re awake so that things are easier for him before he sets you down on the bed. 

He pulls the covers up and stops when he reaches the part your body covers, and picks you back up, before dropping you right back off where the blankets have been pulled away. He pulls the covers back over you. 

After a few moments, you think he’s left the room, before you hear the rustling of fabric and feel him leaning down. He gently presses his lips to your forehead and pulls away after a second or two, before quietly mumbling, “Night, kiddo.”

He stays there for a moment before you hear his footsteps leave the room, and then the door clicking shut behind him as he leaves the room entirely. 

You’re quick to fall asleep after that.

#cod #cod hcs #hcs #task force 141 #simon ghost riley #ghost #age regression #caregiver ghost #ghost x reader #platonic ghost x reader #platonic ghost #i find him so lovely #hes my dad guys trust #i was literally meant to be his kid #trust that if i ever get any cod games with him in it i will spend the whole time admiring him #dad pls come back home #i miss u #python333

[frogchiro]

ELABORATE on the slasher ghost pls pls pls ELABORATE me needs more

OKAY SO I was thinking long and hard about this and how to approach it. At first I wanted to make Ghost like the classic killer/slasher Michael Myers style, killing in the woods, final girl reader etc etc BUT then I though, how about a little twist?

I'm pretty sure this isn't as original but still, but I came up with butcher!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who has a shop and lives in a secluded, small town up in the mountains and is a killer♡

HEAR ME OUT; big brute older man, around 40, no one on the town knows him really or about his past but judging by his dogtags they conclude he's ex military but rumours continue. They say that he was dishonorably discharged due to accusations of murder of a fellow soldier, it was never proven and he was never put in jail but apparently it was enough to throw him out of the military for good.

Although the cruel rumours were quite unreasonable and frankly sounded like some extravagant urban legend the man in question, Simon Riley still put you a bit on edge, but to be fair everything put you on edge here. As a total newcomer in the small town, a runaway to be precise, still so young, barely into your 20ies, but finally free from under the thumb of those assholes who were supposed to be your family but did not act at all like that, and this town...creeped you out to say the least.

It was just the town's general vibe was...off but you ultimately chalked it up to being newly on your own and the fact that it appeared to always be gloomy weather; mist, rainfall, thunder or snow, but what really stood out for you was the local butcher and the mysterious enigmatic Simon Riley...

#kin speaks #bsjxndidejdj this is so short #and may feel left without a conclusion #but it was really just to set the general mood of any future work if any of you are interested in it😭 #the idea of a kind creepy/off feeling butcher/slasher ghost came to me in a literall dream today #and i decided that yeah that's what we're rocking with #asks #interactions #cod mw2 x reader #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #slasher ghost

[fallenneziah]

Thinking about Zombie!Ghost's body changing so his cock swells and knots when breeding to ensure impregnation to carry on the infected species.

Zombie!Ghost who ends up with his cock buried deep inside you for what feels like forever, semen filling your guts.

Zombie!Ghost attempting to get away from you for a minute but when realizing he's locked in is intent on snuggling you and loving on you.

Zombie!Ghost who is now committed to breeding nothing else and constantly wants to try and breed infected with you. Always sad when it doesn't work.

Zombie!Ghost who wants to kiss you while snuggling you, acting as his warm cock sleeve.

Zombie!Ghost whose instincts tell him to breed when he's anxious so he'll always be trying to hump you or get close. Making sad noises from his broken maw while trying to get any kind of friction with you.

Zombie!Ghost who does act a bit pathetic in his need to breed and having you so close, so ready for him. Especially through certain cycles on your journey with him he cannot keep his hands off you for anything.

#cod smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader smut #simon ghost Riley x any gender reader really #zombie ghost #enjoy my thoughts about pathetic wet cat Zombie Ghost who wants to fuck you silly every day and fill you up

[gatorlovebot]

thinking about retired simon who is basically able to live his life as a puppy with you full time now that he has no responsibilities or a career. he fattens up because he’s your perfect boy who deserves treats all the time and you let him lick your plate clean after meals. when you go to work he spends the day cleaning the house, running errands for you and your guys’ home, everything to take care of you. he puts dinner in the oven and lays out clean clothes for you to change into and then waits by the door for you to come home from work like the good boy he is <3

#gator.writing #puppy simon #not any new thoughts but these were the thibns that have been popping in my head lately #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

[scribbledghost]

Hi Ghost just a reminder that you are amazing and talented 💙 also I like that you like Simon Riley as well.

Thank you so much!!! I appreciate you 🥺 Also I hope it's cool if I take this as an excuse to write more Simon headcanons cause. I have many.

Doesn't do open spaces and/or large crowds. Makes him nervous. If you really want him to go with you to something involving either of those, he will, but he's on edge the entire time.

Yet, in the same vein, if you're going to some place with a lot of people around, he's torn. He doesn't particularly want to go, but he doesn't want you to be alone either.

Absolutely does not like you calling him Ghost. To the point where he won't answer to it at all when you're around. He'll barely tolerate you playfully referring to him as "Lieutenant".

When he's with you, he's Simon. Not Ghost, Not Lt. Riley. Simon. Your Simon. And that separation is pretty damn important to him.

On the subject of him being yours - he means that. As far as he's concerned, you own him. Anyone else tries to come onto him, and he makes it very clear he's 1) taken, and 2) wildly unimpressed with their attempt.

His nightmares shift once your relationship starts. Before, they were all memories of his own trauma. Now? Half the time it's his own memories, the other half it's him coming home and finding you dead.

You can easily tell which nightmare he has, because the latter finds him curling around you with shaking arms and stuttering breaths when he wakes.

There was one nightmare, however, that was worse than the rest. In it, he'd been the one to hurt you. Your blood was on his hands, and it had been his fault. That one had made him physically sick, and he didn't touch you for several days after.

He's quiet and clingy when he comes back from an op. The degree of severity and the duration of both depends on what the op was and how it went. Sometimes it only lasts a few days, sometimes upwards of a month.

During this time, if you tell him to back off, he will. But he won't back up too far. Something akin to "I won't get in the shower with you, but I will sit outside the door until you're done".

He respects your need for space, but at the same time a part of him worries you'll disappear if he looks away for too long.

Pops/Cracks/Loud booms put him on edge. He doesn't panic if he hears them (unless he hears it in a place where it shouldn't be), but you can tell it tenses him up by how his jaw clenches. Things like loud action movies don't bother him, but Fourth of July and New Years is always a little tough.

He tries so very hard to keep any sort of violence away from you. To him, you are his refuge. His soft, safe place to land after he's come back from the blood and guts and death. He refuses to let you catch any of the spatter.

#again. please ask me to elaborate on any of these bc i will #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost scribbles

[rileyslibrary]

Imagine Ghost genuinely caring about you but struggling to offer comfort when you’re sad.

He senses that something’s bothering you but can’t figure out what. Not only that, but he doesn’t know how to handle such things in a delicate manner.

He tries to get you to open up in his own way, though. He cracks a couple of jokes, to which you manage to smile—they weren’t very good—but that frown doesn’t disappear. He even mentions that you seem “gutted”, a comment you brush off, insisting that you’re—you guessed it—“fine.”

He weighs his options and considers asking you what’s wrong, yet he’s afraid this will result in either a dismissive “nothing” or an overwhelming flood of emotions he isn’t prepared to handle.

He even thinks of jokingly telling you to “stop being a downer,” but he predicts that such a remark would backfire, and rightfully so.

He doesn’t like prying into people’s personal lives. He hates it when others do that to him. And he can’t just openly hug you and reassure you that everything will be okay. That’s not how he operates. He wants to identify the problem so he can target it and provide you with a solution. He wants to help you, not just soothe you.

And then one day, he passes you while you’re sitting on the staircase, taking a break. He nods at you and heads straight to Price.

He starts vaguely expressing his concern about you. Price, on the other hand, wants specifics about the problem, but Ghost doesn’t have any because he never asked. All he knows is that you’ve been sad for quite a while, and he can’t bear to see you that way. But, instead of saying that to Price, he takes a different approach. He begins reporting your “misdeeds,” implying something is wrong with you.

“They barely fulfil their duties; they skipped training yesterday, and all they do in their spare time is sit somewhere, holding their head like this,” he explains, mimicking the stance he saw you in earlier.

Price asks if you’re slacking off, which could cause problems given your responsibilities. Ghost replies with a firm “negative; they are pretty attentive. They’re just not jolly about it.”

And Price looks at him, puzzled, like, “Jolly? What do you mean, jolly? Nobody is jolly while performing routine tasks.”

Ghost starts to get agitated and urges Price to take action. Price, for his part, picks up on Ghost’s concerns and agrees to speak with you.

However, Ghost has two conditions.

“Don’t tell them who reported it, and please let me know what’s bothering them. You know, so that I can take the necessary actions.”

#random acts of kindness Ghost would do instead of showing any form of verbal affection #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley

[holycryptid]

the hilariously fast downfall of ghost x reader content after mid-november simply because of soap’s chaotic existence is something that needs to be studied.

#something everyone can agree on: soapghost #like. ghost isn’t for me he’s for soap and soap only fr #i haven’t thought about any simon x reader stuff since last year just cause it doesn’t make sense anymore LMAO #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon riley #ghost mw2 #soap mactavish #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x soap

[ghouljams]

(The Day After)Halloween on the Farm (Ghost's Version) Rating: T, there's vague nudity and mentioned sex Word Count: <1k Tags: This is all fluff folks, short and sweet, Ghost x f!OC/reader, very and I mean very minor descriptions of reader, reader has a scar Summary: You spent all night last night policing other people's fun, now you can spend time relaxing in Ghost's company. If he'd come back to bed, that is.

The sheets fall off of you, the sun streaming over your stomach and creeping towards your eyes as it rises. You wake up just enough to toss an arm over your eyes. It takes you a moment of drifting for the scratching of pencil on paper to reach you. It's the only noise in the silence of the room until you groan and go to grab your blanket.

"Don't move," Simon tells you quietly. You smile to yourself and let out a breath, sinking back into the bed. 

"When did you get up?" You ask, settling in to listen to him draw. The soft drag of graphite is lulling, gentle and familiar. Simon is quiet for a long time as he works but you're patient, and you're not going anywhere.

"Hour ago," he says when his pencil stills, his fingers rub against the paper, "maybe."

You stretch a little, arch your back and twist your hips in the quiet. As long as he isn't sketching you can move, and you're quick to settle back into position. It's an attention you'll never get used to. The way you can feel his eyes drag over you, studying you with an open affection, makes you feel more beautiful than anyone ever has. He's not one to show off, but the few times you've seen his sketches they were amazing. His attention to detail is meticulous, every shadow shaping forms and adding softness, weight, to his sketches.

You wait for him to start sketching again. Each short scratch a new shadow that is rubbed soft by his fingers. You could almost doze like this. The soft light of the morning and the warmth of the house threaten to drag you back towards slumber. It's so warm in here, no wonder you barely notice the loss of your blankets. Simon must have turned up the heat after you fell asleep, easier than putting clothes on after sex you suppose. He stops sketching and you seize the opportunity.

"Can I see?" You chance the ask, he grunts and you hear the drag of his eraser.

"Sure." Your heart feels like it's going to burst. You move your arm from your eyes to check its OK to move and catch Simon staring at you. He really must have just woken up, his hair sticks in different directions, and he’s only wearing sweats. He's pulled one of the kitchen chairs to sit next to the bed, his shoulders hunched over his sketchbook. The pencil in his hands looks so small. He raises a brow, and that's good enough for you. He holds the book out to you as you push yourself up, and waits for you to take it from him. 

When you do you have to stop from pressing your fingers against the paper, you can't trace the lines of graphite as desperately as you want to. You don't want to ruin his art, but you can't believe what you're seeing is really you. You're not insecure by any stretch of the word, but the way he draws you… "Am I really this pretty?" You breathe, eyes touching on the dip of your waist, the swell of your breasts, the soft part of your lips, the scar along your stomach so adoringly detailed. 

Simon hums, and you glance at him. He’s staring at you, watching you inspect his work. His gaze is so open it almost makes you want to praise him. You think he’d like that.

“No,” He tugs the sketchbook free of your hands and starts scratching his pencil against the page, feathering the strokes along your sketched lashes, “You’re prettier in person, haven’t gotten it right yet.”

You lean forward against your knees with a smile and rest your head on your folded arms to watch Simon work. He’s so gruff, so practical with everything, it never fails to surprise you that his hobby is so delicate. Maybe that isn’t the right word, careful? Meticulous you could buy, but that makes too much sense with Simon. No, you like delicate. It speaks to the care, the consideration in his art. You’ve watched him draw his own hands, so meticulous to trace every vein and scar, and yet looking at the finished product it’s almost appreciative. 

It’s definitely appreciative when he draws you. You know that much. You can see it. His eyes dart to look at you and back down to the paper, each line struck with purpose, each glance a calculation. And again you think that for all the technical parts, it’s loving. His sketchbooks are full of you, pieces of you litter every page, every inch. He’s packed full of you, just like you’re stuffed to the brim with him.

“I love you,” You tell him. He sucks in a breath, the same way he always does, almost disbelieving.

“Love you too,” He mutters, burying himself a little further in his work. 

“We should fuck when you’re done,” You mumble, closing your eyes to enjoy the warm house, the warm affection in your chest. Simon’s sketchbook snaps shut almost as quickly as the words leave your mouth. You peek up at your husband to watch him strip his pants off, and reach to push you back down against the bed.

You move with his insistent hands, and stretch out against the bed again, letting his eyes roam over you with a different sort of appreciation. He pulls your legs up around his waist as you reach for him, tugging him down to kiss him. Simon meets your lips all too eagerly, and you let out a pleased hum as you finally receive a proper good morning.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #x oc #simon ghost x reader #cod x oc #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley x oc #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost #oc: goose #cowboy!Ghost #the sketch at the top is by Chiara Ausanio #and is not meant to be Goose just a general sketch because I couldn't find any others I liked #very hard to find figure drawing sketches that aren't figures #anyway this is how Goose gets knocked up