#simon ghost riley cod

[comesatimecomesashadow]

frayed synapses *ೃ༄

ׂ╰┈➤ . . . you're reading part ii.

pairing *ೃ༄ simon "ghost" riley / fem therapist reader

cw *ೃ༄ mentions of injury, depictions of social anxiety

summary *ೃ༄ with the burden of job-related stress weighing on your back, you decide to unwind at a local pub. yet instead of relaxation, you find out that your neighbor is none other than Simon RIley, a member of the military. after making the decision to clumsily ask him to have tea with you after an embarrassing first impression, you find that underneath Simon Riley's hardened, stone-cold façade, is a man who desperately seeks an end to the turmoil that plagues him.

note *ೃ༄ uploading this after sleep token's release of damocles obliterated me, enjoy ! ( comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist ! )

masterlist *ೃ༄ | series masterlist *ೃ༄ | prev . . next *ೃ༄

You were never much of a sleeper.  

Subtle blue rays of early sunlight peeked in through the blinds on the sliding doors near your bed. The mattress was comfortable but nothing could save you from the habit of rising at the crack of dawn. After staying in your bed with your eyes closed, waiting to get the motivation to fully wake up, you got up and trudged towards the balcony. The metal of the sliding doors felt icy, the mahogany floorboards felt even colder under the bare skin of your feet. 

Despite this, the wind felt fresh on your face as soon as you stepped out onto the balcony and bathed in the rays of the rising sun. You stretched your arms over your head and let out a content sigh. London was full of tall buildings and while it wasn’t all lit up since it was still very early in the morning, the blue tinted scenery was still nice to look at. It was a Saturday today which meant you wouldn’t have work today, thankfully. Now that you remembered, your boss had asked you to take about two weeks off after what happened. 

You should probably re-bandage your arm now that you’re thinking about it. 

Anyway, you retreated inside your home and began your day. The water droplets that fell from the showerhead were more than soothing, despite that, it still stung when the water washed over the wound on your arm. 

It was a stupid mistake to be blindsided by a client in that way, you should’ve known better; should’ve seen the signs. 

With a heavy sigh, you made your way out of the shower and into the kitchen after getting dressed. You were going to make yourself a cup of coffee but decided instead to go to the local cafe down the street. After all, you had way more time on your hands than you knew to do with. With your keys in your pocket and your small box of toothpicks in your coat pocket, you ventured out of the door. As you locked it, your vision drifted to the door next to yours. 

Your neighbor's door. 

It suddenly hit you that you had made quite the impression the day before. “Should i..” you muttered to yourself, wondering if you should treat the man to a cup of coffee as a sort of apology for last night. As soon as the lock on your door clicked, you slowly walked up to his door. It felt rather intimidating but you’d already made your mind up — He’d probably end up declining anyway, you reasoned. Just as you were about to deliver a firm knock on his door, it swung open, making your hand freeze in mid-air. 

   You could see your neighbor’s creased eyebrows and the confused look in his eyes, the surgical mask he wore hid the rest of his face though. He was taller than he seemed last night, you guessed that maybe it was because you’d only seen him from afar that time. You stepped back from the front of the door, realizing that you’d somehow managed to make it awkward yet again. All these years and yet you still had problems with simple social interaction. 

It almost made you feel pathetic. Almost.

“Good morning,” You began after clearing your throat, “-Uhm, I’m _____, I live next door. I know I probably caused you some trouble last night so.. I was wondering if you’d like to have a cup of coffee or tea — whatever you prefer — as an apology for last night?” A sheepish smile graced your lips as a silence settled between the two of you. You offered your hand for a handshake, which he returned after a few seconds. His hand was large ang calloused, definitely not the work of an office job. 

The crease in between his eyebrows was gone, more relaxed from what you could tell — but he had yet to say a word. Finally, after what felt like a grueling pair of seconds, your neighbor spoke. “Simon. As for last night, you don’t need to do tha’.” His accent was thick, his response clipped. 

“Are you sure?” You smiled, satisfied that you were right about him declining your offer. It was probably selfish of you but you weren’t prepared for the anxiety of going out today anyway. On top of that, what if you ended up being awkward as hell — as you usually were — in front of him? He’d probably think you were weird and then you’d never be able to show your face again. 

He seemed to be considering your offer for a moment — which frankly made you a tad nervous because what if he accepted your offer? A sigh came from his lips before he replied, “I’m busy today. Wha’ about this Friday?” 

Your heart stopped. 

If you said ‘no’ it’d make it complicated and you’d probably look like an ass for it, but if you said ‘yes’ you’d have the displeasure of not knowing what to say to him or even how to start a conversation with him. . .  The anxiety was eating you alive in those three mere seconds. “Sure. What time?” The words were rushed, you were surprised you didn’t trip over your own tongue. You tended to do that when your mind ran faster than your mouth could keep up with. 

“Does 2pm work for you?” 

“Yeah.” you answered with a slow nod. “That would be great.” 

With that, Simon gave you a curt nod. You bid him farewell and continued on your way to the local cafe, the memory of the interaction replaying in your mind at least a hundred times until you entered the warm ambience of the cafe. The glossy floorboards and aroma of coffee beans in the air brought you a sense of comfort — which you needed after that awkward interaction. You already had a toothpick in your mouth by the time it was your turn to order. 

“The usual caramel latte, Miss ______?” 

“What?” You looked at the young man confusedly, as if he’d grown two heads. 

The young man at the register, his name-tag read ‘Eliah’, only chuckled and offered a smile to you. “Sorry, it’s just- you always order the same thing. Sorry if that was weird..” he sheepishly apologized. Did you make him feel like that? Oh lord. 

You shook your head, “Oh, it’s not weird at all, don’t worry. I was just lost in thought so it caught me off guard.” 

“So.. A Caramel Latte?” Eliah smirked. Your social nervousness seemed to amuse him, not that you cared all that much. It was just something embarrassing you couldn’t fix about yourself. No amount of trying in your thirty-five years of life would fix that. 

“Yeah, please.” you dug into your pocket and slipped your debit card from your wallet, fidgeting with it before swiping it through the card reader and punching in your pin number. It was only the start of the day and yet you already felt drained. Human interaction shouldn’t be this stressful — or troublesome, as you like to call it. It was almost ironic since your expertise involved reading people and analyzing them through their behavior. 

But you digress. 

As you went to sit at your usual table near the window, you pulled up the calendar app on your phone and made a reminder for this coming Friday. As you sat there waiting for your coffee, the interaction played in your head like a movie. Simon was a tall and built man; he was also dressed in active wear when he had opened the door. You concluded that he liked to stay fit — as most men do. The mask made you come up with the notion that he was either sick or he was hiding his face — the lower part anyway. 

You relentlessly searched for anything that would give you something to talk about when you met him this Friday. If you just sat with him in silence, you swore you were going to feel like crawling into a hole and never coming out. The anxiety alone would eat you alive. You had the ability to make it seem like you were calm when you were freaking out underneath the surface — it didn’t make your social anxiety go away but it sure as hell lessened the added stress of making a situation awkward when you acted like you had no anxiety at all. 

Your thoughts drifted from your neighbor to the new bandages around your arm. It would probably take about two to three weeks for it to heal properly, it still had stitches which helped but didn’t keep it from hurting. The injury would probably leave a scar. The only good thing was that it would also serve as a reminder to never underestimate the creativity of a criminal — especially one with an antisocial personality disorder.

“Caramel Latte for .. _____?” 

Your train of thought derailed as soon as your name was called. You retrieved your coffee from the counter and thanked the barista before leaving. 

Work was off the table these next two weeks but you had an inkling that it would still be an eventful couple of days. 

taglist *ೃ༄ . . . @dwkfan . . @savannahsomething . . @thatghostlykid . .  

© 2025 comesatimecomesashadow

[oceantornadoo]

simon riley AND reader who are absolutely terrible at dating.

he ghosts you after the first date. you thought it was a once-in-a-lifetime connection with unmatched banter and crackling physical tension. guess not. you lose a couple of nights of sleep over it and chalk it up to men ain’t shit and move on.

simon who can’t stop thinking about your date as he gets shipped out the next day. runs through an op quicker than ever, barking at soap more than usual, toeing the line of unprofessional. every day that passes is a day he can’t touch his personal phone, leaving your text thread abandoned.

you get a text a month later. “you around?” have to check the thread to remember who it was, finding yourself absolutely shocked, struggling to remember the hulking mass of a man who made you giggle so much over that one dinner.

simon shows up to your picnic date with apology flowers and a new leather jacket. explains why he was gone without prompting, a gruff monologue as you find yourself getting distracted by the new scratch on his eyebrow and the scruff on his face. unconsciously, your fingers brush it barely, wanting to make sure it was real.

simon stops mid-sentence, gripping your wrist in an iron hold. the shock of what you did hits you, profuse apologies spilling from your lips as you try to explain and tug your wrist back. he won’t let you though, keeping it in place, your soft skin against his worn calluses.

“‘s okay, love. jus’ ask next time. still jumpy from work.” you finally snatch your hand back, embarrassment warming your body as you nod your head in acknowledgment. he thinks about letting the awkwardness settle and take roots, adding a string of failed dates to his black book.

instead you make the choice for him, attention catching on a nearby curious toddler. you give the little bugger a wave with your biggest smile, sticking out your tongue to make the kid laugh. simon decides then and there that he’s going to keep you.

[clancycatears]

thinking about how simon gets under your skin juuust right after an argument.

you’re giving him the silent treatment as he’s floating around the house, carrying out little bits of service in an attempt to catch your attention again.

doing the dishes? nonsense, he’s always doing them anyways, even if he’s scrubbing the pot you left to soak—neglecting it because it was your least favorite dish to clean.

cleaning out the fridge? you could’ve sworn you’d done it last month—but it had to be so much longer, because he’s throwing out three glasses of expired sauces. (that neither of you had used since you first bought them)

cleaning out the shower? you’d just gone in there yourself, conditioner still slick on acrylic floor. but no biggie, he’s cleaning it off since he has to shower later, anyways.

and then, he’s returning to the living room where you sat, your fumes dying with every little task he works, to dust off and clean the 55-inch telly screen.

you still don’t meet his eyes, still insistent on being angry—even after all he’s been doing in an attempt to catch your attention. though once you look up, he’s already hooking a leash onto your dog and taking him out for a walk.

oh, so he just needed some air. maybe he was still upset, too.

nope. he’s coming home with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand, letting the dog free before returning to your form on the sofa.

he tilts his head around to catch your eye, you don’t give it to him. he tries to show off the flowers to you, and you look once, but then cast your eyes aside once more.

so he sighs, setting the flowers to your side, before getting on his knees in front of you. he holds your thighs as he kisses your knee, then rests his cheek on the same spot he’d pecked.

“c’mon, sweet��art. can’t stand the silence.”

and you relent, because he looks too damn good on his knees for you.

ghost masterlist

[leafavleo]

⤷ from requests

GHOST who never really got drunk, he always stopped at couple beers in fear of not being able to control his actions once he’d allow himself to have a little more. One night he finally decided to let loose, he bought a nice looking wine to drink it with you on a nice autumn evening. Little did he know how wine would work on him.

After two and a half glasses he started to move a bit closer to you, closing the gap between you and him on a couch, letting his hand rest on your thigh, your waist and other parts of your body that he wanted to worship for hours. His eyes seemed to be able to focus only on your face.

His lips felt they would dry out of thirst if they wouldn’t be on your sweet skin, tasting you and making you form those adorable sounds. The wine worked just fine for him, he felt his insides burning and he wasn’t sure if it was alcohol, his desire for you or even both. Every time you moved a little, he’d let out a little whine of protest, keeping you in place. Even when you wanted to pull away to catch your breath, he’d just grab your jaw and crash his lips against yours again.

“Baby…” He mumbled against your lips, a little frown forming on his harsh features.

He felt like he’s melting once you started to touch him back, your soft hands wrapping around his neck before slowly moving downwards, touching his chest and abs, making him only more needy. Soft whines leaving his lips once you stopped touching him even more a quick second. Now you knew what to drink every weekend with him.

[druap]

iykyk uncolored version under the cut

holy fuck this made me legit tweak out, im never doing lineart of tactical stuff EVER again OG pic:

[chamomiletealeaf]

Sending a video to Simon while he’s on deployment of you humping your body pillow in your cute lace baby blue panties with a little pink bow on the front, aka, his favorite pair, making sure he can see the now dark blue spot in them from soaking yourself.

You’re panting, squealing Simon’s name bouncing your ass on the pillow while you straddle it rubbing your twitching clit back and forth on it.

You have the camera positioned behind you to get a full view of your ass and pussy from behind and when you cum in your panties you make sure to arch your back so Simon can see how wet your orgasm made you.

He sees the video and immediately locks himself away in his bunk for the night, roughly fisting his cock over and over to you moaning his name, the soft jiggle of your ass and thighs, and the way your cunt just gushes for him like his own personal little cam girl.

God he can’t wait to get home.

[porkcutletbowl44]

WAIT WAIT LISTEN (nsfw btw)

What if ghost is disguised as a loser?

You would think he's a complete beginner like the rest of the team does. He doesn't ever talk to anyone, he avoids people like the plague and literally tells random people to fuck off no matter who they are he's just trying to mind his business with his two fingers of bourbon.

No one has ever seen him leave with a woman on his arm.

Jokingly—in all seriousness— you did ask him out to hook up, fully thinking you were his first, you were gonna give him the ride of his life even if he was a two pump chump and called quits his first orgasm by a real vagina.

And nobody would know, he's secretive enough on the clock and nobody has a clue what he does away from military work, so this would be your dirty secret; your little dream coming to life.

Only to your shock, he fucks you like he's trying to leave a imprint of your body into the mattress. Girthy cock dragging perfectly against all the right places, spearing through you over and over having your tongue brain dead.

Before you can even ask who the fuck are you and what have you done with ghost— he pulls out mid fuck to bury his face in your ass with massive globs on spit on his tongue, shaking your cheeks in his face like some kind of fucking porn star as he eats both from the back like an animal.

You're at a loss, and immensely (disappointed? Bewildered?) pleased that you just scored a night with a man of your dreams and he's apparently secretly good with your body for some reason... (And no, he does not let you leave. At all. You ain't leaving his flat and that's final.) ((Also congrats no one else will let him be as nasty as he is so he's definitely not letting go you're getting married next week you gotta match his freak))

[haven-1307]

Simon’s girlfriend touching herself to his gruff voice over the phone while he’s away on deployment. She’s tried and tried to work her fingers into the sweet spot but no matter how much she tries she just can’t quite reach like he can. Her delicate fingers poke and prod trying to find it and you can only huff with annoyance when it doesn’t work.

Simon solution? Getting a mould made of his cock, just for his sweet girl to use when he’s on the other side of the world. It fits perfectly, hitting the spots that have her breath stuttering and her back arching. Curling inside her, feeling the pinch on her cervix when the toy bottoms out.

[lacelinedcorpse]

Thinking about.....

Simon riley, not ghost, never ghost with you. Riley who lets you color in his tattoos, watching with amusement when you rehydrate old purple markers with saliva just to dry them out again against his chapped and weathered arms. The same gruff old man who complains about his tinnitus and creaking bones running about and fretting over grocery prices with you. Simon who scorns you for trying to get him to indulge in your most recent attempt at crochet, only to end up skillfully looping balls of yarn into cat scarves to sooth the bitter lump in your mind after one to many single row attempts. Your silly riley who jump starts you mornings with cold toes on warm skin burning you with sensation but soothing your mind with affection.

[sweetiecutie]

Warnings: pantie stealing and sniffing, masturbation, Simon has a crush on you, kinda softie! Simon

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who felt guilt pooling in his chest as he fisted his leaking cock violently, a pair of your pink frilly thongs that he pinched from laundry basket in you house was pressed against his nose, inhaling lungfuls of your soury scent. Bright blush covered his normally pale cheeks, honey-coloured eyes rolling back as Riley’s back arched, series of low groans and stifled moans slipping past his lips as hot cum shot out of his overstimulated cock, landing in small puddles on his pubic and tummy.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who could barely look you in the eyes the whole next week out of sheer shame and embarrassment, brushing you off whenever you tried talking to him. You pouted, not getting such wanted attention from your older brother’s broody best friend, just clicking your tongue as he openly ignored you, finally giving up and turning around on your heels, marching off to your room, snacks and mug of tea in your hands. If only you could see Simon’s eyes lingering longingly on the soft slope of your ass, trying to burn the image in his brain, you small booty shorts doing nothing to hide delicious plumpness of it.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who clenched his teeth tightly, breathing deeply through his nose to try and control himself as you sat on an arm of the armchair he was settled in, drunkenly babbling about some new movie you’ve been meaning to watch. He desperately tried not to look at your tits as you leant against the back of that damned armchair, your chest poking out of the deep cut of your crop top barely ten centimetres away from Simon’s head, basically inviting him to bury his face in beautiful softness of your boobs. But he just gripped his beer tighter, looking strictly in front of him and nodding absentmindedly at your words, subtly shuffling his hoody down to hide a growing tent in his pants.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon on whom you can always count. You need a drive back home after going out for drinks? He’s grabbing his car keys and telling you he’ll be there in a few minutes. Some weirdo has been bothering you at work/uni? Simon is discreetly asking bastard’s name as to not rise any suspicions in you, just to have a little friendly chat with him a bit later, making sure to break duchebag’s nose so he doesn’t stick it into your business anymore. There’s something off with your car and you need to get it fixed? How good that Simon is a handyman, bringing your car back to life not worse than any mechanic would (and he’s definitely not flexing his stupidly big biceps while doing it).

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who knew better than to make a move on you. He knew you liked him, and he liked you too (more like was totally obsessed). But he valued his best friend too much, knowing perfectly well that he wouldn’t appreciate it if Simon fucked his little sister.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who realised that he was absolutely, utterly, totally fucked as he watched you and your older brother roughhousing around the kitchen, bickering and play-fighting - your smile was so bright and warm, making him feel hot like sun in the middle of August, your loud laughter made his chest buzz with something soft and Riley felt as if he was about to pass out because of the flow of softness he felt for you that moment. Soon your eyes met his, mischievous smirk curled your pretty lips as you threw a pillow at him, surely dragging Simon into your little brawl, creating a huge mess for which all three of you will surely get a good scolding from your mom.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who tried to distance himself from you because you deserved more than him. He genuinely did try to ignore all your soft smiles and fleeting touches, the way you batted you pretty eyelashes as you listened to him explaining something to you or the way you would nibble on your bottom lip as your eyes wandered up and down his torso as he wore one of his compression shirts. Simon did try his best to save you from himself, but all of his resolve vanished completely and utterly the moment you got brave enough to stand to your tippy toes and press a tentative kiss to his chapped lips.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who scooped you up in his arms, giving you no chance to escape as he deepened the kiss, moaning quietly into your mouth as you let his tongue in, greedy hands roaming up and down your body, feeling all the curves and dips of it - just like he dreamt of doing past few years. Simon barely registered pressing you against the wall, meaty forearms boxing you as his torso pressed against yours, grinding his boner against your tummy, goosebumps running up his spine as he felt your small arms gripping on his sides, pressing him closer to yourself.

Brother’s bestfriend! Simon who broke off your kiss, a silver strand of saliva connected your lips as he gazed deeply in your eyes, blush on your face made him feel warm and proud. He pressed his lips against your forehead, nosing at your hair and inhaling sweet scent of your shampoo. Withdrawing back for just a few centimetres he muttered in his raspy breathy voice “Go out with me”

Likes, reblogs and comment are highly appreciated, give writers some love!🩷 I’m thinking about making part 2, let me know what you think<3

[lizzy019]

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────

Simon Riley who definitely swoons every time he sees you angry or upset. He likes seeing that furrow of your brow, your comebacks and the fury in your tone. It's somehow extremely hot to him, despite him not knowing why. He doesn't admit this to you, ever.

Simon Riley who was super hesitant to take off his mask around you. Sure, he knew he could trust you, but he was nervous. Would you even like it? The scarring, the cuts, the busted lip of his and the eye bags hidden under his warpaint? But when he took it off, he was assured he looked handsome by you showering him in kisses and loving words. (He probably got shy after.)

Simon Riley who can't cook for shit, but would definitely like to learn for you. If you can cook or if you can't, he will do his best to learn a few simple dishes so he could say that he's a decent cook.

Simon Riley who hates when you mock his accent sometimes. But he never does anything to retort or defend himself, he takes your teasing because he knows you enjoy it. Though, it does end in some fun and playful wrestling, often ending in laughing fits and some good cuddles after.

Simon Riley who can't stand your shower routine. He absolutely hates the way you clean yourself, and he often convinces you that he should clean you himself. While you don't know how to feel about this, you smile as he gently lathers soap on your body. Just don't expect this to be a one-way thing, he wants to be pampered a little too.

Simon Riley who loves cats so much that he adopted 4 strays. He got them all checked at the vet, paid whatever amount of money to get them their shots, prescriptions, proper food, etc. He'd definitely pamper the little furballs like they were his children.

Simon Riley who probably owns a really nice suit, but never got it tailored after his military work. Every time he puts it on, he winces because the sleeves of the jacket are too tight. You have to convince him that it looks better, that there's more muscle definition while he wears it. It was his favourite outfit after that.

Simon Riley who would wholeheartedly give you the most random massage. Like- full on massage. His warm hands were definitely the most heavenly thing you've ever felt, and the little callouses and cuts on his fingers just made everything more perfect.

Simon Riley who doesn't know how to handle you when you're on your period. He gets you snacks, drinks, blankets, your heating pad, some extra sanitary things, but he doesn't know how to handle your mood swings. One minute, you're all cuddly and sad, and the next it seems he's done something wrong and you're mad at him. But then you're laughing?

Simon Riley who adores when you need his help with opening jars, reaching things on higher shelves, doing a load of laundry while you do something else, it makes him feel useful. But just don't tell him to do the dishes, he probably dropped one or two and they broke.

Simon Riley who literally sleeps with a rock hard pillow. He can't sleep on a fluffy pillow, they hurt his neck. But he LOVES a springy bed and a thick duvet blanket. You don't understand why, neither does he.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────

[eaturheartout2021]

Keeping It Under The Table

Summary: During a mission briefing Ghost does something a little out of character but you don’t seem to mind.

Cw: dubcon, public orgasm, unrealistic military scenarios

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x female!reader

Word count: 1.2k

The briefing room was in total blackout save for the bright screen at the head of the room showing an intricate map and multiple mug shots. The large rounded table sat a few blacked out silhouettes you failed to make out as you hurried in to find an empty seat.

The soft click of the door shutting behind you made the captain turn his head at the noise clearing his throat. You stilled holding the chair back in your hand.

“So glad ya decided ta join us. You’ve just volunteered ta take all the briefin notes.” He said with his signature smile. You stifled a groan while Soap and Gaz, just ahead of you, let out mimicked snickers.

“Right you lot, Laswell got us some intel about a data file that Makarov has been tryin’ ta get his grubby mits on for months. What’s on that file? That’s what I want ta find out.” His gruff voice rang through the small space clear and sharp, with full attention. Except one.

You glanced up from your haste scribbling to find Ghost leaned back in his chair, not looking at his captain, but at you. The lieutenant who hardly spoke a word to anyone but his team was staring at you. Possibly mentally scolding you for being late to such an important meeting. It made heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment.

You quickly looked away to try and keep up with the quick pace of information being thrown around. A few hours go by, a plan is set, a team put together consisting of Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and you; an intelligence expert and the know how around computer systems. Any one else could call you a “hacker”. A date and time is placed along with a RV point where Nik will be waiting with an evac.

You’re writing as fast as you possibly can, trying to get as much as the information as possible when a slight nudge hits your boot. At first you think it’s an accident and pay it no mind, but it happens again, this time the other foot stays. You glance up and Ghost is looking at you once again.

You can’t read the emotions in his eyes, the plain black surgical mask covers the bottom half of his face concealing any other giveaways he might be able to make. You slowly raise an eyebrow as if to say:

‘Did you mean to do that?’

He slowly closed his eyes and the corners crinkled up as if he were giving a sly smile under his mask.

‘What if I did?’ He seemed to say.

His foot slowly pushed the two of yours apart, spreading your legs ever so slightly. Your heart was about to fly out of your chest. The lieutenant who never spoke, who was the lone wolf out of the pack, was flirting with you? 

More than flirting. The toe of his boot ran up the side on your spread legs, egging them to open more. All the while, above the table, he sat perfectly still. Arms crossed over his chest, looking absolutely bored. You however were flushed past your shirt collar, breath starting to become labored.

You had to adjust yourself you try and calm your racing heart. This was coming from nowhere. Sure you had always had feelings for the mysterious man sat across from you but you dropped it once he never returned the same thing. Respectfully. That is until now, where his boot was climbing dangerously close to your clothed cunt.

Instinctively, you spread your legs wider to give him better access which made him get a tiny glint in his eye. His boot hovered slightly over your cunt and you looked at him, silently asking what he was doing.

You definitely saw the devilish smirk paint itself across his face when he pressed slowly but firmly into you. You ground your hips softly up to meet him but stopped to not catch attention. Ghost didn’t seem to like that and pressed harder. You bit the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood when he start to rock his boot over your clit through your pants.

Briefing notes be damned. Price could write you up and make you clean bathrooms for a month and it would be worth it. You dropped your head into your hand but tried to make it look as natural as possible. Not as if you were riding your superiors boot underneath the table in a room full of your colleagues. Which turned you on more than it should have.

You looked back up at Ghost and his chest was rising and falling quickly. Eyes never leaving you as your hips slowly ground down in tiny circles. He didn’t move his foot but let you set the pace, eyes darting to Price every so often. Always so vigilant.

You tried to keep taking the notes but he turned you into a pile of mess in mere seconds. Brain turned to mush and unable to form a single coherent thought other than Ghost Ghost Ghost.

The unbridled need in your stomach was on fire and you looked at him with eyes that almost brimmed with tears. Pleading with him to help you. He understood immediately.

His foot began rocking in little waves in time with your small circled thrusts and it took a Herculean effort not to cry out. Your legs were shaking, your breath hitching, stomach clinching. His foot pressed into you firmly meeting with your thrusts sending you spiraling over the edge.

You held your breath, eyes rolling into the back of your head, fingers gripping onto your pen with such force it could’ve shattered it. Ghost coaxed you through your high softly and when you opened your eyes, his met yours and the hunger that stared back was overwhelming. He moved his foot away just as Price finished.

“We leave at 0400. Flight deck A. You four solid on what needs to be done?” Price glanced over at you, head still in your hands.

“Solid Cap’m.” Ghost’s heavy timbre rang in your ears.

Price hummed in acceptance and soon dismissed the group not before stopping you from making a speedy and quick exit.

“I want those notes on my desk by this afternoon.” You held the notepad to your chest and smiled softly.

“Yes sir. They’ll be typed up and in your folder no later than 1800 this evening.” He nodded and finally dismissed you.

As you made your way through the hallway to your barrack, a muscular arm caught yours and turned your back and pinned you to the closest wall. Ghost stood towering over you, arms caging you in on both sides. The silent shadow slunk his way to you and you never heard a thing. A small smile found its way to your lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that to you.” His dark eyes peered down at you with such heated lust you thought you’d burn alive.

“I can’t wait to see how these next few weeks play out then.” You run your hand down the front of his shirt and slowly graze over the buckle of his belt. Ducking under his arm you continued to walk the way you were heading.

Behind you, you could hear a deep groan followed by heavy footsteps trailing after you.

I’m so excited to finally be writing semi-regular again after almost 2 years… oops 😬. My requests are open so if you have any please shoot me an idea and I’ll happily try my best to make it happen!

Ps: I’m genuinely so obsessed with this man that if he broke me in half I’d probably thank him and ask for more… just 😩🤌🏻 military men. That is all.

[oceantornadoo]

inspired by a dramoine fic i read! simon riley x f!reader

it’s the third time today someone has handed you simon’s paperwork and you’re starting to get confused. in fact, there’s the distinct feeling that you’ve missed a memo.

first, it was the visiting captain, so you couldn’t blame him for confusing lieutenants. but then it was johnny turning in his mission report, muttering something about “cannae be late this time if ah give it ye, lass.” which was odd, considering you weren’t his direct report (you were gaz’s). but what really sent you over the edge was getting called into price’s office and being met with a load of folders addressed to one Lt. Ghost (Confidential).

“sir, i’m a bit confused as to why you can’t just give these to him yourself.” price looked up from his desk, eyes flickering from under his boonie hat. “hav’ you seen ‘im today, lieutenant?” you nodded immediately while trying to scoop all of this paperwork (that was not yours!) into your arms. “yessir, i saw him before breakfast and then during training and then…what?” price had silently quirked an eyebrow, his beard echoing the movement. “i haven’t seen ‘im all day, so i figure it’s faster for you to deliver since you’re more well-versed in his movements than i am.” huh. “i’m sure he’s just doing his ghost thing, y’know? slipping into shadows and…”, price patiently gave you an exasperated look, “but i’ll get these to him, sir. see you later!”

the problem was, you knew exactly where simon was. in your office.

his own had an unfortunate ground level window near the track, so he was always complaining about nosy recruits until you offered to share some office space. temporarily, of course. it’s not like you were using all the empty space anyways and it made it much easier to get the opinion of your fellow lieutenant on a report by walking over to his desk, rather than going up and down stairs. that was the second point he made, and who were you to say no?

after pushing open your office door, you beelined for simon’s desk, dumping the stacks of folders on his desk. “wot’s this?” his mask was off so you could see his eyes widen at the mess of papers. “everyone now thinks i’m a drop off box for your paperwork, so i got burdened with all of this when i was doing my rounds.” he nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of his tea. “cheers, love.”

“what do you mean, cheers? don’t you think it’s odd for them to give me your paperwork? and why do we even have so much paperwork? i swear im drowning in it this week.” he snorted at your last sentence, opening the first folder in front of him while you rounded your desk, sitting in your comfy chair with a hmpf. “yer out an’ about more than me, tha’s all.” well, that was true. the infamous ghost was not known to be a sociable person on base. “i guess…” you turned to your old radio, passed down by a retired captain, and turned on simon’s favorite classical station.

“ya want mess or the pub tonight, love?” another great thing about being on base with simon - you never had to pay for dinner. “actually, that thai place we like is doing a special tonight.” he gave you a half-smirk, one cheek ticking up. “bloody raccoon. we had thai two nights ago.” you didn’t respond, instead blinking your best impression of puppy dog eyes at him. simon sighed, then shook his head at his desk. “olrigh’. the things i do.” you smiled and winked, dipping your head back down to your desk. “thanks, si.”

-

two weeks later, you were prepping for a duo mission with simon. price had been grilling the two of you for the past three hours, making sure you had everything memorized. satisfied, he leaned back in his office chair and rubbed his temples, the feeling of a headache coming on. “one more thing.” both of you snapped your head up at price, desperate to leave and eat. you’d already missed dinner and your stomach was complaining.

“the safe house is pretty small, basically a shack. one bed, no couch. i assumed ‘s fine since y’r datin-“ “‘s fine, captain.” simon cut him off, an out of character move that had you frowning. “it’s fine, cap. not like ive never slept on a floor before.” now price was frowning at what you said. he turned to simon, who shook his head imperceptibly before becoming still again. price’s brow furrowed but he didn’t push further. he got up from his chair, eyes flitting suspiciously between you two. “i’ll see you at 0600.”

“what was that about?” you whispered to simon after as you walked down the hall. “‘s nothin’.” you were missing something but it was so unclear what. “he thinks that we’re datin-“ “said it’s nothin’, sweetheart. he’s an old man. let’s get some food in you, yeah?” you nodded, letting him guide you to the kitchen. price wasn’t that old. and you were not dating simon riley.

-

the mission was beautiful, your best one in years. it was the first duo mission between you and simon, so the nerves of pulling your own weight had settled in hard. thankfully, your skills balanced each other out and you’d gotten the target in record time. now, all you had to do was wait in the safe house for exfil.

“you were so good.” you whispered once he’d locked the door. he only hummed a response, checking exit and entry points while you set up your packs, scrounging up MREs and testing the shack for electricity. price wasn’t kidding - it was practically a studio apartment. one bed, a bathroom and a decrepit stove. the soldier part of you was fine with it, but that small soft part of you ached for the warmth of your apartment. memories of yelling at simon for using all your shampoo even though he didn’t live there, of him running you a bath after a long day of training.

“you were good too, baby.” he snuck up from behind your spot on the floor and lifted you onto the mattress that had definitely seen better days. you hadn’t even checked it for bed bugs yet. “c’mere.” he pulled you into his lap, unbuckling your tac vest as you pulled off your bandana. you tugged off his mask - the hard shell since you were on a mission - and ran your nails through his short haircut. simon started kissing your neck, wet and sloppy like he couldn’t get enough. the unrestrained want he displayed sometimes scared you. the respective pulsing in both your chest and cunt scared you more.

“so are you sleeping on the floor or am i?” he flipped you over, your back flush with the mattress as simon loomed over you. there was still eyeblack around his eyes, caught on his blonde eyelashes as well, and you couldn’t help the hand that reached up to brush some of it away. “y’r funny, sweetheart.” you grinned at that - a real toothy smile. he bent down to kiss you, scarred lips caressing your own. simon bit your lip and you moaned, sliding your legs out from under him to wrap them around his torso. when you tugged him in he went willingly, grinding into your clothed cunt. his tac vest was still on, scraping against your shirt, hardening your nipples.

“keepin’ you in this bed all night.” cold fingers dipped past the waist of your pants. you were already wet, his fingers sliding easily up and down your slit as they warmed up. that’s when you realized he still had his glove on, his movements harsher than normal. wide eyes met his own, and simon stopped so you could make a decision.

it didn’t take much as you dug your heels into his back harder, meeting him in a sloppy kiss as his gloved thumb played with your clit. “fuckin’ made for me.” he whispered, and you chalked it up to dirty talk because obviously, you weren’t together. he just knew exactly what to do, giving your clit the right amount of pressure as his other fingers teased your hole, the stretch burning more than usual. it only took a few flicks and you were off, your orgasm settling through your bones like a warm cup of tea. “jesus, si.” he grinned, his scarred lips pulling up to show a beautiful smile. “know ya like th’ back of my hand, huh?” you shook your head, capturing the idiot in another kiss.

-

after the mission, after debrief and a hot shower, you made your way back to your base office. thankfully, paperwork had only slightly piled up. one envelope stood out though - a thick card-stock with glossy, swooping letters. an invite to london’s military gala, addressed to a Lieutenant & Lieutenant. simon’s name was next to yours, connected by a singular symbol. you turned to him in disbelief. simon had been going through his own backlog, but his head snapped up under the focus of your glare.

“simon, are we…dating?”

-

this was fun!!! check out the fic i linked it was so good and i couldn’t put it down.

[starryylies]

Simon loves gossiping with you

Simon loves tea, both kinds

“She broke up with him?, well good for her that chap was a fuckin’ rag anyways.”

So whenever you guys go out with a friend and her date he has major insights tea to provide afterwards “Na lovie that wanker’s an ass saw him check out two other girls before you joined us.”

Listens to you and your friends gossip shes by making you put your call on speaker. Making you mute when he has something to say.

“No bloody way, yr’ tellin me she cheated on her boyfriend, he was a great guy man” He sighs out

“Oi don’t get any funny ideas” he warns you sternly, which makes you roll your eyes and continue the call.

“No way you’re telling me she slept with your best-friends ex ??, luv no offence but she’s a bitch”.

You agree.

Man having him as a boyfriend is a dream

[tryingtoremembermyname]

it’s me. i’m bitches.

[konigs-left-pec]

PostMission!Ghost is hard the second his feet hit the tarmac, brain swimming in a potent cocktail of adrenaline and testosterone from the fight. He follows you to the hangar with the rest of the team, throat tight and dry as he can't seem to stop staring, hypnotized by your ass and the sway of your hips.

He is practically on said ass the second you head into the unisex bathroom; locking the door and crowding you against the sink. He's still fully geared, can't even pull his tac pants down fast enough, catching on his holsters. You'd laugh at the absurdity of it if you weren't burning with the same desire that's taken him. He just barely gets free enough to let his cock out, so hard it's painful at this point. You aren't ready, but you don't care. The stretch burns, your hands fluttering helplessly on his shoulders as you're speared on his enormous length. His head is bowed, resting on your shoulder as he gasps brokenly into your ear like every thrust is agony.

Just like that...s'fuckin good f'me...

He's winding you up; the hunger in your belly coiling tighter and tighter with the way he's effectively biting at your neck, gloved hands clutching and pushing at your hips and ass demanding you meet his brutal pace. He's sucking in air through clenched teeth, praise pouring out past parted lips as his thrusts turn somehow even more erratic. He always comes hard and fast like this. You'd be upset if he didn't feel so damn good.

You're so close when he comes on a strangled groan, hips stuttering to a halt as he grinds into you as deeply as he can manage. He's panting while his head clears, cock still hard and flexing against that spot deep within you. Ghost fixes you with a boyish smile, brown eyes glazed over and warm like the flush coloring his cheeks as your eyes meet.

m'sorry, love. I couldn't help it.

The gloved hand not currently propping you against the sink presses suddenly against your lips, a coy invitation to bite. His smirk widened imperceptibly as he worked his hand free, sliding down between your bodies with practiced ease to circle your aching clit. He has you gasping wantonly into his mouth in record time, fingers clenched tight against his flak vest as your orgasm swells up like a tidal wave to decimate you, all while he's purring huskily into your ear with each sweet pulse...

Good girl.