#simon ghost riley x fem!reader

[gloomwitchwrites]

DMs & DNA

Simon "Ghost" Riley x TF141 Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, situationship / friends w/ benefits, possessive behavior, post-coital sweetness, Simon marking his territory, brief threat of violence, teasing, non-explicit sex

Word Count: 1.2k

Simon becomes territorial when a recent recruit tries to steal you out from under him.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // summer 2024 masterlist

You’re tight and perfect and all fucking his.

Simon moans against your throat with lips pressed to your skin as he does his fucking best to remain in control of himself. He’s failing. Completely falling apart.

Your whimper is too sweet, and the way your body squeezes him has him dizzy. Your orgasm blooms—flows outward, and Simon’s autonomy slips from under him. Somehow, you’re good at seizing all of his control—claiming it for you own. Do you even realize you do it? Do you know how you affect him?

Simon knows. It happens all the time.

Brushing a few strands of hair over your shoulder, Simon leaves a tentative kiss in the curve of your neck. Beneath him, you shiver, head turning toward him as if you’re ticklish from the attention.

“We’ve been away too long,” you murmur, breaking the peacefulness settling over Simon’s senses.

Simon hooks an arm around your waist. “No one is looking for us.”

It’s likely true. Simon made sure that the two of you would be alone—that no one would interrupt. But time flows differently when you’re enjoying yourself.

Glancing at his watch, Simon frowns. You’re right. The two of you have been gone for longer than anticipated. It’s not ideal but it can’t be helped.

Simon doesn’t want to part. He wants to take you home, to linger with you beneath the sheets, to have his way with your body. But this has not happened, and Simon isn’t sure that it ever will. The two of you meet in storage closets, empty offices, and locker room showers for quick fucks.

It’s not a relationship.

It’s not anything.

You’re a member of the team. A friend. A coworker.

And yet it is him that you always turn to.

The desire for more sits hot in his chest. Simon has tried to coax you away to more private venues but you always step around it—avoiding to the point that Simon doesn’t entirely understand your motivations.

It’s fucking confusing, and while Simon longs to press you for answers, he doesn’t want to push you away.

Slowly, Simon eases from your body. Your little moan at his retreat is already making him hard again—wanton. It’s not fucking fair. These small moments are not enough.

There is no condom. There is only slickness. And Simon has to control the urge to slide his fingers between your legs and push the mess back in.

As he steps away, you hastily hoist your pants, securing the front button and zipper. Smoothing the front of your shirt, you begin fussing with your hair. There is a slight sheen of sweat on your brow.

“Do I look okay?” you ask sheepishly.

You look fucking beautiful, love.

“Like I never fucked you at all,” replies Simon.

You grin devilishly and lightly smack his chest. Simon snags your wrist and brings your knuckles to his lips, placing a quick kiss there before dropping your hand. It’s not enough intimacy. Simon craves more.

With an embarrassed nervousness, you tuck some hair behind your ear and brush past him, heading for the shut door. Slowly, you press the handle down, cracking the door slightly. There are no sounds that drift in.

The coast is clear.

You glance over your shoulder at Simon, grinning softly.

“See you later,” you murmur, disappearing like a magic trick.

Simon stands alone in the little room, arms hanging at his sides. Every alternative passes through his mind. How can he coax you to him? How can he make you see that you should belong to him?

He chews on his bottom lip, irritation growing in his stomach. With an annoyed growl, Simon secures his balaclava back into place, storming from the room without caring who sees. There is red beneath his skin. Simon needs to expel this excess energy.

He heads for the training room, and even here he cannot escape you.

One of the new recruits has a hand pressed against the wall as he looms over you. The two of you are chatting as you complete dumbbell reps. While your face is neutral, the man’s is animated. It’s not friendly either. It’s sly—smarmy. The guy is making a move.

Simon tries and fails to recall the new recruit’s name. They arrive, complete some training, and then go elsewhere. That’s how it always is. Simon never cares to learn their names or anything about them. If they aren’t on his team, he could give a fuck.

It’s not you Simon is worried about. He’s looked at your phone. He’s seen your DMs. There are plenty of men here who try. Who reach out in the hopes that you might sprinkle them with some attention. But you’re no barracks bunny. You don’t hop from bed to bed.

The only man you’re fucking is Simon.

And that’s exactly how he wants it.

Simon takes a post near the boxing bags. He puts on gloves, and beats away at the sand until his shoulders ache from the repetitive strikes. Keeping an eye on you is easy. Between reps, Simon observers, watching, noting how you give the man nearly nothing. It please Simon to know that you’re not interested in anyone but him.

When you head for the showers, Simon does not follow even though he’d fucking love to. He keeps his gaze on the recruit who watches you leave. The wanker unabashedly stares at your ass. Simon flings down his towel, and stalks toward his prey. This bastard has no idea Simon is walking up on him. Has no idea that Simon’s about to mark his territory.

The guy selects the bench press and Simon grins menacingly behind the balaclava.

“Need a spotter?” asks Simon casually.

The guy nods. “Sure, man. Thanks.”

You’re fucking death, mate.

Simon glances at the weights on either end of the bar. He rolls his eyes. Simon can bench twice this amount without breaking a sweat. He takes position behind the recruit, standing directly next to his head.

Slipping his hands beneath the bar, Simon helps guide it out of the track. The metal is cool. Simon lets go. The weight drops.

The new recruit wheezes, eye bulging as the combined weight hits his ribcage, rolling upward toward his neck. Simon does not stop it. Doesn’t try to prevent what might be fractured ribs or a crushed esophagus.

Instead, Simon crouches next to the choking man, menace in his tone.

“You might be in her DMs. You might be sweet talking her. But it’s me that drips down her legs when she walks.”

All Simon hears are squeaks of trapped air.

“You fucking go near her. I’ll fucking crush your dick and feed it to you. Understand?”

The man’s reply is all gasping air, and is eyes water. His cheeks are starting to go red—nearly purple.

Simon tilts his head to the side and the recruit makes a hint of a nod.

It’s enough of a confirmation. Simon grabs the bar and lifts without effort, plopping it back into the track.

The recruit’s next inhale is ragged and watery. He coughs. Gasps. Plops down onto the floor and vomits. But he doesn’t get up—doesn’t come after Simon.

Good.

You’re his.

And he’s going to make sure everyone knows.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath @saoirse06

@ferns-fics @lialacleaf @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67

@tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82 @lulurubberduckie

@leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim @voids-universe

@iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @sapphichotmess @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x

@webmvie @blackhawkfanatic @aykxz98 @xxkay15xx @sammysinger04

@dakotakazansky @suhmie @nomercyforthewarrior @umno-yeah @ash-tarte

@eternallyvenus @kadeeesworld @burn1ngw00d @randomgurl2326 @wren5650

@beebeechaos @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @ghosts-hoe @glitterypirateduck

[outoftheseine]

- SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY FIC RECS 2 -

my big, broody husband | note: this is COD so there are some trigger warnings like: blood, guns, injuries, military stuff, death so please beware of them. there also also 18+ content so minors DNI. don't forget to read the authors' warnings | more will be added!

part one | main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

yes, lieutenant • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @sinkovia (very very angsty, violence, smut)

forcedhusband!simon x reader

↳ by @suimon (sooo much fluff, comfort, slow burn, mutual pining, lots of bantering)

unexpected | part two • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @dammn-dean (pregnant!reader, angst, comfort, fluff)

the roommate • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world (angst, fluff, smut, kidnapping, simon here made my heart so fuzzy)

please love me | part two • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @rowarn (angst, smut, comfort, tw’s like depression, sa and suicide)

actions have consequences | part two • simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!civilian!spouse!reader

↳ by @mrweh (heavy angst, mean!simon)

office romance • supervisor!simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @hecateslore

you had his baby and he didn’t know | part two • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @sgrplumditz

ghost distribution system | part two | part three • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @katz-chow

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC’S

his heart, his light, his world • dad!simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @thexsilentxwordsmith (so so fluffy)

no judgement • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @blingblong55 (so so so fluffy, dad!simon)

consequences • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @sinkovia (very angsty, tw: miscarriage)

a place to be weak • simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

↳ by @cherryredstars (fluff, little angsty)

superficial wounds, deep devotion • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @tacticaldiary (fluff)

tormented by a ghost • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @shotmrmiller (mean!simon, little explicit)

lights • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @babygirl-riley (dad!simon fluff, angst, childhood trauma)

sunshine • simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

↳ by @sgtcosmo (fluff)

whispers and words • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @dammn-dean (angst, slightly suggestive, happy ending)

secret haven • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @lightwing-s (fluff, secret relationship)

gentle love • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @floatingfireflies (fluff)

his girls • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @casiia (dad!simon, domestic!simon, fluff, slight angst)

migraines • simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

↳ by @mockerycrow (fluff, physical hurt/comfort)

family ties • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @lundenloves (angst, dad!simon but not a cute dad ahaha)

longing • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @yawnderu (fluff)

hold it together while the world is on fire • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @unreliablesnake (major character death, grief, angst, tw: drug abuse)

is it too soon? • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @unreliablesnake (fluff, simon is whipped, grief)

in another life • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @suimon (very angsty, hurt but no comfort)

over his shoulder • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @imperihoe-writes (tooth rotting fluff)

sweet dreams, my love • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @qtboni (so fluffy)

the sacrifice • simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

↳ by @bravo4iscool (medic!reader, fluff, angst but happy ending)

wrong words • simon ‘ghost’ riley x 141!reader

↳ by @milf-murdock (hurt/comfort)

being chosen… by a baby • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!single mom!reader

↳ by @southernbluebellereader (fluff)

big guy • simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

↳ by @kivino (fluff, jealous!simon)

gentle giant • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @asph6lt (fluff, soft!simon)

girl dad • dad!simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @thexsilentxwordsmith (very fluffy)

home invasion • neighbour!simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

↳ by @oceantornadoo (hurt/comfort, violence, fluff)

everything’s gonna be okay • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @pearlofthesirens (hurt/comfort)

meet the family • simon ‘ghost’ riley x civilian!reader

↳ by @sim0nril3y (angst, comfort, family issues)

oh muse, tell me of the things done by golden aphrodite • simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

↳ by @sprout-fics (smut, greek mythology au)

late night embrace • simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

↳ by @mondaysoct (fluff, slightly explicit)

[kittywhimsical]

nsfw! mdni

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

simon riley x roommate!reader who just cannot finish by herself.

roommate!reader who does everything she can from her fingers to vibrators but to no avail, she can't come.

roommate!reader who goes to simon's room, shyly peaking her head in, wearing just panties and simons an oversized shirt.

roommate!reader who asks for simon's help, but he barely heard her because she whispered.

simon, who made her speak up and his cheeks immediately flushed red as she did.

simon, who agreed to help her. what harm would it do if he did?

roommate!reader, who thought simon's fingers were much better than hers.

simon riley x roommate!reader who are now roommates with benefits.

simon and reader who both want more than that.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

holy crap!!! tysm for 100 notes on my previous post!!??

[mockerycrow]

thinking about ghost who thinks too much and oral is the only way to shut his brain up sometimes

ghost x fem!reader nsfw below — filthy. only warning.

at first, it was never a method either of you thought of to try. in general, sex of any kind was just never on the table as it wasn’t something either of you really brought up. the first time it happened, it was completely by accident. ghost’s mask was pressed up to the crooked bridge of his nose, pressing greedy kisses to your lips which you frantically returned. you grabbed at ghost’s shoulders and upper back as he backed you up onto a table, his strong hands grabbing below your thighs and hoisted you up onto the edge of the table with a quiet grunt against your lips.

it felt natural, really. so natural he didn’t realize it until the second time this happened. ghost’s lips trailed down your jaw and down your neck as his fingers unbuttoned your pants, murmured “up” to you—you lifted your hips—and he swiftly tugged down your pants and put them aside. your breath stifles in your throat for a moment as you propped yourself up on your forearms to watch his huge hands grasp right under your knees to spread your legs. a hot pulse flowed through your lower abdomen down to your clit, and you’re sure it lead to a dribble of your wetness.

his eyes are dark and wide. his pupils nearly overtaking his dark brown eyes, and you shudder under his gaze as this large, burly man slowly lowered to his knees—his arms reaching up to tug you closer to the end of the table. “ghost..—“ you breathe out but he cuts you off the second he leans forward and he buries his face into your clothed core, his nose pressing against the fabric and he inhales. “jesus!” you huff, your face burning as you aren’t able to tear your eyes away from him. ghost huffs and inhales your intoxicating scent and you want to smack him when a low, needy groan leaves his throat.

“fuckin’ hell—“ he snarls, his voice uneven before he presses his tongue against the fabric of your underwear, a shaky breath leaving him as he licks, licks, licks, his tongue wetting the thin layer between him and your sweet pussy. before you get a chance to complain, his fingers are already tugging your underwear down. and after that, you watch the way his eyes glaze over like a cat pinning it’s prey right before he leans in for his meal.

[thebigbadbatswife]

Don't Take Her From Me

Pairing(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary - An explosion and a building collapse has Simon begging the universe to not take you from him as well.

Warnings - Major character injury, Blood, Description of injuries, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Established relationship, Potential miltary inaccuracies, Potential medical inaccuracies. (If I missed anything, lmk!)

A/N - First time attempting to write Simon since I became obsessed. Hope you all enjoy 💜

Word Count - 1.2k

Not her. Please. Fucking please. Not her.

Simon finds himself silently begging as he sprints toward the collapsed building. He ignores Soap yelling after him, ignores the chatter on comms and Price’s voice shouting an order that completely falls on deaf ears. His only focus is on finding you. Alive. He won’t accept it any other way.

The explosion took them all by surprise. He and Soap had finished clearing out one building and were getting ready to move onto the next when it happened. It took them all by surprise. The ear shattering noise as the ground shook beneath them and seeing the building collapse in on itself, kicking up a large cloud of dust that made it look like a sand storm had blown on in. It felt like all of it had happened in slow motion, right up until the moment that everything finally went still and silent.

Then he’s sprinting with only one thing racing through his mind.

You’re currently inside of that building.

He yells your callsign over the comms, but the only thing he gets back is the crackle of static. It doesn’t mean you’re dead. For all he knows your radio has short circuited or was damaged either by gun fire or even hit by debris as the building went down. A silent radio doesn’t mean you’re dead, he repeats to himself…

Unless you’re buried beneath all of that rubble. It could have killed you on impact or you’re trapped under there, slowly and painfully suffocating.

Please don’t let that be her fate. Just let her be okay. Just let me hold her again.

He doesn’t even know why he’s begging or who he is even trying to beg to. It’s not like any of his previous prayers were ever heard. Every word or thought falling onto deaf ears as everything is stripped away from him again. History repeating itself and all of that. In spite of all of that though, he continues to hold out hope. Simon refuses to write you off as dead and gone until he has your lifeless body as proof in his arms. And he really fucking hopes that doesn’t happen.

How can he carry on living if it does?

The dust is irritating his eyes, making them itch and burn. He blinks rapidly, causing tears to streak down his face as he does his best to try and clear them without actually reaching up to rub them. Which is impossible to do because of his mask. He yells your callsign again, ordering you to answer him or goddammit he will have you doing pushups for life. But like before all he receives back is static. All it does it make him even more frantic as he searches for you. If it comes down to it he will claw and dig through the rubble, tearing apart his gloves and skin, wearing himself down to the bone, just to find you.

Please don’t take her from me.

Through all the dust that still hangs in the air, continuing to limit his visibility, he starts to make out a silhouette ahead of him. Simon stops in his tracks, his grip tightening on his gun as he watches the figure closely as he reminds himself. While it could easily be you, he is still in the thick of enemy territory and it could just as easily be one of them instead. 

He takes a deep breath as he looks down his scope. His heart is hammering against his ribcage. He still can’t make the person out properly, but he can see the way that they stumble with each step and they’re clutching their arm. Even if they had been a threat at one point, they very clearly aren’t anymore. Still, he doesn’t move a muscle. Watching and waiting until the wind blows the dust, finally revealing the person ahead of him.

It’s you. 

Before he can think, his feet are already moving forward as he starts rushing toward you. You have been plastered white by the dust, the only bits of colour being the red from your injuries and your skin colour coming through the tear trails that streak down your cheeks. 

“Ghost?” you choke out. 

The sound of your voice and the sight of how injured you are has his heart cracking.

“I’m ‘ere. You’re safe,” he says. His hands come up to cup your face, eyes scanning your face and head, taking in the sight of your injuries. There’s blood coming down from your hairline and trailing down the side of your face, your bottom lip is split open and there are numerous scratches and scrapes on your face and neck. The worst of your injuries is the gash in your shoulder. Your clothing and gear is saturated with your own blood. It’s a fucking miracle you’re even able to stand right now. 

“This is Ghost. I need an immediate medical evac now!” He doesn’t waste a second shouldering his gun and scooping you up into his arms. He seriously doubts that you’re able to be stand any longer and he’s got to move quickly. “Johnny, need you to cover us.” 

”You’ve got it, L.T.”

Simon moves quickly, but carefully. Doing his best not to jostle you around too much while also keeping an eye for any threats. Though he trusts that Soap will see and dispatch them long before he sees them. 

“Keep your eyes open, Sergeant,” he orders you when he sees your eyelids starting to drift shut. Immediately your eyes open again, meeting his. Your brow creases, tears falling anew down your face as pain wracks your body. If his heart was cracked before, it’s absolutely shattered now. How badly he wishes that there was a way that he could take your injuries and the resulting pain away from you and give it himself instead. 

“Just a little bit further,” he tells you. The evac zone is in sight and the sounds of helicopter blades is deafening, but very much welcomed. 

Simon keeps you close to him the entire helicopter flight, your head resting on his lap while one of his hands plays with your hair. His other hand has hold of one of yours, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of it. Your injured arm has been immobilised and your shoulder has been packed. Throughout the flight you have just been staring at the ceiling of the helicopter. Your eyes are hazy and every once in a while your brow creases and you swallow thickly; along with new tears falling. Which he gently wipes away each time. He keeps up with playing with your hair and rubbing your hand, hoping that it will help soothe you until you’re in the hospital.

“Hey,” he says. For the first time since getting onto the helicopter, you look at him. He pulls up his mask just enough for his mouth to show and leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

He doesn’t need you reply because he already knows that you love him back. You tell him every chance that you get. And even now, your brain foggy from the agony you are in won’t even stop you. “Love you, Si.”

He smiles, his thumb gently sweeping over your cheekbone, wiping up another tear. 

Thank you for not taking her from me.

[lethalchiralium]

If ur taking requests can we get something like Ghost still doesnt trust fxreader at all even when they are together for like 1/2 years and she gets all sad and starts distancing herself tyxxxx

No More | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: guys. guys i mean it keep the requests coming i love them. also : captain reader? because girlboss??? it’s kinda shitty but i love messy. gives me better control of future chapters :)

CALLSIGN: Mercy

warnings: angst, cussing, realizations and sort of heartbreak.

summary: You’ve been with Ghost for a year and a half - you allowed him into things you kept safe guarded, and realized that he has never done the same for you.

REMINDER: This is a side-blog, not my main! If you have any questions, feel free to message this blog or reblog! Reblogs are always appreciated - as well as any comments, they keep me motivated to write stuff like this!

SERIES MASTERLIST

You thought he would grow out of it. He’s an adult; given, he’s a very fucked up soldier, but an adult that has done adult things. He’s a few years shy of being in his thirties, and he doesn’t even understand the basics of having a girlfriend. He doesn’t understand a lot of things, and even though you’ve explained to him more times than you can remember, he still didn’t understand you after a year and a half of being together. Sure, you are on the same squad, you leave separately on break but always end up in the same apartment. The apartment that had framed pictures of you, your family, your dog - yet it always feels like he doesn’t give you anything.

It’s been a year and a half and the only personal thing you got out of him was a story about his brother when they were younger. You had told him countless stories of you and your childhood best friend, your single dad who fostered and adopted you. You even told him about your childhood dog who got hit by a car when he was young and still lived to be 15, about the very short memories you had of your godfather before he passed. You had told him everything, you had put your full trust into him and he hadn’t even given thought into putting an ounce of trust into you.

You couldn’t help it when you started to close yourself off - a trauma response from those years in the orphanage, then the system. You took less and less patients, eventually getting confronted by your Lieutenant, “What is going on with you, Captain?” You had given them a half-assed answer, “Got a lot of papers to go through from Price. It won’t be a long time.” And you kept yourself locked in your office, looking over case files and possible missions you could go on to escape this. Escape the feeling that has been gnawing at your soul since the last time you left your apartment with him three months ago. The feeling of distrust, of emotional abandonment.

You didn’t stop your tears when they came every night after Ghost had visited, but you never cried in front of him. You figured that would give him more ammunition to keep you at arm’s length.

Your hand ran across the hefty manila folder, the other held onto your vest collar. You opened the folder.

It was a stupid decision, you knew that. He would never let you get out of his sight, let you be anywhere without his knowledge and approval. But you needed something different - you needed somewhere where you felt like you could breathe, with people you trust and have put trust into you.

Your dog, Cerberus, whined from your cot across the room. You’d been sleeping more in your office than your own room, you figured it was because you were mentally preparing to be out on the friend with your old squad, and definitely not because you couldn’t stand to be in the same room as Ghost. He never let you move away from him in missions, never let you out of his sight when on them - it was suffocating, feeling like you were inadequate in a field you spent most of your life in because of the man you loved with everything you had. You gave him your all, your everything - he definitely made you feel that it would never be enough, without him even speaking a word.

Your eyes read over the mission again. Reconnaissance on a couple of enemy bases, a patrol of safe houses in the area to make sure they were still secure. That and to infiltrate a top secret base deep in the mountains to retrieve information on a possible illegal uranium enrichment plant being constructed. Your eyes darted back across the room to Cerberus, you whistled lowly. The German Shepherd leapt off your cot, scrambling to sit in between you and your desk, he plopped his heavy head on your lap. You smiled at him, scratching behind his ears. “Good boy, Cerby.”

Your team consisted of your good friends, Logan and Hesh Walker, as well as Keegan Russ. You remembered how threatened Ghost was with how close of friends you were with them, you had chose to follow him to 141 instead of stay in the comfort of the Ghost Crew. A choice you had regretted earlier, but not now. You felt a lot better equipped with such an intense task force, you have more medics than before and an actual base to stay in - that and Price seemed a lot more relaxed now that Hassan and Shepherd were no longer a problem.

Cerberus’s ears perked up and he darted out from under your desk as you heard thunderous footsteps coming towards your office.

“Lay down.” You ordered your dog, he looked back at you before he skittered back onto your bed. You stood, your seat wheeled backwards half a foot. It was only five more seconds before your office door slammed against the wall, Ghost stormed in and shoved it back into the frame with his foot. He held up a folder just likes yours before he growled loudly, “What the fuck is this?”

You closed your own folder, moving your hand from your vest collar and splaying your fingers on the cardstock. Your eyes stayed down on the folder stamped, “Classified.”

“You’re going on a mission with the Ghosts?”

Your eyes looked over some stamped patient files, taking them in your hand and opening a few to se did you had signed them.

“Price told me five minutes ago. You’ve known for how long?”

You closed the files and whistled lowly again, the clicking of claws against the concrete was heard as the massive search and rescue dog curled around the back of your legs. You didn’t even have to look to know that he had his hackles raised - when you were on guard, so was he.

Ghost marched forwards and slammed his folder down on your desk, his fist clenched as he growled, “Answer me.”

“A month.” You muttered, eyes staring at the folders in your hands before turning away. You’ve cried over him the night previous and the seven before that, must you face him?

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” His voice was gruff, appalled. “That’s reckless. And you told Price not to tell me? Really?”

“It was need to know.” You answered, placing the files back on your desk before you stepped around your dog to the head of your cot where your duffle sat open. He followed, keeping a distance of six feet from you because of Cerberus curling around your legs and staring at him. Your hands grew shaky as you began to double check everything in your bag.

“I tell you whenever I leave for any mission, any fuckin’ errand, and you don’t dare tell me about one of the most important ops we’ve had in months? Why are you going?”

“They need a medic, they requested me.”

He scoffed. “We need our medic.”

You slowed down, hand brushing over your beige t-shirts as you spoke, “You have my lieutenant, Gomez.”

“I want you here.” His voice softened a little, you shoved the clothes down farther in the bag, pulling out your spare medkit and opening it, eyes darting over its contents. “I only trust you to patch me up.”

You slammed your spare med-pack closed and back into your duffle. You quickly zipped it, sharply saying, “That’s funny, ��cause you seem not to trust me any other time.” You turned to look at him, eyes brimmed with tears.

His eyes widened. “What?”

“You don’t trust me, Simon. You never let me take my lead when we’re on missions, let me be near you, let me talk with other people.” Your arms crossed over your chest, tears slicing hot on your skin. “You don’t trust me. do you even want to be in this relationship?” Your hand went up and quickly wiped away your tears. “Because it certainly feels like you don’t.”

He stood there, stunned - his hands at his side, he had no idea what to do with them. “Of course I do.” He took a step forward, cautiously placing his right hand out. “Of course I trust you.”

You backed away then, your calves bumped into Cerberus, your hand reached down to touch his head - an attempt to calm yourself. “Then why can’t you put a little faith in me? A little faith that you are the one I go to sleep thinking about? That you are the one I worry about when I’m out on the field, instead of my own safety? That I wouldn’t ever do this to you?” Tears fall rapidly, your heart beat roughly in your chest - anxiety was gripping your diaphragm. “I trust you with my life, Simon. I have since we got together. It’s been almost a year and a half and you still don’t even trust me to have your back.”

He just stands there, arms at his side - his eyes stared at you, dark and full of pain. “I do. I do trust you, Y/N.”

You threw your duffle on your back and walked towards him - shoving a finger into his chest, looking up at him. “You have this whole mission to think about this, about us. Because I can’t be trusting you blindly when you don’t even trust me to breathe.”

You moved around him, whistling for Cerberus. The dog swiftly followed you out of the office, and you slammed the door behind you. You swiftly walked down the corridor, and as soon as you turned the corner, your back hit the wall. Your hand flew up to your mouth, pressing into it to muffle the loud sobs that fell from your throat. Cerberus pawed at your leg before pressing his head to it.

____________________

part 2 here!

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming with college professors Ghost and Price x TA!reader

This is just my typical brand of shameless bullshit- you’ve been warned. There’s a wee bit of angst and a hint of smut at the end, but it should be safe besides that.

You were a graduate student, working on your masters degree while working part time as teaching assistant to try and make ends meet. And somehow, you’d managed to fall into bed with two of the best looking men on the entire campus.

The conflict of interest is minimal- the two of them work in a completely different department than you (probably history or math, if we’re being honest) and you know that they’re both mature enough men that if something did happen between the three of you, they’d be able to stay professional afterwards.

And even if did work in your department, christ- you may gone for it anyways.

John was tall and strong, always wearing some variation of the same slacks, dress shirt, and tie with a dark brown linen jacket on hand for colder days. The shirts he wore always seemed to fit him perfectly, tucking into his slacks with just the right amount of fabric left over to emphasize his figure without being too tight. There’d been a week where the A/C had been on the fritz- in the middle of a heat wave, naturally- and you were blessed with an entire week of watching John lecture from the chair behind his desk- rolled-up sleeves straining around his thick arms as he gradually gets more and more red in the face as class goes on.

And Simon- he was taller than John, but just barely- no more than a few inches. He was quiet at first, avoiding speaking directly to you until Price had made his interest clear.

You’d always been intrigued by the both of them, really. But with the mask Simon wore- both the figurative, and literal one- on a day to day basis, it made sense that you found John easier to approach.

Your first date with him had been nice- pleasant. It was everything you expected of a typical first date while still being the best one you’d ever had, by far. It wasn’t until a few days later that you learned about Simon’s place in the whole thing.

Of course, you’d known what an open relationship was before then, but you hadn’t really had much experience with them, and you certainly hadn’t been expecting to learn that John was in any sort of relationship at all.

It had been a point of uncertainty for you, at first. You’d be going into a situation where these two had been together for years- would it even be possible to be involved with them without being left feeling like an awkward 3rd wheel? There were so many possible points of contention- of conflict. You were just… worried.

John had told you that he’d understand if you decided you weren’t interested anymore- but he’d also told you that both he and Simon were interested in at least getting to know you.

So you’d agreed to give it a try.

At first, it was a bit difficult- you’d tried talking to Simon a few times- getting to know him, ect- but he’s always seemed so cold towards you. All of your attempts at small talk or asking questions about him were met with grunts or sharp, one word awnsers that sometimes didn’t even awnser your questions in the first place.

You’d taken the hint- slinking off back to John with your tail tucked between your legs like a scolded puppy.

John had laughed when you confided in him your suspicions that Simon did, in fact, hate you and everything you stood for. He’d laughed, patting you on the back as he told you that no, Simon didn’t hate you. In fact- he’d been the deciding factor in involving you with their relationship in the first place.

But try as you might, you just couldn’t reconcile the way Simon seemed to loath your very presence with the idea that he wanted anything at all to do with you.

So you’d started avoiding him. Nothing much- just not going out of your way to talk to him unless he noticed you.

In the mean time, your relationship with John progressed. After about a month or so, you’d had sex with him for the first time, and things were good between you- even if you felt a pang of guilt, feeling that you were keeping John from Simon whenever you were with him. That must be why Simon hates you, right? You’re keeping his partner away from him. Sure, you knew that he was okay with it, and that it was something they both agreed on, but there was no way he didn’t resent you the slightest bit for taking up John’s time.

It was for nearly three months that you believed that, at least until the first time the three of you had fallen into bed together all at once.

You’d been sitting with John in his office, waiting for him to finish up some work. At some point, your impatience and borderline bratting must’ve worn too hard on John’s nerves, because he’d given you a final warning: if you didn’t quit with the attitude, you wouldn’t like what happened.

Of course, with him saying that, you couldn’t just stop.

One more taunting line was what it took to make him snap. He’d stood up and grabbed you by the wrist, practically dragging you to his desk before bending you over his lap- yanking down your bottoms and shoving two thick fingers into your cunt.

He’d let you rut your clit desperately against the leg of his pants as he tried to get some work done, but every time you got close to cumming, he’d withdraw his fingers and force you to still with a heavy hand on your hip.

You’d been acting pathetic, really- whining and whimpering like a little bitch as you desperately tried to wiggle your hips enough to get off. You don’t remember how long you’d been doing that, but at some point, Simon had walked in.

Heat immediately flodded your face at your state of undress. You try to sit up, only for John’s free hand to catch you and push you back into place. Being effectively pinned in such an embarrassing position by John triggered a different kind of heat in you.

John had three fingers stretching you open by now, pistoning in and out of you at a lazy pace without a care in the world.

Simon is staring- standing in front of the door, teeth clenched and eyes fixed on where John’s hand is disappearing into you, transfixed on how your hole stretches and swallows the intrusion and by the shine and sheer amount of your slick on John’s fingers.

You try and call out for him- pleading for him to save you from your embarrassment- but it just comes out as a pitiful, garbled moan. Simon’s hand forms a fist, and you watch as he digs his nails into the skin of his palm. It was a reaction you’d easily mistake for anger, had you not just watched the rapidly growing bulge in his pants fill out further at your cry.

You’re sure you look absolutely pathetic right now- your cheek is smushed against John’s thigh, and your face is mess of smeared tears and drool.

But that doesn’t stop Simon from dropping to his knees and eating you out, keeping with John’s goal of edging you until the brattiness is well and good out of your system.

After that, Simon’s behavior towards you had completely changed.

He would touch you, for one, and seemed to enjoy when you would do the same to him. He spoke with you more too- cracking horrible jokes, poking fun at your quirks, ect.

Or maybe you’d just become better at interpreting his actions. After all, he was still often quiet- you’d just come to see it as him preferring to listen, rather than as a sign of dislike. Same with his responses, the curt, one word awnsers that you used to take as a sign of annoyance, you now see simply as how Simon speaks.

Either way, whether it was Simon’s attitude that had changed or your own, there’d been no more painfully awkward moments or feelings of guilt for you. The three of you got on together like you’d known them for years, and you couldn’t be happier.

[lonewolfwriting89]

GHOST OF YOU

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings - Kissing. Hints at suggestive behaviour. Nothing overly graphic.

TEASER SNIPPET below the cut

A/N - full story to be released soon

———

But every time the lights go out

I see you there when you're not around

Stuck in my head, and I

Know you're gone but I still hold on to the ghost of you

———

The world outside fades, leaving only the quiet warmth cocooned between you and Simon. You’re curled up together in the low light, blankets tangled loosely around your bodies, his hand tracing idle, gentle lines up and down your bare back. The air is thick with unspoken words, with a quiet intensity that pulses between you like a heartbeat. His thumb brushes slowly over your shoulder, his touch familiar yet electric, and you feel a heat rising in your chest, a longing you’ve tried and failed to ignore every time he’s left.

His eyes hold yours, dark and intense, filled with something that borders on vulnerability. It’s a side of him few ever see—a rare softness that he keeps carefully hidden, shown only in the privacy of moments like this. Slowly, his hand slips to the nape of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you close, his breath warm against your cheek before his lips find yours again. The kiss is slow, unhurried, as though he’s savouring each second, each taste. It’s deep and consuming, filled with a quiet desperation that neither of you can voice but both of you feel.

His lips move against yours, soft yet possessive, and you melt further into him, your body moulding to the solid warmth of his. His hand trails down your side, fingertips grazing your skin with a feather-light touch that leaves a trail of shivers in its wake. The weight of his body pressing against yours, his warmth seeping into you, feels grounding, solid. His thumb brushes the curve of your hip, lingering as though memorising the feel of you, and it’s almost enough to make you forget everything else—the dark, the uncertainty, the ache that always seems to follow him.

You reach up, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him even closer, feeling his breaths quicken, his control slipping just a little. His lips leave yours to press a line of slow, heated kisses down your jaw and along your neck, each touch leaving a spark of warmth that blooms under your skin. His voice, low and rough, murmurs your name, sending a shiver through you, and you can hear the weight of his emotions in each syllable, emotions he won’t say aloud but you feel in every glance, every touch.

For this moment, there’s no past, no future, just the quiet intensity of him holding you like you’re the only solid thing in his world. The outside world feels distant, the worries and dangers pushed away as he breathes your name like a promise, his gaze never leaving yours, as if trying to memorise every detail of this moment, every detail of you, before he has to let go.

———

[bravo4iscool]

you’re kidnapped (simon “ghost” riley)

this little os is from this anon right here!

TW: mentions of blood and gore, hints of torture, russians (please get the joke😭), serious injuries

word count: 1.9k

(masterlist)

Ghost storms into the meeting, his eyes blown wide and his chest heavily heaving. He’s still clutching his phone in his hand and any other person would be afraid of breaking it.

Price looks up, clearly confused. But before the Captain can talk Ghost shuts the door behind him.

“They have her,” he says in a low voice and to someone who doesn’t know Ghost it would sound normal, but to Price it didn’t. His best Lieutenant, the man who feared nothing, was anxious. His voice was off and Price could see nothing but pure fear in Ghost’s eyes.

“They got who?” Soap asks, turning his head at Ghost. What the fuck was his LT. talking about?

But Ghost doesn’t pay any attention to the Scot. He keeps staring at Price. “They have my wife,” he then says and Soap’s brain shortcuts.

What the fuck? Ghost had a wife? The Sergeant looks at Price and now he’s even more confused. Price knows about that wife?

Price eyes narrow and he stands up. “You figured where she is already?” he asks and Ghost shakes his head.

“No. But Laswell’s onto it. She still owns me one.”

“Good. Any indication where she could be?” Price starts walking around, his gaze not leaving Ghost.

“Yes.”

Price claps his hands together and nods at Ghost. “Well then, let’s gear up and roll out. We don’t have much time.”

Ghost slightly narrows his head and Price knows that the look in the Lieutenants eyes means ‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’

Soap hesitantly stands up, still more than confused but as soon as Ghost leaves the room he runs after his superior.

He needs to find out since when Ghost has a wife and why his LT. never told him and Gaz about her.

-

“LT.” Soap speaks into the comms as he carefully surrounds an enormous brick building somewhere in the outer regions of Manchester.

“What do ya want Soap?” Ghost’s voice is on an edge as he answers his Sergeant. His finger, placed on the trigger, twitches. He’s more than ready to slaughter everyone who’s separating him from his wife.

“Since when do ye hav’ a lass? Why’d ye never told us ‘bout ‘er?” Soap carefully lifts his rifle and opens a back door. He was in. It was only a matter of time when he’d engage with the enemy.

“Ya nev’r asked,” is Ghost’s short reply as he skillfully shoots down a tango. He moves further forward, his eyes snapping from left to right.

He wasn’t allowed to make a mistake. Your life was at risk and he would and could never forgive himself if he’d lose you just because he made a damn mistake.

He checked door after door and slowly he was running out of patience but then Gaz started to talk via comms.

“I think I found her.”

“Where are you?” Ghost stops and suddenly his head starts to spin. They found you? Would he finally be able to rescue you?

“2nd floor, three doors from the staircase.” Gaz’ voice was quiet and hushed.

“Are you 100% postitive?” Price now asked and Gaz confirmed.

“Was I ever wrong?” he asks in a playful voice and Ghost rolls his eyes. This was serious. This wasn’t training or anything. This was about you.

“You fell outta a chopper,” Soap snorts and giggles to himself as he continues to clear the building.

“Fuck off MacTavish,” Gaz grumbles the reply, shutting the comms off.

-

Your eyes are heavy and your head spins, your ears ringing as the man opposite to you starts to interrogate you again.

You stopped paying attention and replying god knows how long ago but they didn’t stop. They kept going, even slapping you harshly from time to time. You don’t feel it anymore though.

There’s blood running from you nose, you’re mouth and you’re pretty sure your cheek bones are also covered in bruises. You just want this to be over. You just want Simon to rescue you.

“Так,” you hear the man say and moments later you feel a pair of hands lifting your head to look at him. Another man held your face so you’d look at your interrogator.

“Вы хотите поговорить сейчас?,” he asks you and you give yourself imaginary shoulder pats for actually learning Russian back in school.

You say nothing, only shaking your head. The man laughs. “As stubborn as that husband of yours.” He turns to look at one of his men, motioning at you. “стрелять в неё.” Then he leaves.

Your eyes widen as one of the man, you were pretty sure they called him Vita, pointed his hand gun at you.

You start to struggle against your restraints, fresh tears running down your cheeks. You couldn’t- You couldn’t die. Not yet, not now! What about Simon? What about the life you two wanted to build?

“Little brat,” Vita curses as he tries to follow you head with his gun but you were struggling too much.

“просто нажать на курок” another man, Maxim, tells Vita, obviously nervous. He’s been talking via comms for the last minutes but your Russian was too bad to understand all of it.

“They’re here Vita and it won’t take them long to find us, so cut it short. Now!” Maxim’s voice is strained and he keeps checking the door. You knew what that meant. They found you. Ghost found you. Not Simon, no… now he was Ghost.

“He will kill you, rip you apart,” you then say, feeling blood drip from your mouth. “He will hunt you down and make sure you’ll regret anything you ever did.” You stare at Vita, waiting for him to shoot, praying that he wouldn’t.

“поторопитесь, вита,” Maxim urges again, his eyes flicking to the door. He heard something.

Vita looks at you, then at the door. The moment his eyes flick to the door it’s kicked in and it’s raining bullets.

You shut your eyes, making yourself as small as possible while you hear Vita and Maxim drop dead to the floor. Your body is shaking and you feel tears running down your cheeks.

When Ghost sees you strapped to that chair all his fuses blow. He rushes past the dead bodies and rips off his mask. He kneels down in front of you, carefully speaking to you.

“Lovie, it’s me…” he says and he lets out a relieved breath when you look at him, eyes empty.

When he’s sure you know who he is he quickly cuts you free and carefully takes you in his arms. Your wrists are bruised and bloody, as well as your face but he’s never been happier to have you in his arms.

“Ya safe now. ‘Am ‘ere and I’ll get ya outta ‘ere.” He presses you close to him and a single tears rolls down his cheek. He’s got you back. You’re safe now. You’re with him…

Price walks into the room, tightly gripping his rifle. “Everything’s clear. We’re ready for evac. Is she okay? Does she need a medical?” He walks in further, looking at your fragile form in Ghost’s arms.

“She’s fine f’r now I think,” Ghosts replies and he carefully stands up, holding you close in his arms. “We’ll get ya outta ‘ere,” he mumbles and you warily nod. You just wanted to go home…

Carefully Ghost stands up, his arms around you tightening. “Let’s go?” he says to Price and the Captain nods.

“Gonna watch your six,” Price says. Ghost nods, a subtle but deep ‘thank you’.

With faithful steps Ghost hurries out of the room, his eyes flicking down to you again and again. “You shouldn’t carry me…” you whisper, well aware of the fact that you were probably slowing him down.

He doesn’t look at you, only scanning the surroundings with his eyes. “I fucked ya against a wall. I’ll be able t’ carry ya outta ‘ere.” That’s his answer. Simple and plain.

You try to suppress a small smile but you can’t. You press your face against his vest, whispering a quiet ‘I love you’. And while your husband carries you out of that building your feel your head starting to spin and dizziness overcomes you…

-

“What d’ya mean, internal bleeding?” Ghost paces up and down in the hospital corridor, not caring about the fact that people were staring at him. Of course you would stare at a 6’4 man who’s build like a fucking fridge and wears a skull mask. He often found him staring at himself in the reflection of windows.

“She’s got internal bleeding, Sir. That’s also the reason why she’s in surgery,” a nurse calmly explains, not frightened by the man in front of her. “As soon as I get new information I will tell them to you, but right now, I’m afraid, there’s not much I can do for you, Sir…”

Ghost wants to swear and curse but he knows that he needs to keep himself at bay. He wasn’t alone here, people were watching. He needed to calm himself down. Now.

So, he lets out a deep breath and nods. “Tell me when she’s out as soon as possible, please.” He tries to not show how anxious he is but his but his wife was in surgery right now because he wasn’t able to properly look after her… He wanted to explode.

“Of course Sir,” the nurse gives him a warm smile. “Feel free to sit down or get yourself a coffee. It could take a while…” Ghost absently nodded and she left. What was he supposed to do now?

“Any news?” Price wants to know when the team joins Ghost in the hospital. He just shakes his head and puts it in his hands.

If he’d only looked better after you…

If he’d only was more careful…

If he’d only kept you safe…

“Still ‘n surgery,” he mumbles, trying so hard not to go crazy. He’s been waiting hours now, but it felt like days. His head was spinning, thoughts were crashing in his mind and guilt was almost eating him alive. What had he done?

“She’ll make it son, don’t worry,” Price says in a calm voice, placing his hand on his Lieutenant’s shoulder. “She’s a fighter. Just like you…”

-

Your head hurts when your senses return and you start stirring. Then you feel a hand on yours and your eyes fly open. Where are you?

With panicked eyes you look around, completely ignoring the pain in the back of your head. Was this a…hospital?

“Darling,” you hear a voice. That sounds like Simon… Your eyes follow the voice and you look at your husband. “Hey…” he smiles at you, clutching your hand. “How are ya?”

“Shit,” you whisper in a small voice, trying your best to return the squeezes he gave your hand. Then he gently lifts it and presses a small kiss onto the back of it.

“Am sorry,” he says while he continues to caress your hand and wrist. “Should’ve look’d out bett’r f’r ya…” He averts his gaze and you immediately try to shake your head. You knew he would beat himself up over what happened. It wasn’t his fault.

“Not your fault,” you croak out, intertwining your hands. He looks up with glassy eyes and you swear you’ve never seen him that destroyed.

“I could’ve lost ya…” he whispers. “Could’ve lost ya f’r good ‘nd I wouldn’t b’ able t’ f’rgive m’self.”

“I’m here,” you weakly smile. “And I surely won’t leave…” You would never leave Simon. He was the love of you life. When you’re with him you feel complete and you never wanted to miss out on that again.

[sstormyskyess]

so glad i came across your blog. wondering if youu could write simon riley x f!reader where she was a former royal marines and he didn't know and found out after she got called back for a mission. maybe she's a captain?

thank you, love

-V

Glory Days

author's note: thank you for my first request!! i’m glad you found my blog and thought me worthy enough to request something for me 💜 i hope you enjoy!

cw: fluff, military reader, fem!reader, simon being anxious

word count: 1900+

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader "Finch"

♡ Being in the Royal Marines wasn’t necessarily something you were embarrassed about. It was more a matter of wanting to get a fresh start at being a regular civilian, far away from the battlefield. That’s why your previous enlistment never came up in conversation when you met Ghost and got to know each other better.

♡ When you and Ghost eventually entered a full relationship, he was surprised by how understanding you were about his occupation and the things that came with it. You were also very curious about his military activities, something that no other civilian in his life ever had been.

♡ It was about a couple years into your relationship when you got a letter from your previous commanding officer, requesting your services again since they thought your skills would be valuable for that specific mission.

♡ You were hesitant to accept, but eventually you did and you found yourself on your way to meet with your commanding officer and talk business. You didn’t know, though, that your very own boyfriend would be serving on the same mission.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Delta 2-1.” Captain Price says with a smile on his face. You smile in return and give him a firm handshake. “Please, call me Finch.” You correct him happily. “The pleasure is all mine. I’ve heard good things about you and your task force, Captain.” You put your arms behind your back with perfect poise, and give a nod toward the main building, walking off with Price in tow.

Simon stares from across the tarmac. His thoughts were racing, confused out of his mind. He almost had to remind himself to breathe, the amount of questions bouncing around in his head taking over all other thoughts, even his base instincts.

That’s why he almost imperceptibly jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder, tapping twice. He glances over to the person connected to said hand: Soap. “She’s one hell of a question mark, eh, L.T.?” He joins Simon in staring at the direction you and Price walked off to, shaking his head. “Heard she’s gonna be serving in place of Price. You know anything else about her?”

Well, he certainly did know about you. A lot of things about you. Why? Because you were his girlfriend, possibly soon to be fiancée. The only thing he didn’t seem to know about you was why exactly you were here, talking to his superior and ready to head out onto the same battlefield he’d been preparing to deploy into.

“No.” He answers simply. There was a reason Soap didn’t recognize her. He did his very best, and would do anything to keep his personal life and professional life separate; that’s why no one on the task force knew that he was romantically involved with anyone, save for Laswell. She knows absolutely everything, as much as it got on his nerves. At least she was good at keeping a secret. But now, here you were, present and apparently active in his work life. He sighs and looks over to Soap. “Tell the old man I’ll be in the weapons’ locker, if he asks.” He walks off and ignores whatever Soap was questioning him about.

♡ Ghost was shocked that he didn’t know about this particular part of your life, and he was even more shocked that you were actually considering going out on the field.

♡ It wasn’t that he doubted your abilities—quite the opposite, actually—but he was worried you’d get hurt. He was a powerful man but even he still managed to get hurt sometimes. So, knowing that you’d be at risk had him shaken up.

Simon lets out a heavy sigh. “Love, I need you to promise me you’ll be safe.” Simon has his hand on your shoulder, looking you up and down in the heavy tac vest you were adorned in. It was something he never imagined he’d see on you; it was pretty attractive, in all honesty, but he isn’t particularly focused on how attractive his lovely partner was.

He’s mostly concerned about the fact that you were about to be heading onto the field, assigned to a different team and dropped off in a location multiple klicks from where he would be. You shake your head and rest your hand on top of Simon’s. “I’ll be alright, Si. I promise.” You give him a comforting smile, taking his hand and holding it in yours. “This is nothing I haven’t done before.”

You look over Simon’s face, meeting his brown-hazel eyes and inspecting them: reading his thoughts. His eyes were so expressive, just as long as you knew what to look for. You could tell he was overly worried. You could also tell that he was fully prepared to blame himself if you got hurt out there. You swing his hand back and forth slightly, your own thoughts coming to the surface.

“You’ll be careful too, right?” You ask, your thumb running along the back of his knuckles. Simon sighs again and squeezes your hand in return. He was a calculated man but he was still susceptible to making decisions that would save his team, even if he would be putting himself in danger. Having you on the field with him was bound to make it worse.

But regardless, the last thing he wants is to distract you. Him getting himself into trouble was bound to draw your attention away from the mission. So, he nods and pulls his hand away, thinking for a moment. He wraps one of his arms around your waist then pulls the bottom of his mask up with the other.

Your eyes widen for a moment, taking a look out of the small alley between the buildings to make sure no one is watching. He takes your chin and rests his forehead on yours, kissing you gently. You lean into it, reaching up to his cheek to caress it. The two of you meet eyes once you pull away and stand there, gazing into each other's eyes for a few moments before Simon finally pulls away. “We’re wheels up soon. Let’s move.”

♡ He wasn’t expecting it, but experiencing the version of you in the heat of battle had him falling in love all over again. That commanding tone of voice and your proficiency with a weapon in hand, even after your years spent in retirement, were absolutely enrapturing to him.

♡ He wouldn’t have thought this of himself, but it seemed like watching you in your element made him realize that maybe he was attracted to that kind of power. You being his superior was only the icing on the cake.

“Delta Team, push up to the RV point!” You bark into the comms, the sound of grass and foliage cluttering your words. “Roger that, Finch. Move, move, move!” Simon honestly didn’t think he could fall in love with you even harder than he already has. Hearing you calling the shots over the comms was almost hypnotizing. He’d never heard your voice like that and it was a beautiful thing. He had to keep focus, though. He had his own team to direct.

Getting to the RV location was quite the hassle. Under a barrage of enemy fire—standard bullets, grenades, RPGs—keeping your team alive was a downright nightmare. But you managed it, the sight of Simon’s signature mask bringing you a slight bit of relief. “Ghost, sitrep, how long ‘til the charges blow?”

He doesn’t get the chance to respond before your eyes widen all of a sudden. “Look out!” You shout, shoving him to the side and toppling yourself down to the ground beside him. He grunts, looking at you confused before a sniper shot ricocheted off the ground right where he was previously standing.

“Snipers to the north, get down!” You call, taking Simon’s fallen rifle, getting into position to return fire, and quickly taking out the initial threat as though it was as easy as walking. If you weren't focused on calculating the best strategy out of this particular setback, you’d be able to see the stars in Simon’s eyes, his mind committing the sight of you expertly counter-sniping and potentially saving his life to memory. He didn't get much time to dwell on it any longer before he got dragged to his feet and rushed toward the nearest treeline.

♡ Once the operation was complete and you both got back to base with nothing but minor injuries, he finally had time to relax with you and reverse the roles, asking you an endless amount of questions about your time in active service, engrossed in the various stories you shared.

♡ Ghost listened carefully as you showed him the scars he had seen many times before and explained the story behind each one. He’d never asked before out of politeness but he got to appreciate them more fully now that he knew the details of each one.

A trail of goosebumps rises in the path of Simon’s fingers running along your spine. “I got that one a couple years into my service.” You recall, thinking about the scar he was tracing gently. His mind wanders as you talk, your voice soothing him through the imagery your story evoked.

“What about this one?” He rubbed his thumb over an old bullet wound on your side. You shift in your place on the tiny military-grade cot and sigh softly. “That was right before I retired. Sniper managed to hit between the plates.” His eyes widened at that, just a bit.

“And you managed to survive?” He chuckles softly when you nod. He leans down and pecks you on the cheek. “That’s my girl.” You blush, burying your face in the pillow beneath your head, making him laugh a bit again. He runs his hand through your hair, his fingers gentle. “So strong.” He squeezes the nape of your neck softly and feels the knots in your muscles, massaging them.

There was a peaceful silence between you two before Simon sighs. “What are you doing after all this?” You pick your head up just a bit, one brow raised. “What do you mean?” He pulls you close when you sit up to face him fully.

“Once this operation is over. Are you going to stay now that you’re back in?” He watches you process the question quietly. It was a good question. You didn’t really know what your plan was at this point. Leaving the service was a good choice on your part. You were happy just being a normal person, not constantly worrying about dying every time you left your bed.

But even so, being out on the field again was exhilarating. You didn’t imagine it would be a feeling you would miss, but now you were having second thoughts. Plus, it was wonderful being able to protect Simon yourself, knowing that as long as you were there, he was going to come back alive. You bite your lip in thought, before looking back up at him.

“I think I may stay. I’m not sure.” You run a hand up his shirt and over his back, your nails gently trailing against the scarred skin. He hums, his fingers starting to drum against your hip. “Don’t worry, Si. It’ll be okay. Promise. Plus, you need someone to make sure you don’t get yourself hurt.” You smile, kissing along his jaw and up his cheek. “I know, love, I know.” He smiles back, burying his face in your shoulder.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[sofasoap]

Reason for life

Pairing: Simon “Ghost ” Riley x F!Reader ( OC aka Mini MacTavish )

Summary: Simon Riley finally made up his mind.

Right after the event of “Death, Comes easily” 

Warning: Mature theme. discussion of unhappy childhood, OC children, discussion of abuse, near death. Angst. slight deviation from canon as well.

A/N : I finally got to Simon. and this rounds up the task force 141 proposal series. *sigh*

 “masterlist”

“Captain.” 

Head down, buried in paperwork, Price only let out a grunt, acknowledging Ghost’s presence. 

“John.” 

Price’s hand stalled. Slowly putting his pen down, finally looking up. 

Ghost standing in front the desk, hands behind his back, shoulder slightly hunched. Price noticed the redness in his fatigue looking eyes. Redder than usual. He noted. 

“Can I talk to you,” Ghost requested, voice soft, as he eyes the soldiers lingering around in the office,  “In private please.” 

Price stared at him for few seconds, before commanding the soldiers. “Alright, everyone out please. Lieutenant and I have important business to discuss.” Price stood up, ushering everyone out. 

Making sure the door is locked, Price turned back towards the desk, gesturing to Ghost to sit. Pushing the paperwork and files aside, Price took out a bottle of whisky and two tumbler glasses from the cabinet behind him. 

Pouring into each of the glasses, he pushed one towards Ghost. Ghost just stares at the drink, motionless for a while before he pulls his balaclava off, exhaustion evident on his pale looking face. 

“Do you still have the box?” Simon broke the silence after he drained the whisky from the tumbler. 

“So you made up your mind?” Price asked, raising his eyebrows, knowing what he was asking for. 

“I can’t delay it any longer. I .. I don’t want another regret.” Voice croaked, “I nearly lost her twice. I don’t.. I don’t know.. “ Simon buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath. “I would not forgive myself if I miss the chance again. If I can live through the nightmare again.” 

Price has noticed Simon hasn’t been himself lately, after the incident. He was quieter than usual, not even responding to any of Soap or Gaz’s attempt of banter or teasing. Burying deep into his own mind. 

The mission has traumatised Simon, and made him realise things. 

Another prolonged silence lingered between the two. Price took up the bottle, pouring another serve to each of the glasses.

“I’ll get it out from the safe for you tomorrow, Simon. Don’t worry. She wouldn’t say no.” Price comforted Simon. “Good luck Si. I am glad you finally made up your mind.” 

Simon slams the tin box onto the table, more forceful than he intended. He winced slightly at his mistake as he saw you frowning. 

You stare at the box with a cup of tea in hand, making no attempt to reach for it. He watches you, waiting for your next move. 

“What is that?” You asked,  finally curiosity got the better of you. 

“Box.” 

“Of course I know it’s a box.” you rolled your eyes, huffed at his silly answer. “What’s inside the box?” you asked. 

“Things my grandmother left for me,” he whispered. “Open it. Please.” 

Pushing the cup aside, you reach for the box,  Simon’s heart twisted as he sees you open the lid with slight difficulty. Your hands and face were still covered with dressings and bandages from the injuries acquired from the terrorist incident. You are still alive. He closed his eyes, deep breaths in as he tells himself, calming that distress and panic rising from his stomach. You are here in front of him. Everything is alright. 

His eyes open again when he hears the pop of the tin lid. You slowly and gently shuffled through the black and white photos, fading letters, and all sorts of trinkets were inside there.  Simon held onto his breath as you took out the item he wanted you to have the most. 

You held the green velvet box in your palm, like a fragile china doll, afraid it would shatter any minute. Your eyes flicked up towards him, and down at the box again. 

He nodded his head to urge you to open the velvet box. 

Your breath hitched as you saw two simple gold bands inside.

“My grandmother left me this box before she passed on.” Simon explained. Your eyes open slightly wider, he never talked about his grandparents before. “The only happy memories I have from my childhood. Her and grandpa shielded me from the violence and cruelty that my fath… father… “ he shook his head, body shaking with the painful memory. Taking a deep breath, he continues. “She left this in my possession. Her and grandpa’s wedding bands,  along with their photos and correspondence when they were courting.They were married for nearly sixty years before grandpa passed away.” Simon whispered with a sad smile and glint of tears in Simon’s eyes.

Your expression softens as you listen to him, recalling memories. 

Raising his head to look at you right in the eyes, “You gave me a reason to live, a reason for life. You and the children.” He professed as he took a deep breath, voice shaking. “I can’t apologise enough for the actions and the way I treated you.. I can’t lose you again. I nearly lost you, because of my stupidity. My own selfishness, My….”

“Simon.” You put the box down, reaching for his hand across the table, to stop his rambling.“ Both of us were in a bad mindset back then. There were too many things happening at once. We can’t go back. We can only move forward.” You lean your body forward, kissing his hand lightly. “If this is what I think it is, my answer is yes.” 

He let go of your hand as he stood up abruptly, going around the table to scoop you up into a tight embrace, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You feel the wetness as his tears stream down your neck and shoulder, silently crying with relief. 

The weight is finally off his shoulder. 

He feels your arm reaching around his broad torso, squeezing tight.

“I love you very much, Simon Riley. The children love their Da as well, they ask about you all the time when you are away.”  you murmured, as you professed your love for him. “We will always be here for you, to welcome you home, and be your harbour when the storm comes, be your shelter when the time turns bad. You know you can trust and rely on us. Also the team as well. You have a family. You have us.” 

Pulling away from him, you gently grasp his hand, putting it over your heart.

“This is yours forever now. My love. For whatever challenges may come to us again. We will face it together.”

Simon is finally home. 

tag list:

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @homicidal-slvt

@floral-force @okayyadriana@cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator @random0lover @devcica @jynxmirage@nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @rileyslibrarian

@mistydeyes, @groguspicklejar

@whydoilikewhump @gamergirlbones

[gloomwitchwrites]

Locker Room: Part Two

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, rough kissing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, desk sex

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: originally for @glitterypirateduck 's Ghost Writing Challenge, this is the follow-up to Locker Room

Part One // SImon's POV

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

Like the steam from the locker room, your irritation soon evaporates. It floats away until all that’s left is this gnawing, twisting sensation in the pit of your stomach.

What the fuck were you thinking storming into the men’s locker room like that, demanding that Lieutenant Riley show his face?

You weren’t thinking. That’s the entire problem. You were angry—and rightfully so—but you didn’t even consider where your actions were leading.

The reports are just fine, sweetheart.

Just thinking those words sends your stomach twisting all over again. You need to cool off. To calm down. While you’re not exactly angry anymore, there is a needy sensation crawling beneath your skin.

Lieutenant Riley was entirely too forward. And this nonsense about staking a claim? Hardly. You are your own person. Lieutenant Riley isn’t allowed to have a sliver of you unless you say so. Speaking it into the air doesn’t make it the truth.

You slam your office door shut and lean against it, resting your head in your hands. Taking a deep inhalation through your nose, you exhale through your mouth. Repeating the process helps, but it is momentary. Fleeting.

You’re tense the rest of the day. On edge. You keep glancing over your shoulder thinking that Lieutenant Riley will appear like a phantom. It’s silly, because he doesn’t. You don’t see him at all. Even as you push through your lunch and consume dinner in your office, you don’t see him.

He doesn’t come by. No one mentions him.

But the sticky note is there. It’s still stuck to the front of the manila folder.

The reports are just fine, sweetheart.

With your newly blooming irritation comes the creak of door hinges.

“What?” you snap, glancing up.

Lieutenant Riley stands in your doorway. He as one hand on the handle and the other on the doorframe. For some reason, you expect the towel, his wet skin, and the steam from the locker room, not this behemoth of a man covered nearly head-to-toe.

He does not reply to your sharp tone. Lieutenant Riley saunters in, shutting the door behind him. Without looking, he pulls the little strings on the blinds, cutting off the view of the hallway. He even locks the door, and in this, he still doesn’t glance back. Every movement is fluid. Smooth. Natural.

It’s sexy. And fucking irritating.

“Come to fix your reports?” you ask, leaning back in your chair. You twirl your pen end-over-end. It’s keeping you from looking away from him.

Lieutenant Riley says nothing. He strides forward—all of three steps as the office is a fucking closet—and snatches the manila folder off the desk. He opens it up, glancing down at the content.

You cross your legs and attempt to relax your shoulders. You don’t want Lieutenant Riley to know that he has an affect on you. Already, your body wants to lean in his direction. It wants to give him attention.

And that will not do.

“What’s wrong with them?” he finally asks, flipping a page.

You stop twirling the pen. Start clicking the end. “My notes are right there. Can you not read?”

It’s not very nice of you, but it’s simply defense. Fuck the reports. If they’re garbage, you’ll submit them anyway. You just need Lieutenant Riley out of your office. You need some goddamn space. It’s far too hot in here. Too cramped.

Lieutenant Riley glances up from the report, and it is then that you know you’ve completely fucked up. It’s that same piercing stare from the locker room. You’re stabbed through. Gutted. He sees you for who you are, and there is no way out. No path for you to take.

Slowly, Lieutenant Riley closes the folder. He holds it out and then drops it onto your desk. His arm returns to his side.

He is so large like this. So much more intimidating.

“Are we fucking here? Or elsewhere?” His delivery is so bland and straightforward that you don’t believe you’ve heard him correctly.

You stop clicking the pen. “What?” you nearly squawk, sitting up in your chair.

“I said—”

“I fucking heard you, Lieutenant.”

“Simon,” he growls. “I told you to call me Simon.”

In the steam and heat, he did say that. And you grabbed his dog tags, yanked him down to your level, kissing him through the balaclava in response.

You also told him to fix the reports. And here he is.

“Simon,” you begin, and then pause because his hips sway slightly as he shifts toward you. “What are you doing?”

Simon comes around to your side of the desk. There is a sultry sway to it, a confidence that steals your autonomy. He walks right up to you. Leaning forward, he reaches out, placing his hand on the top of your chair, boxing you in.

“Are we fucking in this room?”

“We’re not—”

“—or am I taking you home?”

You swallow, heat flaring up your neck to flame your cheeks. “Aren’t you here to fix the reports?”

It’s a diversion. A way to turn the conversation. But Simon doesn’t take the bait.

“Pick,” he says, voice low.

“Simon.”

“Want me to pick for you?” He arches a single eyebrow.

All the steam and bluster are gone. You’re melting. Submitting. You feel it deep in your bones.

“Back up,” you murmur, but even you hear the weakness in it.

Simon shakes his head. His other hand comes up, the backs of his fingers brushing along your jawline. It’s a gentle touch. You reflexively lean into it.

“I think you want my cock now, love.”

You jerk backward, but Simon is quick. He has you out of your chair and sitting on your desk in moments. You’re completely flustered, hands digging into his biceps as Simon settles himself between your legs, his hands on your waist.

“Better,” he says, sounding content.

You blink and then smack his chest. “Simon Riley!”

“My full name?” he purrs. “That’s a nice change.”

“You presume too much.”

“Do I?” he counters. He releases your hips, placing his hands firmly on either side of you. “Then explain that kiss earlier.”

You swallow, knowing that he’s caught you. There is a need that sits between your bones. A need for him, even if you don’t want to admit it.

“It meant nothing.”

“No, love.” He shakes his head. “It didn’t. Try again.”

Simon is caging you in. Splitting you open. Why should you run? Why should you not admit your feelings? If anything, the two of you can fuck on this desk and get whatever this is out of your system.

“I was angry. I wanted to push you.”

The balaclava around his mouth stretches. He’s fucking grinning.

“Here I am.”

“Here you are,” you agree.

Simon’s dark gaze shifts to your lips. “Without the balaclava this time?” His gaze returns to your face, and there is intense need there.

You reach out, slip your fingers underneath, and push the balaclava up. Slowly, you reveal Simon’s chin and lips, then the tip of his nose. There are scars, but that is not what you’re focused on. You’re focused on his lips, and he yours.

Leaning in is agony. You long to close the distance, and yet there is hesitation in the way you bring your face closer to his. Simon senses it too, because he grabs the back of your neck, and closes the distance.

There is no gentleness in the way Simon kisses you. His need is apparent. Aching. He is a devouring beast, and you meet him with equal enthusiasm. Simon’s tongue passes between your lips and you open for him. You taste mint and black tea with the faintest hint of smoke. You commit this taste to memory.

Simon’s hands are everywhere, squeezing waist, thighs, and hips. There is no pattern to it. There is only desperation.

Growling, Simon pulls away. He grabs hold of the collar of your button up shirt. Tugging, Simon pops the top three buttons. They go flying, disappearing from you.

“Simon,” you gasp, but it’s all you can manage. His mouth is on yours again, and that large hand is slipping inside, palming your breast.

“Fucking hell,” he moans into your mouth. “I need to be inside you.”

Begging. Simon is begging. You’ve never heard this. Simon is the stoic one. Calm. Cold. Calculated. But he’s kissing you with hunger, and his hips rock against you, the sensation almost more than you can handle.

“Then fuck me, Lieutenant.”

Simon chuckles, and he smiles—actually smiles—before grabbing your waist and bringing you to your feet. With his hands still on your waist, Simon turns you around, facing you away from him.

His hand slide forward and easily undoes the front of your slacks. Simon tugs them down enough to expose you to him.

“Fuck,” he mutters, fingers sliding between your thighs to play with your pussy.

The contact is electric, and you push back against his hand. Simon rests his face against the back of your neck.

“You’re already so fucking wet for me,” he says against your skin.

His fingers find your clit, and the moan you let out is obscene. Simon strokes until your pussy clenches as your wetness floods his palm.

Glancing over your shoulder, Simon brings his sticky fingers to his mouth. He sucks them clean.

“My turn, love.”

With a sharp tug, Simon forces your slacks down to your knees. He bends you forward slightly and your hands press into the top of the desk to keep yourself steady.

The angle is tight, overly so. When Simon notches the head of his cock at your entrance and beings to push in, it feels far too large.

“Simon. Simon. Fuck—oh. Fuck.”

“You can take me, love. Just breathe. That’s it.” Simon moves your hair to the side and his mouth comes down on your neck, leaving behind gentle kisses as he rocks his hips.

Once he’s in to the hilt, Simon adjusts. One arm crosses over your stomach, his palm coming to rest between your hands that are pressed against the top of the desk. His other hand is on the front of your throat.

His lips brush against your ear, and then Simon thrusts. It’s not slow. It’s not gentle. This one makes him grunt with effort, and the desk hinders all forward movement.

Simon’s teeth nip at your earlobe. The distraction works, causing your mind to temporarily drift from his withdrawal. The thrust forward makes you gasp, and then it is unending.

There are no words spoken, only heavy breath. Sweat blooms on your brow, and runs down the back of your neck. Simon’s weight is relentless, and the pleasure building in your core again is a taunting thing. It wants to explode, to roar outward, to consume you.

You don’t have space to slide your hand between your legs. Instead, you arch your back, bringing your ass up slightly. It gives Simon a different angle, and this time you shiver. Shake. Thighs quivering as your orgasm crawls up and out your throat.

The moment you start to cry out, Simon turns your head toward him, his mouth coming down on yours. He swallows your pleasure, matching it with his own. He grinds forward, his release flooding your pussy.

Your chest heaves as Simon pulls back.

There is nothing else in room. There is only him, and his dark eyes.

Slowly, Simon eases himself from your pussy. He reaches over and grabs a tissue, cleaning you up the best he can before tossing it into the trashcan beneath your desk. Then his hands are drawing your pants into place.

He guides you around to face him, closing the zipper and putting everything to right. He even fixes your buttonless shirt as best he can.

“I’ll replace it,” he says.

“It’s fine, Simon.”

The two of you stare at each other, the silence stretching. You’re not sure what he might be thinking, but his gaze hardens.

“You’re off tomorrow,” he states, not asking.

“I am. How—what are you doing?”

Simon has his phone out. He’s tapping away at the screen and then the little whoosh of a text sending off reaches your ears.

“You’re coming home with me,” he says, slipping the phone into his pocket.

“You—”

“Told Price I’d be in late tomorrow.”

“You can do that?”

Simon shrugs. “Price can manage.”

He takes a step back, his gaze observing you. “You’re a right mess.”

“No thanks to you,” you mutter, smacking his chest as you push past him.

You snatch up your purse and work bag, glancing up at Simon just as he returns the balaclava to its original place.

He saunters up beside you and extends his hand. You take it, and Simon draws you against him, gaze never leaving your face as he guides you to the door.

You doubt that you will come back from this.

Simon is not out of your system.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @coffeecaketornado @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @haven-1307 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving

@unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower

@sageyxbabey @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah

@mudisgranapat @ninman82 @webmvie @blackhawkfanatic @contractedcriteria

@talooolaaloolla @rogerrhqpsody @sadlonelybagel @lxblm @beebeechaos

@xxkay15xx @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie

@lovely-ateez @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @suhmie @jaggersinclair

@dakotakazansky @hantheconqueror @certainlygay @sammysinger04 @iloveslasher

@yawning-grave81 @ash-tarte @azkza

[outoftheseine]

- SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY FIC RECS -

a lot of dad!simon fics here. i am not sorry. i want to bear this man's child(ren) | note: this is COD so there are some trigger warnings like: blood, guns, injuries, military stuff, death so please beware of them. there also also 18+ content so minors DNI. don't forget to read the authors' warnings | more will be added!

main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

haunted | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @babygirl-riley (heavy angst, tw: depression, drugs, addiction suicide, toxic relationship, please read the warnings!)

too old for you | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x medic!fem!reader

↳ by @lunarw0rks (smut, hurt/comfort, age-gap)

soft spot • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @cordeliawhohung

the red means, i love you • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader x john 'soap' mactavish

↳ by @thewriterg

smashing pumpkins • simon 'ghost' riley x civilian!fem!reader

↳ by @qwimchii

last kiss | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @milf-murdock (angst, unestablished relationship, smut, fluff)

secret lovers | part 2 • husband!simon 'ghost' riley x wife!reader

↳ by @savemefromanepicoftimewasted

my baby swingin' • biker!simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @tojisun (very sexy biker!simon, smut, fluff)

happiness • simon 'ghost' riley x wife!fem!reader

↳ by @lethalchiralium (i feel so fuzzy when i read this series, fluff, sometimes angst, some tw be aware)

i'm with you | keep you close • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @undercoverpena (angst, feelings, explicit)

being yelled at by ghost | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @hxltic (angst! simon is an asshole)

northern attitude | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @bubbles-for-all-of-us (enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst)

lights on • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @peachesofteal (single mom!reader, fluff, slight angst, protective!simon)

one night stand | part 2 | part 3 • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @cmncisspnandmore

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC'S

break in, break down • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @hyperactively-me (home invasion, comfort, fluff)

his girls • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @babygirl-riley (so so so fluffy, dad!simon)

one fucking mistake • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @codfanficedits (very angsty, hurt but no comfort for a whilez grieving, tw:depression)

book boyfriend • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @stargirlrchive (fluff)

lime-sized • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @imperihoe-writes (pregnant!reader, very fluffy)

bloodied bullets, soft confessions • simon 'ghost' riley x gn!reader

↳ by @ghosts-cyphera (a little mean!simon, hurt/comfort, injuries, fluffy end)

monster • neighbor!simon 'ghost' riley x afab!reader

↳ by @rowarn (smut, protective!simon, zombie au)

unmasked love • simon 'ghost' riley x afab!reader

↳ by @springtyme (so so so cute! dad!simon)

adoration • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @yawnderu (dad!simon, fluff)

simon 'ghost' riley x sensitive!gn!reader

↳ by @cherryredstars (fluff and nswf content)

this chapter is over • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @colonelarr0w (character death, angst, injuries, some fluff)

simon says • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @unreliablesnake (smut)

salt in an old wound • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!oc!reader

↳ by @ghouljams (hurt/comfort, explicit content, fae au)

blood on my shirt, rose in my hand • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @alwaysshallow (friends to lovers, the continuation is on ao3!)

antique soldiers • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @mangowafflesss

why? • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @riverbutghost (asshole!simon, injuries, slightly explicit at the end)

cold but warm • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @riverbutghost (asshole!simon, injuries, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff)

pretty pink flowers and bloody cherry blossom tree • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @underscorewriting (really really angsty, ugly cried)

for the last time • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @wttcsms (pregnant!reader, mentions of death, angst but fluff)

welcome home • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @nastybuckybarnes (home invasion, arguing, fluff)

medical leave • simon 'ghost' riley x gn!reader

↳ by @kib-ble (mentions of injuries, hurt/comfort, fluff)

no more stars left to count • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @lvlyghost (angst, hurt/comfort)

protective • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @ponyosmom35 (medic!reader, protective!simon, tw: sexual harassement)

return • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @bruhrobs (fluff, colleagues to lovers, single mom!reader)

[mockerycrow]

HELLO the biggest congrats on 4k, you absolutely deserve that and so many more!!!

Could I see a female!reader x Ghost with the prompt:“I had a nightmare . . . can I stay with you tonight?”

TY and yet again, congratulations 🤍🤍🤍

REASSURANCE (Ghost x Fem!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

authors note; thank you so much anon <3 i hope you enjoy!

[WARNINGS; not proofread (like most of my fics), silent panic attack + light dissociation, implied you’ve never seen his face, hurt/comfort.]

You know Ghost has nightmares—everyone knows Ghost has nightmares. No one really wants to talk about it because he doesn’t, but everyone has seen the man up at ungodly hours of the night, or perhaps beating the absolute shit out of a punching bag at the on-base gym.

No one except for Price knows what Ghost’s been through, but no one really questions him. It’s unrealistic to think Ghost is the only one waking up due to their dreams—even Price does on the occasion. What Ghost doesn’t do is ask for help.

You had a weird gut feeling about tonight; you weren’t really restless, but you weren’t tired. Every time you laid down to try to get some sleep, your eyelids would slowly open back up. You tried multiple methods; white noise, thinking about nothing, thinking about a story, taking a sleep remedy—nothing.

You had a weird tightness in your stomach that you couldn’t shake. It’s no big deal, you’ve had several nights like this. Nights where you stay up, half expecting something to happen. You aren’t sure if its the military-esque anxiety flaring up, expecting an attack of some sort or if it’s just one of those nights.

You’re laying in bed, trying to think of what you have to do tomorrow. Might as well try to think of something useful, right? Let’s see, you have to do morning training and then you have to eat, brief with price, it’s your turn to help the armourer—the weapons master, you like to say to piss them off—and you also have to do paperwork.

A very tame evening, you think, avoiding the Q word everyone oh so desperately hates; including yourself. Because the second you say it, you’re going to be called by Laswell, or General Shepherd, or some other CIA federal agent bureaucrat about some fucking thing that’s happening in the god forsaken world that only, and only task force 141 can handle—

—Someone knocks on your door, breaking your disorganized thoughts. Your eyebrows furrow; no one should be up, maybe Price is, or Ghost. Did you forget some paperwork? You sit up, slip your slides on your feet, and you walk to the door. You unlock the door and open it, wincing from the bright light of the hallway pouring in, and you’re met with the large figure of Ghost.

You blink, unsurprised. “Hey.” You utter. “Did I wake you?” God, Ghost sounds rough. It sounds like he garbled glass—er, maybe that isn’t the nicest way to describe one of your superiors voices right now. It’s clear he just woke up. You shake your head in response, stepping aside. “Here, come in. It’s bright.”

Ghost silently obeys, stepping inside of your room. You close the door and head over to your desk. You feel around in the darkness until you feel your lamp and you click a button, turning it on, illuminating the room just enough for you to see Ghost. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants with one of his black, long-sleeve compression tops to go with it.

He’s wearing a basic black balaclava without the iconic skull, but.. His eyes are different. Distant and weary, cautious—panicked almost. Your eyebrows furrow together as his broad shoulders are tense, fists clenched.

“Ghost..” You call softly. He seems far away—he needs your help. “Ghost.” You say more insistently and louder, noticing the way his chest is barely moving. “Ghost, hey, can y’hear me? You need to take a breath..” You murmur, slowly approaching him.

He’s frozen but you see how his eyes flicker towards you, taking a moment realize where he is. You offer a soft smile you always show him and you nod. “There you are, big guy. Can I touch you?” You make sure to ask because you never know; a soldier during a flashback, touching them? That can be fatal—you trust Ghost as you don’t think he would ever hurt you, but you never know a person.

It takes him a moment to nod, which makes you promptly and gently grab his wrists. You gently guide him to your bed, and you sit him down. You’re nervous—you’re about to calm him down in one of the only ways you know how to, but you’re worried about the consequences you’ll receive afterwards. Oh well, you don’t care, not when Ghost’s eyes are as unfocused as they are.

The bed dips under his weight and you gently spread his legs, standing between them. You grab his arms; they’re deadweight, but his eyes flicker some recognition, allowing you to guide his arms around your waist. You guide his head to lay against your stomach, your hands cradling his masked jaw and the back of his neck.

Ghost takes in a harsh, shuddery breath which makes you hum in approval. “There you go, Ghost. Breathe, you’re alright.” You say in a mellow manner, your thumb brushing over his masked cheek. Ghost takes in another harsh breath as his arms tighten around you. You continue to try to ground him, talking and praising him for his efforts to stay calm. You know he isn’t in the right mind, but you’re still shocked he’s allowed you to touch him for as long as you have.

Something in your gut unravels as Ghost pulls his head away ever so slightly, ripping his mask off and throws it away like it was constricting his breathing. He buries the side of his face back into your stomach, taking you by surprise. Your met with his blonde hair in the low light, your heart stuttering.

You hesitate only for a moment before you bury a hand in his hair on the back of his head, your other hand returning to his jaw, your heart hammering as you note he has stubble as well as something on his skin, like deep scar tissue.

Ghost lets out a noise which you quickly hum in response. “It’s okay, let it out.. Won’t tell anyone about this, okay?” You assure him, causing another noise to escape him, almost like a laugh. “Kinda hard t’do that when a pretty girl is comfortin’ you.” He croaks, his voice broken—both his voice and sentence making your brain short circuit. You laugh in return, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Shush,” You murmur. “Just relax.”

Ghost nods against your stomach, shakily exhaling. You stay like that for a while; neither of you are sure for how long, and neither of you care. You’re enjoying the rare vulnerability Ghost is displaying, and he’s enjoying the grounding touch you’re currently providing him. The silence is comforting as you comb your fingers through his hair, and you enjoy the weight of his head and his arms.

“I had a nightmare…” Ghost utters. You hold your breath as he looks up at you, and oh god, he’s hot. “..Can I stay with you tonight?” You’re mesmerized by the way his nose is curved—clearly has been broken a couple of times and wasn’t reset right—by the way his eyebrows are furrowed, his big, beautiful brown eyes.. You nearly forget to respond. “Yes,” You push out, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the tension between his brows. “Always.”

[thebigbadbatswife]

OCT 29th - Sex Pollen

Pairing - Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Title - What Happens In The Safehouse...

Summary - During a mission, you come in contact with a strange substance and the only person around that can help you with the effects is Ghost.

Warnings - Sex Pollen, Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Simultaneous Orgasm, Military Inaccuracies. (If I missed anything lmk!)

Word Count - 3.4k

You feel strange. Really strange. It’s not a good type of strange either. Not that you would have been expecting to feel any type of strange while on mission. Especially while on a mission with your Lieutenant. 

Captain Price had assigned both of you to this mission, and only you two, in an attempt to get you to learn to work together. After all, it was no secret that Ghost had not been happy about your assignment to the 141 taskforce. It had worked and hadn’t worked, at the same time. 

While you were working seamlessly with each other, quickly dispatching enemies side by side and wordlessly following his orders. Over comms, you were both still taking every opportunity you could to dig at each other. With that aside, it was a rather simple mission. Secure the illegal weapons shipment before it could trade enemy hands.

Securing it hadn’t been an issue. The group guarding it had been small and they had been easily taken out. The only issue was that the crates weren’t filled with guns. When Ghost had crowbarred one of them open, a cloud of white dust had puffed up into the air. 

Is that why you’re feeling so strange? Is whatever that powder was, affecting you? 

You can feel your heart beat slowly starting to thump hard and fast against your chest despite the fact that you’re currently sat down on a wooden crate. And it feels like it’s getting harder to breathe, but not in the panic attack type of way. It’s in the “I’m getting way too hot and there’s nothing I can really do about it underneath all of this gear” type of way. 

If this is that powder affecting you, then why isn’t it affecting Ghost? He was the closest to the dust cloud considering that he had opened the crate to begin with. Right now he’s pacing just ahead of you, talking to who you’re assuming is the Captain, on comms. You’re not tuned into whatever station they’re using so you don’t know what they’re saying. 

What you do know is that you are starting to desperately want to be out of your clothes because of how uncomfortable they’re starting to get. Which definitely isn’t normal. 

Before you can contemplate it, Ghost is roughly pulling you up onto your feet. The grip he has on your arm is bruising. 

“We’re headed back to the safehouse,” he states.

“What about–” 

“Captain Price is sendin’ Soap and Gaz to secure it. Both he and Laswell doubt that the Russians will be able to get any reinforcements here before they arrive. And we’ve been given orders to leave.”

You nod. If the orders are coming from the Captain… and if it’s to do with that powder. What the hell have you inhaled? 

When you move to follow him, you become aware of just how soaked your underwear is. And not because of how much you’re currently sweating. You take a deep breath and do your best to ignore it. When you’re back in the safehouse, you’ll have a chance to check yourself over and try and figure out what exactly is going on. Here, you can’t do a damn thing. Especially in front of your Lieutenant.

With the way the fabric moves as you walk, rubbing against your extremely sensitive clit, you have to bite your tongue, to the point you taste blood, to stop any sort of sound leaving you. And things only get worse once you get into the car.

Ghost has never been very good when it comes to driving, but somehow he seems to have got even worse. He manages to hit every bump and pothole, which is making it harder and harder for you to stay quiet as they go straight to your core. You almost think that he’s doing it on purpose, but considering that his driving isn’t all that straight either, you can’t help, but think that whatever the hell that stuff was, it must be affecting him as well. 

As soon as the car pulls up to the safehouse, you’re out of the car before he’s even stopped it fully. You don’t care how strange or weird it looks. You beeline for the bathroom as it’s the only place in this safehouse that will give you an semblance of privacy, as the rest of the place is open plan. 

You lock the door behind you and immediately start removing your gear, as fast as you possible again. In all honestly, you’ve never removed your gear so fast or efficiently before. Though, usually, you’re back on base, exhausted after a gruelling mission, which leaves you fumbling with the various straps and clips. Right now you’re super focused on the task at hand and before you know it your gear is hitting the bathroom floor with a thud. Your boots and clothing are quick to follow.

Your underwear is absolutely drenched in your slick. As are the insides of your thighs. Your clit is swollen, peaking out from your hood, shiny from your arousal and begging to be touched. 

Chucking the ruined clothing to the side, you bring two of your fingers to your clit. Your body jolts as you gasp as the lightest of touches almost has you cumming right then and there. You pull your hand away and grip the sides of the sink, taking a deep breath as you try to regain control over whatever the hell is going on with your body.

You catch sight of yourself in the mirror. Your hair’s a mess and your body is slick with sweat like you have just run a marathon. Not to mention how fucking horny you’re starting to feel. With nothing around to distract you, like trying to hide your condition from Ghost, you’re now fully aware of it. 

You’re growing desperate to touch yourself and fuck yourself with your own fingers. So much so that the longer you go without doing that, things are actually starting to grow painful for you. 

Maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s the fix. An orgasm. If you’re experimental touch is anything to go by it won’t take you long to reach it. You’re only problem will be trying to stay silent. On the other side of the bathroom’s door you can hear Ghost moving around. It sounds like he’s freeing himself from his own gear, which means he’ll be checking his guns not long afterwards. He won’t even be paying attention to what you’re doing in here. 

Taking another deep breath, you bring your fingers down to your clit once more. 

It’s a fight for you to keep silent as you touch yourself. Your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you rub tight circles against your clit. You expect some sort of relief, but there is no relief. The more that you touch yourself the more that 

it seems to hurt. At the same time you can’t stop. You need to touch yourself. It’s the only thing that you’re capable of focusing on.

Soon enough touching just your clit isn’t enough anymore. Your cunt squeezes around nothing, begging to be filled. Your mind drifts to thought of Ghost and how the only thing between the two of you is a door. It’s no secret that he’s packing, at least that’s what the rumours across the base suggest. The thought of his cock and how good it would feel inside of you.

You know that you shouldn’t be thinking about your Lieutenant like this. He’s your CO. Not to mention how much you can’t stand him. Even if he wasn’t your CO, he’s not someone you would think about taking to bed because of how much he pisses you off.

You do your best to push any thoughts of him and his cock out of your head and push three of your fingers inside of your needy hole. For a brief moment you finally feel some form of relief. Which almost has you moaning loudly, but the sound of footsteps reminds you that you’re not alone and you keep your teeth in your bottom lip. The pain from before returns as you fuck yourself and you can only hope an orgasm gives you a more permament form of relief.

The squelch of your fingers in your pussy is loud in the enclosed space and you can only hope that the walls aren’t so thin that Ghost can hear what you’re doing.

With a combination of your fingers inside of you and your free hand rubbing your clit, it really doesn’t take you very long to reach your climax. Relief floods through you as your body clamps down onto your digits. You ride out the aftershocks before finally pulling your fingers out and grip the sides of the sink again, panting heavily.

Your body is shaking as you come down from your high. Is that it? Is it finally over with? 

Just as you begin thinking that you must be in the clear, the need and the pain that comes with that need comes back tenfold. You whimper. When will this stop?

Several hard knocks at the door catches your attention. Ghost.

His voice is as rough as ever as he calls out your callsign, but it also sounds extremely strained. The thoughts you had back in the car come back to you and you wonder if he’s being as affected by whatever the hell that stuff is as well. He must be, right? He was the one that had opened the crate and therefore had had that cloud of dust puff up right into his face. 

“It hurts, Ghost,” you call back. There’s no point in hiding it any longer. He’s definitely already heard what you’re doing in here and if he hasn’t, he’s still under the same influence that you are.

“I know it does,” he replies. “Got us both in a bit of bother, haven’t I?” 

Yeah, he has. At the same time it’s not entirely his fault. The intel said it was guns in those crates. There was nothing about any sort of drug being inside of them. If he hadn’t opened the crates, you would have.

“Laswell’s intel says we’ve got one of two ways of dealin' with it,” he continues.

“Which are?” You really hope that means that there’s some form of antidote and that Laswell not only knows where it is, but she’s sending someone to go and get it.

“We wait it out.” 

That one is definitely not a option. You feel like you might go mad if you have to wait it out. No, you’re still holding out for that antidote.  “Or?” 

“We shag.”

He’s so blunt about it that you almost want to laugh. As well as at the entire situation itself. Of course those are the only two ways to deal with this. You want to scream. 

“There’s no antidote?” you ask.

“As far as we know, no there's not. Guessing neither option takes your fancy?”

“No, but since I have to pick, at least option two won’t make me go crazy.”

“You sure? Don’t want you to feel forced.” 

“I’m not feeling forced to do anything,” you reply. And it’s the truth. Shagging Ghost, funnily enough, is the most appealing of the two options you both have. You have already been fingering yourself to the thought of him taking you and he’s clearly not against the idea. “But only if you’re as naked as I am.” Which you think is more than fair. Though you seriously doubt he’ll ever take the balaclava off. He never does. 

He huffs a laugh. “Give me a minute, yeah?” 

You hear the rustling of clothing, followed by the same thud of gear hitting the floor. Soon enough, he raps his knuckles against the door again, letting you know he’s finished undressing. Taking a shaky breath, you move away from the sink, unlock the door and step back. 

The door swings open and you’re met with the sight of Ghost’s naked body. He’s fit. As soon as that thought enters your head, you’re immediately telling yourself that it’s the drug. Especially as your eyes follow the dark hair that leads from his belly button down to where his cock stands proudly, the head purpling from the lack of attention. Your pussy throbs at the sight of it and all you can think about is how good it’s going to feel when he’s finally inside of you.

“Eyes are up here, Sergeant.” 

“Could say the same to you, L.T,” you reply as your eyes finally meet his. He’s also been blatantly checking you out as well, his eyes lingering on a knife scar on your hip.

“You sure you still want to do this?” he asks. 

“Yes.” Your reply comes out far faster than you meant for it to. He chuckles, stepping forward as he pulls the balaclava up just enough to reveal his lips.

His large hand comes up to cup your face and keep your head titled up to look at him. He surprises you with a kiss. It’s far more gentler than you thought it would be. Everything about Ghost screams rough and harsh so you certainly weren’t expecting this, but it’s very much welcomed. You surrender yourself entirely to him, letting him take control. 

Ghost directs you backwards until your back is pressed up against the cold tiled wall. Goosebumps radiate across your skin and your nipples pebble as you gasp at the sudden temperature change. He takes advantage of it and pushes his tongue into your mouth. 

Your nails dig into his shoulders as he presses his body against yours. You can feel his cock pressing against your skin and it has your body screaming for him to stop kissing you and fuck you already. You break the kiss, gasping for air.

“Please,” you whimper. As of right now you don’t care how needy and pathetic you’re starting to come off as. You expect him to tease you, but he must be as desperate and needy as you because he does nothing of the sort.

Instead he effortlessly lifts you up and enters you with a single thrust. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you pussy squeezes his cock as you cum only from the feeling of him filling you up. Ghost groans deeply, the feeling of your cunt tightening around him almost having him blow his load. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, his grip on you almost bruising. “You’re wound up really fuckin’ tight, huh?”

There’s no opportunity for you to answer, not that you could form words anyway, the feeling of his cock deep inside of you rendering your brain to mush. He doesn’t even give you time to recover from such a sudden orgasm as he begins to slowly pull out. Once again you expect him to be rough with you. To take you hard and fast as he gives into the need burning through his body. 

He pushes back in just as slowly, taking some time to build up his pace. Showing a level of restraint that both surprises you and doesn’t surprise you at the same time. He’s doing his best not to hurt you. Which you think is nice of him, but at the same time you’re not sure if it’s even going to be worth the effort. You are almost positive that once this is all over you’re likely not going to be able to walk straight for at least a week.

As he fucks you, Ghost starts kissing you again. He swallows your moans as your tongues invade each other’s mouths. You really don’t want him to ever stop.

With the position that he has you in, there’s not really much for you to do other than hold on and enjoy the ride. Which is absolutely fine by you. Already you can feel another orgasm quickly building up as his cock hits against a sweet spot deep inside of you that has your toes curling and nails digging into the meat of his shoulders and back each time he hits it.

“Fuck, Ghost,” you gasp. “Don’t stop!”

“Couldn’t even if I wanted to,” he grunts. 

He’s no longer being gentle with you. Each thrust is rougher than the last and his grip is definitely going to leave marks on your skin, but you’re too far gone to care. Almost as soon as his thumb touches your clit you’re cumming again, your cry of his callsign is bouncing off of the walls of the bathroom, stars dancing behind your eyes. Ghost cums with you. His groan deep and guttural as he hits his climax, shooting his cum deep inside of you.

You expect him to stop, to take a breather before this stupid lust filling drug drives you both to do it again, but he doesn’t. He keeps rolling his hips, his cock remaining hard, as short gasps and groans leave him. He’s not wrong. He really can’t stop. Your cunt feels so good wrapped around him and he can’t stop himself from continuing to thrust into you despite how sensitive he’s starting to get. 

It’s a blur from there. Ghost takes you on every surface available to the two of you in the safehouse. Wringing orgasm after orgasm out of both of you, pleasure searing through your veins to the point that you’re almost sure it might drive you mad. That is if you don’t pass out from exhaustion first.

By the time that you hit the bed, that’s exactly how you feel. You think that the drug might have finally run its course. At least for you. Ghost adjusts your position so that your ass is up in the air and reenters you, making you whine. 

You’re really starting to feel how sore and used your body is. Your cunt is aching and dripping with the mixture of both yours and his fluids and you’re drenched in sweat.

He takes you much more gentler this time; a stark contrast to the rough fucking you’ve been subject too for however long you both have been going at it. He’s nearly at his end as well. There’s no longer a rhythm to his thrusts and he’s slowly growing more vocal again. 

Draping his body over yours, getting you to look at him so he can kiss you again. If this wasn’t Ghost fucking you, you might think the kiss is sweet and tender, but since it is Ghost you can only think it’s because he’s too tired. He grinds his cock inside of you, flooding your pussy one last time. 

He collapses against you, but you’re too tired to care. You just accept that this is your fate now as your eyelids drop shut and sleep claims you. 

When you wake up, the first thing that you’re aware of is how sore you are. Even shifting a little bit has you aching in places you didn’t know you could ache. The second and third things that you notice, one after the other, is that Ghost had taken the time to clean you up and cover your naked body with a blanket.

You groan as you sit up, holding the blanket against your chest to keep yourself covered up. You immediately spot your clothing and gear, all haphazardly folded and left on a table. 

“You alright, Sergeant?” Ghost is stretched out on the sofa, his arms folded behind his head. He’s already fully dressed in his gear again. 

“I don’t think boot camp hurt this much.

He huffs a laugh as he sits up. “Yeah? Well I’m not fuckin’ carrying ya, so get up, get dressed and let’s go. I’ll be waitin’ in the car.” He gets up from the sofa, grabs his gun and leaves the safehouse. At least he’s nice enough to give you some privacy. 

It takes you longer than it should to get dressed. Your body protesting every single move you make, but you push through it. By the time that you get into the car, Ghost is clearly getting impatient waiting, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel.

He looks over at you as you hiss as you sit down, slamming the door a little too hard, at the same time. You adjust your position so that you’re a little more comfortable.

“What happened in that safehouse, stays in that safehouse,” Ghost says.

“Agreed.”

[lethalchiralium]

Twice A Question, Once An Answer | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: YOU THINK YOU CAN KEEP ME FROM MY STREAM OF SEROTONIN? ABSOLUTELY NOT. THIS MAN DESERVES LOVE AND A FAMILY AND A LOVING FAMILY. this was also just an entire dialogue i wrote when i got home from work at 3:30am

connected to tonight, tonight, tonight and a little more!

warnings: talks about babies, talks about simon’s past, domesticity cause simon deserves it, mentions of nudity

summary: Two times you asked your husband a question, and the one time he had the answer you needed.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT

“Thought about having a boy?”

Simon’s eyes had just closed, sleep calling him like a siren. His arm was rested over his eyes. “Mmm.”

“Have you thought about having a boy?” You asked again, voice quiet as you stared at the ceiling in the dark.

“Are you pregnant?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

Your head moved to look to the left, to look at him. “Not even once? Even if we try again?”

He sighed a little, his other hand coming to scratch his neck. “I make girls, love. I’m two for two right now, not sure if I would be okay with losing my winning streak.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at his silhouette, almost wanting to reach out and touch his arm. “So you only want girls?”

“No.”

“Then you want a boy?”

“No.”

You scoffed, moving to rest yourself up on your elbows. “Well Jesus, Simon, which one is it? Boys or girls?”

He moved his arm down to his side, moving to lay on his side to face you. “I want healthy babies. Want ‘em to live happy and long lives. And I want whatever you want.”

“Simon, I’m asking your opinion.” Your hand reached out and rested on his chest, your fingertips grazing above his heartbeat.

“Yeah, and I gave it to ya. Whatever you want is fine by me.”

“You only wanted Winnie. Just Winnie.”

His hand settled on yours, thumb gliding across the back of your hand. “If I knew about Mellie when she was in your belly, trust me, I would have wanted her too.” His other hand came to rest on your bare lower stomach, fingers tracing your stretch marks. “I want you to be happy with however many babies you want.”

“So you’d be okay with twelve?” A giggle left your lips.

He grunted. “Now you’re pullin’ my leg.”

You snaked one of your legs in between his, moving to your side and now feeling his breath on your skin. “Simon, do you want a boy?” You leaned forwards and pressed your lips to his collarbone, then rested your forehead against it. “Would you be okay with a boy?”

The hand on your stomach traced your skin to your side, fingers massaging the marks he had left only an hour before. “…He’ll be loved all the same as his sisters. Just don’t be pregnant right now.”

“Trust me, I’m not. I just realized I never asked what you wanted kid-wise.” You cleared your throat. “I wanted two girls and two boys when I was a kid, but now, I just want this. I want us, and however many babies come next. But I want to know when we should stop. You need to be comfortable with it too.”

You felt his lips against your head. “…Just the girls for now. Ask me again when Mellie starts to talk back.”

“Which, at this rate, will be next week.”

Your husband chuckled a little. “Good, she’ll need to so she can bully Soap for me.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Well? I can’t do it forever - Lord knows that Soap will cockroach his way to outlive me like a spiteful bastard.”

You smacked his chest gently, moving your head back to meet his eyes in the darkness. “Don’t say that, you and Soap are gonna be neighbors and have old man fights.”

He smiled. “Yeah, so I need my daughters to back me up when he needs to get smacked the fuck up.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. “Go to sleep.”

—

“Simon.”

“Mm.”

“Why don’t you want a boy?”

He looked down at you, back curled into his chest. “Baby, go back to sleep.” He pressed a kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder.

“Just one question and then I’ll sleep.”

He let out a sigh, curling his arm a little tighter around your waist. “I want a boy if you want a boy.”

You shook your head, turning your head to look back at him. “No, that’s not it, Simon. Why don’t you want a boy?”

“…Girls are different creatures all together. I don’t see me when I was a kid in their little faces because they care about their dollhouses, fire trucks and that dumb little astronaut toy, they love each other. If we have a boy, I don’t want him to end up like me.” He rested his cheek on your shoulder. “Or be as mean as Tommy was when we were kids. My girls have love for each other I didn’t have with my brother until three years before he was killed.”

“Simon…” Your hand went to rest on his arm, squeezing it.

“If we have a boy, he’ll be loved just the same. And by sisters who will cherish him like they do each other. He’ll be different than us. Me. He’ll be different than me.” You felt his nose settle into your hair, as he whispered, “So if you want a boy, we can try for one.”

“What would we even name him?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Simon- I’m serious. If we have a boy, what would you name him?” You gently pet his arm on your side.

“Grant Thomas, after my nephew’s middle name.”

A smile on your face. “Perfect.” You turned your head back around, settling your cheek onto your pillow again.

“You’re like 600% not pregnant?”

“PMS-ing.”

“Ah, okay. Hormonal.”

“Yes.”

There was a small moment before he whispered, “What if we have another girl?”

Your arms moved to settle on top of his that were around your waist. “We’ll name her whatever you want, Simon.”

“We’ll name her whatever you want.”

“Simon.”

“What?”

“You give me all your name choices and I’ll pick one. I named Mellie, it’s only fair.” Your eyes fluttered closed again.

He grunted in protest. “Doesn’t matter what’s fair, you’re birthing our imaginary third daughter.”

You let out a huff. “Simon, I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

Your eyes opened and you looked over your shoulder, forcing him to make eye contact with you. “Then why are you arguing with me?”

“I’m not arguing.”

“Are you scared to name our imaginary third daughter?”

“No.”

You turned your head away, smacking his arm a little. “Then give me a name or something, since you don’t want to have a boy.”

He held out his hand, pinching his fingers. “…I am this close to sleeping on the couch.”

“Please?” You grabbed his hand and pulled it to your lips.

“Let me sleep on it, love.”

—

“Baby.”

“Mmhm.”

“Lyra.”

Your eyes didn’t open, sleep still claws deep in your brain. “…Hmm?”

“Lyra.” Your husband whispered right by your ear, his cheek rested just above it. “I like the name Lyra.”

“Mmm.”

“Do you like it?”

You pondered the name, letting it settle on your sleep-drunk brain. “Yes.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Go to sleep, Simon.”

———

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