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There’s one slight problem, though: Due to the nature of his work, the guy interprets everything as an order. And executes accordingly.
———————————————————————
You sit on the kitchen’s table, enjoying breakfast together, when you notice the full trash bin.
“The trash needs to be taken out,” you casually mention, not giving it too much thought.
But, to your surprise, Simon shoots up from his chair like a coiled spring, leaving his half-eaten food behind. “Roger that,” he responds and jogs towards the trash bin, leaving you baffled.
“Simon?”
He stops and turns to look at you.
“Hm?”
“You don’t have to do it right now.”
“When do you want it done?” he asks, waiting for your next command.
“Wh-whenever you can,” you reply, uncertain how else to phrase it.
“I can do it now,” Simon declares and proceeds to the trash bin.
“Babe, we’re eating.” You say and point at the semi-eaten food on the kitchen table.
He looks at the food, then back at you. He shrugs.
“No,” you state, “Come sit down and finish your breakfast first.”
He nods as if Price just gave him the objectives for his next mission and jogs to the table to resume his breakfast.
He’s always like this. Last week, you found a cockroach running in the bathroom, and you screamed so loud that he almost kicked the door. When he asked you what you wanted him to do, your first instinct was a very loud and clear “KILL IT!” without thinking about your statement’s repercussions. He chased it around, murmuring stuff like “Target’s on the move” and other nonsense until he trapped the cockroach in a corner. He stepped on it once and twisted his foot. The cockroach was dead. Gone. Kaput. But he wanted to do it again, to “confirm the kill.” When you told him there was no need since the cockroach was already a pulp and left you all to a better place, he refused and ordered an “evac” of the bathroom to “do it properly.” And when you asked if “properly” meant an AK-47 and camo apparel, he thought about it long and hard before agreeing that further escalation would be unnecessary.
Be it his ingrained behaviour as a soldier to execute orders, deeply rooted within his system, or his fear not to let you down, he was finding it difficult to leave his work duties at the door. He always carried them inside—in the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. He acted like Ghost, not Simon. Everything was a matter of order to him, and there was no time for relaxation.
But it doesn’t have to be like this; you want him to know that. He doesn’t have to be so rigid at home. He can relax and take a step back from his institutionalised habits.
To prove your point, you decide to give him another instruction, this time more indirectly.
You glance at the sink; some pans are picking out from making breakfast this morning.
“Oh boy,” you moan, trying to pull off an act, “we have to clean the dishes at some point.”
He raises his head to look at the kitchen sink, then sides-eyes you.
“Any particular time you want that done?” He asks, ironically.
“I said ‘at some point’, Simon,” you snap, “there’s no urgency.”
“You also said we ‘have’ to do it,” he snaps back. “‘Have to’ has some sort of urgency in it, doesn’t it?”
You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You’re right, but it’s more of a general statement,” you reply. “We can do it whenever it’s convenient.”
Simon processes your words and nods.
You stare at him while he eats, and you feel a tug at your heart, urging you to address the underlying issue on your mind. You take a deep breath, searching for the right words to express your feelings without offending him. You reach out and touch his arm to grab his attention. He turns to face you.
“You’re so dedicated to what you do; it’s one of the things I love about you,” you begin, “but our home should be a place where we can both unwind and be ourselves without feeling like we’re constantly on a mission.”
He furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” he asks.
You take a moment to collect your thoughts, wanting to explain them in a way that resonates with him.
“Well, when you jump to fulfil every request or task like it’s an order, it sometimes feels like we’re always on duty,” you explain gently. “I want us to create a more relaxed atmosphere here, where we can enjoy each other’s company and take things at a slower pace.”
He thinks about it for a while.
“Am I doing that?” He asks.
You slowly nod with a gentle smile.
“Affirmative,” he replies, “I’ll try to take it down a notch.”
“No ‘roger’, no ‘affirmative’, nothing like that is needed here,” you explain.
“Is ‘alright’ alright?” He asks.
“Yes,” you smile, “alright is alright.”
He finishes his breakfast and puts his dish in the sink.
“So,” he says, pointing one hand at the dirty dishes and the other at the bin. “Is there any particular order in which you want these two to be done?”
You smile. “No, babe; you take out the trash, and I’ll do the dishes.”
“Underst-alright, alright.” He corrects himself and walks to the garbage. He ties up the bag’s strings and picks up the bin. He spots you looking at him.
“Am I doing something wrong?” He hesitates.
“Why are you taking the entire bin with you?”
He keeps looking at you and places the bin on the floor.
“Just in case the bag’s ripped,” he explains, “I don’t want to spill garbage juice on the floor.”
“Oh.”
“Should I take the bag only?” He asks and begins to remove it from the bin.
“No… that’s pretty smart, actually.”
He raises his eyebrows and points a thumb at himself.
“Yes, Simon,” you nod and smile, “you’re pretty smart and considerate. I’ll carry out the same procedure while on trash bin duty.”
He puffs up his chest and picks up the bin with the bag in it.
“I’m dedicated, smart and considerate.” You hear him boast to himself as he walks towards the exit, ready to execute his mission.
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Virgin!Reader who is shy and closed off about the idea of their first time. Who is hesitant when first getting with Ghost.
Virgin!Reader who gets in bed with their collosal boyfriend and is immediately a blushing mess when he touches them.
Virgin!Reader who has almost zero stamina and can cum on Ghost's fingers easily as he pumps his thick, calloused fingers deep inside. Purring sweet pet names in their ear and making them feel so good. Whimpering from the sensitivity.
Virgin!Reader who drools over Ghost's cock despite it's large size. Whimpering and asking if it'll hurt and if it'll fit as he lubes his cock.
"Only a little bit sweetheart. It'll feel really good after, I promise." He whispers against your ear, feeling so fucking hard from the idea of corruption you into his sweet little whore.
Virgin!Reader who clenches on Ghost's cock, mewling and letting out the sluttiest, unfiltered noises as Ghost starts to move, loving the feeling of just his cock sliding slowly in and out of you.
Ghost who is slow and gentle with you at first, peppering you in kisses and making you feel loved and adored, but the lewd sounds of your hole absolutely begging for more of him makes him feral.
Getting rough with you, fucking you hard, rubbing and stroking you, making you feel so fucking good. Hand clasped in your hair, calling you his sweet girl/boy. "There it is, fuck, you're so tight around me angel," he will curse, teeth grit against your shoulder or watching your back arch.
Virgin!Reader who absolutely eats it up. Cumming on his cock until their hips jolt and they have salty sweet tears rolling down their cheeks. Puffy lips and sore vocal chords from everything he's done to you.
Ghost who can feel the damp sheets under him from you absolutely leaking from the way he's treating you.
How you try to dirty talk back but your words are slurred and you can't make out a thought with his thick cock stretching you out ruthlessly.
Virgin!Reader whose told not to cum but can't stop from jerking, hips uneasy and organ abused and oversensitive from the amount of orgasms.
Virgin!Reader who passes out when Ghost gets really going, the pleasure too much for them before they find themselves back awake and being pumped full of seed.
Ghost who couldn't help himself, filling his baby to the brim with his nut, tainting your insides as his and only his. Claiming you, ruining you into his perfect partner.
Ghost who gives you the sweetest aftercare. Full of kisses, soft words of praise, caressing and holding you. Chances are he'll keep his cock buried in your warmth for a while longer, or maybe he'll pull out and watch his cum drip from your writhing entrance. If he does he'll be instantly hard and ready for more.
Seeing your fucked out look and how much rest you need just from one round of him playing rough up with your body.
Knowing that he's left you unable to ever seek pleasure from another man because your first experience was with him and he has never left anyone unsatisfied.
Knowing he's tainted you into someone who now thinks of his cock two times a day and whimpers when he has to leave for long times at work, knowing you'll miss his cock.
And that's how he likes it. Knowing you'll be missing him, wanting him and no one else. He's made you hungry, he's corrupted you and he couldn't be more proud.
Requests you say? How can I not ask for 141 x American wife!reader scenarios 😩?
You write the guys so well, I can’t choose.
How I Met Your Mother
Simon 'Ghost' Riley / fem!Reader
Summary: How Simon met his American wife.
Content: civilian partner, biker!Simon, very fluffy with some steamy kisses thrown in there, teasing, swearing, humor
Word Count: 1.5k
Notes: My dear anon, thank you for sending in this request, it helped me out of a major writing slump! ❤️ I hope it‘s okay that they are not yet married in this and that it‘s just Ghost for now - but the 🇺🇸 part was so fun to write. Be prepared for lots of clichés, I giggled through the whole thing.
I can see him going for a no-nonsense woman from a never-heard-of-it hometown.
You met during one of his leaves after a deployment in the US, when Simon decided to rent a motorcycle on a whim and drive through as many states as he could manage in three weeks instead of flying back to Manchester.
The bike didn‘t run as well as his own back home, but the landscapes were beautiful. Simon needed a change of scenery, something to clear his mind and nothing ever managed that quite as well as the rumbling of an engine underneath him.
He’d planned on staying by himself, to maybe rent motels and hotel rooms as he went along instead of planning anything. His whole life always followed a strict set of rules, and just this once, he wanted to disappear off the map and do whatever the hell he wanted.
He didn‘t actually get that far until he met you, leaning up against a sticky bartop - having some beers and watching a game of football (far inferior to rugby in his opinion, but your eyes sparkled whenever the team you were rooting for scored, so he‘d forgive your bad and cliché choices).
His gaze just couldn‘t seem to let you go, drinking in your boots and washed-out jeans, hair and makeup all nice and your lips shiny with your favorite gloss.
Fuck it, he wasn‘t going to stay for long, but it couldn‘t hurt to shoot his shot, right? What was the worst thing that could happen? Simon would never see you again anyway. Usually, he wouldn‘t indulge in something like a one night stand or even just flirting, but he found that he really really wanted to with you.
But when he got together the courage to come over and order two beers, your attention was already on him.
Huge, beautiful man with a scar that bisected his lower lip, curly white-blonde hair and deliciously dark chocolate eyes. Your type in every conceivable way.
You two stared at each other for a heartbeat, until you cocked your head with a sly smile. It shakes him out of whatever spell he‘d been under, and then the stranger cracks a half-grin back at you.
"D‘you want some company, luv?"
His accent and deep voice made your whole body tingle, the foreign way he drawled his words so different to the accents you‘d grown up with. A sexy, tall Englishman in your little hometown. What kind of romance book did he jump out of?
"Holy shit," you mumble to yourself, but then smile again and jerk your head towards one of the few empty barstools beside you. "Feel free, honey. But I can‘t guarantee that I won‘t scream in your ear once they wipe the floor with them."
His dark eyes flicker to the screen above the bar, and he sits down with a grunt.
It doesn‘t take long for him to start a hilarious commentary about each of the players, and he‘s clearly out of his depth when it comes to the game. Doesn‘t know any of the names, doesn‘t try to impress you with stats or unnecessary explanations of game tactics. He‘s just content to watch, drink a beer and call the biggest NFL players of the season a bunch of pricks whenever they fumble a ball.
You think you might be in love.
"I just think it‘s funny," you tell him with a laugh as you exit the bar together, warm summer air giving way to the cool breeze of night. "Do it again!"
"'M not a circus clown," he growled back, but his lips twitched up into a smile. "An’ it‘s important for drivin' to have some-"
He stops at your eager gaze, how you‘re practically clutching your hands in excitement over one simple fucking word. You hadn‘t stopped teasing Simon since he‘d ordered a glass of water after the two beers, not because of the water itself but the way he said it.
"-water." Simon finished with a sigh, and you pressed your lips together, trying to hold it in but then burst out laughing anyway.
"Wo'ah, woa-h," You mimic, and he can‘t help his own chuckle at your absolutely terrible impression. You look so fucking nice leaning against his bike, your eyes shining and face genuine even when you tease him. Simon had no one in his life (apart from MacTavish) who dared to even just crack some jokes around him, let alone about him. They were all intimidated by the Ghost persona or the Lieutenant rank, but you hadn‘t batted an eye when he briefly mentioned his career.
"Better than wahder," he grumbles, and you practically shriek with laughter at the completely ridiculous way his tongue tries to form the word.
Simon grins again after a second or two, and then can‘t resist the temptation to gently drag you closer by the belt loops of your jeans. He still keeps a respectful distance between his body and yours, even though you wouldn‘t have minded if he‘d just- what? Leaned in and kissed you? Bent you over the motorcycle until all you could feel was smooth leather and that ridiculously toned chest and stomach? Jesus Christ, you were fucked.
"Wan' me to drive you home, or d‘you have someone that‘ll pick you up, luv?"
"Smooth way of asking if I have a boyfriend," you smirk, and he matches the impression. The scar on his lip makes him look dangerous and sexy all at once and you just want to bury your fingers in those curls and-
"Or a girlfriend, we don't discriminate in England."
It‘s such a ridiculous thing to say, you burst out laughing again.
"Just because I asked wether or not it‘s true that you‘re all stuck-up about your teas! Doesn‘t mean I think the same applies to people!"
"‘M not a posh prick," Simon rolls his eyes, and you wish that smirking mouth was pressed to yours instead. "I‘ll take my tea in whatever capacity I can. None o’that Starbucks shit you Americans inhale."
You gasp, then sneak your arms over his shoulders to loosely tangle your fingers behind his head. As though he‘d been waiting for permission, Simon drags you closer by sliding his massive paws that pass for human hands over your hip bones and lower back.
"On behalf of the American population, I will have to defend Starbucks pumpkin spice lattes till death."
"Yeah?" He mumbles, then his eyes dip to your mouth for a second before snapping back up to your eyes. It makes you grin.
"You‘re too easy, Simon," you tease him, but even to your own ears it sounds a little breathless. Of course you hadn‘t missed the way he‘d looked at you all evening.
His hands tighten a little, and then he leans his head down to yours, towering over you but it‘s not uncomfortable or even intimidating. The way he pronounces water echoes through your mind again, and you can‘t keep the giggle inside.
With an eye roll and a smile, he knows exactly what you‘re thinking, Simon slides one of his hands along your jaw and into your hair, then shuts off the sweet sound of your voice with a small kiss. You‘d expected it, but it still stunned you for a moment, and when he pulls away again, you stare up at him with wide eyes.
He quirks an eyebrow in question, and looks so god damn sexy doing it, that you practically jump him.
Thankfully, Simon is much more stable on his feet than you are, and doesn‘t seem to have any problem catching you in his arms as you kiss him over and over again. You might not know him, some might even call this borderline crazy, but you trust him.
And Simon not only looks good, is respectful and drives the sexiest motorcycle ever, but he‘s also unpretentious and kind. You can feel it in your bones, the gentleness that this giant possesses as he cradles your head and lifts you off your feet a little when your tongue meets his.
The addicting mix of leather, some faint cologne and beer has your head swimming, and you wonder if it‘s possible to get drunk off of a person.
When you let go of him for a moment, he kisses along your cheekbone as you catch your breath.
"Bloody hell," he growls, hand flexing where it rests on that soft curve between thigh and asscheek.
You giggle.
„Bloo-ie, bloodee-"
Simon shuts you up with yet another kiss, and you can‘t stop the foolish hope that this won‘t be a one time thing, that he won‘t be gone in the morning, and that you‘re not setting yourself up for another round of heartbreak.
It was a narrow decision between Ghost and Price for me, so let me know if anyone would be interested in reading a version with our Captain as well!
I hope y‘all have THE BEST weekend, I‘m gonna have to bite the bullet and clean my apartment now. Slobbery kisses to all of you! - A✨
My general COD writing masterlist with all my longer stories, a COD headcanons masterlist including this one + the COD Halloween Monster Special. It‘s all linked separately in my pinned blog post for easy navigation as well!
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friends to lovers never had a bad track. “scared i’ll ruin what we have” SLAPS. “friendship cuddles while secretly dying inside” BANGER. “teasing each other and holding eye contact for a little too long” KILLS ME. and don’t even get me STARTED on “screaming i love you in the middle of a heated argument.”
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The door slammed and you’re pretty sure the neighbors would think it was a gunshot. A heavy bag was also thrown onto the ground (probably denting the floorboards but yk simon is more important).
“GOD-fucking-dammit woman, how many times have I asked you to tidy up the shoes?! I don’t wanna be stepping on your dainty little, fifty fucking quid heels and havta deal with you getting angry at me—”
You peeked around the corner, clearly worried about him and he shut up so fast. Love of his life and he just called you “woman.” You were wearing that cute outfit that he loved taking you on dates in because you just looked so fucking pretty.
And he groaned, wiping his face in attempt to smear off his frustration, “M’sorry baby, had a rough day at work.”
You made your way over to him, wiping your hands on your apron, concerned. Simon was very well maintained an in control of his feelings, something really bad must’ve happened. You reached for his burled up fist, gently tracing your thumb on his wrist, holding as much of his big hand as you could. And he watched as you raised his hand to your lips and gently kissed all his problems away. He cupped your cheek and pulled you in for a loving kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling his tension loose and facade fall away.
Apparently your kisses were fucking gold to this man and he wouldn’t let you breathe. He leaned in deeper, groaning into your mouth, slipping his tongue in — which drew out a moan from you — that he chased after fervently, kissing you even more sloppily.
“Mmh! Simon, Simon, honey, I- we can get to that later.”
“No,” he grumbled.
“Yes,” you giggled. “Come on, I didn’t do all this work for it to be left out and get cold.”
“What d’you mean?”
You scoffed, “C’mon, most observant lieutenant, smell anything?”
He took a deep breath, eyes rolling back, mouth salivating at the smell of his favorite homemade dinner. motherfucker. Funnily enough, his boner only just presented itself — for the food or for you?
Oh it was definitely for you, he somehow pushed his rumbling stomach aside for a second and went right back to sucking the soul out of you.
“Mwah~ I fucking love you, woman,” he squeezed your ass as a promise to get back to…showing you his gratefulness, but then pushed through you to make the plates.
———————————————————————
lmao I feel like this is my first post in a year, feeling cute not yet in spooky season
(can exist as a continuation of this series but not necessarily "canon" in that universe, think of this as an extension if you want more of a backstory)
also a part of day 2 - family @aeonweek
[all release dates are subject to being delayed]
guide ♡ - fluff / 💋 - you'know / ☁ - angst
[my ao3] [my masterlist] [my artwork and moodboards]
Photo credits: top middle aeon pic @katshinigami
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