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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! "Gecko" Reader
Tags: Smut. Office sex. Unprotected sex. Angst (if you squint).
Word Count: 2.6k
"Your ears must've been burnin'. I was just thinkin' of you."
His hand started to wander before he could stop himself.
He was...stressed, to say the very least. The last week had consisted of impossibly long days and hard work that left him drained in every aspect. He was sitting in his office, so tired that he couldn't focus on any of the tasks he needed to get done. He was just sitting at his desk, mindlessly staring at the mounds of paperwork.
He hadn't seen Gecko hardly at all in the last seven days. He hadn't even been good about texting or even responding when she texted first. Their communication had been limited, and that hit him full force on this particular night.
Once the thought of Gecko was introduced, his mind wandered. HIs body reacted to the thought of her. There was no stopping it now. His hand that was resting on his thigh suddenly crept along as he considered it. A stress reliever...a quick fix...a risk to take. But it was late. No one was around. His office was private enough.
Just as he considered talking himself out of it, the scent of her perfume fills his nose from memory alone. It was something like cherry and whipped cream...something sweet. He thought of Gecko, his girl who he had hardly seen all week. And she was so understanding, she wouldn't pester him about it.
He groaned, leaning his head against the back of his chair. His mind is infiltrated with her voice, her smile, her eyes...
The frustration grew and so did the arousal. He shifted in his chair, trying to get comfortable. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was pushing midnight. She was probably asleep by now, probably in a T-Shirt that was too big on her and smelled like him.
He let out a slow, controlled exhale. He had holed himself up in this office and now here he was, imagining her bare thighs under that T-Shirt of his. He thought of how she would squirm if he crowded her against the door...slipped a hand under that stolen shirt-
He shook his head. He didn't want to get too carried away. But really, it was too late, proven by the outline of his hard cock pressing against his jeans. He palmed at it, sighing through his nose.
He missed her. Plain and simple.
He wished she were here. He could call her, she would answer the phone. But he doesn't want to wake her. That wasn't fair.
He went for the next best thing. He used his free hand to reach for his phone, unlocking it and navigating to his camera roll. He had a folder there, super secret and triple protected from eyes other than his own.
He scrolled through photos, ones of them together, ones of her by herself. He stopped on one in particular from several weeks ago. He had taken it when she'd worn a short, flowy dress to the bar. He'd gotten the perfect shot of her next to him, holding her drink with a pretty smile.
He kept scrolling, to the more suggestive pictures in the folder. Some were ones she had sent or ones he had taken with her permission. His fingers undid his belt, wishing it was her as he imagined her eyes looking at him while doing it. His imagination goes crazy. He felt like he could feel her hands on him, could smell her...
He let out a groan, popping the button on his jeans and undoing the zipper while he found the right picture. He stopped on one that he knew well. A photo he had taken of her lying on his bed, hands tied to the headboard. Her back was arched, lips parted and eyes-half lidded and staring into the camera...staring right fucking at him.
His hand is gone inside his jeans. His cock is warm and hard at the thought of her. It pulsed in his hand as he looked at the picture. His fingers wrapped around the length of his cock with a slow stroke. His breath caught, the rough pad of his thumb swiping over the tip.
He wished it was her hand. He imagined it was. Those fingers of hers that knew exactly what he liked and how to work him.
“Fuckin’ hell…” He muttered, his hips bucked slightly into his grip. He should be in her room right now, hauling her into his lap, showing her how much he missed her. Not doing this, in his office like an overworked lieutenant.
It felt pathetic. He should just throw caution to the wind and get the hell up and go to her. Before he can even consider it more, the sound of footsteps outside the door makes him freeze.
Shit.
He yanked his hand free, straightening up just as the door swung open. He breathed in relief when he saw who it was.
“…Lieutenant?” The familiar voice said, no other than the very woman he was dreaming of. Chloe’s head peeked in around the door, her eyes scanned to make sure he was alone. Her gaze landed on him at his desk, clueless to what he had been doing before she walked in.
His cock was still hard in his boxers, jeans still undone and only concealed by the desk. She looked so pretty. His girl that he had hardly seen all week.
He swallowed hard. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her. She looked tired...exhausted really. Her hair was a bit messy, her body clad in a hoodie and pants she had probably just thrown on for this visit. He tried to look casual, not like he was mere seconds from jerking off to her. He reached for his phone, turned it off where it still lingered on the photo of her.
"What're you doin' here? It's late." His voice comes out gravelly.
She took that as an invitation to enter. She closed the door behind her and looked at him with a look he knew well.
She missed him. It was written all over her face.
“I couldn’t sleep.” She stayed near the door.
His eye tracked her as she moved into the room. It was all he could do. He could see the fatigue around her eyes. She was just as affected as he was from the past week.
"You should be resting, Gecko." He said, but it's hardly authoritative.
She shuffled her feet, hands jammed into her pockets.
“I wanted to see you,” She admitted. “Just for a minute.”
Damn it. He missed her too. Unbelievably so. More than he ever thought he could for someone.
"You're trouble," He responded. There's absolutely zero heat behind it. "C'mere." He patted his lap.
She tried not to scramble to his desk. She didn't want to come off desperate. He stopped short when she saw his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, his cock pressed against the material.
She can't stop the surprised look on her face, her brows raised and lips slightly parted.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt…” She nearly whispered, cheeks tinted pink at the realization.
His heart thumped when she got close. The look on her face when she realized was only making his predicament more prevalent. He reached for her hand, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. He tugged her closer.
"Not interrupting," He stated plainly. "Your ears must've been burnin'. I was just thinkin' of you."
She took that as an opportunity to settle in his lap, somehow maneuvering to where they could both fit on his chair.
"Yeah?" She asked, arms rested on his shoulders.
"Mhm. 'Bout how much I wanted to see you." He tilted his head slightly at her.
His hands went to her waist, following down to her thighs as she settled against him, head tucked under his chin.
"There you are, doll. Missed me that much, yeah?" He asked, already knowing the answer. She was right where she belonged. He squeezed her thighs a bit, just enough to make her gasp softly.
There was something unspoken. He missed her, she missed him. So, the solution? She stayed. As long as she wanted to. Minutes go by and they sat like that. No words spoken. They didn't need to be. Just silence and soaking in the other's presence.
She shifted at one point to get more comfortable, the movement made his breath hitch before he could stop it. His cock reacted, immediately starting to get hard again just as it got soft.
"Sorry..." She mumbled, but there was a playful glint in her tired eyes. Not that she intentionally did it, but was aware now that she had.
His hands slide to her hips, flexing against her.
"Don't be sorry," He held her, grinding up against her deliberately this time, just to watch her gasp. "Been thinkin' 'bout this all week."
His hands slipped underneath her hoodie, his hands rested on her lower back. He looked at her sweats. He knew she wasn't wearing anything underneath.
"Been thinkin' about how fuckin' pretty you are," He rumbled. "How you look under me. I plan on seein' it tonight...unless you got somewhere to be?"
He knew she didn’t. She wouldn’t be here if she did.
“No…” She whispered. "I'm yours."
His hands made quick work of her top, pulling it up and over her head before tossing it aside. His eyes rake over her, taking in every part of her like it's the first time all over again. His fingers traced the curve of her waist and her breasts like he was memorizing it.
He kissed her. It was hot, desperate and needy. He kissed her like he had been starving for it. He swallowed her whimper, her hips rolling against him. His body responded, meeting her movements like it was instinct.
The chair creaked under their movements, definitely not made to withstand this kind of weight. They ignored it, barely registering it at all. He wrapped his lips around one of her nipples, a soft, breathy sound escaping her. His tongue circled it, the tiniest bit of suction making a certain heat spread between her legs.
She managed to get his jeans and briefs down his legs, just enough to wrap her hand around his cock. He groaned, the sound muffled by his mouth on her skin. His eyes fluttered when she started to stroke him in a good rhythm. He shook his head, wanting to skip that part altogether.
"Stand up, darlin'." His voice was rough and firm. He grabbed her hips, lifting her up off his lap before guiding her to turn with her back facing him.
His lips brushed the nape of her neck before he tugs her pants down, letting them pool around her ankles.
"Bend over." He ordered. His palm landed on the curve of her ass with a sharp, stinging smack.
He groaned at the sight of her bending over, thighs spread and back arched. He leaned over, kissing down her back like the precious woman she was. His hands followed, tracing the curves of her hips and every inch he can reach.
"You’re so fuckin’ beautiful like this." He murmured, voice rough. His fingers slid between her thighs, his heart almost aching at how wet she was.
She suddenly moved her hips backward, brushing against his hard cock pressing against her lower back.
"Shit..." He hissed. It was supposed to be a warning, but how could he scold her now? When he had basically been MIA all week and doing the bare minimum in terms of communication?
He can’t wait any longer and he won't make her wait either. He held her hip with one hand and used his other to find her entrance with the head of his cock.
"Fuck..." He cursed as he sunk into her in a smooth motion. His eyes closed at the feeling of her pussy taking him perfectly. Just like every time.
Just the first stroke had him seeing stars. He stayed buried inside her for a moment, letting her adjust...and letting him adjust to the overwhelming sensation of her.
When he does move, he set a punishing pace from the start. Every thrust fucked her harder against the desk, her palms spread on the wooden surface.
"Missed this," He groans in her ear, one hand sliding up to wrap loosely around her neck. "Missed you."
“Missed you…” She gasped, his tip hitting somewhere far inside of her. “Fuck…”
He knew she meant it and he knew he had to do better. He couldn't let several days go by without making an effort to see her...or hell, even respond to her messages. He can't keep doing that to her. He has to prioritize her...their relationship.
"Always so good to me. So sweet, even when I'm bein' a prick." He moaned.
He pulled her up to a halfway standing position, until he could see her face. Her flushed cheeks and swollen lips were a sight to see. His thrusts don't stop, but they slowed long enough to bring her focus in.
"Hey...'m gonna do better," He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. "Promise."
He kissed her, soft and lingering before turning her around and setting her on the desk.
This time, it’s slower. Deeper. Because she deserved that.
“I love you,” She whispered against his lips, his cock pounding into her. “Adore you…”
He crushed his mouth to hers, claiming the confession. He felt it too, even if the words stuck in his throat sometimes. His thrusts get harder and rougher again, his hands digging into her waist while he fucked her into the desk.
“My girl. My fuckin’ heart." His voice broke when he said it, truth dripping off his words.
He's close, but he won't let himself go first. He focused on the feeling of her walls squeezing him, her moans getting louder and more uncontrolled. When her nails dig into his back, he knows he's got her. Her body tensed when she finished, his name coming from her mouth in a cry. And when he came, it’s with her name on his lips, over and over.
He stayed buried in her, catching her when she nearly collapsed. Not too bad for two people nearly exhausted to their limit. Their breathings were unsteady and harsh. His forehead rested on her shoulder, only lifting to look at her once he felt like his vision wasn't tunneled anymore. She looked wrecked, in the best way.
Her legs trembled, her feet dangling off his desk. He pressed a soft kiss to her upper lip, shushing her little whimpers.
"Shh," He rasped, his voice thick and rough, almost tender. "Easy, darlin'. I gotcha. Just breathe. Relax for me."
He lifted her off the desk, seeing the mess she left behind. He chuckled against her skin, pride swelling in his chest. He handled the cleaning up, both her and his desk. He dressed her again, putting his own clothes back on.
He carried her to the couch off to the side, sitting with her curled up against him. He will stay true to his promise. He won't let her forget.
"I promise 'm gonna make it up to you," He declared lowly, her frame already going limp with sleep. "Yeah?"
She nodded weakly against his chest. Sleep was good. He wanted her to rest. He exhaled long and slow, his grip tightening around her just ever so slightly.
Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! "Gecko" Reader
Tags: Injured reader. Mentions of stabbing. Brief mentions of addiction.
A/N: I decided halfway through to change the tense. Sorry for any changes I didn't catch!
Word Count: 2.1k
"Don't give me that. You are not okay."
Gecko had never been more sick of her bed in her entire life.
It turns out, getting stabbed not once, but twice is a sure way to be put on strict bed rest. It had been a stressful ordeal, to say the very least. A knife blow to the leg and midriff lead to a fast exfil from their location. That led to an extensive surgery where the findings were scary. A ton of blood loss and serious physical trauma.
The first week, she was in the hospital under direct supervision. That in and of itself was maddening. Hospitals were boring and really made her realize how she took good health for granted.
On week two, she was discharged but still on strict conditions. She was only to leave bed for bathroom trips and small increments of walking. She was also ordered to have someone with her frequently, checking in and assisting her.
And it was no surprise that Simon had hardly left her side during this time.
He had taken it upon himself to make her his responsibility. He brought her meals, helped her out of bed, put her back in bed and most importantly, made sure she didn't do anything to sabotage her recovery.
Today was no different. Ghost was right on time for lunch, 12:15 p.m. sharp. He did try to change up the meals (all within guidelines of what she could and couldn't have.) It was a lot of easy to digest meals, but he did try to vary them. He sets the tray down on her bedside table. She takes a peek at today's menu items. Sandwich, soup, crackers and an orange juice.
"How are you feeling?" He asked, voice gruff and deep as always.
"The same as the last time you asked me that question." She replied. She's not being irritable or showing annoyance, it was just that he asked her that question often.
She gave a smile, a weak one, but a smile nonetheless. Simon noticed she still looks so pale. It had been a week and a half and she still looked...terrible, frankly. The doctors all said it would take time for her body to bounce back. Even with two blood transfusions, she still felt woozy and her body was usually most of its energy to heal. All normal given the circumstances, but not any less hard to watch.
He noticed when he sat the tray down that her prescription bottle was untouched. Not even opened.
"And you still refuse to take the pain meds." He sighed.
He stands tall at her bedside, looking down at her frame that was sunken into the bed.
"I don't trust pain meds," She said. He knew this. He knew all about her hesitance to take prescription pain killers. "I've known too many people to get hooked on pills. The doctor said I technically only have to take them as needed, and I don't need them."
Ghost and Gecko had very different approaches to this entire ordeal. She was maintaining a positive outlook on her recovery, choosing not to focus on the fact that she literally almost bled out and died in his arms out in the field.
Ghost on the other hand, could not avoid thinking about it. The entire thing had scared him something awful. He would never say that. But it didn't make it any less true.
Simon on the other hand, had catered to her every need. The near-death ordeal has scared him terribly.
His expression hardened at her response. He knew she was hesitant to take any kind of prescription pain killers, but it worried him to see her in pain and refusing relief.
"You are in pain. There's no way you can't be," He said, his voice slightly exasperated. "You were stabbed, twice."
“Anyone who was stabbed twice would be in some pain,” She said, her eyes sunken into her face and her face colorless. “I don’t hurt that bad. Not bad enough to take any meds.”
He was so frustrated with her. She wasn't cooperating the way he wished she would. She was trying to do too much too soon. She wouldn't relax. And she wouldn't take her damn pain medication.
"You're bein' impossible." He hisses.
Simon knew she was downplaying her pain, and it irritated him. He hated seeing her like this, pale and exhausted, refusing to take the meds that had been prescribed for a reason.
“Simon,” She said in a tone just above a whisper. She wants him to listen and understand that she’s fine. He had been so tough on her these last few days. The soft side of Simon that only she knew was nowhere to be found. She knew he was just worried, but he was stressing her out. “Please don’t be like that. I’m okay, I’m stable. Don’t make me fight with you.”
Frustration and concern had been a constant for him since this happened. He knew her desire to stay strong and not risk dependency on the meds, but it was hard for him to simply back down.
"Don't give me that. You are not okay." He huffs.
“Yes, I am okay. I’m not in a morgue somewhere,” She pointed out, looking and noticing how tired he looked. He certainly hadn't gotten any significant sleep. “Please try and relax.”
Her even mentioning the morgue makes his head tilt in disbelief. How could she just say that so easily? DId she not realize how close that had been to being her reality?
"You are-" He cuts himself off, sitting on the edge of her bed suddenly to be closer to eye level with her. "I can't stand you being like this. And you have the nerve to think it's funny?"
Ghost was normally one for dark humor. Though, she could understand that this situation was an exception.
“You don’t like me looking like this?” She asked just to make it sting. "I thought I looked tough.”
"Yeah," He rumbled sarcastically. "You look real tough not being able to even lift your fuckin' head."
She can't argue there. Everything was taking her energy. She hadn't done anything other than sleep and eat. Even eating sometimes wasn't something she was up for. Speaking of, she glances at the lunch on her bedside table.
"Thanks for bringing me lunch. You didn't have to." She said.
He turned his attention to the food. He helped her sit up as comfortably as she could before he sat the tray in her lap. She looked at the spread in front of her. A decent lunch.
She was a little shaky as she went for the first spoonful of soup. He silently monitors how much she eats. He wanted her to eat as much as she could. Food was fuel and fuel meant energy. Energy was certainly what she needed to get over this.
"You gotta eat," He said for the thousandth time. Every single meal he said it, like she didn't know that. "You lost a lot of blood the other night."
The other night.
He said it like it was just some casual thing that happened. Not like a near-death experience that had left him a nervous wreck for her, tracking everything she did and her progress.
"Oh really?" She said, swallowing a spoonful of soup around a mouthful of sarcasm. "I hadn't realized."
"Fuckin' smartass..." He muttered. He watches her struggle with the spoon, her hands shakier by the minute. "Lemme do it."
He doesn't give her a choice. He takes the spoon, angling himself to help her take bites.
"This is so demeaning." She grumbled.
"Not demeaning. Necessary," He corrected her.
That earned him an eye roll from her. She didn't like this Simon. This Simon was tough on her and made her do things his way. The medications she was required to take like antibiotics and preventative drugs, he made sure she took at the same time every day, nearly down to the second. He wouldn't let her walk unassisted. He wouldn't even let her stand without him for more than a minute or two. He wasn't letting her get an infection or risk busting stitches on his watch. He was serious about her getting better.
She had to get better.
He continued to feed her spoonfuls of soup. He doesn't take his eyes off of her.
"Makin' sure you heal properly," He said after a little while. "You're actin' like I'm torturing you."
He paused the soup feeding and reached for the glass of water. He made sure she drank decent gulps before she responded.
"I haven't argued with you." She said. It was mostly true. She had been patient and understanding of why he was being so tough. Aside from an occasional grumble, she had been doing this the way he wanted.
"Yeah," He replied. "But you're actin' like I'm bein' unreasonable."
Gecko looked at him, her eyes droopy and dim. Those same eyes suddenly fill with tears. There's hardly any energy in her system to cry.
“Because I’m frustrated,” She said, her voice wobbly and laced with tears. “And you’re being so short with me.”
Shit.
He wouldn't apologize for being strict with her recovery rules. Those were doctor's orders and he was making sure she wouldn't end back up on an operating table. But he could admit that maybe his approach had been too rough. Her frustration was more than just being stuck in her bed.
He sat the tray aside, kneeling beside her bed. His hardened demeanor fades just enough for her to notice.
"Hey…" He said, his voice losing some of its sharpness. "C'mon, love. I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, but you gotta understand..." He trailed off when the tears slipped from her eyes. "I want you to get better."
She looked so exhausted. Her body was working overtime to recover and heal. The healing process was draining her. She was trying to wrap her head around all of this and now her boyfriend was treating her like a recruit. The tears were steady as he tried to make it better.
"I'm not meanin' to be hard on you," He sighs. "I don't want anything to happen to you...more than it already has." He nearly whispered the last part.
That only makes her cry harder. The small sniffles turn into real sobs. He knew she was emotional and worn out. This was more than just physically hard on her.
He threw caution to the wind. Time to break some rules within reason. He stood from the side of the bed, kicking his boots off and shedding some clothing to get more comfortable. The mask went too. His face bare and hair slightly tousled from it.
He maneuvered her to crawl in behind her, settling her between his thighs without jostling her. He rested her against his chest, his lips pressing a kiss to her head.
He wrapped his arms around her, avoiding the problem area on her gut. He could feel her trembling as she cried. He doesn't rush her.
"Love, 'm sorry..." He sighs, irritated with himself. "Didn't mean to be like that."
He held her while she cried. He spoke as gently to her as Simon Riley possibly could. He does it until her crying slows and her breathing gets calmer. Her body goes limp too, he knew she would fall asleep soon. He hated that she had to use precious energy being upset, but if her body needed to then so be it. After all, he had pushed her too hard.
"Get some sleep," He murmurs. "We'll talk more when you wake up. 'M not going anywhere."
She only nodded as the last of her crying sent her to sleep. He relaxed a fraction once she was asleep. Sleep was good for now.
And he meant it when he said they would talk. They would discuss this, figure out a way to make this easier on both of them. He knew that would end up with him promising to be softer on her. He would agree, but it would take some trial and error.
After all, losing her was worse than anything he could ever imagine.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
John "Soap" MacTavish x Fem! Reader
Tags: NSFW. Smut. Cockwarming. Soap being a jerk lol.
A/N: Horrible title. Will change it when I come up with something better.
Word Count: 1.0k
"Your odds are lookin' good."
"Hey, hey..." Soap warned, his grip on your hips tightening. "Stop it. Watchin' the game here."
"John, this is ridiculous," You hissed. "There will be a million soccer games other than this one."
"Football," He corrected, giving the side of your thigh a smack. "None of that soccer rubbish."
"It's the same thing," You gruffed, whimpering when he shifted his hips underneath you. "Every game is the same."
His tip hit the furthest part inside of you that it could, and your arms and legs were beginning to get fuzzy. Soap's cock had been stuffed inside of you for what felt like hours now - completely hard and prodding at all the right places.
He was perfectly comfortable, sunken into the mattress, propped up just enough so he could properly see the TV that was screaming with bright colors of soccer field turf and fans dressed for their team in the stands. He could see the screen over you, much to your demise.
To be completely honest, this whole ordeal did seem fun at first. It was something different, and something you hadn't tried before. It was arousing to think about Soap being buried inside of you with no promise of friction or relieving stimulation. It was supposed to drive him crazy. It was supposed to make him desperate for you...make him beg for you.
However, it seemed that your devious plan fell apart when he decided to take advantage of it and turn the tables on you.
"I don't know why you're complainin' so much," He chuckled, completely unbothered. "This was your idea, sweet stuff."
So now, you were stuck with him taunting you and torturing you with his cock by doing nothing with it - and he was too invested in his stupid soccer/football game to even think about giving in. His eyes were glued to the TV screen behind you, his gaze barely peeling away for merely a moment.
He was having fun watching you fall apart over his attention being elsewhere in a situation where you were fully naked and at his disposal. The circumstances were great for an even better lovemaking session. But Soap was having too much fun playing the game you originally intended to play.
"I might as well go home at this point," You growled, seriously considering getting up and leaving. "So fucking annoying."
At this point, it was beginning to piss you off more than anything. It was the frustration with his stubbornness and irritation for not getting what you wanted. Frankly, you were beginning to feel bad for previously wishing this upon him.
"Hey...don't be like that," He said in a tone that was demanding, but also sympathetic. "We're havin' fun, princess."
His eyes were set on you now, his irises moving back and forth as he focused on your expression to see if this was beginning to become too much for you. Soap could be a bit intentionally aggressive in the bedroom sometimes, but he never let it get to the point where you weren't enjoying yourself.
He studied carefully, looking for anything that let him know he needed to stop. You were definitely getting antsy, and every minute that passed you were growing more needy.
But you weren't at your breaking point...yet.
"You're having fun," You growled, tears beginning to form in your lower lash line. "I'm not getting-"
To shut you up, Soap gave a quick, firm thrust up into you, making a strained cry leave your throat at the feeling of finally having some kind of movement. Soap let out a low, erotic groan at the sound of your wetness getting pushed around and the sight of it smeared onto his lower stomach made his cock twitch within you. He stayed still for a moment, only moving again when your shoulders relaxed.
He watched your expression as he lifted you off of his cock just enough before sinking you back down, his hips rolling up to thrust into you. You visibly shuddered, a whimpered plea for more sounding from you.
He fucked you slow for a bit, giving you just enough to begin to satisfy you, but not enough to curb your craving for him. He saw your blown pupils and flushed skin, tell-tale signs that you were completely maxed out and ready for more.
Too bad he had a soccer game to watch.
His hip movements stopped, and you were back to square one - completely swallowing his cock between your legs, but no promise or sign of anything more. The look on your face was priceless - an overwhelming expression of disappointment, disbelief, and betrayal. Soap would've felt bad for you...except he didn't.
"You're...you're gonna fuck me, right?" You asked, words breathy and voice barely audible.
He gave a chuckle so mischievous and smug that it almost made you tear up again. He reached for one of your hands, pressing your knuckles to his lips with a smirk.
"Sure, I'll fuck you..." He gave a shit eating grin when he saw your eyes light up. "...if they win."
Against your better judgment, you turned your head to look at the TV, your stomach dropping when you saw that the game was just over halfway through the first half...and the scores were tied. Not only did you have another half to go, but there was a chance that you might make it to the end of the game and receive no end to this torture at all. Maybe if you were lucky, you could convince him during halftime.
Soap laughed again at your agitated look, giving your backside a playful squeeze.
"Cheer up, pretty girl. They've had a good year so far," He said, referring to his preferred team. "Your odds are lookin' good."
Soap wasn't showing any signs of letting up, and you didn't have a choice but to endure the rest of this game and hope for a winning game.
This was going to be the longest game of your life.
simon riley who you "meet" through a program where you can send care packages to soldiers. you don't think much of it at first, just a simple package with a few necessities and treats. and along with that, a short, but genuine and handwritten letter thanking the unknown soldier to you for their service.
and when you go to retrieve your mail a few weeks later after getting home from work, brows furrowing together as you shuffle through the stack of envelopes.
bill. another bill. advertisement. paycheck. handwritten addressed envelope from 'ghost'.
your brain doesn't even connect the dots until you are inside, fingers gently picking at the envelope until your able to drag a finger through the seal to open it. a simple piece of what looks like notebook paper is pulled from inside. unfolding it, eyes quickly scan the letter to get an idea what it's about.
you've done plenty of care packages before. never did you get a personalized thank you letter back, so, this was a first. the letter starting off by thank you for the package and that he enjoyed the items, especially the "sweet treats". the two words put in quotations as he referred to what you referred to them as in your own letter. your own brain cringing slightly as you remember what you wrote.
again, thank you for all that you do and enjoy the sweet treats!
and while you expected the letter to end after thanking you, it didn't. additional lines asking about you. the sets of questions ranging from asking how long have you been doing the care packages to general questions about yourself. then, at the very end, after signing off as 'ghost', you couldn't help but notice the chicken scratch of handwriting that added:
p.s. you don't need to respond back if you don't want to, just figured it be nice to get something back in return. thanks again.
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omg imagine mma fighter simon fighting someone and while simon's well known for not being easily rattled - he takes all the taunts, disrespect, and cheap tactics of his opponents with a clear head (bc he knows he will absolutely demolish them in the ring later). but then one opponent decides to make a crude comment about you - the cute little thing simon's always got hanging off his arm <3
and simon just goes fucking berserk and everyone has to hold him back from caving his opponents skull in <3
