kooolgirl

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗ a/n: here's my masterlist!! i hope ya'll enjoy!! (p.s. requests are open!)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ john price

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 simon "ghost" riley

getting lost in your hypotheticals

pairing: husband!simon "ghost" riley x emotional wife!reader

summary: your husband always tries his best to comfort you whenever your overthinking becomes too much

masterlist!

a/n: love this request, anon <<<333 need this man sooo badly ;))) requests are open!!

silent sobs, at least you tried to make them silent, bringing both hands to cover your mouth.

you didn't want to wake simon up again tonight like you had every day this past week. knowing he had to get up early for work tomorrow, you tried to throw the duvet off you, shuffling from under the sheets when you felt his beefy bicep wrap around your waist, "where ya goin', luvie?" of course the military trained lieutenant heard me.

“s-si—” choking on your sobs, you couldn’t continue, simon quickly raising up to turn on the bedside lamp. “sweet’eart?” he frowns, placing a gruff hand on the small of your back, “please talk to m’.”

you were facing away from your husband in bed, legs hanging over the edge, arms crossed above your chest. roughly wiping your tears, “i didn’t m-mean to wake you up, si. go back to sleep.”

“not with ya so upset, fawn,” you felt him start rubbing circles along your spine, “how can m’ help ya?”

simon’s been coddling you every night when he’s caught you crying, physical touch from him bringing great relief to you. may as well give in, you thought, turning to crawl into your husband’s arms.

he instantly encircled both arms around your torso, securing you in his infamous bear hug. you slid your legs on both sides of his massive thighs, straddling his lap.

a few minutes passed with the two of you in this position, occasionally gripping one another to make sure you both were still present.

then, he gently lifts your chin, concern flashing across his features at your puffy cheeks and teary eyes. “oh, sweet’eart,” the brute wipes a stray tear, “please, m’ wanna help. let me listen to ya.”

no more holding back, your overthinking fully getting the best of you tonight, wailing, “si! i’m just so fucking scared!” he remains silent, kneeding his hands into your thighs, an encouraged, “go on.”

“e-everyday you leave to go to base a-and everyday i worry you’re not—” with more sobs exiting you, you fell into your husband’s chest, the man pulling you into a bear hug again. “hey, hon’. hear yer feelin’ real anxious ‘bout ‘tis,” he kisses your forehead, “m’ righ’ ‘ere with ya.”

you take a deep breath, “i worry you’re not gonna come back, simon. quite literally, anything could happen to you! i-i can’t lose my husband, si.”

the man felt terrible, like it was his fault his precious wife has been stressing herself out, staying awake every night, all week, crying because of her overthinking.

knowing it wasn’t beneficial to invalidate your feelings, the man just listened, keeping you in his hold. i should really start calling simon, “mr. bear”, you giggled to yourself. “w-what if your base gets infiltrated one day? what if a faulty grenade goes off? what if-” simon readjusted his hold on you, silencing your rambling. he could tell you were getting lost in your hypotheticals— your “what if’s?” making you panic more.

your husband needed to ground you, he tried, “it’s all scary for m’ too, y/n. bein’ away from ya ‘s already hard enough. can’t imagine bein’ away from ya ‘cause of somethin’ happenin’ outta m’ control.”

he looks into your eyes for this next part, “so we have to look to tha things we can control.”

slowly understanding what he means, “like me calling to check on you while you’re on base? i can see for myself that you’re alright when i start getting too anxious?” simon smiles, patting your ass, “tha’s righ’, luvie’. hell, ya can even come visit m’ in person on base if it makes ya feel betta.”

smiling at your caring husband, you kissed his lips, simon flipping you both on the bed. he now has you lying on your back, all 230 pounds of his pure muscles resting on top of you.

“tell m’ everytime yer overthinkin’ somethin’, sweet’eart. it’s m’ job to help ya,” he litters more kisses anywhere he can reach— your forehead, nose, cheeks, lips.

haha, so real and completely valid! any recommendations? i’m completely open to constructive criticism— but that’s it, constructive criticism. (yes, this is my blog, and yes, straight hate will be blocked lol)

i would love to improve my fics in anyway, so please, let me know!!

hope yall continue enjoying my fics!!

concur your timid tendencies

pairing: husband!simon “ghost” riley x shy wife!reader

summary: you surprise your husband with a new family member— if you can find out how to tell him

masterlist!

a/n: soooo cuteeee, anon :))) had soo much fun writing!! requests are open!

“awww, who’s the cutest girl in the world?” you quietly say in your best baby voice, “you are! that’s who!”

while your husband was away at work today, you decided to go to your local animal shelter, finalizing the adoption process for the precious kitten you’ve been bonding with over the last month.

it took you a while to muster up the courage to actually go to the animal shelter four weeks ago, your shyness getting the best of you.

simon usually helped you concur your timid tendencies, having you order takeout food over the phone, schedule his and your doctor appointments— some of his forms of exposure therapy. but, the brute happened to be absent from home daily, having to spend most of his days at work, meaning he couldn’t assist you all the time.

wanting to try your own form of exposure therapy, you started visiting the animal shelter, especially whenever you got too lonely. the puppies and kittens were always great company! animals were easier to be around than other humans— except for your si, of course.

and you may have gotten too close to one— an adorable kitten began following you everywhere you walked. she even started to yowl when you left the animal shelter, tugging at your heart strings. “she seems to really like you,” the vet said, squatting down beside you to pet the kitten, “would you be interested in adopting her?”

you were nervous about adopting your new pet, especially since you didn’t know how to tell your husband. you didn’t start going to the animal shelter with the goal of adopting, it just happened.

if anything, simon should be excited you added a new addition to your little family. she could help with your loneliness on the days he’s working, notably when the man gets deployed— his deployments were always excruciating to deal with alone. you needed this kitten.

“dada’s gonna be home soon, kitty!” you lifted the feline, snuggling her in your arms. “how am i gonna introduce you two?” you mumbled more to yourself, awwwing at your girl’s sweet purrs.

you played with your kitten in different rooms around the house, migrating from the living room, up the stairs to your bedroom, and even the bathroom— she had so much energy for such a tiny kitty.

placing a bowl of water and food down for her, you watched her consume it. “you’re probably really hungry, huh?” you giggled, petting along her back.

then, “hon? m’ home!”

it must’ve been a funny sight— you paused any movements, your kitty doing the same at your husband’s deep, thick accent.

“that’s him! we have to go kitty!” you scooped her up, lightly jogging up the stairs. hope si doesn’t hear me, you thought, placing the kitten in your bedroom. talking to her now, “please stay here and don’t leave! i have to prepare simon to meet you. i love you,” you kissed her, exiting the bedroom.

“sweet’eart?” you heard your husband again.

rounding the corner, “hi, si!” sweetly leaving you. throwing your arms around your husband’s neck, “how was work today?” just gotta act normal.

simon responded, encircling his arms around your waist, “same ol’, same ol’.” he kisses your cheek, pulling away, “wha’ were ya doin’? took ya a bit to come.”

thinking, oh great, questions! while putting on your best poker face. “you know, just listening to music in my headphones! i couldn’t hear you at first,” you replied, grabbing his hand to pull him towards the kitchen. “heard. jus’ don’ have it too loud next time, yeah fawn? could be dangerous for ya if it’s not m’ comin’ in,” he squeezed your hand in response. “yes, si! i didn’t even think about that!”

you ate dinner with your husband, chatting about the activities you both did today— you purposely leaving one out. simon was surely gonna find out about the kitten sooner or later, and you were okay with it being later! you just didn’t know how to tell the brit.

“luvie’?” your husband pulls you out of your thoughts, “wha’ are those doin’ agains’ tha wall?”

following where he was pointing, your eyes widened, landing on the kitty’s food and water bowls. shit, how could i forget to put those away!

“i-i don’t—” you stuttered, trying to come up with an excuse, but nothing.

simon raised an eyebrow, “mhmm?” vibrating deep in his chest. the man was having fun with this. “have somethin’ ya needa tell m’?” “n-no, si—”

meow.

a beat of silence.

“wha’ was tha?”

you winced, turning to look at the culprit in the doorway. “surprise!” you waved, walking to grab your kitten, she always follows me everywhere. i should’ve known better.

like rub her feet, help her shower, help her clean her teeth, her hair etc?? <33

it’s not like you were doing it on purpose

pairing: husband!simon "ghost" riley x chronically tired wife!reader

summary: your husband takes good care of you and things around the house

masterlist!

a/n: what a cute request, anon <33 had so much fun writing!!! requests are open!!

your husband was supposed to be returning home sometime soon.

simon was sent on a mission for only two weeks this time, one of the shortest in his career, but it has felt like an eternity for you. your chronic tiredness has not been treating you well these last couple weeks.

it’s not like you were doing it on purpose. a few dishes in the sink turned into piles, garbage started overflowing in the trash bins around your home, some finding refuge on the floor, your dirty laundry basket spilling over with your clothes— all the chores you’ve neglected since your husband’s been gone.

you haven’t been able to get out of bed, and when you did, it was to lay on your couch. no matter how much you slept, it never got better. you could sleep for over twelve hours and still feel drowsy when you woke, like you could use another fourteen hours of sleep.

you couldn’t even muster up the energy to shower most days, nor brush your poor teeth and hair. you were just so tired all the time, your body always feeling sore in random areas.

knowing your husband was returning later, you planned on cleaning up your disgusting mess before he arrived. he’s spent the last two weeks living in tight, dingy bunkers getting shot at, so you wanted him to be greeted with a spotless house.

things didn’t go quite as planned.

your chronic tiredness having other ideas, you fell asleep on the couch before you could start.

“sweet’eart?” simon calls out, removing his size 13 boots as he closed the front door to your shared home.

the beefy brit shrugged off his jacket, a groan leaving him as his sore muscles ached. hanging the jacket in its designated spot on the coat rack, “m’ home!” he called again, voice louder.

he heard no response back, thinking to himself, wonda where she ‘s?

rounding the corner, he saw the overfilled trash bin first, using his hand to compress the garbage. “hon’?,” your husband tries again, tying the bag off.

he placed the trash bag beside the front door, turning on his heel to search for you. he can take out the trash later, he needed to find his wife now.

passing the kitchen, the brute’s eyes landed on the sink— plates, cups, silverware, skillets, spatulas— any dish you would find inside kitchen cabinets sat cluttered underneath the faucet.

continuing to the living room, he spotted you laid across the couch. the slow rise and fall of your chest made your husband’s eyes soften, content with how your were looking so peaceful.

he quickly moved to throw a blanket over your goosebump covered skin, saddened at how his precious wife fell asleep before she could even cover herself. how long had you been cold for?

placing a kiss on your forehead after, the man got to work, wanting to help relieve some of the stress on your shoulders.

your husband knows you’ve been struggling with your chronic tiredness for a few months, and with him being absent these last two weeks, he could only imagine what it’s been like here for you. he wanted to assist in anyway he could.

simon walked to your shared bedroom, having a feeling he probably needed to start a load of laundry. his instincts being correct— he carried the laundry basket into the laundry room, throwing your clothes into the washing machine.

the brute started the dishes in his succeeding actions, placing all the dirty cups, plates, bowls, and silverware inside the dishwasher. he started the cycle, a beep being heard from the machine.

the man had to hand wash the cooking utensils— because they didn’t fit it was better for them to be cleaned like that anyways— all the skillets, pots, pans, and spatulas put into their respective areas after he hand dried them.

then he went around the house, collecting all the trash he could. empty soda cans and half filled water bottles sporadically sat on counters and tables, crumpled papers (your husband assumed was from your journaling), junk food wrappers, all shoved into the trash bag, simon tying it off after he made sure the house was spotless.

he grabbed the first trash bag from beside the front door and proceeded to carry both bags outside to the wheeled bin. trash comes tomorrow. m’ should go ‘head and roll it to tha edge, he thought, using his gruff hands to pull the bin down the driveway.

when he returned back inside, he placed new trash bags into the trash bins around the house and washed his hands.

buzz the washing machine signaled the first load was done, your husband walking over to transfer your wet clothes into the dryer. simon went ahead and put a second load of your clothes into the washing machine too, seeing your basket was still full. you probably had one load left after this.

tha house ‘s clean for ‘er now. hope she likes it, your husband rubbed a hand across his face, eyes fixating on your sleeping form.

simon lifted your legs, plopping himself onto the couch, resting them above his meaty thighs. he started lightly rubbing your feet— a slow and sensual massage for his sweet fawn.

he missed you so fucking much while he was away, his mind only consumed with getting back home to you the last fourteen days.

he softly dug his thumbs into the soles of your feet, small shhh’s cooing out of him at your silent quivering.

the man couldn’t help himself, bringing your feet towards his mouth, littering soft kisses across your toes. this awoken you, the pleasure lulling you from your slumber, “hi, sweet’eart,” you heard your husband’s deep voice, “m’ back,” accent thick. you felt him place another kiss, this time on the dorsum of your foot, “m’ missed ya so,” one more kiss, “so much, hon.”

“si?” you groggily question, fingertips rubbing your eyes. “m’ ‘ere, baby,” you heard him respond, now recognizing he was also caressing your feet.

“oh my gosh— si!” you hastily jumped off the couch, stumbling a little to catch your balance, “y-you’re not supposed t-to be here yet,” stumbling a little over your words.

you watched your husband stand from the couch, a small grunt escaping him, “yer not happy to see m’?” he holds his arms out, waiting for you to hug him.

your eyes widened at his assumption, “no! i am happy to see you,” swiftly moving into his hold, “i missed you so much too, simon.” the familiar feeling of the beefy brit’s biceps wrapping tightly around you provided some comfort, but you couldn’t stop the sudden water works.

simon pulled away from you, raising his hand to lift under your chin, forcing eye contact. he frowned at the sight of his sweet wife, big tears rolling down her blushed cheeks, hints of purple under her enchanting eyes— the brute just wanted to help you. “wha’s wrong, hon?”

a sob left you, your husband using his other hand to rub circles on your back. “i-i needed to clean the house before y-you got here,” you cried out, “i wanted to get ready too, b-but of course i fucking fell asleep.”

simon pulled you back into a hug, knowing you probably needed comfort and for him to just listen to you. “i’m sorry, simon. i wanted everything to be nice f-for you when you got back home,” he listened to you hiccup out.

he slid his massive hands up and down your spine, eventually choosing to reach behind your thighs, lifting you. muscle memory responded, your arms encircling his neck, your legs tightening around his waist— your husband’s koala bear.

“haven’t been keeping up with myself o-or chores since you left,” you told him, simon walking you both up the stairs to your bedroom. he kissed your cheek, a hand moving under your ass for better support, “it’s alrigh’. yer okay.”

“i-i feel so pathetic, simon,” you whimpered, your husband walking past your bed, to your bathroom, “i’m just tired.” he placed you on top of the bathroom sink, kissing your forehead while you released him.

“m’ sweet wife,” he kissed your lips, “yer so fuckin’ perfect, y/n.” he kissed you again, tasting salt from the tears on your face. “handled everythin’ for ya, sweet’eart. did tha dishes, laundry, took out tha trash. know yer tired,” he kneeds your thigh, his hand swallowing it, “jus’ let m’ take care of it, hon.” a beat. “let m’ take care of ya.”

this only upset you more, wailing, “you’ve been away on a mission, simon! living in small, grimy bunkers. i k-know you’re tired! you’re getting s-shot at and escaping d-death—” your hand covered your mouth, simon bringing his to remove it. “don’ mean nothin’,” he kisses your knuckles now, “will always take care of ya and suppor’ ya. wanna be there for ya.”

you looked into your husband’s eyes, heart melting at his sweet words, “ya just gotta let m’, y/n.”

a few seconds passed, the sensation of your husband’s hands on your thighs making you relax more. i really did miss simon.

nodding your head, “yes, si,” sniffling your nose.

your husband smiled, kissing your lips, satisfied with your answer. “good girl.”

he turned away from you, the sound of water pattering filling the air, “gonna take one togetha,” he motioned to the shower.

simon undressed himself first, shifting to you to help remove your clothes. “thank you,” you told him, kissing his shoulder before he grabbed you off the counter.

he held the curtain open, grabbing your hand to help you step in, following after you, “‘s tha water too hot, fawn?” “no, si.”

your husband took time to scrub your body, gently massaging the tight knots he found across your back, stealing a few kisses along your shoulders. when he began washing himself, you crossed your arms over your chest, “seriously?” he laughed, handing you the washcloth so you could return the favor. you had to use your elbows on some of simon’s knots, your fingers being too small for them. of course your husband got huge knots, everything about simon was big!

he began washing your hair next, lathering the strawberry scented shampoo through your locks of hair threaded between his scarred digits. “lean yer head back, luvie’,” he directed, using the shower head to rinse your hair. “needa do yer conditiona’ now,” he repeated his actions, the conditioner frothing. “feels so good, si,” you hummed, lightly rocking on your heels.

you shampooed and conditioned your husband’s hair when he finished yours, the large man having to slightly lean down for you to reach— he loves accommodating himself to your height. you snuck kisses along his jaw and neck, down his sculpted chest and abs, eliciting a hushed groan from him. “love ya so much,” he smooched your head.

you both got dressed in your matching pjs, simon choosing them for you two, “wan’ to match with m’ sweet wife.” “great idea, simon!” you happily clapped, smiling up at him.

he brought you back to bathroom when you were clothed, squeezing some toothpaste over your toothbrush, “open for m’.”

you obeyed, the brute beginning to brush your teeth. he made sure to reach every side, the man using his thumb to pull your mouth apart wider, “stick yer tongue out.” following his command, ahhhh fled from your throat as he brushed the pink muscle, “atta’ girl.”

simon dried your hair for you, even detangling the strands, “sorry, luvie’,” when you’d slightly wince. “it’s alright, si!”

“light yer candle for us, yeah?” your husband asked, walking out your bedroom. continuing down the stairs, he shouted, “needa finish tha last load of laundry!” “i will, si!” you called back.

now, you were laying in your bed with your husband, entangled in one another’s arms, legs sprawled over his. some tv show you and simon started before he left played on the screen, laughs occasionally leaving both of you.

ps i love your writing

silence accompanied the darkness

pairing: husband!simon “ghost” riley x blind wife!reader

summary: you’ve had trouble adjusting to life after your accident, but it’s easier to deal with when your husband’s by your side

masterlist!

a/n: thank you so much for the request, anon <33 sorry it took a while for me to upload, i wanted to research the topic before writing!!! hope this suffices and yall enjoy :)))))

“welcome back home, luvie’,” you heard your husband say, feeling him kiss your temple, “wait ‘ere jus a momen’.”

using your hold on his arm, you nodded your head, squeezing his bicep, “yes, si,” dropping your grip next.

simon led you through your shared home’s front door, the first time you’ve been back since the accident.

“move in! go! go! go!” someone shouted through the chaos, “got report of an injured nurse along with the rookie.”

some rookie’s grenade malfunctioned while he was in the infirmary, harming both people in his cubicle— himself and the nurse tending to him, you.

luckily, other nurses and medics responded instantly, aiding to the two of you.

your ears were ringing, vision black from how close you were to the grenade, your skin bleeding in a few spots from the fragments.

you felt your team working on your injuries, several hands dislodging the grenade pieces, a slight sting from the peroxide poured on your wounds, followed by tightly secured bandages.

“she’s stable. prepare her for transport,” your hearing was slowly returning, the ringing deducing.

you tried to open your eyes, but nothing— still black. “w-what’s going on?” you worriedly questioned, trying to blink your vision clear, “i-i can’t see anything,” more blinking, “why can’t i s-see anything!”

it was all too much, the ringing in your ears reappearing. you felt your body being rolled on something flat, they must’ve gotten you on a gurney at some point.

before you could lose consciousness, you swore you heard him, your husband, your si, “m’ righ’ ‘ere, sweet’eart. yer gonna be alrigh’. we’re gonna get ya help.” then, silence accompanied the darkness.

“m’ back,” your husband said, bringing you out of your thoughts, “let’s get ya ova to tha couch.” he placed a hand on the small of your back, the other reaching out for you to grasp.

your hand clinged to his forearm as he guided you through your living room, “couch ‘s at ten o’clock. a few more steps, hon.”

the pressure shock waves from the faulty grenade tore delicate membranes in both your eyes, your retinas displaced from the drastic change in the air pressure, causing permanent vision loss in both your eyes.

“primary blast injuries,” the doctor diagnosed you, “i’m sorry, but you’ve permanently lost your vision. we did all we could during the surgeries.”

“thanks, doc,” you stated, a heartbreaking tone present. “of course. a nurse is gonna check you one more time, then you’ll be free to leave,” the doctor turned to your husband next, “can you step outside for a moment, sir?” the brit nodding.

“your wife is gonna need all the support you can give her, plus some,” she started, her stethoscope glistening in the hospital hallway light, “it’s never easy losing your vision, especially when you’re still so young.”

simon watched her jot something on a sticky note, the man taking the colorful square from her hands, “these are some resources for her and you. best of luck to the both of you, truly.”

you’d been home for a couple hours, now sitting at the kitchen table, your husband accompanying you to dinner he cooked.

simon whipped up your favorite meal, “thought ‘tis was appropriate for yer return,” he joked, you lightly giggling.

when he sat the plate in front of you, “protein at twelve o’clock, asparagus at three, strawberries at six, and rice at nine,” kissing the crown of your head after.

the man took your doctor’s advice and immediately researched the resources she recommended. he wanted to do anything he could to support his sweet wife during this difficult transition.

describing layouts of rooms and food placement on a plate with a clock face system, consistent arrangement for items, declutter areas for safety, keeping doors either opened or closed at all times, avoiding the urge to over-assist you and only offer help when appropriate— all valuable things he learned.

he also encouraged you to pursue adaptive skills training, something else your doctor recommended.

“ya already know, m’ will be there righ’ beside ya, luv’,” you were straddling your husband’s lap, your arms slithered around his neck. simon had his hands gently kneeding the sides of your hips, fingertips grazing your ass. “i don’t know, si. i-it just feels like it becomes real if i do that,” he watched you frown. promptly pulling you into a hug against his chest, “oh, sweet’eart.”

cue the water works, simon gliding his large hands along your spine now, trying to provide comfort, “shhh, m’ gotcha.”

but a few days later, “i think i want to go, simon.”

your husband stopped during mid sentence of the book he was reading aloud to look over at you. he could tell you stopped listening to him a while ago.

“i want to try adaptive skills training,” you continued, making simon smile. “m’ happy to hear, fawn,” he walked over to you, placing a kiss on your forehead, “m’ gonna get yer insurance and papers togetha, yeah? then we can schedule ya some classes.”

training was great, you developing skills that can help you easily navigate the world again— learning to use a white cane, alternative, adaptive cooking methods, how to work screen-reading technology!

you were slowly regaining your confidence back, something simon thought would be gone forever after your accident.

he must’ve thought wrong

pairing: jealous neighbor!simon “ghost” riley x neighbor!reader

summary: your neighbor isn’t too fond of the mystery man staying at your house

masterlist!

a/n: thank you so so much for the request!! loveee the idea!! thought it would be perfect for my neighbor!simon x neighbor!reader pairing :))) hope yall enjoy!!!

simon may have been bordering on the edge of being a stalker these last couple of weeks— a stalker for his sweetheart of a neighbor.

the two of you haven’t had the chance to hang out together since you helped the beefy brit decorate his once very boring home, and he was missing you. his great dane was missing you too, riley pulling his leash and his owner towards your house during walks when he picked up on your scent. “riley! tha lass ‘s busy righ’ now.”

although you told your neighbor you would be swamped with plans in the next couple weeks, he didn’t think you’d be this busy. thanks to his bedroom window that faced your front door, he saw you exit your house only once or twice a week, three times if he was lucky! majority of his text messages left unanswered, you only responding a short, hope you’ve been good, si! your messages are so sweet, sorry i’ve been busy :( can’t wait to see you again xo, you haven’t even been on any walks around the neighborhood recently.

the man tried to prepare himself for seeing you less these next couple weeks, you basically warning him when he last saw you, “i won’t have time for anything. i probably won’t even be active on my phone, si. ugh, i’m not excited for my future,” you groaned.

your neighbor wondered what was making you so busy, especially since he rarely sees your car leave your driveway. if he’s military trained to notice subtle details, does it really count as stalking when he uses it?

simon came up with the idea of just going over to your house, knock on your door to see you. of course, the brute had to muster up some courage, “do ya think m’ should go ova there?” he turned to riley, his dog already staring back, “yeah, m’ should.”

he stepped out to his front porch, closing the door behind him when he saw your car had just pulled into the driveway, m’ didn’ notice she was gone, he thought. perfect timing, he shrugged next.

he saw your familiar strands of hair peep out the driver’s side, a smile crossing his features under his balaclava. even though it’s only been a couple weeks, it’s felt like an eternity since the last time your neighbor saw you.

he started walking down the steps of his porch, when he came to a halt, seeing someone step outside your passenger’s side. the smile that once adorned his face faded into a frown.

you were with a guy.

a guy just stepped out of your car, and simon watched silently as you led him into your house, glaring at how you laughed at something the mystery man said, playfully punching his shoulder after.

god, he missed that beautiful laugh.

but he hated how he wasn’t the one causing it.

quickly turning on his boot, he rushed back inside, riley barking at the sound of his owner slamming the door, “‘tis jus’ m’, riley!”

rushing to his room, his fingers split open the blinds, peeking at your house. thought after thought barreled through the man’s brain, was that bloke tha reason you’ve been “busy”? was he tha reason yer too busy to even respond to text messages?

simon felt himself growing jealous, mistaken the notions he conjured up as fact.

but the ex-lieutenant got a grip, knowing this was ridiculous. shaking his head, ya wouldn’ do ‘tis, he told himself.

so, he kept watching you for the rest of the week—until he could gather enough information to confront you.

he noticed you and the mystery man leaving your house more often together, basically once a day at this point. being a peeking tom from his bedroom window, the man’s seen each time you both left— and he’d wait each time for you both to return.

your neighbor recognized the pattern of you and the mystery man reappearing in the evening hours, seething out how the bloke began opening your doors for you— that was supposed to be a job reserved for simon.

at the end of the week, simon observed a change of events. some red car, one your neighbor has never seen in the neighborhood, parked in front of your mailbox.

a few minutes later, he saw your front door open, the mystery man stepping out first, a bag in each hand, you stepping out next. did ‘tis fuckin’ bloke stay with ya? m’ haven’t even stayed ova there, he angrily mumbled.

short conversation happened between you and the man, simon wishing he possessed the talent of lip reading. wha were ya two talkin’ ‘bout?

then, the worst thing imaginable.

simon watched in horror as you hugged the man, bringing your arms around his neck, standing on your tip toes to better reach. the muscular brit felt himself getting sick, comparing the action to how you’d hug him. but, he couldn’t force himself to look away, he needed to see what else would occur.

he watched the mystery man return your hug, both arms wrapping around your waist, bags swaying in his hands. the two of you stood in one another’s hold for longer than simon liked to admit.

as if it couldn’t get any worse, the bloke kissed you on the forehead when pulling away.

simon felt his anger rising, his fists balling at his sides. “m’ can’ believe ‘tis,” he said aloud, shaking his head.

the ex-lieutenant continued watching the scene, only pulling away from the blinds after he saw the mystery man enter the red car and drive away.

the man started pacing along his hallway, size 13 boots creating loud echos throughout the house.

simon felt himself going crazy with the scenarios he produced— was tha guy a boyfriend to ya? how long have ya been togetha? when were you gonna tell m’?

he couldn’t believe it. how could his sweet, sweet neighbor do this to him?

simon thought you both were on the same page. you both admitted feeling something for one another, but you didn’t ever establish what that something was. sharing sweet nicknames, helping each other with projects, the physical contact between you two— he must’ve thought wrong.

the brute shuffled to his kitchen, seeing riley playing with some chew toy. his phone started ring, ring, ringing on the counter.

your contact flashed across the caller id, simon staring, unsure of what to do. you’d hadn’t contacted him in weeks, and as soon as the mystery man leaves your house, you suddenly have time for him again?

refusing with a shake of the head, he declined the call.

okay, the brute couldn’t decline it, so he just let it ring to voicemail, waiting to hear what you’d leave behind.

“hey, si! sorry about missing a bunch of your messages, i was just so, so busy these last few weeks,” your breathtaking voice came through the line, “been missing you and riley, si. really wanna see you two again— i-i really wanna see you again,” you stammered out. “please return my call when you hear this, we should hangout. see you soon, si.” beep. beep. beep. you ended the call.

as much as he missed seeing you, he missed hearing you more, your angelic voice that could calm him anytime, anywhere. he played the voicemail again. and again.

simon felt conflicted, the voicemail you’d send him greatly differed from the ideas in his head. you said you “really wanna see him again,” but, ignored damn near all of his messages. and it was while you had some random guy staying over? coincidence? m’ think not.

instead of harping on it, he was gonna get answers.

not caring to lock his front door behind him, he hurried out his house, quick strides getting him to your porch instantly.

here goes nothing, he thought, bringing his fist up, knock. knock. knock.

a few seconds passed before you opened the door, looking as ravishing as always, “si! oh my gosh, hi!” you excitedly threw yourself into the man’s arms, happy he came over to see you, “it’s been too long! ive missed seeing you, si.”

you pulled away at his lack of reciprocation, the familiar feeling of his big biceps around you absent. a frown on your face now, “i-is something wrong, simon?”

“thought we had somethin’, luvie’.”

now you were confused, “huh? si- what? i-i mean we do,” you grabbed his gruff hand in yours, “what are you talking about? where’s this coming from?”

you both stood in silence, the wind blowing past your wind chime creating a melodic rhythm. you squeezed your neighbor’s hand, “talk to me, si. let’s figure this out.”

a beat, then he started, “m’ saw ya with him, saw he was stayin’ ova ‘ere.” he couldn’t look you in the eyes, “yer drivin’ him, huggin’ him. he openin’ yer doors for ya— kissin’ yer forehead,” his voice cracked. this hurt him a lot more than he thought.

“thought ya were m’ sweet fawn, y/n? m’ trusted ya with everythin’, riley trusted ya with everythin’. m’ told ya m’ name—” “simon—” “and, ya ignored m’. ignored all m’ messages ‘cause of tha stupid fuckin’ bloke.”

your neighbor was hurt. simon’s rarely opened up to anyone in his life, so to feel so betrayed by someone he gave his all to? he wasn’t taking it well.

“simon, he was my brother.”

“what?”

a soft giggle leaves you, squeezing the brit’s hand reassuringly, “that ‘stupid fucking bloke’,” you did air quotations, “is my older brother. he came to visit me. i told you i was gonna be busy!” you giggled more.

“yer… brotha?” he questioned, accent thick. he must’ve gotten embarrassed. nodding your head, “yes, si. the one and only.”

“why-” the brute started, when you interrupted. “he just likes to randomly visit sometimes,” you shrugged, “that’s why i’ve been dreading these weeks! he told me he was coming only five days before he actually arrived! who does that?” you’re shaking your head now.

“i’m sorry i didn’t respond to a lot of your messages. i could’ve at least done that, si,” still clinging his hand, you brought his fingers to your lips, leaving kisses along his knuckles.

your neighbor brings his free hand to your head, pushing hair behind your ear, “no, m’ sorry. got way too carried away, luv’.”

“it’s all just a misunderstanding. besides,” you stood on your tip toes, getting yourself as close as possible to simon’s ear, god, your neighbor is so huge.

pairing: husband!simon “ghost” riley x wife!reader

summary: fuck the space! you need your husband back

part 2!

part 1, definitely doing more harm to you

masterlist!

a/n: requests are open!! been having bad writer’s block :(((

“soap m’ tellin ya,” simon begins, taking a sip of his beer, “never seen ‘er so upset.”

the british brute decided to call his mate when you kicked him out, asking him to meet at their local bar. “be there soon, ghost.” johnny didn’t miss the troubled tone in his lieutenant’s voice, so he knew something serious was going on.

both of the muscular men were two beers deep, now working on their third— just teetering on the brim of tipsy. it sucked being so big sometimes.

“she’s been in ‘tis rut for multiple days. m’ tried and tried to help ‘er out, but nothin’,” simon continues, eyeing his wedding band. he brought his right hand to fidget with the jewelry, “it got so bad tonigh’…”

a pause— silence consuming them, becoming a part of the conversation. simon struggled to resume, still in disbelief himself about what happened just a few hours ago. he took another sip of his beer, maybe more of a long gulp, then, a deep breath, “she started hittin’ m’. thought m’ sweet lass was gonna hurt ‘erself.”

johnny, sharing his lieutenant’s disbelief, couldn’t stop it from showing on his face. the scottish man’s eyes widened and his mouth fell agape, “hit ya? y/n hit ya?” you wouldn’t even hurt a fly, how could you hit your husband?

the man nodded, confirming, “couldn’ believe it either soap, but tha’s not tha point. we both know she didn’t cause any pain.”

finishing the last drops of his beer, simon slammed the empty glass on the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. the thud from the glass caused stares from onlookers nearby, but a scary, threatening glare from the brit made them turn away.

“tha point ‘s that she got so stressed out, it lead to ‘er havin’ a total breakdown. m’ didn’ know how to help ‘er, johnny. m’ sweet wife…” the larger man started to trail off, his rambling quieting.

the scott hated seeing his mate upset, never seeing his lieutenant in such a perturbed state.

johnny let a few seconds pass before trying, “ya gave ‘er what she asked for. tha’s all ya can do, LT,” finishing his beer now, “ya did everythin’ right.”

ring. ring. ring.

simon’s phone started vibrating, the ringtone barely audible over the bustling crowd and music at the bar.

both men glanced down at his phone on the table, your caller id flashing across the screen, “m’ told ‘er to call when she needed m’.”

johnny smiled at his mate, patting his back, “go help yer wife. i’ll cover us.” “thank ya, johnny. for everythin’.”

the military men gave a final head nod to each other, your husband answering your call on his way out, “hello? luvie’?”

simon was frantic, long strides getting him to his truck, “are ya there? m’ comin’ home to ya.” the brit waited for a response, turning his radio all the way down to hear.

he almost missed it, the subtle sounds of your sobs, “can hear ya, hon. shhh, it’s alrigh’. yer husband’s comin’,” he coos, trying to console you.

“s-si!” he heard you hiccup out. “yes, sweet’eart. m’ ‘ere.”

“i’m s-so, so sorry,” more wailing left you, “i can’t believe i hit you, kicked you out— oh my gosh, si, i’m sorry.”

simon imagined what his wife looked like, body curled into itself, hands tugging at your poor hair. he knew you would have the worst headache after all this crying.

“sweetie, it’s alrigh’. know ya been strugglin’ lately. jus’ wanna help ya-” “exactly, simon! all you’ve tried to do is just help me and i keep p-pushing you away! i’ve been a terrible wife to you,” you interrupted him, voice trembling when it raised, “you’re such a caring husband, a-and i treat you like shit.”

“luvie’, please. m’ almost home,” he took a left turn. only two right turns before he makes it to you, “let m’ take care of ya.” you cried out to your husband, “si.”

when he entered the front door, he saw you in the same spot he left you— right in the entrance way, though, you were sitting on the floor now, back against the wall.

he frowned at the revelation, “oh, m’ sweet fawn,” stepping towards you, the familiar creak of the hardwood under his size 13 boot. he scooped you into his strong arms, guiding your legs to wrap around his built torso, something you’ve done hundreds of times before. encircling your arms around his neck, you placed your head onto his chest, “s-simon. i’m sorry.”

you felt him slither his hands along your spine, the deep shhh’s rumbling from his chest encouraging your cries to assuage. “yer husband’s gotcha, sweet’eart. m’ ‘ere.”

he walked you both to your shared bedroom, sitting on the bed with you still in his hold. he let you rest in his arms, still gliding his hands up and down your back. he would let you start when you were ready.

a couple minutes passed, then, “i don’t really know what’s wrong with me.”

you leaned away, hand fiddling with your wedding band, a fidget you and simon apparently shared. your husband’s hands moved to either side of your hips when you leaned back, a soft squeeze and “go on,” encouraging you to proceed.

“i feel so useless, si. i haven’t been able to get out of bed, help around the house— i- i haven’t had the energy to do anything! all my projects are forgotten! my days are wasting away! i’m w-wasting myself away,” you were getting worked up again, your husband frowning when he watched you pull at your strands of hair.

promptly grabbing your hands to stop your actions, he brought you back into his hold. “the world f-feels like it’s eating me, simon. l-like i’m sinking and can’t swim up.”

“luv’, didn’ know ya were feelin’ like tha” he kisses your forehead, “we’re gonna get ya help. m’ promise.”

over the next few days, that’s what your husband did— he spent time researching for a high-rated therapist that would accept your insurance, scrubbing your body clean in your shared showers, cooking you meal after meal, cuddling with you. your husband even drove you to your therapy appointments, “m’ so proud of ya, luvie’,” when you’d return, littering kisses all over your face.

he monitored your medicine, assuring you consumed it at the correct hour every day, picking up your refill prescription when it ran out.

pairing: husband!simon “ghost” riley x wife!reader

summary: maybe some time apart is the thing you and your husband need— maybe you more than your husband

part 1!

part 2, he would let you start when you were ready

masterlist!

a/n: requests are open in my ask box!!! part 2 is posted and linked!!

“don’ know whatcha wan m’ to do ‘ere, luvie’,” your husband worriedly tells you, his massive biceps flexing as he brought his hands to his head. “m’ wanna help ya.”

he felt his heart breaking at the distraught look on your face. seeing the fat tears rolling down his wife’s pretty, puffy cheeks made him want to die, the brute wanting to do nothing more than pull you into his arms— try to take away every ounce of your pain.

you’d been going through something lately, simon noticing the changes in your behavior immediately.

sleeping in bed until the late afternoon hours, only a few bites taken out of your meals, “just don’t have an appetite,” you’d shrug, brushing it off, spending twenty minutes out of your days to let it all out, sobbing while music blared through your headphones. your husband was so concerned about you, missing seeing his sweet fawn so active and full of life.

and the worst part? he didn’t know how to help you because he didn’t know what was bothering you!

his attempts to help— trying to wake you around early afternoon with brunch, feeding you spoonfuls of your meals himself, wiping away each and any tear that started in your doe eyes. but nothing seemed to support you.

“c’mere, hon,” he took a single step toward you, the hardwood creaking under his size 13 boot when you stopped him. “no,” shaking your head now, “stay away from me, simon.”

like a deer in headlights, the man was stopped in his tracks. eyeing you as you continued, angrily unfolding your arms from your chest, voice quickly raising, “just get the fuck out!”

your husband’s eyes widened at the command. he couldn’t believe what his precious wife was saying to him. what had the man done to hurt you so badly?

“y/n-” “get out!” you interrupted him, fists balling. stepping towards simon, seeing nothing but red, “out! get the fuck out of here!”

without delay, you started punching the man, fists colliding with his chiseled chest, definitely doing more harm to you than to your husband.

he stood there taking every hit— weak blows incomparable to the things he endured during his war days.

“luvie’, please, stop,” he started, accent thick. his gruff hands reached to grab your soft ones, halting your strikes, “yer gonna hurt yerself.”

dropping yourself into him, your head rested against his chest, more sobs left you, “please… please, just leave, simon.”

he had you in his hold, his strong arms wrapped securely around you. after days of trying to comfort you, this was the closest you had let your husband to you.

if space is what his sweet wife needed, the brute was gonna give it to her. anything to help you.

kissing the top of your head, giving you a final squeeze when he heard another whimper depart you. “m’ miss ya, sweet’eart. doin’ ‘tis to help ya.”

your husband pulled away from you, grabbing his coat and car keys before heading toward your shared home’s front door.

before exiting, “jus’ a phone call away, fawn. wanna give ya yer space,” he opens the door, “ya call when ya need yer husband, yeah?”

he watches you nod your head.

“love ya so much, y/n.”

pairing: neighbor!simon “ghost” riley x neighbor!reader

summary: you help your neighbor decorate his house

masterlist!

a/n: requests in my ask box are open!!!

“alright! this should be everything!” you excitedly say, dropping your bag onto your neighbor’s coffee table. you began listing items under your breath, “pictures, new plants, dreamcatcher,” your fingers going up one by one like you were counting.

you were helping simon decorate his house, you noting many, many times how his walls were “plain” and “boring for the eye to see”— supposedly he “needed some color” in his life, whatever that means.

when you came to your neighbor with the idea of giving his house a makeover, the brute immediately agreed, surprising you. to be honest, you were nervous for his reaction. who were you to tell simon what to do with his house? who were you to simon?

trusting your gut, one night when you both were watching movies on his couch, his muscular arm laid behind your shoulders, you leaning comfortably into his side, you brought it up. “si? how would you feel about putting more… furnishing around your house?”

his great dane, riley, was perched on the other side of him, his pet’s head rested on his meaty thighs, your hand scratching behind the dog’s ears. “what’d ya mean, sweets?” he questions, not really understanding your question.

“your house is just so lame,” you slapped a hand over your mouth, wincing, “no offense.” he laughed in response, “mine ‘s lame compared to yers, yeah?”

that’s how you both ended up in his living room, an armory of tools at your aide— hammer, nails, tape, screwdriver, whatever you would need to decorate the ex-lieutenant’s home.

simon drove you both to the thrift store, selecting different paintings and frames he liked. you wanted to support your neighbor in finding things he enjoyed for his space, quickly learning he was a minimalistic man, opting into the finer, simpler pieces.

the brute’s biceps flexed as he hammered the nails into his living room wall, riley barking at the repeated thuds. “hush, riley! yer okay,” he tells his dog, taking a small break to caress him, “hadda’ do ‘tis for y/n. didn’ wan’ her gettin’ hurt with tha nails.”

you smiled at your neighbor’s caring tendencies, the supposed “scary giant” so soft and gentle towards the both of you.

you started lifting the first painting, simon quickly on your tail, “let m’ get tha for ya, hon.” he grabs the painting from your hands with ease, lining it onto the nails. “thank you,” you take a couple of steps backwards, “i can help you angle it straight.”

after a few, “a little to the left,” and, “a tad to the right,” the living room was entirely transformed, the once unadorned walls now filled with life— minimalistic paintings with bright colors, vibrant green plants interstitial in the crevices of his furniture.

new books, ones recommended by you, littered his bookcase, the brute very excited to read them. they were some of your favorite books!

new pictures of simon and riley trapped behind frames sat along his bookcase and coffee table. one picture was a candid photo of the two, simon in his military gear, squatted down to his dog, giving him sweet pets. simon explained how this was the day he came back from a long deployment, reuniting with riley after over half a year of separation.

the next photo was one you took of the pair. your neighbor’s large body was sprawled across his couch, the man sleeping with riley, who was laying across his owner’s shirtless torso. despite riley’s large size, your neighbor’s even larger size swallowed him— riley looked like a puppy on simon!awwing at the sight, you quickly flinged out your phone, capturing the moment forever. you may have made this photo a lockscreen too.

both of you looked around the room, admiring the finished product, “si! everything looks so nice,” you clapped, bouncing rapidly on your heels.

a smile crossed the brute’s features, his hand reaching to the small of your back to ground you, “it really does look good, fawn. can’ believe m’ didn’ try to decorate soona’,” he confesses, thumb rubbing circles on your back now. “it’s because you didn’t have me to help,” you joked, flashing your pearly whites. bringing your hand to pat his chest, “let’s start on your room now, big guy. your room is your sanctuary, so it deserves a lot of time and love,” you emphasized the words.

your neighbor repeated the process of hammering the nails, now into his bedroom wall, you ordering which direction he needs to hang the paintings.

you decorated his room with a few knickknacks, filling empty spaces on his dresser and nightstand with these objects— a globe of the world, an hourglass, even a fidget cube, remembering how simon mentioned having trouble with his hands trembling.

you watched the man place more picture frames around his bedroom, getting a closer look at the other photos he chose.

i don’t remember seeing him print these, you thought to yourself, seeing the photo of what you assumed was simon with his old military team, the task force 141, you recalled him saying.

you recognized simon in the picture instantly, the same skull balaclava he rocked today worn over his head. three muscular men stood around simon, not as giant as your neighbor, but still really fucking big, you knew they would all tower over you.

next to that photo was another photo, one of simon side hugging a man with a spiky mohawk. you noticed this man was also in the team picture.

you reached your fingers up, lightly brushing over the image. you had heard so many stories from simon about his past war days, hearing about his heroic teammates, but you’d never seen any pictures of the people your neighbor mentioned, you were taking it all in.

“his name was johnny mactavish,” you dropped your hand, hair whipping behind you as you looked up at your neighbor, “we all called him soap. lost him a long time ago.”

frowning, “i’m so sorry-” “don’ be,” he interrupts.

“johnny seemed really lovely, si,” you start, motioning back to the pictures, “they all do.” simon took steps closer to you, nodding his head in agreement, “m’ fough’ alongside em for many years. good men.”

his hand finds solace in yours, knuckles interlocking through each other’s, “got one more photo m’ wanna show ya.”

he leads you to his bed, pushing you to sit on the edge, presenting the frame to you next.

you take the rectangle from his hands, a gasp leaving you.

the picture was a selfie you took with simon, your ears brushing against one another when you leaned your heads into frame. your signature smile lit up the image, beautiful eyes your neighbor could stare in for hours glistening. the man’s beefy bicep was wrapped around your shoulders, his tattoos peeking behind your hair.

“ya like it, luvie’?” the brit asks, smirking at your rapid head nodding. “oh my gosh! yes, si! i love it,” you jumped into his arms, hugging the man like your life depended on it.

“you’ve become so importan’ to m’ in m’ life, y/n. yer gettin’ m’ outta m’ comfortability, gettin’ m’ to try new things,” he kisses the crown of your head, leaning back to look in your eyes, “m’ foreva grateful for tha, fawn. m’ so grateful for ya.”

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader

summary: you and your boyfriend like to take turns making each other cum

masterlist!

a/n: requests are open in my ask box!!!

“unngh, si!” your boyfriend heard you moan into the air, the words slightly muffled from your thighs clenching against his ears. simon’s tongue was going to work on your clit, two of his thick fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, the lovely combination forcing your eyes to roll to the back of your head, “si! i-i’m cuming— please!” you gasped out, body shaking as you came undone. using a large hand to loosen your thigh’s hold on his neck, simon pulled back to admire the sight, leaving his digits stuffed inside your pussy. letting you clench around him, helping you ride your first orgasm out, “atta’ girl, lookin’ so pretty.” he slips his fingers out next, you whining at the loss of contact, “m’ poor baby, shhh,” he coos, “we’re not done yet. ya know yer always first.”

“gugh. gugh. gugh,” disgusting, guttural sounds vibrated from the back of your throat, your boyfriend abusing your mouth and throat with his massive, girthy cock, his favorite glory hole! you were laid on your back, head hanging off the edge of the bed, your boyfriend standing in front of you. your perky tits bounced as gagging left you each time he grazed past your uvula, “tha’s it, choke on ‘tis fuckin’ dick,” he grunted out. your jaw was starting to hurt from how wide and long you’ve had it open, small tears starting in the corners of your eyes. “little mouth feels so good, luvie’,” he looked down to see a mixture of your saliva and his precum dripping out your mouth, dripping over your nose and eyes. fuck, the messy sight was so intoxicating to see, you covered in all these liquids— your boyfriend was cuming in no time, taking a final thrust to push deep into the back of your throat, “mmmpf,” choking out of you. simon somehow pushes even deeper, “swallow every fuckin’ drop, fawn,” his accent thick, “good, good girl.”

skin slapping skin. plap. plap. plap— the only thing that could be heard echoing throughout the room, the occasional slap of your boyfriend’s massive hand ricocheting off your ass joining. your back was sexily arched, ass raised high in the air— high enough for simon’s large frame to comfortably reach, greatly surprising the brit. you were just so small compared to the man, he often had to lift your hips to fuck your pussy— he’s never seen you arch so well for him, “must really fuckin’ need it, huh, slut?” gripping your hair in a makeshift ponytail, pulling your head back, arching you more, “puttin’ tha ass all tha way up, hmmm?” your boyfriend made you a moaning mess, his dirty talk and rough housing getting you closer and closer to your next orgasm, “yes, sir- mfrm!” you unraveled again, simon leaning his torso against your back, somehow thrusting into you faster, “feel ya cumin’, sweetheart. she’s squeezin’ ‘round m’ real tight,” he kisses your cheek, “let yerself feel it, baby,” another kiss, “m’ know.”

pairing: mad scientist!simon “ghost” riley x patient!reader

summary: the mad scientist loves testing out new experiments on with you

masterlist!

a/n: requests are open!! been having insane writer’s block lately :(((((((( lmk if yall want a part 2!!!

mad scientist!simon “ghost” riley who retrieves patient!reader’s vitals, taking meticulous note of each one of her numbers displayed across his medical instruments.

“sit up for m’, kid,” his gruff accent commands, the protective paper you were perched on crinkling as your body moved on the hospital bed. you felt a large hand roam your spine, eventually reaching your hospital gown’s tie, unraveling the knot, “gonna listen to yer heartbeat.” shuddering at the cold air infiltrating your flesh, goosebumps littering across your bare skin, “y-yes, doctor ghost.” he eyes the rise and fall of your chest, pen quickly jotting on his notepad while your perky tits harden. he puts his stethoscope in his ears next, setting the other end on your sternum, “breath in,” you follow his orders, “and out,” you obey, again. he rotates to your back, resuming his actions, “heart rate sounds all good, kid,” he scribbles more on his notepad.

“step on tha scale,” scribble, “wrappin’ ‘tis ‘round yer arm for ya blood pressure,” more scribbling, “stand ‘ere so m’ can check yer height,” endless scribbles.

after all your vitals were finished, “let’s get ya ready then? we have a lot to finish today from yesterday, yeah?” you weakly nodding in response.

mad scientist!simon “ghost” riley who sedates patient!reader before his experiments begin.

“ya know tha’ drill,” doctor ghost said, sterilizing your arm with an alcoholic wipe, preparing your iv sedation needle in his succeeding actions, “yer jus’ gonna feel a little pinch.” wincing as he pokes the sharp needle into your skin, injecting the tranquilizing medicine through your veins. although the mad scientist gave you a sedation drip almost daily for his experiments, you still weren’t used to the minute pain. the familiar feeling of numbing in your limbs, head lolling side to side from the effects, eyes rolling back into your skull. “tha’s real good, kid,” he rubs your head, “knew it would be effectin’ ya faster,” you barely hear him mumble out. he took a gamble with upping your dosage, scared too much of it would kill his precious, little patient, but, luckily for you, the mad scientist stopped at just the right amount. you couldn’t feel anything with how loopy you were!

mad scientist!simon “ghost” riley who is totally infatuated with patient!reader’s responses to his experiments.

red liquid slithered down your skin, oozing out the cut wounds doctor ghost inflicted on your body. the beefy brit’s eyes glazed over at the sight, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. god, you were just so pretty like this, all helpless while succumbing to anything he wanted to do with you. the mad scientist couldn’t stop himself, thick fingers reaching down to scoop some of your blood, bringing the red-stained digits to his mouth, a satisfied mhmm departing from his chest at the taste. god, you tasted good too. he watched you squirm at his touch, knowing the sedation was subsiding. your lacerated skin had to be burning by this point, “ya respond so well to m’, kid,” he steals more blood, a small smirk appearing under his balaclava when he sees you slightly wither, “no one ‘s as good as yer are.”

mad scientist!simon “ghost” riley who extracts a pint of patient!reader’s blood after his experiments.

bandaids covered the small cuts on your body, gauze and bandages covering the larger ones, the thoughts in your mind slowly clearing, your sensation of feeling returning. your sedation drip was starting to wear off, your limbs somewhat aching from the stinging. “first round was amazing, kid. experiments keep improvin’ each day.” you lazily nod, still drowsy. “gotta take some of yer blood now,” he begins the process of sanitizing your other arm, sticking the needle in when he finished, another wince leaving you. you watched your hot blood pump out of your veins into the bag, hearing the mad scientist’s pen scrape against his notepad every few minutes. he removed the first blood bag after it was filled, attaching another, “one more pint shouldn’ hurt.”

mad scientist!simon “ghost” riley who brings patient!reader on a walk during break.

pairing: owner!simon “ghost” riley x pet!reader

summary: your owner helps you follow your new diet

masterlist!

“promise ya don’ needa do this, pup,” your owner tells you, large hand petting the crown of your head, “yer perfect jus’ how ya are.”

you were knelt in front of simon, pretty pink collar secured around your neck, tag glistening in the light. you’d hadn’t been happy with your eating habits lately, your poor stomach feeling the effects every night. a victim to your sweet tooth, it was easy for you to get carried away with dessert, always having room for a second and third cookie! starch— white bread, fried potatoes, crackers— it was so much better than wheat. and your soda intake? you’d been drinking more soda than water, hell, soda was your water!

requesting your owner to change up your diet, being stricter with healthier choices, it left the brute slightly confused. simon didn’t feed you junk food all the time, but he wouldn’t deny you when you asked. you made sure to eat all your fruits and vegetables he put on your plate, and you were such a good, little pup, the brit didn’t want to deny any rewards!

“did someone say somethin’ to ya? hurt yer feelin’s?” the man questioned, hand moving to the underside of your chin now. rapidly shaking your head, “n-no, sir!” clutching his tatted bicep next, “just know i should start taking better care of my body. i’m always hurting at night.”

your owner’s confusion turned into concern, cooing, “oh, pup, m’ so sorry. didn’ know ya were gettin’ tummy aches.” he watches you nod your head, “been rewardin’ ya too much, huh? yer jus’ such a sweet pup.”

so that’s what simon did. he spent hours researching a “healthy eating plate”, making notes of which foods had the highest protein, nutrients, and fibers. he studied a variety of recipes, ultimately choosing to save them into a downloadable file. witnessing some of your owner’s health notes, “woah, this is so much,” you said, amazed at the brit’s notebook. “dieting is too hard,” he heard you pout. “tha’s why ya got m’ to control it,” he winks in response.

when he cooked you one of these recipes, the muscular man plating the meal in your yellow-star bowl, filling your pink-heart bowl with water afterwards. “dinner ‘s ready, pup!” his thick accent rings throughout the house, placing the two bowls along the wall.

he heard you before he saw you, hands and knees shuffling against the hardwood. “there’s m’ sweet girl,” he greets, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, “hope ya enjoy it.” excitedly bouncing on your shins, “thank you so much, sir!”

you crawled over to your bowls, back arching as you swallowed every piece, a satisfied smile washing over your features. your owner was the best cook in the world!

he even baked some cookies, “found an almond based recipe. no suga’ used.”

your heart melted at your owner’s actions, quickly jumping into his arms, throwing yours around his neck, “i love you so much, si! thank you,” a kiss on his cheek, “thank you!” another kiss, “thank you!”

older boyfriend!john price x younger girlfriend!reader

summary: you smoke a blunt with your boyfriend

masterlist!

wet mist filled the morning air, birds chirping from their sanctuary in the trees. your boyfriend sat in his signature spot, an old rocking chair he purchased from some yard sale years ago, it creaking every time he leaned back and forth.

he sat with his legs manspread, large, meaty thighs covering every inch of the seat, wife beater tank top hanging around his torso, his hairy arms bulging from the sleeves. he sat back in the wooden chair, watching his beautiful doll water her flowers, something he did every morning.

you had a strict routine when it came to your garden, watering your precious babies plants twice a day— once in the morning, damn near the crack of dawn, and another time before dinner, “they can’t go any later than 7:30 pm, mr. price! they deserve to eat too!”

no matter how much your old man complained, groaning, “do we have to?” or “m’ can’t. ‘s too early, sweet pea,” rolling over in bed, wrapping a huge arm around your little body, trying to trap your frame next to his, he would always get up, accompanying you in anything you needed. even retired from his military days, the ex-captain would still wake at ungodly hours, being with a pretty, young thing like you, he often stayed awake for ungodly hours too.

you looked so cute, frizzy, bed-head hair rested over your shoulders, a thin tank top shielding your perky nipples matched with a pair of your favorite micro shorts, your plump ass peeking from the bottoms leading to your plush thighs. you had on your baby blue rain boots too— the ones mr. price bought for you in town! it’s been raining a lot lately, so the man knew the rubber shoes would be perfect for you. the rain boots also showed to be helpful for combatting the dew that inevitably formed on the grass in his yard during the summer mornings.

you made it a habit to slide on the baby blue rain boots anytime you stepped outside to garden, really anytime you had to step outside. it has been raining a lot lately!

john watched you neatly circle the garden hose around your tiny arm, placing it onto the ground beside of you when it was all stacked up. “atta’ girl!” you heard him shout, a blush crossing your cheeks, “i’ll put tha’ up for ya later,” he motions his fingers next, “c’mere when yer finished, yeah?” you nodded, “yes, mr. price!”

completing the rest of your tasks, you slipped off your gardening gloves, setting them on the table beside your boyfriend’s ash tray, plopping yourself in his lap next.

john smoked cigarettes religiously, occasionally rolling blunts when he felt like it, this morning being one of those times, “wan’ ya to smoke this with me, hon’.”

your boyfriend made eye contact with you, the older man putting the blunt between his lips. grabbing his lighter with your hands, you brought the flame to the tip, watching the weed burn with the flicker.

he takes a long inhale, blunt hanging from his lips like a cigarette, one grizzly arm moving around your lower back, hand lightly kneading the swell of your ass.

he kept his eyes on yours, watching how you glanced down to his lips. his other hand went to remove the blunt, smoke swallowing your bodies when he exhaled, the cannabis air leaving his nostrils and mouth.

you thought mr. price always looked hot whenever he smoked, insanely infatuated with how the brute could blow the smoke out his nose and mouth! doesn’t that hurt?! john knew you liked him doing the action too, part of the reason he did it now.

he takes another inhale, hand patting your ass, “kiss me, sweet pea.”

promptly obeying your boyfriend, your lips move to his, a small moan escaping you when you felt his gruff hand squeeze your ass. john wasted no time, taking the opportunity to blow the smoke into your mouth. “inhale,” he commands, pulling away from you.

he watches you breathe in his second-hand air, a satisfied smirk crossing his features when you started coughing it out, “so pretty.”

bringing the blunt to his lips, “again, doll,” he states plainly. kissing you in his succeeding actions, his hand slithered from your ass, up your torso to grasp a boob, eliciting another moan from you.

he moved to toy with your nipple, slumping back to observe you. his cock was hardening at the sight, his beautiful girl coughing up smoke, sexy eyes reddening from the high setting in, eyebrows pinching together from his groping— god, you were so ravishing.

you were a lightweight, anyone who saw you could tell that, your boyfriend doing nothing to help “up” your tolerance. you knew you were only allowed to smoke and drink around john anyways, so you never felt like you were missing out on anything crazy.

“m-mr. price-” he listened to you cough out, “my t-throat is burning!” another lengthy drag, palm gently slapping your tit, “oh!” “jus’ a little more, baby,” he places the blunt in the ash tray, fingers wrapping around your throat next, “get ova’ ‘ere.”

kissing your lips, he forces the smoke down your throat, despite your pain, wanting his little girl to feel all the effects. “well look at ya,” he says impressed, “can blow it outta’ yer nose now?” he teasingly finishes.

you’d started coughing so much, the smoke began leaving your nose, the burning sensation a thousand times worse than the one in your throat.

your eyes snapped open, tears starting in the corners and eventually rolling down your puffy cheeks when your coughing worsened, “n-no, sir,” you hiccuped, “didn’t mean to, a-and it hurts even more.”

john dropped your throat, the vibration from your wheezing against his hand going straight to his dick, causing it to harden more. he transported the blunt back to his lips, hands gripping your waist, lifting you to straddle yourself over his lap now.

his massive hands clutched your hips, guiding you to grind against his clothed cock. seeing you all choked up, sobbing for him— oh it just made the older brute so horny, “let me help ya with tha’.”

he moves his fingers to your lips, prying your mouth open for him, forcing the digits in. price’s large fingers remain inside, brushing the velvety walls of your cheek. he spits into your mouth next, the man keening at the sight. spitting into your mouth again and removing his fingers, “swallow.”

you digested every drop, desperate for any ounce of relief and to please mr. price. “good fucking girl, hon’. yer bein’ such a good girl.”

you watched him smoke more, the blunt slowly fading into a roach. your hips were working quick, urgently needing to reach your orgasm. your mind was in a daze, thoughts all jumbled from your high. your small body felt like it was buzzing on top of your boyfriend’s bigger one, sensitive to anything he decided to do to you. mr. price barely even had to touch you to get you off! you were such a blessing to the older man!

deciding to increase his teasing antics, “ya have ‘til i finish this blunt to cum. if ya don’, guess yer jus’ gonna be unsatisfied,” he shrugs, puffing the smoke onto your pretty face. “yes, sir,” you huffed out.

what an adorable sight to witness, john just loved how you never argued with him.

so you both sat there, blunt suspending from your boyfriend’s lips, your tiny hands clutching his shoulders for support, “i’m close, mr. price.” additional smoke surrounds your forms, “ya got permission, sweet pea.”

you didn’t need to hear more, a loud moan departing you as you came, unraveling in john’s lap, marveling at his hands tightly clenching your body.

you were shaking on top of him, your orgasm ripping through you with an intensity you’ve never experienced before.

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader

summary: your boyfriend pours candle wax on you while having sex

masterlist!

a/n: requests are open!!

“shhh, baby. yer alrigh’,” your boyfriend coos, landing a single smack across your beautiful ass perched in the air, “m’ gotcha.”

your boyfriend had you laid on your stomach, his pillow rested underneath your pelvis, your little arms tied above your head to the bed frame’s post.

the sound of your heavenly moans filled the air at simon’s big, girthy cock thrusting in and out of your tight cunt, forcing, “yes, s-si! oh!” out of you.

simon was relishing in the magnetizing site, the man’s massive hands gripping your waist, eyeing the ring of cream forming around the base of his cock at the entrance of your pretty pussy. the light shined on your glistening folds, messy squelching noises mixing with the echos of your boyfriend’s skin slapping against yours each time he thrusted.

“fuck yeah, luvie’,” the beefy brit groaned out, leaning his muscular torso on top of your back to place a kiss on your cheek, “feel so amazin’ for m’.” he wrapped a tatted bicep around your neck, “love ya so much.”

you smiled at simon’s words, biting on your lower lip when he hit just the right spot, “i-i- oh! i love you too, si!”

he sat himself up, eyes fixated on the candle you had lit on your night stand. his precious girlfriend always got candles to match the season, the man smirking at his great idea. simon went to grab your candle, blowing out the flame.

a strident screech departed you when you felt a hot liquid land along your spine, your boyfriend’s pounding only quickening at the beautiful noises of your pain.

he poured more candle wax down your back, eventually reaching the curve of your plump ass, watching the colorful liquid harden.

simon was loving the sight underneath him, how you were moaning and crying at the scorching sensation. you were just so perfect to the brute.

pairing: neighbor!simon “ghost” riley x neighbor!reader

summary: you spend the morning with your neighbor while you're hungover after he picked you up from a night out and took care of you

part 4!

part 1, had to pretend to be a little interested

part 2, a surge of drunk confidence

part 3, burn from the cursed mixture

masterlist!

slurp. slurp. slurp.

you felt a wetness spreading across your face, it slowly bringing you out your slumber, choosing to rapidly blink your eyes to clear your vision. you recognized your neighbor's large dog hovering over you, slobbery tongue running over your features, "riley! good morning to you too," you giggled out, moving to pet the great dane's head, scratching behind his ears. riley's tail wagged in response, letting out a single bark.

you turned your head to the side, confusion washing over you when you realized ghost was gone, his side of the bed empty. "hmm, where'd your owner go, riley?" you sat up, hand grabbing your stomach next, "woah, that alcohol fucked me up."

you laughed at yourself, throwing the comforter off your form, legs following riley out your neighbor's bedroom. the savory scent of bacon filled your nostrils, smiling at ghost keeping his promise of cooking breakfast.

this must be what heaven feels like, or should you say looks like, your mouth salivating at the beefy brit in action. fuck the bacon! ghost looked so good, standing tall in front of you, lack of shirt on his upper half. your neighbor's back muscles flexed each time he shook the skillet, tattooed biceps protruding in every way possible. grey sweatpants sat low on his hips, you theorizing you could see his sexy v-line if he turned around.

he dropped a piece of bacon to his dog when he reached his side, rotating to look at you next, "good boy, riley," he drops another piece, "ya got her jus' like m' asked."

the sight was just so adorable, the giant dog rolling onto his back, tail wagging more as he chewed the bacon, an aww escaping you.

"breakfast 's ready for us, sweetheart," your attention returned to ghost, eyes wandering down his sculpted chest and torso, lip biting at the sight of his v-line disappearing, i was so fucking right, you smirked, "is the meal you?"

this forces a minor laugh from your neighbor, "betta to save m' for dessert," winking through his balaclava, "take a seat, fawn." you promptly obeyed the man, getting comfortable in the chair he pointed at.

he walked up behind you, reaching over your head to set your plate of food on the table. feeling cheeky and confident, you snuck a couple of kisses along his bicep, "thank you so much, ghost." you felt him kiss the top of your head, walking around the table to take his spot beside you, he definitely didn't move the chairs next to each other before you came down. "prepared pancakes, eggs, and bacon for ya." "looks amazing."

small talk erupted between the two of you, your little legs eventually finding refuge across your neighbor’s much larger ones. he just finished explaining why he moved to your neighborhood, the city being his "dream retirement" spot. you already knew your intimidating neighbor was an ex-military lieutenant, hearing a multitude of stories from his "war days". you couldn't believe someone so kind, gentle, and caring like your neighbor could be sent on deadly missions for months, killing hundreds of "bad guys".

his massive hand swallowed your thigh, periodically palming you during the conversation, "knew this city was meant for m', had such a pretty, little fawn waitin' for m' here." you blushed at his statement, head nuzzling into his arm, "i'm so happy you moved here too, ghost-" "simon."

momentary silence.

"m' name 's simon riley, sweetheart."

your eyes snapped up to his, mouth slightly agape, but nothing came out. you didn't know what to say. your neighbor confessed his real name to you, trusted you with his real name, and you're sitting here looking like an idiot. say something!

"simon," you tried it on your tongue, your neighbor's grip tightening on your thighs, earning a gasp from you. hearing you just say his birth name drove him mad. "you have a beautiful name, simon," you told the brute, back straightening in the chair, "i'm happy you trusted me enough to tell me," you threaded your fingers through his.

simon must've had other ideas, shaking his head and dropping your hands. he relocated his arms, wrapping them around your waist, lifting you onto his lap when he got a good grip, leading your legs to either side of him, "god, yer so perfect."

the man started kissing your face through his balaclava, leaving smooches anywhere he could reach, your forehead, cheek, nose.

your eyes were rolling back at the affection, "o-oh, simon!" the sound of his lovely fawn moaning out his name went straight to his dick, the member hardening under his sweatpants.

he realized you must've felt his boner growing when you started desperately dry humping the man. you were still wearing simon's oversized shirt, the hem riding up to your waist when he grabbed you, displaying your panties.

silently thanking your past self for stopping simon from giving you shorts last night, you grinded your hips faster, moaning more every time you felt your clit brush against simon's tip. fuck, you needed him inside you.

your neighbor felt your movements get sloppier, whispering in your ear, "m' little fawn already gettin' close? didn' even get to touch ya." whining in response, "you're b-being mean! i can't help that it feels good, sir!" he tsks, releasing his grip on your hips, leaning back in his chair, hands now resting behind his head, biceps flaunting. "go on then. make yerself cum all in yer panties," he waved to you, “since it jus’ feels so good,” he emphasized the words.

"b-but, simon-" he grasps your cheeks, squeezing them together to make your lips pout, "do wha m' say and no talkin' back," he domineeringly leans his face towards yours, "m' don' wanna have to repeat m'self again."

he keeps clutching your face for a few seconds longer, your big, doe eyes peering into his. finally nodding your head, simon kissing your forehead in response, "good girl."

he unleashes you, sitting back to enjoy the show again. you followed his orders, hips working fast to make yourself orgasm. your fingernails started clawing at simon's bare chest, the feeling of his long shaft sliding in-between your folds heavenly. imagine the large brute inside of your folds, pounding in and out of you! oh, you needed it now. "look at tha'. little girl workin' so hard, lookin' so pretty, baby," his praise elicited another moan from you, body slightly spasming.

"more, s-simon! please! i want you t-to fuck me!" somehow, you humped him faster, your neighbor thoroughly satisfied with his view. "need ya to cum for m' first, luvie'. c'mon," he coos, kissing along your neck now, "know ya can do it for m'. such a precious girl."

the man reached that sweet spot on your neck, mixed with his extol, you were cumming in no time, tiny body shaking on top of your neighbor's giant one.

he helped you ride your orgasm out, choosing to rest your body against his when you came down from your high. more praises left simon, "did such a good job for m'." "all nice and wet from dry humpin', fawn?" "so needy, baby."

"w-what about you, sir?" you asked him, head weakly raising off his pec. "no worryin' 'bout m'," he waves you off, "ya were so, so good. seein' ya all desperate like tha' for m' was enough, sweets. m' only focused on ya and yer pleasure," he notices your pout, "and watchin' ya make yerself cum without no help? best thing m' eva' had tha pleasure to witness."

pairing: owner!simon “ghost” riley x pet!reader

summary: your owner helps you through the thing that’s been bothering you recently

part 2!

part 1, it came completely out of the blue

masterlist!

torture. this felt like straight torture.

every agonizing minute that passed with you behind bars resembled a punch to your chest, your previously heavy breaths finally soothing from your earsplitting wailing.

your owner never left the room, he couldn’t leave the room, not with how you were sounding.

he’s never heard you sound so distraught before, size 13 boot rapidly tapping against the hardwood floor, silenced by your sobs. he was sitting on his favorite armrest chair, hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, massive biceps protruding, the large, blanket-covered cube holding his pup placed in front of him.

he checked his watch every five minutes, feeling like he too was punishing himself for 30 minutes. god, he wanted to stop your punishment early, console his sweet pup who was in such discomfort, but he knew this was the best for both of you.

his anxious foot patting came to a rest when he noticed the air around him quieting, your crying assuaging. glancing down at his watch again, he saw you had a little over two minutes left, fuck it, close enough.

simon rose from the chair, long strides getting him to your cage, ripping the blanket away. he unlocked the door, your hands quickly moving to cover your eyes, the sudden change of light hurting.

he waited for you to adjust, your owner’s heart breaking more when you finally showed him your beautiful face. fat tears rolling down your puffy, reddened cheeks, leaving wet marks on your shirt. some snot had started at your nose too, you wiping your face in your shirt. you didn’t care, you already looked a mess.

“i-i’m so, so s-sorry, si!” you broke seeing him, moving yourself to swiftly crawl out the cage, wanting to wrap yourself around your owner, little arms encircling his neck. he responded, enclosing your torso in his strong hold, big hands rubbing against your spine, providing immense comfort. “been a b-bad pup lately, s-sir,” you hiccuped, only sobbing more into the side of his neck, “hated that i screamed a-and cussed at you.”

he started rocking you both, occasional shh’s leaving the brit. one of his hands found its way onto your head, small pats causing gratified purrs out of you, interrupting your silent weeps.

“oh, good pup,” he coos, other hand rubbing the side of your hip, “m’ ‘preciate ya apologizin’. tha’s what m’ wanted from ya.”

he kisses your cheek, standing from the floor with you still in his hold, walking you both to the couch. he takes a seat, your legs going to either side of his torso, straddling the large man.

he wipes your face free of any tears, “so proud of ya, sweetheart. took ya punishment so well,” he praises, eyeing you nuzzling into his hand. “m’ forgive ya, pup. know ya been off lately. could feel ya, baby,” he moves his available hand to squeeze your thigh, you nodding at his suspicions.

your tiny hands subconsciously reached for your collar, fiddling with the tag your owner added, something you did when you got nervous. of course simon was aware of this, gripping your thigh harder to further reassure you.

“i never want t-to go into the c-cage again! was really s-scary, sir,” simon heard you whimper out, his heart breaking further at the desperate tone, “but i k-know it was because of my bad behavior!” you finished, wiping your nose with your sleeve.

“tha’s’ right, pup. if yer good, ya won’ go back in,” his accent’s sharp, nodding his head along with yours. “i understand, sir.”

with that you leaned forward, putting your arms around your owner’s neck once more, snuggling into his strong chest.