People narrow their eyes the first time ghost talks about his "sweet girl"
Ghost is...well. a loner. He's socially awkward at best and aggressive at worst. Ghost kills people without flinching, looms in every corner He's in. No way he has a 'sweet girl' at home.
And yet, that's exactly what he tells the team our night at the bar. Mouth half-stuffed with greasy chips, he grunts "my sweet girl could do this better. Lovely cook."
After he broke the news about her, it was all he'd talk about.
Ghost, the guy who turns people into a fine red mists then laughs about it is the same guy that smiles "my sweet girl wants to see the movies tonight, you know how it is, cap." Or proudly shows off the lunch he's brought from home with a "i made it myself. My sweet lovie is teaching me 'ow to cook."
Always on and on about his sweet girl, about his lovie, the best thing in his life. Like a lovesick puppy.
"Oh!! Hi, simon! Glad to see you back in one piece!" You smile at your neighbor when he enters the elevator. Almost instinctively you hand over your heaviest grocery bags.
Simon, your neighbor, smiles around the scars and presses the button for you. You've been living next to him for a few months now, and embarrassingly you keep finding excuses to spend time with him. Though, you doubt he would ever reciprocate your little crush.
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he can't remember the last night he slept for more than four hours in a row before waking up - either to the tail end of a nightmare or just because his body has decided that it's time for him to stare blankly at the ceiling instead of enjoying some well deserved time unconscious.
that is, unless he's using you as his personal pillow.
head on one tit, hand on the other, eyes shut and drooling as he sleeps his way though a lazy sunday morning.
you glance down occasionally from where you're scrolling on your phone, seeing the way his eyelashes flutter and the corners of his mouth are almost curled into a smile.
happy wip wednesday! enjoy this ghost x fem!reader drabble i've been working on.
It's been three years since Simon watched Johnny's body crumble to the groundâbrains scattered on cement, blood soaking into stone, blue eyes rolling behind eyelids he'll never watch flutter againâso he's a bit taken aback when he sees him at the pub.
He's younger. Stubble hardly even noticeable along his jaw and lips, skin smoother with less worry lines. That scar that used to bisect his eyebrow is even gone. Smoothed out. Fully covered and wrinkling as he smiles. It's so tangible Simon can almost smell him. Sour gun powder coated in the mint gum he always chewed on deployments. A tick. Not a nervous one. Johnny was always thrumming with life, with the need for movement, a desire to do something with his hands.
Then, you look over your shoulder at him.
You slap your wallet shut, smothering the image of Johnny behind faux patterned leather before shoving it into your pocket. The glare on your face is challenging. A silent spitting at his feet as you look him up and down, drinking in the height and broadness of him like the mere size of him is a challenge. A threat.
"Can I help you?" Short. Cutting. You don't trust him, and he doesn't blame you. A stranger in a pub with his chest nearly up against your back as you try to order a drink after a long week of work.
"Maybe."
Your distaste at his lack of tactfulness screws the features on your face until your fingers are curling. Simon's not sure why, but he wouldn't mind the taste of your knuckles against his cheek, bone pushing flesh into his teeth until the blood floods his mouth to wash down the aftertaste of you.
"How do you know 'im?" Simon questions, chin tilting up as his words die down.
"The fuck are you talking about?" you bite.
"Johnny. MacTavish."
Recognition freezes over your features until your fingers are tracing over the thickness in your pocket where his old teammate (No, something more, someone more. An importance he doesn't know how to utter but something that burns through him all the same) resides like an urn upon a mantle.
"Do you know him?" You answer his question with another one. Simon refuses to speak until you're breaking, eyes falling to the floor, teeth catching between your lips. "He was my donor."
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Simon Riley fucking into you as fast and hard as he can, balls slamming against you with every thrust- all because he has it in his head that heâs gonna somehow get you pregnant. Heâs fucking demented, drooling on your back and raging against your prostate like he hates you. Every word out of his mouth is complete nonsense, and every time you cum he snarls and spanks your ass till itâs red.
âLet me fucking in- let me in- let me in- let me in-â is all he can really manage, despite how your legs are wide and your hole is practically ruined from his cock at this point.
You donât know when youâre going to get the chance that youâre a guy- your pitiful soaked cock dragging against the sheets seems to do nothing to convince him.
Youâre not completely sure yourself anymore that he wonât get you pregnant, with how much cum as filled your poor belly.
fvck, sorry, i canât stop thinking about it đŠˇ
The Breathless First
simon ghost riley x female reader / anal sex / first time for reader / 18+
You're nervous, the thin cotton of your nightshirt twisted between trembling fingers.
The bathroom door swings open and Simon emerges, a cloud of steam following him into the bedroom. Heâs towel-drying his hair, water droplets trailing down the defined planes of his chest and following the inked paths of his tattoos before disappearing into the waistband of his loose sweatpants. The clean, masculine scent and that something uniquely Simon fills the room, making your stomach clench with anticipation.
"Eyes on me, love," he says, catching your gaze in the mirror. He tosses the towel aside, his movements fluid. When he turns to face you fully, the obvious bulge straining against his sweatpants makes your breath catch. "Something's got you all worked up tonight."
He crosses to the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sits beside you. His hand comes to rest on your thigh, thumb stroking slow circles through the fabric of your shirt.
"Spit it out," he says, his voice dropping to that low register. "What dirty thought's been running through that pretty head of yours?"
You swallow hard, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "I... I was thinking about us. About... what we do." Your fingers tighten around the hem of your shirt.
Simon's hand slides higher, fingers brushing the edge of your panties. "What exactly, baby? You know you can tell me anything."
Taking a shaky breath, you force yourself to meet his dark eyes. "Iâve never... no one's ever... I've never done anal before. But I've thought about it. A lot. And I want to... with you. Only you."
The surprise in his eyes quickly gives way to something darker, more intense. His hand moves to cup your jaw, thumb stroking your lower lip. "Is that what's been making you so squirmy? My girl wanting her tight little arse played with?"
You nod, unable to speak, your heart racing at the directness of his words.
"Fuck," he breathes, his voice dropping an octave. He shifts on the bed, and you see his cock thicken against the fabric of his sweatpants. "You've been holding out on me, love. All this time I've been fucking your sweet cunt, wondering what it would feel like to stretch out that other hole." His other hand slides around your waist, pulling you flush against him so you can feel the hard length of him pressing against your hip.
"Gonna make it good for you, princess," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "Gonna take my time opening you up, get you so wet and ready you'll be begging for my cock. But first... Let me get a proper look at what's been tempting me."
A few nights later, youâre laid out before him, vulnerable and exposed. Face down on the mattress, knees spread, with your ass arched high, a position you'd once been too self-conscious to even consider. But Simon was obsessed, his hands constantly finding their way to you, muttering about how perfect you were, how he could spend hours worshiping every inch.
Tonight, heâs doing exactly that. His tongue is buried in your dripping cunt, swirling around your clit in maddening circles. But his focus drifts higher, toward that place you've only ever shown him in your most vulnerable moments.
"Simon," you gasp when you feel his tongue circling your tightest hole.
"Relax, love," he murmurs against your skin, the vibrations making you shiver. "Gonna take care of you. Been dying to taste this pretty little arse."
His tongue presses more firmly, teasing your rim, and you can't help the whimper that escapes your lips. The sensation is intense, and his hands knead your flesh, thumbs spreading you wider.
He alternates between your pussy and your ass until you're a trembling mess. When he finally pulls back, you feel the cool air against your wet skin.
"Need to prepare you first," he says, reaching for the lube. "Don't want to hurt my girl, though I know this tight little hole is gonna feel like heaven."
The first touch of his lubed finger makes you tense instinctively. "Relax for me," Simon coaxes, his free hand stroking your lower back. "Breathe out when I press in. I've got you. so fucking beautiful. Can't believe you were ever shy."
You exhale as his thick finger slowly breaches you. The stretch is intense, a burning sensation that makes you gasp. "Si-Simon..."
"I know, love. Just give it a minute." He waits, completely still inside you until you adjust. "That's it. Fucking taking my finger so well."
He works a second finger in, then a third. His fingers scissor inside you, gradually preparing your body. All the while, his other hand continues its soothing strokes, his deep voice murmuring words of encouragement.
The thought of himâthis lieutenant of yours who had surely been with others this way beforeâruining you, claiming you, sends a fresh gush of arousal from your cunt, soaking the sheets. Youâve imagined it so many times. The jealousy should be crippling, but instead it just makes you wetter, makes you want to be the one he claims so thoroughly.
"Touch yourself," he commands softly, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Want to feel your ass clench around my cock while you fall apart for me."
Your hand shakes as you reach between your legs, fingers finding your clit. You circle it, matching the rhythm of Simon's fingers.
His filthy words push you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with unexpected intensity. You cry out into the pillow, your body clamping down on his fingers as pleasure radiates outward.
"Good girl," Simon praises, withdrawing his fingers. "Now you're ready, aren't you?"
You nod, breathless. Simon moves behind you, the sound of his sweatpants hitting the floor making your heart race. You feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and you instinctively tense.
"We'll go slow, but I promise you'll love it, princess.â
You do as he says, feeling the incredible stretch as he enters you. Heâs much thicker than his fingers, and the burn returns, more intense. But Simon is patient, pausing after the head is inside, giving you time to adjust while his thumbs massage your lower back.
âFuck, SiâŚâ
"Doing so well for me, love."
He pushes in further, inch by excruciating inch, until he's fully seated. The fullness is overwhelmingâstrange and intenseâbut as he begins to move, the burn gives way to a deep, satisfying pressure.
"Simon, it feels... different," you manage to say, your hands clutching the sheets.
"Good different?" he asks, his rhythm steady.
"Yeah," you gasp. "Really good. Different, but... fuck, so good."
Simon groans, his control fraying. "Thank fuck," he mutters, his grip tightening as he begins to thrust with more purpose.
His pace quickens. You can feel the tension in his thighs as he fights the urge to pound into you. He leans forward, blanketing your back with his chest, and reaches beneath you. His fingers find yours, intertwining in a gesture so tender it almost brings tears to your eyes.
"You feel incredible," he groans against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "So fucking perfect, taking me like this. My brave girl."
His words send shivers down your spine, and your inner walls clench around him. One of his hands releases yours to slide between your thighs, finding your clit with practiced ease.
"Want you to come with me," he murmurs, circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. "Can you do that for me, princess? Come while I'm buried in your arse?"
The dual stimulation is your undoing. Your orgasm builds, coiling deep in your belly before spreading outward. You cry out his name, your body arching back against him.
"Simon... oh god, Simon," you gasp. "Please... please cum in me. Fill my ass with your cum."
The plea breaks his control. With a guttural groan, Simon drives into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he releases. His cock pulses, hot jets of cum filling you so completely you can feel it deep in your belly. The sensation triggers another wave of pleasure, prolonging your orgasm as you milk him dry.
"Fucking hell," he pants against your neck.
He stays inside you as you both catch your breath, his weight a comforting presence. His hand continues to stroke your hair, his lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. When he finally withdraws, you feel his release begin to leak out of you.
Simon notices, reaching for a tissue. "Nothing to be embarrassed about, love," he murmurs, gently cleaning you. "Just means I claimed you properly. Every inch of you is mine now."
He gathers you into his arms, pulling you against his chest. His heartbeat thuds against your ear as his fingers trace patterns on your back.
"You okay?" he asks after a moment.
You nod against his chest, a contented sigh escaping your lips. "More than okay. That was... so good, Si."
Simon presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Never been with anyone like you," he admits quietly. "Trust me with everything, even this. Thank you, love."
You tilt your head up to kiss him, a slow, deep kiss that conveys everything. When you pull back, his eyes are soft, vulnerable in a way few ever see.
"Always," you promise, and you know you mean it.
He helps you clean up, his touches gentle and reverent. When you're both settled back in bed, he pulls you against his chest, your head resting on his tattooed bicep.
As you drift off to sleep, you can't help but think that some first times are worth the waitâespecially when they're with someone who treats every inch of you like it's sacred.
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simon is a dinosaur when it comes to technology, which makes having a high-maintenance, drop-dead gorgeous bimbo for a girlfriend a daily test of his patience. he belongs in the dirt, handling mechanical parts and heavy artillery, not squinting at a glowing smartphone screen with his reading glasses on. but you? you live on your phone, constantly sending him updates, and he is absolutely obsessed with every single one of them.
right now, heâs sitting on his cot in the middle of a dusty base, staring at his phone like itâs an unexploded mortar. he had been trying to open a basic encrypted file from command, but his massive, scarred thumb hit the wrong notification bar entirely. instead of military data, a message from you pops up.
attached is a picture.
simonâs breath hitches, his jaw locking instantly behind his mask. itâs a mirror selfie you took in your bathroom back home. youâre wearing a tiny, lacy matching set, your long manicured nails gripping the pink phone case, your hair perfectly done, and your lips glossed to perfection. you look incredibly soft, completely plush, and your body is curved beautifully in the frame. you left a little text caption at the bottom: missing my big soldier boy, come stretch me out soon pretty please? xx
his heart hammers violently against his ribs. his thick fingers hover over the screen, suddenly terrified of deleting it by accident. he tries to zoom in to see the details of your pretty face, but his heavy, calloused skin taps the screen too hard, causing the photo to completely disappear and the phone to lock.
âfucking hell,â he growls into the empty room, a dark, dangerous edge to his deep voice.
he panics for a solid ten seconds, aggressively tapping the glass with a heavy thumb until the lock screen finally prompts his passcode. his knuckles are white, his breathing ragged as he maneuvers back to the messaging app. when your gorgeous picture fills the screen again, a low, guttural groan rips from his throat. the sheer contrast between his rugged, violent surroundings and your bright, hyper feminine, pampered energy makes his blood run completely hot.
he canât even figure out how to type a proper response without hitting three letters at once. his large fingers clumsily tap out: miserable without you. don't delete this.
the ache in his trousers is heavy and immediate, throbbing fiercely against his tactical pants. he stares at the photo for another long minute, tracing the line of your soft waist with his thumb against the glass, wishing more than anything that his hands were on your bare skin instead.
adjusting his weight on the cot, he slides a hand down to grip himself through his trousers, his white-knuckled grip tight as he imagines returning home to his sweet, spoiled girl. <3
Your clothes laid discarded around you on the bedroom floor leaving you both to sit in only your underwear. A grin was plastered across your lips as your hands wandered across Simonâs broad chest. You hadnât seen one another in months so needless to say there was tension.Â
â How long are you back for? â
â Dunno love, but Iâll be here until Iâm not. â
A playful shriek escaped you as Simon nibbled at your neck. His large hand rested on the nape of your neck, his calloused fingers toying with your hair.Â
â Might as well have some fun while I can. â
The corners of Simonâs lips tugged upwards into a smirk as his lips roamed your delicate skin. He felt so rough compared to you, you made him feel so virile. Simon knew he was older, his skin was beginning to wrinkle with each expression, his hair was beginning to grey, and his joints were beginning to ache, but you made him feel so youthful. You brought that spark of playfulness back into his life he lost many years ago. Maybe it was wrong that he was making you waste time on him, but that selfish part deep inside him wanted to keep you to himself forever.Â
â Do you have any rubbers? â
â Always, doll. â
Simonâs hands left you, his torso twisting as he searched through his nightstand. Towards the back of the cluttered drawer he found the half emptied box. As Simon pulled out the strip of condoms they slipped from his hands, whether the small fumble was by accident or on purpose was up for speculation. Just as Simon was moving to brush you off his lap you stopped him.Â
â I can get it Siâ. â
Simon for once didnât argue with you or disregard your words completely, instead he just sat back and let you go.Â
From above Simon watched with amusement as you hung off the bed. Carefully his calloused hands slid up your thighs, he gave them a gentle squeeze before slowly spreading them open. When you attempted to sit up Simon stopped you. His left forearm pressed down on your back leaving you helpless across his lap.Â
A gasp left your lips as Simonâs hand came down across your ass, â Thatâs not fair Simon.. â
â Sorry love, just canât help myself. â
His fingers crept up your inner thighs before they hooked into the waistband of your panties. Helplessly you laid still as Simon tugged aside the fabric baring your soaking core to the cool air.Â
Simon knew he was taking advantage of your vulnerability but he couldnât help himself seeing you bent over like this was driving him insane. His movements were almost painstakingly slow as his fingers slid up and down your damp folds it was almost torture, but suddenly he filled you. Simon hooked his fingers curling them upwards to hit that spot he knew would make you lose focus. He moved deliberately, pumping his fingers slowly in and out while his other hand kept your panties pulled aside.Â
A smirk crept up Simonâs lips as he saw your thighs begin to quiver from his touches. He pumped his fingers faster, his thumb pressing rough circles into your clit. Quickly his touches began to hasten, his fingers pushing deeper and his thumb moving faster. It was all becoming too much for you, weak whimpers began to fall from your lips as your nails clawed at the bedframe. Your feet came up attempting to push at his arms trying to at least slow his movements.Â
A deep chuckle left Simon as your small feet pushed at his brawny arms. He knew you were close as your thighs began to tremble and your breaths began to quicken into pants. His thumb pressed down into your clit as his fingers curled deeper. The shared pressure earned a cry from your lips and Simon took that as a victory. With one final push he curled his fingers just perfect to send you over the edge. Even feeling your walls as you came around his fingers Simon didnât stop. He didnât stop until you were completely wrecked, riding out your orgasm as your body trembled.
Carefully Simon withdrew his fingers before pulling you upright with the golden strip of condoms in hand. Your body was practically boneless as you went limp against Simon. Gently his hands rubbed soothing circles against the small of your back before he leaned down to press a kiss upon your head.
â You alright? â
You only managed a small hum in response as you curled against Simonâs chest.Â
Simon had known you were like this since the first time he slept with you. After every orgasm he gave you your mind would fog with exhaustion and your body would go limp. It was sweet in a way, he never minded looking after you even if it meant he didnât reach his own release. He would never admit it but sometimes that's all he wanted from you, for you to cling to him like he was a teddy bear.
Summary: When getting a late night snack, Simon finds you and breaks down.
Itâs exactly 2:36am
For some reason these past few days, youâve been struggling to fall asleep. To much on your mind. Im your 23 years of living, you never did figure out how to turn your brain off.
Youâre currently standing in the kitchen going through the pantry. All of a sudden you hear staggered breathing and quick footsteps. You reach for your gun on the counter, and hold it up aiming towards the hallway as the steps get closer. When the footsteps stop, you discover itâs Ghost. With no mask. His eyes are glassy and his hands are shaking. You quickly place your gun down.
âSimon..?â
He stands there, staring at you. He seems like he canât believe what heâs seeing.
âSimon. Hey, talk to me.â
âY-Youâre here.â Tears begin to fall.
âYeah, im here. What happened?â
He goes to speak, but nothing comes out. He falls onto his knees. You rush over and hold him, he sobs into your neck. He holds you tightly.
âI-I thought i lost you. You were s-shot. Your blood was everywhere.â
âIt was a nightmare. Youâre okay, Im okay. Nothing happened, love.â You brush pieces of his tear soaked hair from his face, and place kisses on his cheek.
He meets your eyes. He sees your concern and quickly sits up. He wipes his eyes and stands.
âFuck.â He turns away, âYou must think im such a pussyâ
âNot at all.. i think youâre brave for telling me wjat happened.â You stand and take his hands in yours.
âWould you like to come back to my room? Might help you sleep, knowing im by you.â
âYes please.â He keeps his head down like a sad puppy.
âCome on baby.â
a/n: Unfortunately this was just a little drabble so i probably wonât make a part 2. Have a great dayđ
