#ghost x reader

thinking about simon riley coming home to his bratty missus after a long day.

you've had all day to stew in your own head, missing him, requiring attention that he is not around to give.

it's a recipe for disaster.

so when he steps through the door, instead of greeting him with a smile and a kiss on his scarred cheek you decide to be an absolute pain is his ass.

he's barely kicked his boots off when you're there, arms crossed, weight tilted onto one leg as you glare at him.

“took you long enough. dinner’s been ready for an hour and it’s probably cold now because you were faffing about.”

simon stares.

then sighs.

entirely familiar with this little game.

you're not actually arsed about the food, you just want to give him attitude for the sake of it.

he hangs up his jacket, slowly, deliberately, turning to face you with raised eyebrows. "watch yer tone, love."

you scoff, turn back to the kitchen, "or what, si?"

famous last words.

five minutes later you're still muttering under your breath as you set the table, deliberately placing down plates harder than quite necessary.

simon appears behind you without a sound, one hand gripping the back of your neck firmly - not enough to hurt but enough to make you freeze in place.

“problem?” he asks, voice dropped into something low and almost dangerous.

you try to shrug him off. “maybe i just wanted my husband home at a reasonable time instead of-”

he cuts you off by spinning you, crowding you back against the counter, free hand reaching up to grip your jaw, thumb pressing against your bottom lip.

“try again.” he says calmly. “with less fuckin' attitude this time.”

you glare up at him, eyes bright with that familiar mix of defiance and heat that he knows so well. for a minute he's convinced you're going to keep pushing, prodding, needling at him. but then your shoulders sag, just a fraction, bottom lip jutting out as you mumble, "…missed you."

simon rolls his eyes. "there we go. not that 'ard, was it love."

he leans down and kisses you, slowly, lips moving against yours in a rhythm that's oh so familiar, until the tension finally bleeds out of your body.

but because you're you? as he goes to pull away, you nip his bottom lip.

hard.

his eyes narrow. “right. that's fuckin' enough, love.”

before you can protest, he’s got you bent over the counter, one hand pressing between you shoulder blades while the other yanks your soft lounge shorts down your legs, dropping to his knees behind you as his hands grip your ass, spread you open for him.

there’s no teasing, no slow kisses up your thighs. simon dives in like a starving man, tongue dragging a hot, flat stripe from your clit to your slit before he seals his mouth over you.

a broken moan escapes you.

he eats you out like he’s pissed off about it - no finesse, just want and the need to shut you up. his tongue fucks into you, then pulls back to suck hard on your swollen clit until your knees buckle. one arm bands around your waist, holding you open and steady when your legs start to shake.

“fuck - si - s'too much -”

his lips curl into a grin against your soaking cunt. "should've thought about that before you started mouthin' off, love."

two fingers push inside without warning, curling immediately against that spot that makes your vision blur. he fucks them into you, slow, deep, whilst his tongue works your clit in tight little circles.

you’re dripping down his chin, trembling, shaking - every time you try to rock back against his face he tightens his grip and holds you still, forcing you to take exactly what he decides to give you.

"missed me so much you turn into a mouthy bitch the second i walk in." he murmurs, pulling his mouth away from your cunt just long enough to sink his teeth into the curve of your ass. "this what you needed, love? my tongue in your pretty little cunt to fix yer attitude?”

he doesn’t wait for a proper answer - just buries his face again, sucking your clit between his lips until your orgasm crashes over you like an all consuming wave. you clench around his fingers, a whine leaving your throat like you've lost the capacity for words, thighs trembling so hard you're sure your legs are going to collapse.

only when you’re limp and panting does he finally pull back, pressing one last open-mouthed kiss to your swollen folds, before rising to his feet. you hear the clink of his belt, the drag of his zipper, and your cunt flutters again in anticipation.

simon leans over you, chest to your back, one hand curling into your hair to turn your head so he can see your face.

“better?”

you swallow, "yeah." a pause and then, almost embarrassed, "love you, si."

a rare smirk tugs at the corner of his scarred mouth.

“good girl.”

he presses the flushed head of his cock against your soaked entrance and pushes in with one slow, deliberate thrust, stretching you open until you’re gasping again.

“dinner can wait.” he mutters into your ear as he bottoms out. “unless yer gonna start yer bloody complainin' again?”

Softie!Simon buying you stuffed animals any time he goes to the store no matter what just because he loves to see you smile.

simon's never met a brattier thing. eyes wide, nails pressed into your palm like a defiant mutt that thought it might bite back at its owner without consequence. every time you tried to pick a fight, all he saw were little fangs and a temper that needed to be soothed with a pat on the head or fingers stretching out your cunt.

you'd never really gotten along all that well with the brit. he saw you as a sweet little cherry; ripe for the taking as long as you didn't swallow the cyanide pit. he never trusted anyone, anyway—it's not like you were special.

or, rather... you were special to him, in the same way that a doe was to a hunter.

(you were easy prey, if he could get past the sour attitude.)

he hated talking to, but he loved touching you. his body on yours was the cure to the headaches your annoying whining gave him. of course, he knew you were baiting him into this—he wasn't stupid, just addicted.

like today, when you'd texted him at work. not once, not twice... not even five times. a stream of texts had pestered him all day. they'd gotten filthier and filthier until you'd inevitably sent him what you'd be wearing tonight, the sight of it burning into his mind and unfortunately sending his blood flooding south.

so when he stormed in on your apartment door, he was fuming. there you were, glancing up from your couch with a smug smile that made him want to bury your face into the couch and see how deep he'd have to go before you weren't so smug anymore.

"fuckin' testing me, pet? y'think i don't have important work t'do, think all i got time for is paying attention to your bratty little cunt?" his words are scathing as he tugs off his shirt. he's not wasting time—especially since you've asked for it.

"jeez, asshole, not gonna say hi first?" you manage, sitting upright as you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch the flex of his abs.

"we're past introductions, baby. sent me those filthy pictures like a whore, an' you expect me not to treat you like one?"

and fuck, he does. it doesn't take him very long before he has you on his lap, clothes off apart from the lingerie he'd seen in the photos.

(you were a damn sight, like this.)

he grinds you, hands firm against your hips, against his cock until he's throbbing in whatever sweatpants he'd managed to throw on after his quick shower back on base.

while he delights in the sight of your pretty panties, his desire outweighs any kind of preservation. thick fingers tear at it until it snaps, lace fraying and ripping apart. he'll buy you another pair, some day. maybe if you're good.

it doesn't take long for him to shimmy his pants down enough for his cock to slap against your lower belly, twitching with every one of his heartbeats. "gonna stuff you full, fuckin' brat. you send those pictures to other guys? just fuckin' desperate for attention, eh? would let anyone fuck you?"

"no, simon... ngh, just you..." you manage, gripping his biceps for stability. your words are stammered, wilting at the edges—no kind of plea would lessen what he was going to do to you anyway.

simon got off on it, the idea that you only wanted him to touch you like this. he loved the thought that you were his, as bratty as you were. he rewards your words by sliding into you, bottoming out with a groan. his cock is snug against your gummy walls, throbbing every time you shift.

he carves his space into you—your body won't be forgetting this for a long time, if he has any say in it.

the feeling of being so filled up pleases you more than it hurts. you bury your head into his neck, nose pressing up against the thick of his muscle. but like the brat you are, you can't seem to stop yourself. against his neck, you mumble, "is it in yet?"

there's a moment where simon freezes completely. his hands move to your thighs reflexively, giving a harsh squeeze. he doesn't look happy with you, but what did you expect?

he flips the two of you over, pulling out and pinning you into the soft cushion of the couch and leering over you. "you're lucky i'm this hard. would've spanked your poor li'l cunt till she cries f'me. maybe next time, huh?"

he doesn't wait for your to adjust again when he slides back in. he starts a brutal pace, the thick of his cock slipping against your insides while he grunts his pleasure into your ear. "feel it yet, luv?"

warnings: use of ‘Reader’ once, slight angst??, happy ending

Simon’s arms felt like a protective barrier surrounding her every time he engulfed her in a warm hug, arms wrapping around her with ease and his hands landing on her lower back, stabilising her. Her body would instinctively relax as his arms came towards her, as if it knew it was safe from the outside.

So, it was no surprise that when he was away on deployment, she would find any way to try and replicate that feeling of being hugged by the beefy man. She would search up long pillows she could wrap herself in, she tried using clothes that smelt of him, hell, she even tried hugging herself to sleep, but nothing beat the real thing. The passing weeks were torture. No contact from her Simon, and time felt like it was dragging. Eventually, the loneliness spiralled into anxiety, worry creeping over her that maybe he wouldn’t come back.

Weeks passed, and Reader was at home, making herself some lunch with music playing loudly from the speakers, a way to try and calm her nerves about her sweet man. The music was so loud that she hadn’t heard Simon enter the house. He dropped his bags by the door and took off his dirty boots before slowly walking into the kitchen, where his favourite girl was stood by the stove, frying up some mushrooms. His steps were slow and deliberate, and eventually got behind her before gently wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. She jumped, startled by the sudden contact before quickly melting into the arms she loves. “You scared me, silly” she murmured, her hands still occupied by cooking. He let out a mixture of a huff and a chuckle before speaking, “Sorry luv, couldn’t help m’self.” His hands slowly pulled away from her, giving her space to plate up lunch before he went off to shower.

Her lover is back, and more importantly, she’s got back her favourite safety barrier.

- end

my first written fic!! sorry it’s quite short, i’m still new to this >w< hope you enjoyed!!

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he's hot enough, with huge muscles that strain against his thin compression shirt and you already find yourself drooling over the prospect of getting choked by his biceps alone.

moreover, with whatever little information you get out of him, it's obvious he's not exactly planning on staying here for long - and the liquor courage you gain from the margaritas you sipped throughout the night at the bar makes it easier to get lost in the heat of it all - thanking your little alcohol tolerance for making it harder for you to get embarrassed.

a night of pure animal instinct. skin on skin, nails dragging through his blonde tufts of hair and then trailing down to his back, leaving thin red lines as you try to cling onto him with each thrust making your mind recoil with how good it all feels.

of course, he leaves the next day. you expect as much, and you're quite satisfied with concluding your short-lived affair as you return back to tending to the demands of your drab, adult life.

cw: drunk calls/texts, as vague of a description of throwing up that I could manage

-

You thought you were over it. Over him. It’s only been a couple months but they weren’t really a hard couple months. You were fine. You were fine. So there was no reason for you to be staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror listening to the muffled sounds of the bar as mascara runs down your cheeks. Because you were fine.

There were more drinks than you could count buzzing through your system and it was like your phone was screaming your name, begging you to take it. Call him. Text him, anything. Just hear his voice again. It was a stupid idea but you were too drunk to care anymore. You fish your phone out of the pocket of your jacket and sway on your feet as you slowly unlock it and find Simon’s contact.

You dial the number, half expecting to have been blocked but it rings. And rings. And rings until you’re sent to voicemail. You hang up and try again. Voicemail. But by the fifth call, you decide to actually leave a message.

“Hey. S’me. Uh…” you exhale through your mouth, laughing at yourself for being so stupid. “M’drunk. But that- that’s not why I’m callin. I mean it kind of is, but I miss you.”

You stop talking for a few seconds, staring yourself in the mirror again. “Heard our song. Remember that one I kept playin in the car until you started singin along? Now I’m cryin in the bathroom and-“

You’re cut off by the time limit on the message and the call hangs up. But that doesn’t stop you, you call again and leave another message until you’re cut off and keep repeating that until you’ve said all that you’ve needed to. Then you put your phone away and stumble out of the bathroom, slurring to your friends that you were going home and you walk out into the cool night.

It was three in the morning and you were hammered crying over your ex. You check your phone for any response but there was nothing so you get to texting.

Hey.

Didyoh get ym messged?

I miss au si

Can I come iwvr?

Imco mign over

You look up at the street signs and try your best to remember the way to his apartment. Not that it was difficult, you would go out of your way to drive through his neighborhood sometimes. You find your way to his building and have to crawl up the stairs because you could barely walk anymore. Once you find his door, you lean against the door frame with your face in the crook between the frame and the door and start your drunk singing to try and get his attention.

“Simon, m’here. Open the door yeah? I wanna talk.”

You keep on with your mumbling and pitchy singing until the lock clicks and the door opens, revealing an out of focus but peeved Simon meeting your hazy eyes. “Y’have any idea what time it is?”

His voice made you want to cry. Even sounding angry with you, it was so nice to hear again that you almost broke down into tears right at his doorstep.

“I miss you.”

“Y’drunk.”

You whimper and push past him to get inside, not that he made any move to stop you anyway. You bump into walls and take a deep breath, remembering everything you’d ever done together. You start crying again as you make your way to his couch and flop face down, falling asleep immediately. Simon watches everything and sighs deeply, closing his eyes before locking the door again and laying a blanket over you. He leaves a trash can and water close enough for you to reach and goes back to bed.

The next morning, you wake up slowly and are immediately overcome with unbearable nausea. You shoot up and find the bin, emptying your stomach into it all before you could realize where you were. When you were done, you look around and your heart sinks.

“Oh fuck. Oh no. No no no no no.” You shakily stand up and pat yourself down to make sure you still had your things and book it to the door to make your escape.

“Y’should eat somethin before y’go.” Simon’s voice stops you in your tracks and you turn to see him standing there with a fresh cup of tea. He holds it out and you kind of have to take it, he already caught you trying to leave.

You say nothing and go to sit at the table while he makes something easy on your stomach, also in silence. He brings you a plate of toast and some eggs, sitting across from you. You eat as quiet as you could and stare at your plate just wishing you could disappear.

“Why’d y’only call me because y’were drunk?”

You look up at him and struggle to swallow the bite of toast you’d just taken. “I…I’m sorry.”

“Not what I asked.”

“I heard that one song. And it just brought me back.” You explain, fighting back another wave of tears. “I miss you, Simon. I thought I was over you. I’m not.”

“I can see that.” He huffs and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what, y’thought callin me at three in th’morning would change my mind? Instead of actin like a normal person and givin it a try sober?”

“I said I was sorry, I-“

“If you’re sorry, you’ll call when you’re coherent and not pityin y’self. Try again and maybe I’ll wanna talk.” Simon stands up and start heading back to his room. “And be out in ten minutes, I got work.”

You just needed to watch from the sidelines while waiting for actual law enforcement to show up, but keeping Soap from barging over there was proving much harder than expected. You can’t even begin to count the amount of cages, and you're sure there's more out of view, that alone puts the guys on edge. And every time there was some distressed noise, Soaps head would snap in that direction and a few times you even had to hold him back. Ghost is just leaning against the tree staring towards the cages, his expression is utterly unreadable but he’s clearly pissed, and you're sure if you let Soap forward Ghost would be right behind him.

Soaps head snapped in the other direction before he moved slightly behind the tree, before you got the chance to move or ask him what he heard Ghost was pulling you against him and covering your mouth. You were confused until you heard voices closer than before “the stage is set up, buyers should be arriving soon” then someone else said “did those dragons finally settle down? we can’t risk anything here” you could see Soaps fist clenching, the first guy said “yeah fucking finally, they even woke up the big guy. How much do you think he’ll go for? I was thinking-” they were too far for you to hear the rest of their conversation. 

Soap immediately came over to you two “we have to go over there” Ghost added “the stage is where everythin’ is going to happen” moving was risky, and getting closer to the ‘action’ meant a higher risk of being caught, but on the other hand, if more people are coming then that's more people to hide from. Either choice was a risk, but in the end, moving closer to the stage had advantages, that's if you guys can find this stage without getting too close. “Fine, but we’re walking, flying is too risky” Soap and Ghost nodded.

Making your way through the forest was hard, you had never been this far out so you had no prior knowledge to help you, you guys couldn't get too close but also had to be careful not to go too far out and lose the area. As long as the row of cages were in view you guys were good, but eventually the row ended, you were about to turn around, there was seemingly nowhere to go. That's when Ghost tapped your side and pointed out a small dirt road, all the trees and branches had been cleared out. You guys backed away slightly before following parallel to the path, you had to stop moving multiple times when people passed, but eventually you made it through, and on the other side was a wide open area.

Honestly it was the oddest sight in the middle of the forest, there was a pretty big raised platform towards the front of the large area, but in the middle heading all the way to the back was rows and rows of seats. Soap muttered “what the hell is this” that was exactly what you were thinking “it’s an auction” Ghost said in a tight voice. That explained everything, and it meant there were going to be much more people here than you expected. Before you could say anything someone ran down the path and yelled "they're coming in” before running back. You turned to Ghost and Soap “okay we need to backup while everyone is moving around so they don't see us, and then once everything starts we can move closer, if your comfortable” you couldn't even imagine the things that they might show on the stage, you would understand if it was too much for either of them. But they just shook their heads, they needed to see Gaz.

Hallucinating scary things

hearing scary voice/ having minor auditory hallucinations that are still rlly scary

having a paranoia episode

and/or very, very scared for a non-threatening reason overall

please, if you know of any good ones, send them over?