thinking some thoughts about ghost x sunshine!disneyprincess-energy!reader..
OKAY THESE ARE JUST SOME CUTE THIUGHTS BUT LIKE OKAY. what if reader is just so incredibly sweet to everyone and everything n simon is just standing behind her like a guard, all scary and intimidating.. like shes such a disney princess!! BUTBUT what if she teaches him how to be gentle?? like he’s spent so many years of his life killing people for his job and using his hands to hurt others for his work. he’s been told his whole life that he needs to toughen up, so what if reader just completely brings out the incredibly soft side of him that he didn’t even know was there?
i can just imagine reader doing cute things and simon standing idly by whilst she picks flowers from the ground to put in her purse so she can make pressed flowers bookmarks for the both of them?? his heart just melts at the sight when you knelt down to pick some pretty yellow flowers in the summertime when you two went for a nice summer’s evening walk.
or you find this like baby chick by your home (cuz u both live in a cottage area, duh) and its wing is hurt so you squat down; a bright, but kind, grin on your face. you put your hands outward in a bowl-like shape, sweetly whispering to the injured creature as it chirps, “cmere, you poor thing..” when the chick waddles in your hands, simon swears you must be a fairy of some sort. simon watches you intently--one of his favorite activities. the way the chick trusts you immediately..he can’t take it you are so perfect.
the yellow fuzz ball of a chick chirps every so often, and you use gentle hands to pet it before standing up and looking up at simon, eyes wide and full of joy.
he smiles, his cheeks dimpling when you giggle and pet the chick.
“you wanna hold him?” you ask quietly, as to not threaten the bird—or possibly to relax simon’s tense body. before he can respond, you say, “here, open your hand---"
he hesitates. “what if i hurt it?“ he asks, genuine concern sounding in his gruff voice (although it's more quiet than usual as to not frighten the chicklet).
you pout slightly, glossy lips turned down.
“you won’t," you begin with a comforting smile, trying to comfort your burly boyfriend. simon nibbles his bottom lip as he glances his dark eyes from you, then to the bird, then you again. "i promise you won't hurt 'im, simmey. hold him like you hold me when im sad! okay?"
he nods faintly, letting out a small chuckle.
carefully, you bring the baby chick closer to him as you tell him to cup his hands together.
his body is stiff as he holds the chick, small chirps from the animal making him nervous.
“see? you’re doin so good, simmey !!” you encourage, running a comforting hand along his tattooed bicep. the chick is completely dwarfed in ghost’s tattooed, scarred hands.
something so innocent being cared for by someone so..not.
like the relationship between the two of you.
not that simon was a bad man—far from it. he just never knew the power of being gentle.
and he was so grateful that you brought that out of him; a soft, loving gaze and smile set on his hardened features as he watched you stand on your tippy toes and pet the bird gently with your pointer finger.
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A/N: I am so sorry for not posting the last couple of months, I've had the worst bloody writers block. I know how much y'all like the Ghost fics so I hope you guys enjoy this! This one's a bit sad, even though angst isn't my strong suit, I really liked writing this and I think it turned out okay.
Just a disclaimer, I know nothing about the military and even less about dying so just let me know of any inaccuracies and I'll fix em.
WARNINGS: blood, mentions of guns and bullet wounds, normal war shenanigans, death (Let me know if I'm missing anything.)
During a mission, everything took a turn for the worse. Ghost urgently gave the order for everyone to evacuate, swiftly conducting a head count, only to realize that Y/N was missing. Filled with concern, he called out for him over the radio. "C/S? C/S, how copy?" Ghost's grip tightened on the radio at the lack of a response. "C/S?! Y/N, what's your position?"
Worry builds deep in Ghost's stomach, an almost nausea-like feeling coursing through him as he speaks through the radio once more. "Y/N. Y/N! I need your location!"
Y/N groans as he hears a loud ringing in his ears, one that fills his mind and brings an ache to his head. His eyes remain shut as he tries to ground himself, though the sound of a familiar voice in his left ear makes his lids slowly blink open.
Though his vision is blurry and everything feels fuzzy, Y/N places a hand on his shoulder and clicks the button on the radio. "Ghost? That you?" Y/N's strained and weak voice makes Ghost sigh in relief. "Ah fuck. Thank god, Y/N." Ghost's voice calms down as he speaks again, his voice stern as he tries to get an answer out of the other man.
"Where are you, Y/N?"
Y/N groans as he tries to look around, his vision still blurred enough to not be able to see anything in detail, he had little to no memory of what he'd been doing before, and the visible bright white walls and floor made him want to close his eyes again. Y/N speaks up once more, his voice holding a slight amusement. "Don't know.. I can't see properly. I'm inside a building, though."
Ghost seems to feel slightly more at ease once he hears Y/N speak, he was glad the man was okay enough to be able to smile through his pain. "Can you see anything? Anything at all?" Ghost looks around at the buildings in the area, Y/N could be anywhere.
"White walls and floors.. I can't make out anything else, though... That help at all?"
Y/N lets his body press against the cold wall behind him, relishing in the relaxing chill shooting through his body. He starts to take a few deep breaths as he tries to keep himself stable, slowly looking around the bare walls, the paint cracked and peeling. His vision gets torn away though, the bright lights starting to flicker, the hall flashing from eerily dark to painfully bright.
An annoying buzz was audible as the light stopped blinking, remaining on. Y/N could see debris on the ground, he wasn't surprised, this was a warzone after all. Y/N slowly closes his eyes, letting himself relax.
Though the feeling of a sharp pain makes his eyes shoot open, a pained noise escapes the man as he looks down at his body. His eyes widened as his gaze trailed down; the only thing he could make out was blood–blood covering his abdomen, blood covering his hands, and blood covering the floor.
Shit.
"Yeah, that helps, Y/N. I'll be there soon, you stay there, alright?" Ghost's voice was gentle, like he was trying to keep the man at ease. But Y/N wasn't listening, his eyes were too focused on the bloody mess in front of him. Y/N's throat starts to close up, the intense smell of the blood making him feel sick.
He brings his hands to the wound, pulling his warm, sticky, blood-soaked shirt up as he tries his best to judge the severity of it. His heart drops as he sees multiple bullet holes piercing his skin, cringing at the amount of blood still escaping him. He was hit with a sudden realization.
"Y/N, you still with me? I'm not far, just stay alive f'me, okay?"
"Ghost.. I don't think I'm gonna make it.."
Ghost's body fills with dread, his heart aching at the sound of Y/N's discouraged and afraid voice. Ghost shakes his head, trying to sprint even faster, his breathing ragged as he speaks through the radio. "Shut it. You're gonna be alright. I'm gonna make it to you, and then we're gonna get you out of here. Alive."
Ghost tries to keep his tone confident, but the shake in his voice shows just how worried he was. He knew that he had to make it there quickly if he wanted the best chance at saving Y/N. His words were rushed as he repeated himself, wanting to hear that Y/N believed him. "Do I make myself clear? I'm getting you out of here alive."
Y/N can't help but slowly shake his head to himself, he could see his wound, he could see how quickly he was losing blood, he could feel the way his body was slowly going numb. His breaths escape him at an uneven pace, his heart racing as he comes to terms with the situation. "Ghost.. I'm losing too much blood. I can't.."
"Yes, yes, you can. You will survive Y/N, I know you will. You have to.."
Ghost ran, ran like he's never done before. He couldn't lose Y/N, not now, not like this. The building was in sight, he was so close to being with Y/N, being able to help him, save him. Ghost could feel the burn in his legs and his lungs and the hard thumping of his pulsing heart. The dry feeling in his throat makes him want to take a breath, but he doesn't stop running, not for a second.
As Ghost ran into the building, Y/N could hear him, his loud footsteps echoing against the bare halls. "I'm here, can you tell me exactly where you are?" Y/N could hear Ghost's urgent yet puffed out voice from both the radio and from the right side of the building, the sound not too far away.
"I can hear you, Ghost.. You're to my right." Y/N's voice was the opposite of Ghost's, he tried to keep his voice as calm as he could, and the strain already being put on his body by the wound, made it impossible to speak any louder without putting himself in even more pain.
"Okay, just.. Just stay there. I'm nearly there, you're gonna be okay."
Y/N's eyes drift to the right side of the building, hearing Ghost's heavy footsteps hitting against the ground. A small and pained smile forms on Y/N's face as he sees the masked man come into sight, watching as he quickly rushes towards him.
A feeling of relief swarms through Ghost's body as he sees Y/N sitting against one of the walls, though the condition the other man was in made his worry come right back. He quickly makes it to Y/N, dropping to his knees as he brings his hands to Y/N's body. "Y/N.. Fuck..." He can't help but take a second to look into Y/N's eyes, his own brown ones showing extreme vulnerability, a look of pure fear.
Y/N lets out a dry and painful sounding chuckle, trying to ease Ghost a little. "Mhm.. it's me." Y/N brings one of his shaky and bloodied hands up, letting it just hover over Ghost's covered cheek, not wanting to get his blood all over Ghost's mask. Ghost doesn't seem to care though, letting his face gently push into Y/N's hand.
Ghost lets out a shaky breath as he feels Y/N's hand against his face. "You're.. You're gonna be okay.. I'm gonna get you out of here, alright? I promise." Y/N gently shakes his head, his small smile faltering as he pulls his other arm away from his wound.
Ghost's eyebrows furrow as he sees Y/N's reaction to his words, but before he can speak, his eyes move down to where Y/N had moved his arm from. Ghost feels his heart shatter as the sight, multiple bullet wounds scattered across his abdomen, blood slowly seeping from each one.
Ghost shakes his head, almost frantically as he brings both hands to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding with his gloved palms. All he manages to achieve though is flooding Y/N's body in pain, evident by the startled cries leaving the injured man.
"Fuck.. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Just let me stop the bleeding, let me.."
Ghost's panicky voice trails off as he sees Y/N's wounds only bleeding more aggressively at his touch. He shakes his head, looking down at the other man's body as he keeps his hands on the wound. The blood soaks through Ghost's gloves, the warm and gory liquid uncomfortably sticking to his skin.
Y/N's hands instinctively reach Ghost's wrists, pulling the other man's hands away. "Fuck! Stop.. stop, Ghost." Y/N's grip was weak and his body had little to no strength now. Ghost slowly pulls his own shaky hands away. "I'm sorry.. I just.. you're gonna be okay, I'm gonna find some way to stop the bleeding, and then we'll.. we'll go back home. We're gonna-".
"Simon."
Ghost's mouth shuts at the use of his real name, an audible gulp being heard. His eyes trail back up to look into Y/N's, the look the other man gave him only made his heart sink, he felt like his world was falling apart. "Please.. we both know I'm not making it out of here.. just-"
"You are. You're going to make it out of here. Shut up with that nonsense." Ghost doesn't want to hear it, he refuses to hear it, to acknowledge it.. to accept it. He tried to keep his voice stern but the tremble that grew with each word made it obvious he wasn't all too hopeful either.
He slowly pulls his hands out of Y/N's grasp, bringing them back down to the surrounding area of the wound, his quivering fingers gently trailed over the scarred skin. He pulled off his gloves, using his bare hands to touch Y/N.
"You.. you can't... You're all I have left.."
Ghost's voice softened, his words paining him as they left his mouth. Y/N rests his hand back onto Ghost's mask, sliding it slightly down as he slips a couple fingers underneath the mask. The injured man remains silent, afraid of the emotion that'll leave him if he dared to speak up.
Ghost feels Y/N's fingers slide underneath the mask, a warm feeling bubbling in his stomach. He brings one of his bare palms to Y/N's hand, holding it in place before slowly, cautiously, pulling his mask over and off his head.
The sight of the rugged man made Y/N meekly smile, his heart fluttering at the long-awaited reveal of the subject of his attraction. He had been into Ghost for quite a while, and he always had a suspicion that Ghost felt the same. It was almost a silent understanding between both men, never outwardly speaking of their true feelings yet knowing they felt them.
Ghost looks down, his eyes falling shut as his grip on the other man's hand tightens, holding him closer against his now bare face. He didn't care for the blood the other man's hand was rubbing onto his skin, he needed this, he needed the Y/N's gentle touch.
"Thank you.." Ghost slowly opened his eyes at the other man's pained voice, watching as Y/N slumps further down the wall, groaning at the pressure it relieved from his wounds.
Y/N lets out a small hum at the feeling of the cold floor pressing against his back, a stark contrast to the warm liquid pouring out the front of him.
Ghost slightly shakes his head, a small smile on his face as he questions the other man. "What are you doing?" The other man signals for Ghost to come closer, his voice strained but trying to keep it sounding as optimistic as he could despite the situation.
"Getting comfortable.. Come here."
Ghost does just that, shuffling closer to the man that was now laying flat on the ground, looking down at him, his eyebrows furrowing as he takes in the man's appearance. One of Y/N's weak hands moves to Ghost's arm, gently pulling him even closer.
"Sit down, relax." Y/N was oddly calm despite the situation, despite knowing his undeniable fate. "Relax? How am I supposed to-" Y/N tugs at Ghost's arm, interrupting him. "Please." The desperation in Y/N's voice made Ghost's stomach wrench, he silently sat beside him, bringing his hands to hold onto Y/N's.
Y/N gratefully hums, his eyes looking over the other man before making a request, pleading evident in his tone. "Think you could hold me..? Jus' for a bit?" Ghost nodded, carefully wrapping his arms around Y/N's shoulders, gently pulling him into his arms.
His senses were heightened, he could feel everything, the warm blood starting to soak through his own shirt and the shake in Y/N's body. The rough and cold hands of the other man, weakly wrapped over whatever part of Ghost he could reach. Y/N lays in his arms, weak and helpless, his skin losing colour and his body shaking more rapidly...
For the first time that evening, Ghost came to terms with what was going to happen, he couldn't deny it any longer, not when it was so obvious. His eyes tear up, his heart thumping louder as all he can do is pull Y/N closer, hold the injured man in his arms as he wishes for this to just be some twisted nightmare.
He couldn't keep himself calm anymore, waves of emotions crashing onto him, flooding his mind and filling his body with unease. His grip tightened, the fabric of Y/N's clothes balling up in his fists, he just pulled him closer, not wanting to let him go, not now, not ever.
"Hey.. Simon."
Y/N looks up at the man holding him, watching as he struggles to hold in the tears his body so desperately wants to let fall. Y/N's cold fingers trace along Ghost's cheek, pulling his face a little closer, his voice quieter and more strained than before. "It's gonna be okay.."
Though the injured man was smiling in a way to comfort Ghost, his true feelings were obvious. His eyes held fear, a fear Ghost had never seen on the usually optimistic man before.
He knew he had to be strong, he knew that whatever fear he felt right now, Y/N was feeling tenfold. He took deep breaths, trying to gather himself. He felt his throat close up, he couldn't speak, not without breaking down completely, he could only nod in reply. He brought a trembling hand down to Y/N's face, his rough fingers caressing the skin with a softness Ghost didn't know he was capable of.
Y/N closed his eyes, humming at the gentle touch, and the contrasting feeling of Ghost's warm hand pressing against his chilled cheek. His presence was comforting, it almost felt like he was cuddled up against a cosy fireplace, like the flames were crackling in front of him and leaving warm kisses on his cheek.
It was a nice thought, a nice feeling, but it seemed like the pain in his abdomen did anything it could to bring Y/N out of his calming mindset. It felt like his body was on fire, but also like he had been out in the cold for days. His feet were numb now and he could feel the way his legs and fingertips also started to lose their senses.
He looked up at Ghost, tears had started to form in his own eyes, ones that were impossible to hide. "I'm scared.. you'll be here.. right? Please.. don't let me go, not yet.." His voice was faint, filled with an uneasy panic. Ghost started to nod, bringing his face closer down, letting his lips press against Y/N's cold forehead.
"..yes, yes.. I'll be r-right here. I'm not moving.. I'm not letting you go..."
Y/N closes his eyes, his head falling to the side slightly as he sighs. "Y'know.. I always looked up to you, Simon.." He leans his head deep into Ghost's chest, his tears slowly falling as he feels his body go numb. He had lost all feeling in his arms and legs, even the ache in his abdomen had started to ease. Ghost shakes his head slowly, biting his lower lip in an attempt to hold in the sobs he so desperately wanted to let go.
"I love you, Simon."
Ghost pulled Y/N closer, letting out quiet, choked sounds. He felt Y/N's body start to go limp in his arms, his hands desperately pulling at the other man's body to hold him in a comforting embrace. "I.. I love you too... Fuck.. don't do this to me.."
"I'm sorry.." Y/N moves his head, digging his face further into the other man's chest. All he could smell and hear was Ghost, the man he had grown so attached to. It brought him some comfort, knowing he would be dying in Ghost's arms, not alone. "Forgive me.."
"Always, Y/N.. always.."
Y/N lets out a weak hum, slightly nodding his head as his body relaxes in Ghost's arms, his head now starting to fall limp, being too heavy for Y/N to move. "..thank you..." Y/N's voice was barely audible, his mumble causing Ghost's heart to shatter.
"Always.. a-always... I-I'm here.. always..."
Ghost cradled the dying man in his arms, soothingly whispering as he slowly swayed his body side to side. "It's okay.. It's okay... You're safe.. you're safe with me.." Y/N's voice was practically inaudible as he tried to mumble back to the other man, his incoherent slurs trailing off into silence.
Ghost felt as if his whole world was crashing down right before his eyes. He could only pull Y/N closer, continuing to cradle the fallen soldier. His movements became a little more frantic as he rocked their bodies, his fingers clawing at Y/N's cold skin.
"Shit- I'm so sorry... I-It's okay.. It's gonna be okay.. It's gonna be okay..."
He whispered into the other man's ear, his voice broken as he felt the tears he had been suppressing, finally fall freely. His words started as a means to comfort his dying partner, but it seemed like he was only trying to convince himself now. He mumbled a mantra of 'It's okay' and 'I love you', the words just tumbling out without his control.
His body trembled, his throat letting out more choked sobs now than it had in the last 10 years, his eyes were screwed shut, his head dug into Y/N's frozen neck. His hands tried their best to pull Y/N's limp head up, his tears pouring down his bloody cheeks as the other man's head just dropped back down.
If only he made it there sooner, if only he was there to protect him; none of this would've happened. He wouldn't be here, holding the corpse of the man that showed him what it was like to be alive, how to feel, how to love. The one person that had been able to break down his walls and make him feel human again.
It felt like hours, hours of cradling his deceased lover in his arms like a child, hours of sobbing and mourning the one person that brought light into this cruel world.
"Ghost? Do you copy?"
Ghost heard the static of his radio before the familiar voice of his Captain rung through his ears. "Ghost?" Ghost's teeth grit as he hesitantly brought his hand to the radio on his shoulder, forcefully composing himself before clicking the button. "I'm here." He looked down at the deceased man in his arms, hugging him close as his body threatened to break down once more.
"Evac's here, did you reach C/S?"
Ghost lets out a shaky breath, his fingers shaking as he grips the radio. "C/S's.. C/S's been KIA." His hand falls from the radio, his blood-stained fingers gently caressing Y/N's cold cheek, gently pulling his face closer. Ghost couldn't help but admire the other man, his eyes closed and his eyebrows relaxed. His lips were tugged into a small smile, his skin devoid of its usual colour. He looked.. peaceful.
There was a few seconds of silence from the other line before it was cut by Price's voice once more. "I'm sorry, Ghost." Ghost placed a soft kiss on Y/N's bloody forehead, speaking through the radio one last time, leaving no room for argument. "I'll be there in a few, I'm takin' him with me."
Ghost snatched his mask from the floor beside him, pulling it on before scooping Y/N into his arms. He lifted him up, holding his limp body against his chest as he whispered. "It's gonna be okay.. I've got you.." He held the man tightly, his eyes glancing down at Y/N's motionless figure every few steps he took.
"I've got you..."
A/N: Could you tell I struggled ending this? I won't lie, I teared up a couple times while writing this, I think this might be the saddest thing I've written. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated, especially since I'm still not too familiar with Ghost's personality. This is also my longest fic ever, about 3.4k words!
Also a big thank you for over 400 followers, we're so appreciative of all your support!
You stared at the blinking device for what seemed like minutes, but was really only seconds before you grabbed Sam and turned quickly, hiding him behind your body and lurching forward as far as you could, until you felt heat. Strong heat, and then you were pushed by the force of what felt like God.
When you opened your eyes next, you were staring up at trees, thick smoke blew across your vision as you remembered the device, and then the explosion.
“Sam?” You gasped then, sitting upright, a ripping pain tugging at your skin so hard your vision turned white for a moment. You looked at your side, blood seeped through your shirt and you lifted it just a but, thankful there was nothing actually inside of you--but there was a massive bruise forming beneath the sliced skin. “Sammy..?” You croaked, unable to even hear your own voice until you heard someone else’s close to you.
“You alright? She’s over here, Lieutenant!” You looked up to see the man with the funny hair, McTavish, calling over to someone else.
“Where’s Sam?” You yelled, your ears were numb and ringing still, but as you looked around you spotted him. He looked to be alive, the other soldier--Garrick, was with him, but it looked like Sam was hurt.
You felt hands on you, sliding under your armpits until you were hauled to your feet, and you were being carried closer to Sam, laid down and crying from the sharp pain. You lifted your shirt to show your wound to the mohawk man, and he was by you in an instant, using what appeared to be a first aid kit to clean the wound and stitch you, which your adrenaline thankfully numbed most of that. He wraps your side in gauze gently, with thick bandages taped over the wound.
You turned your head to look at Sam, who must have fallen unconscious. Garrick was stitching his stomach, and there was blood. Lots of blood, enough to make you panic and sit up, crawling over to him. “What happened?” You asked, in which McTavish had to grab a hold of you to ensure you wouldn't rip your stitches, or mess up Sams. “He was shot, he’s lost a lot of blood. If we can get him to base, he’ll live. Lieutenant, any way for MedVac?” He asked, ignoring the rest of your questions that ended up spewing from your lips, and you nearly jumped at the new voice you heard coming from behind you.
“Bravo Six this is Ghost, we have several injured survivors, please advise,” He spoke, his voice was deep and very British, gravelly and straight forward.
He held s couple gloved fingers over his earpiece as he listened to the voice on the other end--did he have a hard time hearing something literally inside of his ear? Tinnitus, maybe?
“N.E.R happened, sir. All are wounded. We need medical,” He grumbled back, turning around to pace. The pain was strong now, your body long drained of adrenaline. You’d never felt this before, not a wound in flesh as drastic as this, being caught in an explosion and a piece of a fucking Humvee slicing your hip open.
New England Raiders, huh? They hated the military. They wanted to rebuild the northeast, with their own governing. Didn’t know they were attacking civilians now too, though.
“Medevac is being sent. Sergeant, get the survivors ready to fly,” He said, aiding Garrick with Manny and Mary, both of them were in bad shape. Mary looked dead already, she hasn’t said a single word and she hardly moved.
“Medevac? Christ, will they even be here fast enough?” The Scottish man asked. “They’re coming from Horsham Air Guard Station, fifty kilos away. They’ll be here in no time.”
It was true--the medical helicopter arrived quickly, when they landed two medical staff jumped out and immediately began to load the ones unable to walk onto stretchers. It was Sam and Mary who were loaded first, and then the co-pilot jumped out and jogged quickly to Ghost, the one with the hot topic mask.
“Lieutenant, we can’t take everyone. We can only carry six more people on board. Some will have to stay behind, and either wait for the next pickup or make the trek on their own.” He tried to be quiet, but you could just barely make out every other word. “I recommend you let us take the wakest ones, and you and your boys can wait,” Ghost was already shaking his head, eyes scanning everyone. You could see a nurse tending to Sam, and you felt your chest loosen a little bit. It was easier to breathe knowing that someone was really taking care of his wound.
“You, where are you hurt?” You heard his voice, but you didn’t realize he was speaking to you, you were too entranced on looking at Sam. “Girl,” his voice was suddenly louder, and it made you jump.
“Uh…here,” You said, motioning with your finger to the gash that was on your hip, but closer to being on your back.
“Can you walk?”
“Yeah…it’s mostly just a bad bruise.” You said, feeling scrutinized under his gaze.
“I’ll stay behind, if there aren’t enough seats.” You heard behind you, it was Josef. “I got grazed on my chest,” He said, knowing that would have been Ghost’s followup question. He was listening before.
“Alright. Three of us will stay behind. We’ll take rations from the others-”
“Lieutenant, what’re you talking about? Let us stay with you, send the rest of the survivors back to-”
“No, sergeant. You and Garrick will be needed, would rather risk it with these two.” Ghost said firmly. You looked at his chest, maybe to catch a last name, but there wasn’t one. There was an empty spot of torn stitches, but no name. Odd. “Get in the Helo, go back to base. Three days, we’ll see you.” He slapped McTavish on the shoulder, pushing him away.
“Take our rations, at least. Give the wee one here something to make her smile,” He winked at you, in a friendly way, and you smiled a little. Just a little. But he did as he said, taking out spare MRE’s from his bag and tossing one to you and to Josef, and then he handed over his water to Ghost.
“Three days, Lieutenant.” He yelled as he walked backwards, closer to the chopper, before climbing in with everyone else and taking off. You held your hands over your ears again, wincing away from the loud sound and the giant gusts of air being blown around, whipping your hair.
“Alright, we’re making this on foot. Headed to Rhode Island. Once we get to civilization, I need you both to do exactly what I say, and when I say it. Understood?” His deep voice unnerved you, but you nodded frantically, placing the MRE his sergeant tossed and shoving it into your bag. You looked up at the chopper, silently praying that Sam would pull through. “Your friends are gonna make it, don’t worry about them. Focus on yourself.” He said, before nodding to his left.
You followed him for hours, your legs ached from constantly climbing over boulders and stepping over roots, not to mention that you’ve been walking uphill since you three left the zone. You kept quiet most of it, not saying anything except for the random check-ups from Ghost.
“Why did those people attack us?” Josef asked, and it took a moment for Ghost to reply.
“Not everyone is fond of us in uniform.” He replied. It was short, and definitive.
“There’s no more law, why would they want it back? Anyone can get away with anything. It’s like a dream for mankind.” You added, tossing a side glance towards Josef, who eyed you with a look that made you feel uncomfortable.
“So you soldiers killed them back there. Why aren’t there more?” Josef asked, his voice was becoming irritating. Why was he so talkative all of a sudden?
“There are.” Ghost replied, before you three came to a slow stop. There was a relatively wide creek in your path, without a bridge.
“Try to jump. Don’t want wet feet.” Ghost said, before making Josef go first. He made it, although he did barely keep his grip once he landed, the other bank was muddy.
Simon braced his thighs, and then jumped himself--he made it perfectly. You were nervous.
“I-I’m definitely not making this,” You said nervously, swallowing. “You guys just barely made it,” You were beginning to freak out.
“Just get a running start, for fucks sake.” Josef rolled his eyes, sighing hard and turning around to busy himself with the scenery, or whatever.
“I’ll catch you. You won’t fall,” Ghost said, keeping his feet braced and his hand outstretched. You debated just walking through the water, and save yourself from looking like an idiot when you do fall face first into mud and water. But Ghost had a point, wet feet were a bad idea. Biting your lip on the inside, you backed up a few paces, and breathed deep.
Fuck. You took off and when your left foot hit the edge of the bank, you jumped across, but your takeoff wasn’t as graceful as you had hoped. The jump put strain on your wound, as it was already aching and throbbing from so much walking.
You felt a strong hand grip your forearm before your feet even landed, your face slamming strongly into Ghost and your feet sliding under you from the impact, you nearly fell on your ass from it. But he pulled you upright, and turned so you didn’t run the risk of falling back into the water.
“See? Easy as pie.” He said, gathering his rifle back in his hands. You were embarrassed, but hey, your feet were dry.
“You’ve taken this path?” Josef asked some minutes later, looking around. You stared at the back of his waist, where you knew he kept his revolver. Maybe that was something Ghost should know he had..
“Taken it ‘alf a dozen times,” He said, and his accent was thick with those words. You smiled a little. “Usually set up for the night just through this wet part.” He half pointed ahead, where you could see the solid ground turn to mud. “Just keep walking on the grass, you’ll be fine.” He added, and you fell in step behind him, whereas Josef walked parallel to you. He kept stealing looks at you, for whatever reason. He wasn’t concerned about your wound, was he? You doubted it.
When you three made it past the wet parts, Ghost stopped at a tree with a blue ribbon around one of its branches. Must be his marker.
He had a tent in his backpack, lucky bastard. It was small and more like a ridge tent, basically all you can do is sleep in it, but still--he had his own privacy. Josef and I only had thin sleeping bags rolled up in our bags, which we had set up. I collected some firewood and set up the sticks, using the firestarter to get it going. Ghost stayed further from us, keeping on guard, while Josef pulled out some food to eat.
Angling my body away from the men, I lifted my shirt to examine my wound, gently removing the gauze and bandages to see what it looked like now. It was an ugly thing, deep blues and purples surrounding the cut, all the way down to my hip and to the dimple on my back. Wincing, I moved the bandages and gauze back to cover it.
“Here,” I jumped from Ghost’s voice. “It’ll numb the area.” It was a bottle of cream, and you took it from his hand.
“Thanks.” You said, not looking up at his face before you sat back down, and gently applied the cream to your skin. It hurt like a bitch, and you groaned with effort as you covered yourself back up, and finally allowed yourself to eat. You figured you’d save the MRE for the morning, when you know you’ll be more hungry, so you settle for the rest of the canned peaches Sam gave to you the other day, and a half eaten bag of salted peanuts.
The sun dipped low and you found yourself staring up at the tree canopies, thinking about Sam, and then Benny, and then your dad. You prayed he was still alive, that your goal wasn’t in vain. You hated being alone. It was bearable with Sam, but now…you were alone, with a man you didn’t know, and another man you didn’t want to know anymore.
You look at the others; Josef is staring at a photo of his wife that he’s kept this whole time, and Ghost is standing guard. You assumed that those two would keep watch for the night, seeing as you were young and a girl, not that it meant you weren’t capable--but men usually tend to take it easy on women for this type of stuff. For that, you were grateful.
You closed your eyes with a sigh, letting the sounds of distant birds and the wind lul you to sleep.
------------
Ty for reading!! I'll be trying to post every couple of days, I haven't written a fic in so long lol I forget how to schedule myself lmao
Locked Out On Valentine's (Ending: You took the tea)
Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader
C/W: Smut, unprotected P in V, sexist-type humor, size kink
Word Count: 3k
Previous part
“You want some tea, love?”
***
You’re now sitting at the small round dinner table watching as he tilts the kettle into the mugs. He walks the mugs over to the table and sits across from you.
“Didn’t have anyone to stay with, did you?” He asks before taking a sip.
“I sure didn’t. Everyone is still avoiding me like the plague.” You stare down at the mug.
“It’ll end soon.” He wipes his bottom lip with his thumb. The action catches your attention and he doesn’t miss the sparkle in your eyes. For a stone-cold man, he sure was catching himself smirking a lot tonight.
“When I showed up to my first unit I got the same, and the unit after that.” The two of you drink simultaneously.
“What? They ignored you?”
“No,” He chuckles softly. “My first unit, they held me down and branded me with a shite-looking coat of arms made from a wire clothes hanger.”
You gasp, covering your mouth with your hand.
“What?! Where?!”
“My bum.”
You snort, “I’m sorry, that’s not funny.” You cover your face with your hands. His shoulders rise and fall with soft laughter.
“It is a little.”
“Did they ever get in trouble? Reprimanded?”
“Never told anyone, ran into them at my next unit and pummeled them into the ground.”
“Bravo!” You celebrate with your hands in the air. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Then I was disciplined for the beatin’ they got but it was worth it.”
“I agree, they had it coming.”
You take another gulp of your tea enjoying the spread of warmth inside of you.
“You’re quite fond of trouble.” He states flatly. You still, squinting at him in suspicion.
“What makes you say that?”
“Your files,” He raises his eyebrows at you. “Lengthy history of discipline, being reprimanded.”
You hum in response. “Is that the word on the street?”
He grins, his hand coming up to stroke his stubble before he sits back with his arms crossed looking at you. You roll your eyes, “Yeah, I’ve gotten in trouble a couple of times in my career, what about it?”
“How long have you been in?”
“Five years.”
“You’re tellin’ me that you’ve been reprimanded nearly every single year you’ve been in?” He now leans on the table looking over at you with a dumbfounded look.
“Shit happens, I have no problem taking responsibility for it.”
“I didn’t take you for the type to cause trouble.”
“I’m not, I just don’t have the grace other people do. I do something stupid and get caught immediately.”
“You’re right about that. You’re a naughty one, for sure.” He says before downing the remaining liquid in his mug.
He smirks to himself letting his eyes roam over your shoulders.
"I heard that boyfriend of yours was a calvary bum." He pokes, changing the subject.
You "tsk" at him. Once everyone found out about your now ex-boyfriend they never let you live it down.
"What's his job got to do with anything?"
Simon shrugs, feigning ignorance, “Assumed a woman like you preferred men, that’s all.”
“Oh, hush!” You bite back a laugh refusing to meet his eyes.
“I bet he cried like a child at the thought of going to the field.”
“That’s enough out of you!” You reach over the table to cover his mouth. He fights you off taking your wrists in his hands. He stands and walks to your side of the table gently pulling up by the wrists. His massive frame takes most of your view, you can’t help but feel anxiety pool in your stomach having him tower over you.
“Poor bird, spendin’ her nights with half a man. Bet he didn’t have a clue what he was doin’.”
The warmth you felt from the tea was traveling up to your cheeks. He was so close you could smell the rich cologne in his skin. His hands were so rough but warm on your pulse.
Your eyes focus on his lips.
“Did he?” The gravel of his voice makes a shiver run through your spine. You gulp before responding.
”He was… enthusiastic.”
Simon laughs hoarsely, “Enthusiastic?” He enunciates with a shit-eating grin.
”Why is my sex life a topic of conversation to my Lt.?” You suddenly get some courage.
”You think I haven’t noticed you droolin’ over me, love. Peakin’ at me from afar. Now you show up to my flat with your tits fallin’ out of your top, your bare ass out, and a broken heart from some lad not worth the air he breathes.” He drops his head forcing you to meet his eyes. “Quite the coincidence, innit?”
”I think it’s more of a happy coincid-“ He breaks your sentence off catching your lips with his. Your brain pushes you out of your frozen state and the two of you begin moving in unison. He slowly releases your wrists and moves his hands to your waist. Your hands run down his chest.
He deepens the kiss, forcing his tongue past your lips. You moan softly as his tongue plays with yours. He pulls you against him, one hand over yours on his chest the other at the small of your back. You feel lightheaded, not in a bad way, quite the opposite. You’d fantasized about your Lt. plenty of times, his touch, the scars he hid beneath his army green top, the way his lips felt - come to find out they were soft, unlike the rest of him. His hands keep setting you ablaze when they touch your skin, the callouses nearly make your eyes roll back.
He growls into the kiss, tearing himself away from you. His arms wrap around the back of your thighs and you grab onto his shoulders. He lifts and places you on the table, forcing himself between your legs. He bites at your neck, pulling you into him. You grip the table feeling as if you could slide off at any second.
He eats up every single gasp he gets out of you. His teeth graze your collar bone and he sucks on the sensitive skin. Your nails run over his scalp down to the back of his neck drawing a groan from him.
He stops for a moment to let you catch your breath.
”You want this, love?” He leans his forehead against yours looking into your eyes.
“God, yes!” You exasperate.
He chuckles, still looking into your eyes.
”Hold on.”
”What do you-“
You squeal as he lifts you off the table and rushes to wrap your arms around his neck. You rest your head on his neck relishing in the feeling of his body against yours. Warmth radiated off of him like a furnace, the feel of his skin so addictive.
He carries you to the couch placing his knee on the cushions before gently placing you on your back. He follows you down and your hands run down his bare back.
He supports himself with one arm, the other trails down to your aching core, cupping the mound. He lets out a ragged breath once he feels the heat burning through you. He moves to pull your shorts off, dragging them up your legs and tossing them off to the side.
”Fuckin’ hell,” He groans at the sight of your bare pussy. “Such a bad girl walking around without knickers.”
He gives you one last hypnotizing kiss before brushing his lips in between your breasts. He kisses each one and carries on down your stomach and lands right above your clit.
You panic inside, you prop yourself up on your elbows, “Lt.”
”Fuck’s sake, love. As much as I love hearin’ you call me that, say my name, will you?” He laughs light-heartedly. You smile behind your hand trying not to break out in giggles.
“What is it?” His eyebrows pull together.
”You don’t have to do that if you don’t want.”
”Eat you out?” He looks at you confused.
You nod slowly, embarrassed at the question.
He “Tsks” at you lowering himself once again while muttering something along the lines of, “Calvary muppet took the fun out of pussy, didn’t he?”
”I’m serious! You don’t have to!” You spit out frantically.
“Shut up, doll.”
He licks a stripe up your cunt and moans softly to himself. Your lips part in disbelief. He slowly laps at your clit and you lower yourself onto your back. He decides not to work you too fast yet, scared you’d pass out after being neglected by that dumb bloke for so long.
You whine softly, legs already shaking. He wraps his arms around your thighs and presses them against his head.
He gently sucks on your clit and your hand shoots down to his head. The feeling of you tugging one his short locs encourages him to speed up. His lips wrap around your clit and toys with it as he pleases. The pace causes you to clamp your thighs around his head on your own.
Moans pour from your lips as your back arches. His hands stroke your thighs as you restrain yourself from pushing his head down further.
”Simon! Oh god!” Your mouth hangs open. You look down at him and nearly orgasm seeing him between your legs. His eyes are blown out, his thumb caresses your skin.
He lets go of one thigh and his fingers tap at your entrance gathering your wetness. He pushes two of his fingers inside you and your head falls back. Your vision goes fuzzy and you clamp your eyes shut. His fingers pump into you hitting your g-spot each time.
Your hand flies to your mouth and you let out a high-pitched moan. You chant his name tightening around his fingers. He feels your walls clamp down and continues pumping letting you ride it out. Your hips twitch, your thighs trap him where he is.
He waits until you go limp to pull away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
”Fuck, you made a mess.” He groans. He climbs above you and peppers your face with kisses. “Was that alright, love?”
You open your eyes to meet his, all you can do is nod unable to trust yourself to talk. He smirks at you, proud of himself for leaving you in such a state.
”You think you can take me, love, or do you need some time?”
”Want you so bad,” You whine out.
He lowers his head for a chaste kiss and pulls himself up onto his feet. He drops his sweats revealing the thick muscle of his thighs. His cock slaps his thigh as he throws his sweats onto the floor, the weight of it keeping it down. Your eyes meet his member and a wave of nervousness comes over you. His length was impressive but the thickness was your biggest concern.
“Hey! You weren’t wearing underwear either, hypocrite!”
He rolls his eyes at you with a smile. A sight so beautiful you can’t help but smile back.
He takes his earlier position above you and aligns himself with your entrance. He looks up at you and you feel his tip poking into you already.
”Ready, doll?”
You nod at him.
”Say it.” He whispers.
”I-I’m ready.”
”Alright then.” He nudges your forehead with his before the two of you look down to watch the sinful show of him slowly sliding into you. You gasp, hands going to his back. He moves at a snail’s pace letting you adjust as he goes. He cradles your head, forehead against yours trying to keep his breathing steady.
”Ah, tight little thing.” He rasps out.
Your mouth hangs open, your nails digging into his skin, legs hugging his waist once he fills you to the hilt. He waits a moment before slowly sliding out halfway and bringing himself back to the same depth. Your whines draw out. His tip hits the deepest parts of you so well that you nearly begin drooling.
He examines your face for any sign of discomfort before nudging your neck with his nose. He begins with a moderate pace as he kisses along your jaw. You wrap your arms around him, fingers running over the buzzed hair at the back of his head.
The stretch from his cock stings slightly, the overwhelming pleasure sending tingles through your bones making it hard to notice. He continues rocking his hips into yours letting you enjoy the feel of him without anything too overwhelming. You mewl into his ear as he stretches you over and over.
”Fuck, so good,” You whine.
His hand comes down to grip your breast, his thumb playing with your nipple, circling it gently. He slides his legs up kneeling with you in between his thighs. He stops, letting you catch your breath and he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He suckles the nub, playing with it with his warm tongue. He thumbs your clit as he treats the nub like a candy. He grabs you by the waist and pulls you down onto his cock, dragging you down the cushions fucking you onto him for a while.
He angles his hips to hit all the right places, your cunt throbs around him when he hits your g-spot head on causing you to gasp.
”Oh fuck! Right there!” Your hands cling onto his forearms for dear life as he goes on to hit the spot repeatedly until it nearly hurts. His pubic bone rubs against your clit with every thrust. He picks up his pace, throttling that poor little sensitive spot. Your back arches painfully. He takes advantage of it and throws his hand under your waist keeping you in the position swinging you down to meet his thrusts.
He stuffs you with his cock relentlessly. You become a mess beneath him struggling to get words out, just high-pitched moans filling the room.
”God! Oh god!”
“He’s not here, love. Be a good girl and cum on my cock.” He orders.
The feeling grows inside you pulling the air from your lungs. He nips the skin below your breasts and licks a stripe between them to your neck. Your pussy flutters around him before you fall deep into euphoria, his name pours from you. Your ears ring and eyes wire themselves shut as you clamp down around him. Tears pour from your eyes involuntarily.
The sequence of flutters pulls him back into you making it too difficult to pull out too far. He buries his head in your chest as he’s pulled over the edge. He moans into your skin as your body sucks him back in, milking him so hard he blinks trying to rid himself of the fog. He begins spilling into you, his white hot streams shooting out at high velocity. He paints your walls so thoroughly that you feel his cock twitching with every spasm.
His cum spills out of you not having any more room to fill. You gush around him and he quietly gasps.
The two of you stay like this for what could’ve been an eternity. The post-orgasmic haze engulfs the both of you. He keeps himself inside and lowers himself onto his side, dragging you with him, throwing your leg over his hip. He pulls you into his sweaty heaving chest and kisses your forehead.
He feels a wetness on his thumb and pulls back, wiping away your tears.
”What’s happened, Y/n?” He asks, concerned. “Did I hurt you?” He moves to pull himself out of you and you grab him, bringing him to a stop. “You’re crying, love.”
”That was amazing.” You mumble, eyes struggling to open.
”You cryin’ because it was good?” He laughs, a big goofy smile plasters itself on his face. You force your eyes open to peek at him.
“You smile so pretty.”
He pulls you back to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around you.
”Thank you, love.” You could still hear the smile in his voice. “Let’s get you cleaned up and put to bed, yeah?”
”Too sleepy.” You complain.
”It’s alright, I’ll take care of you.” Against your protests, he lifts himself slowly and positions himself to pull out of you. He gives you a single nudge with his cock still sheathed and you nearly purr.
He pulls out slowly.
”Jesus, I’m gonna need a new couch.” He mutters. His cum spills from you, his eyes glued to your core watching it slowly pour out. His cock twitches and he has to look away. There was no way you were in shape for another round. Thankfully the memory was burned into his mind - the best thing he’d ever seen, next to you of course.
He lets you know he’ll be back and you hear water rushing down the hall. He returns moments later and slides his hands under you.
”Bath time,” He says in a sing-song-y voice. You giggle, lacing your fingers behind his neck. He lifts you in his arms and looks into your eyes. “You were wonderful.” He pecks your lips and carries you off to his bathroom placing you in the bathtub before sliding in behind you.
”I don’t have a hair tie but I’ll try with some string,” He says mostly to himself. The warm water only reaches your belly button, once he slides behind you it rises a few inches. He wraps your hair into a funny-looking bun and ties it with the piece of string he found.
” Ta-da.”
“Thank you, Simon.” You say sweetly leaning back against him. He holds you against him and you feel something poke into your back.
”Sorry, love. It’ll go down, I don’t expect you to stay awake long enough for another one.”
You moan in response and sigh letting the water nearly lull you to sleep.
“Wait,” you breathe out. “Does me saying your name turn you on?”
He doesn’t respond. You try to look up at him but he tightens his hold not wanting you to see the red spawning over his face.
”Siiiiimon”
”Oh, hush.” He imitates your voice.
”Hey!”
He grabs his loofa and begins lathering you in bubbles.
”C’mon, I wanna get you in bed before you fall asleep.”
He cleans every bit of you, focusing on your breasts because no matter how much he denied it at that moment, he was still a dog. He hands you a bath bomb that he saved in case he ever had a special someone stay over and let you watch it fizz up as he cleans himself.
He dries you off and plops you down on his massive bed wearing his t-shirt. By the time he throws on his boxers you’re fast asleep under the covers, engulfed in his scent.
He slides next to you pulling you into his arms. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and whispers into your hair, “You’re mine now, doll. All mine.”
Trope: Badass with a Soft Side, Protective Lover, Slow-Burn to Spicy Payoff
Rating: Mature (for spice and adult themes)
Summary:
When a mission goes wrong, the soft-spoken, affectionate member of Task Force 141 reveals her deadly skills, saving the team and revealing her past as “Black Widow” on her past team. Now, Ghost finds himself completely undone by her, torn between fierce attraction and the intensity of his feelings. As their relationship heats up, Ghost learns that being with her makes everything feel 10x stronger—and he’s not sure he can hold back any longer.
Soap, Ghost, Price, and Gaz sat chained to a grimy brick wall in an abandoned warehouse deep in enemy territory. Their gear had been stripped, leaving them vulnerable and frustrated. The flickering light above cast sharp shadows, reflecting the dismal situation.
And then there was you. Sweet, affectionate, sunshine-you. The one everyone on base adored for your kind words, easy smiles, and penchant for baking cookies when morale was low. You were also the one currently tied to a chair across the room, a cut on your cheek and a split lip standing out against your otherwise calm expression.
“Damn it,” Soap muttered under his breath. “They shouldn’t have gotten their hands on her.”
“Keep your voice down, Johnny,” Ghost hissed, eyes locked on you. You were unnervingly quiet, your head tilted as if listening for something none of them could hear.
Price’s gruff voice cut through their tense whispers. “Focus, lads. We’ll get out of this. She’s tougher than she looks.”
Gaz chuckled humorlessly. “That’s an understatement.”
One of the captors, a stocky man with a knife strapped to his thigh, approached you. He leaned close, clearly mocking your supposed helplessness. “What’s a girl like you doing with these military dogs, huh? Bet you’ve never seen a real fight.”
The team stiffened. They’d seen you train—fluid movements and unnerving accuracy with a knife—but you’d always been modest about your skills. Too modest. Now, they wondered if you’d been holding back.
“Don’t,” Price started, but Ghost’s sharp look silenced him.
Then you smiled. It wasn’t your usual sweet smile but something sharper, darker. “You’ve made a mistake,” you said softly, your voice carrying a chill that made the team shiver.
The man laughed, but it died in his throat when you surged forward, chair and all. The move was so fast it caught him off guard as you rammed the chair leg into his foot. With a curse, he stumbled closer, and that was all you needed.
The warehouse erupted into chaos.
You twisted your wrists, a flick of movement revealing you’d already been working on your restraints. With a sudden lunge, you snatched the knife from the man’s thigh, cutting yourself free in one fluid motion. Before anyone could react, you flipped the chair backward into another enemy rushing at you, sending him sprawling.
Soap’s jaw dropped. “Bloody hell—”
“She’s showing off,” Ghost muttered, but there was a note of awe in his voice.
The knife in your hand blurred as you spun, ducking low and driving it into the gut of the first captor. You used his body as a shield to block a shot fired in panic before vaulting over him with an agility that seemed almost supernatural.
One by one, the captors fell, your movements precise, deadly, and terrifyingly efficient. You weren’t just fighting—you were dismantling them. The team watched, stunned, as you rolled across the floor to grab another knife, sending it spinning through the air to hit a target across the room with unerring accuracy.
When the last enemy crumpled to the ground, you stood in the middle of the chaos, blood dripping from your lip and a knife clenched in your hand. Your chest heaved as you turned to face the team, and for a moment, silence reigned.
Soap was the first to speak. “What the hell was that?”
You wiped your cheek with the back of your hand, your usual cheery demeanor returning like a switch had been flipped. “What? Didn’t think I could handle myself?”
Gaz sputtered. “Handle yourself? You just took out a dozen guys like it was nothing!”
Ghost leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Care to explain, Black Widow?”
You froze, the nickname catching you off guard. “Where’d you hear that?”
Price chuckled, shaking his head. “We have our ways. Didn’t think we’d find out about your old unit, did you?”
You gave a sheepish shrug. “It’s not something I advertise.”
“Clearly,” Gaz muttered, his voice tinged with admiration.
Soap’s grin spread across his face. “Sunshine by day, Black Widow by night. I think I’m in love.”
You rolled your eyes, moving to free them from their restraints. “Come on, Romeo. Let’s get out of here before reinforcements arrive.”
As you worked, Ghost’s low voice cut through the air. “You’ve been hiding things.”
“Maybe.” You glanced at him with a playful smile. “But you can’t say I didn’t save your arse.”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he simply stared at you, his mind reeling with everything he’d just witnessed. The team was definitely looking at you differently now, and you knew you’d have a lot of questions to answer back at base.
But for now, you allowed yourself a small, satisfied grin. They’d finally seen what you were capable of.
And you had a feeling they’d never underestimate you again.
The med bay buzzed with the soft hum of machinery and muffled voices. Everyone was busy cleaning up cuts and bruises, but the energy was lighter than usual, a mix of relief and the lingering adrenaline from surviving the mission. You sat on the edge of a cot, dabbing a disinfectant-soaked cloth against your cheek, pretending not to notice the heavy stares from the rest of Task Force 141.
Soap broke the silence first, as expected. “Alright, lass,” he drawled, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “You’re gonna have to spill. Black Widow? Seriously?”
You gave him a sheepish grin, shrugging. “It was just a nickname from my old unit. Not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Gaz scoffed, throwing up his hands. “You took out a dozen armed men while tied to a bloody chair. That’s not ‘not a big deal.’ That’s action movie-level insanity.”
Price chuckled as he adjusted the bandage on his arm. “Gotta say, I wasn’t expecting it. You’ve been keeping secrets from us.”
“Didn’t think it mattered,” you admitted, your voice soft. “I just… didn’t want to be that person here. I like being… well, me.”
“Sunshine with a bite,” Soap teased, nudging Gaz. “You lot remember the cookies she made last week? This is the same person.”
“Terrifyingly wholesome,” Gaz said, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “You’re a walking contradiction.”
Across the room, Ghost stood leaning against a table, arms crossed, his gaze unreadable as always. “You’re wasted on cookies and small talk,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You should’ve told us.”
You met his gaze, your expression softening. “I like being part of the team this way. I didn’t want to be… her again unless I had to.”
Soap, ever the playful one, made a mock swooning motion. “And she’s humble, too. God help me, I’m falling for her.”
“Pipe down, Johnny,” Price said, though there was a glimmer of amusement in his tone. “Let her breathe.”
Ghost’s dark eyes flicked to Soap, and though his face was hidden, his body language screamed annoyance. “Show some respect.”
“Relax, Ghost. I’m just saying what we’re all thinking,” Soap retorted, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
Gaz joined in, laughing. “Speak for yourself. I’m not ‘falling,’ but I’ll admit, I’m impressed. Never thought someone could be so sweet and so dangerous. You’re like a cupcake with a grenade inside.”
You snorted, shaking your head. “That’s… an interesting way to put it.”
Ghost, however, stayed silent, his gaze never leaving you. While Soap and Gaz bantered, he watched you tend to your wounds, the way your hands moved with practiced precision. He was used to efficiency and strength, but seeing that raw skill paired with your usual warmth stirred something he hadn’t felt in years.
Price interrupted his thoughts. “Enough chatter. She saved our arses out there. That’s what matters.”
“Damn right,” Soap said, throwing you a wink. “You ever decide to switch from sunshine back to Black Widow full-time, I’ll be your number one fan.”
You rolled your eyes, a small blush creeping up your neck. “I think I’ll stick to sunshine for now.”
“Good,” Ghost said abruptly, his voice cutting through the lightheartedness. Everyone turned to him, surprised. “You’re fine as you are.”
It wasn’t much, but coming from Ghost, it felt like the highest of compliments. Your heart gave an unexpected flutter as you met his steady gaze, warmth spreading through you.
Soap whistled. “Careful, Ghost. You’re gonna make her blush.”
“Shut it, Johnny,” Ghost growled, though he didn’t look away from you.
Gaz smirked. “Looks like someone’s smitten.”
“Enough,” Price ordered, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “We’ve had a long day. Get cleaned up and get some rest.”
The team dispersed, but not before Soap gave you a dramatic bow. “Seriously, lass. You’re a bloody legend.”
You chuckled, shaking your head as they filed out, leaving you alone with Ghost. He stayed by the table, silent and still, until you looked at him.
“Ghost?” you prompted, tilting your head.
He pushed off the table and approached, stopping just a foot away. His voice was softer now, almost gentle. “You’re not just Black Widow or sunshine. You’re you. That’s what makes you dangerous. And special.”
Your breath caught at the unexpected words, and before you could respond, he turned and walked out, leaving you with a pounding heart and a small, secret smile.
Who’s in awe? Gaz. He can’t stop replaying the fight in his mind, marveling at how you went from cheerful to deadly in an instant. He’s full of admiration and will probably start calling you Captain Marvel or Wonder Woman just to mess with you.
Who’s crushing hard? Soap. His playful teasing ramps up tenfold, and he’s suddenly finding every excuse to be around you. Whether he’s asking you to teach him your knife tricks or just cracking jokes to make you laugh, his crush is painfully obvious.
Who’s completely in love? Ghost. He doesn’t say much, but the way he watches you and the rare moments of vulnerability in his voice speak volumes. He’s drawn to your balance of strength and warmth, though he’d probably take his feelings to his grave before admitting them outright.
Price treated you with a newfound respect, often calling on you for input during mission briefings or consulting you on strategy. He even let slip a rare compliment here and there, though his usual stoicism kept them brief. “You’ve earned your place,” he said one day, nodding approvingly after you dissected an enemy’s potential weak points in record time.
Gaz? He couldn’t stop talking about you. “I mean, did you see her?” he’d say, gesturing wildly during downtime. “Black Widow, flipping off chairs and throwing knives like it’s second nature. She’s insane—in the best way!” He wasn’t crushing, but he made sure everyone knew you were someone to respect (and not piss off).
Soap? Well, Soap had it bad. He hovered more, cracking jokes to make you laugh, conveniently showing up whenever you were in the gym. He even bought a new knife, claiming he wanted you to teach him your tricks. “Come on, lass,” he’d say, grinning ear to ear. “You can’t keep all the secrets to yourself. Show me how to be deadly and adorable, aye?”
But Ghost? Ghost was different.
He didn’t hover, joke, or brag like the others. Instead, he watched. His eyes followed you during drills, caught every subtle movement during sparring sessions. He lingered longer during conversations, his quiet presence always looming, always intense. He asked questions about you—not directly, but through Price or Gaz. “Where’d she learn to fight like that?” “What’s her deal with the knives?” “She always this sweet?”
The longer he watched, the more conflicted he became. He wanted you—desperately—but he didn’t know how to approach you. You were too… you. Sweet, deadly, and affectionate. Every smile you gave him, every kind word, every brush of your hand against his when you passed gear—it all drove him mad. He couldn’t get enough.
But he was terrified.
What if you saw him as just a cold, broken soldier? What if he made a move and you rejected him? Or worse—what if you laughed at him? He spent weeks trying to bury his feelings, only for them to bubble over with every soft glance and gentle word you gave him.
It happened during a late-night briefing. You and Ghost were alone in the dimly lit command room, reviewing intel on an upcoming mission. You leaned over the table, pointing out weak spots on a map, your voice soft and thoughtful as you explained your plan.
Ghost wasn’t listening.
He couldn’t. The light caught the curve of your face, the way your lips moved as you spoke. His chest tightened painfully, his pulse pounding in his ears. You turned to look at him, brows furrowing slightly. “Ghost? You okay?”
He snapped.
Before he could stop himself, he reached out, his gloved hand brushing your cheek. Your eyes widened, but you didn’t pull away. His voice, rough and low, trembled slightly. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?” you whispered, breathless.
“This.” He stepped closer, his hands moving to your shoulders. His gaze burned into yours, desperate and full of conflict. “You—you're driving me mad. Every time you smile, every time you speak, every damn time you look at me—I can’t take it.”
You blinked, stunned. “Ghost—”
“Simon,” he interrupted, his voice softer now. “My name is Simon.”
Then, before he could lose his nerve, he pressed you against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours in a kiss so full of fire and longing it left you gasping. His hands framed your face, as if he was afraid you’d disappear, his body trembling with the force of his emotions.
For a terrifying moment, he thought he’d made a mistake. He started to pull away, mumbling, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”
But your hands reached up, tangling in his hair and pulling him closer. “Don’t you dare stop,” you whispered against his lips, your voice soft but firm.
He froze, and then his resolve shattered completely. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly as he deepened the kiss, pouring every ounce of his pent-up desire and emotion into you. You responded with equal fervor, your touch gentle and grounding, a perfect contrast to his intensity.
When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested together, your breath mingling in the quiet room. Ghost stared at you, vulnerability etched into his every feature. “I thought you’d push me away,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.
You smiled, your fingers tracing soothing patterns along the back of his neck. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m… me,” he said simply, his usual confidence stripped away.
You shook your head, your expression tender. “And I’m me. Apparently very bad at hiding my feelings for you.”
His lips quirked into a rare, genuine smile. “Feelings, huh?”
“Shut up, Simon.”
He kissed you again, softer this time, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he was enough.
From that day forward, everything changed. Ghost was still Ghost—silent, brooding, and intimidating—but there was a softness in his gaze whenever he looked at you. The team noticed, of course.
Soap was the first to call him out. “So, Ghost, any chance I’ll get lessons on how to woo the Black Widow?”
Ghost’s glare was enough to make Soap back off—temporarily. Gaz smirked knowingly, while Price simply shook his head with a small smile.
You, however, had no complaints. For all his stoicism and gruffness, Simon Riley loved with the same intensity he fought with. Fiercely, protectively, and with everything he had. And you wouldn’t trade it for the world.
The room was dim, lit only by a single lamp on the desk. Ghost—Simon—had just returned from a long day of training and debriefings, and he wanted nothing more than to be near you. You didn’t disappoint, slipping into his quarters with your usual grace, flashing him that soft, affectionate smile that made his chest ache in the best way.
Now, you found yourself pressed against the wall, your hands buried in the fabric of his shirt as his lips devoured yours. His kisses were rough, demanding, but there was a tenderness beneath them—a quiet desperation that only made your heart race faster. His hands rested on your waist, fingers tightening whenever you tugged him closer.
“Simon…” you murmured between kisses, your voice soft but insistent.
That single word sent a shiver down his spine. Hearing you call him by his name, the one so few people knew, made him weak. You didn’t call him Ghost, didn’t treat him like some untouchable figure. To you, he was just Simon—a man who wanted, needed, craved you.
He growled low in his throat, pressing you tighter against him. “You drive me insane, you know that?” he muttered, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck.
“Good,” you teased breathlessly, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging lightly.
He bit back a groan, his composure unraveling with every touch, every sound you made. When you moaned his name—Simon—right into his ear, so sweetly, so reverently, it was over.
A guttural sound escaped his lips as his body betrayed him completely, his hips jerking involuntarily. He stiffened, his breathing ragged as the heat of embarrassment flooded his face. He tried to pull back, his forehead resting against yours as he let out a shaky breath. “Shit… I—”
You blinked up at him, a mixture of confusion and realization dawning on your face. “Oh,” you said softly, your cheeks tinting pink.
Simon’s hands moved to your shoulders, as if bracing himself for rejection. “I didn’t mean for—”
“Simon,” you interrupted gently, cupping his face in your hands. “It’s okay.”
He froze, his wide, vulnerable eyes meeting yours. “It’s not—I should’ve—”
“Hey.” Your voice was soft but firm, grounding him. “It’s fine. Really.”
When he didn’t respond, you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your fingers brushing through his hair soothingly. His tense frame began to relax, though he still looked uncertain, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity. “It just means you… felt something, right?”
He huffed out a weak laugh, shaking his head. “Felt something? I felt everything, love. And now I’ve made a mess of myself.”
You smiled, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slow and deliberate. “It happens. And I don’t mind helping.”
His brows furrowed as you stepped back, heading toward his small dresser to grab him a clean pair of boxers. He watched in stunned silence as you moved with ease, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.
You handed the clothes to him, your smile warm and teasing. “Go clean up. I’ll wait.”
Simon hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. You weren’t disgusted or uncomfortable. If anything, you were… amused, maybe even endeared. He felt his chest tighten with an overwhelming sense of affection.
“(Y/N),” he said quietly, his voice filled with gratitude.
“Go,” you urged gently, shooing him toward the bathroom with a loving smile.
When he returned a few minutes later, freshly changed and still slightly pink-faced, you were sitting on his bed, waiting for him. You patted the spot beside you, and he hesitated before joining you.
You immediately wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, placing soft little kisses on his shoulder. “Better?”
He let out a deep sigh, leaning into your touch, your affection. “Better.”
For a while, you sat there in comfortable silence, your fingers tracing soothing patterns along his back. He closed his eyes, letting the tension melt away under your care.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmured, his voice barely audible.
You smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “So are you, Simon.”
He tightened his hold on you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. In that moment, he let himself feel it all—the love, the comfort, the safety he found in your arms.
And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to believe he deserved it.
Simon Riley had always been a man of control. In combat, his precision was unmatched. On missions, his focus was unshakeable. Even in the chaos of battle, he maintained a tight grip on his emotions and actions.
But with you? Control was a thing of the past.
He didn’t understand it—couldn’t, really. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word from you sent his carefully built walls crumbling to the ground. You were his undoing in the best way, and it terrified him just as much as it thrilled him.
Tonight was no different.
The two of you were tangled in the sheets of his bunk, the dim light of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows on your skin. Your hands moved over him with a mix of tenderness and confidence, as if you knew every scar, every inch of him, and loved it all the same. Your lips followed suit, trailing kisses along his jaw, his neck, his chest, leaving him breathless and aching for more.
“(Y/N)…” His voice was low and strained, his hands gripping your waist as if to ground himself.
You smiled against his skin, your touch never faltering. “I’m here, Simon. I’ve got you.”
And that was the problem. You always had him. In ways no one ever had before.
The warmth of your body against his, the soft sounds you made as he held you closer—it all overwhelmed him. He tried to pace himself, tried to focus on you the way you deserved, but every time he gave in to you, it was like a dam breaking. The sensation of your lips, your hands, the way you whispered his name—it was too much, too perfect.
He didn’t stand a chance.
When he finally let himself go, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his body trembled with release, he felt equal parts blissful and embarrassed. His breathing was ragged, his heart pounding as he tightened his grip on you, trying to hide the flush creeping up his neck.
“Shit,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin.
You stroked his back gently, your fingers threading through his hair. “What’s wrong?” you asked softly, concern lacing your tone.
“Too fast,” he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. “It’s always too fast with you.”
You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. His mask was off, his expression raw and vulnerable in a way few ever saw. Your heart ached at the sight.
“Simon,” you said gently, cupping his face in your hands. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” he argued, his brows furrowing. “You deserve better than this—better than me falling apart like a bloody idiot every time.”
You smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly. “You’re not an idiot. You’re human. And if I make you feel this way, it just means you trust me enough to let go.”
He stared at you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of insincerity. But all he found was love. Pure, unfiltered love.
“You’re not disappointed?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Disappointed?” you repeated, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Simon, you make me feel loved and wanted every single time we’re together. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
His throat tightened, and he pulled you closer, burying his face in your hair. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured.
You laughed softly, your arms wrapping around him. “I could say the same about you.”
For a while, you just held each other, the room filled with the quiet hum of your breathing. Simon’s hands traced lazy patterns on your back, his earlier frustration melting away under your soothing touch.
Eventually, you pulled back, your lips quirking into a playful smile. “Now, come on. Let me clean you up.”
Simon groaned, his face heating up again. “You don’t have to—”
“Hush,” you interrupted, pressing a finger to his lips. “Let me take care of you for once.”
He sighed, reluctantly letting you slip out of bed to grab a warm cloth. When you returned, you knelt beside him, your touch gentle as you cleaned him up. He watched you in silence, his heart swelling with affection at the care in your every movement.
“You’re unbelievable,” he said softly, his voice laced with awe.
You glanced up at him, a teasing smile on your lips. “Good unbelievable or bad unbelievable?”
He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. “The best kind.”
When you were done, you climbed back into bed, curling up against his side. He held you close, his fingers tangled in your hair as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.
You smiled, your eyes drifting shut as you nuzzled into his chest. “Yes, you do. Every bit of me, Simon.”
And for the first time in years, Simon Riley believed it.
Simon Riley lay beside you, his mask discarded, his dark eyes soft in the low light of the room. It had been a long day, filled with briefings, sparring matches, and stolen moments together. Now, with the rest of the base quiet, it was just the two of you—no missions, no danger, just the space to breathe and be together.
You turned your head on the pillow to look at him, your smile sweet and genuine. “What’re you thinking about?”
He hesitated, his gaze flickering to your lips, then back to your eyes. You had a way of undoing him without even trying—a smile, a laugh, the way you touched him with such care, as if he wasn’t made of sharp edges and shadows. And when you were together, intimately? It was more than he could handle sometimes. You made him feel everything, breaking through his carefully guarded walls like no one else ever had.
But tonight, Simon had a plan—a way to show you exactly how much you meant to him.
“I’m thinking…” He shifted closer, his voice low and deliberate, “that maybe I’ve been a bit selfish.”
You raised a brow, confused. “Selfish? How?”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips as he cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You always put me first,” he murmured. “Always comforting me, taking care of me. I don’t give you half as much as you deserve.”
“Simon,” you began, but he silenced you with a kiss.
It was slow, tender, and deliberate, leaving you breathless by the time he pulled away. His hand slid down your body, tracing over your waist and hip as he pressed another kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“Let me take care of you tonight,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.
Your eyes widened slightly, your heart skipping a beat as his meaning became clear. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he interrupted, his lips trailing down your jaw. “Let me.”
The intensity in his eyes left no room for argument, and you nodded, your breath hitching as he shifted lower on the bed.
Simon took his time, his hands moving with a mix of reverence and purpose as he pulled your clothes away, exposing your skin to his gaze. He pressed kisses to your thighs, his stubble scraping lightly against your sensitive skin, drawing a shiver from you.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice full of awe. “You know that, don’t you?”
Your cheeks flushed, and you let out a soft laugh. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
He smirked, the rare expression making your heart flutter, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he lowered himself further, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Your laughter dissolved into a quiet gasp as he kissed his way closer, his hands gripping your hips to keep you steady.
When his mouth finally found you, it was as if the world stopped. Simon was slow and deliberate, his tongue and lips working with a skill that left you breathless. He paid attention to every sound you made, every shiver and twitch, adjusting his movements to bring you closer to the edge.
You tangled your fingers in his hair, your breaths coming in short, desperate gasps as he pulled you apart piece by piece. “Simon,” you moaned, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.
He groaned against you at the sound, the vibration sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your body. His grip on your hips tightened, holding you steady as he pushed you higher and higher until you couldn’t take it anymore.
Your release hit you like a tidal wave, your back arching as a strangled cry escaped your lips. Simon didn’t stop, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure before finally pulling back.
When he looked up at you, his lips glistening, his dark eyes filled with a mix of pride and affection, you couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly. “You’re… something else, Simon Riley.”
He smirked, crawling back up to lay beside you, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close. “Just making sure my girl knows how much she means to me.”
You cupped his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek as you kissed him softly. “I already know. But I wouldn’t mind you reminding me like that every now and then.”
He chuckled, his breath warm against your lips. “Anything for you, love. Anything.”
You smiled, resting your head against his chest as his arms tightened around you. In his embrace, you felt safe, cherished, and utterly loved—a feeling you knew Simon would always give you, in his own quiet, devoted way.
The 141 Task Force had been in the gym for hours, pushing through rounds of training, building up their stamina for the missions ahead. The usual banter was going on in the background, but Simon couldn’t focus on any of it. His mind kept drifting back to last night—the taste of you, the way you had come undone beneath his touch.
He was trying to keep it together, but the image of you trembling, your fingers tangled in his hair, and your moans echoing in his ears were all-consuming. God, you had felt so good. Every inch of you had sent him spiraling deeper, and he couldn’t shake the memory of it. Your scent, your taste—it had haunted him all morning, and now, in the middle of a training session, it was driving him crazy.
His muscles were tight from the sparring, but the real tension was elsewhere. His pants were uncomfortably tight, his body betraying him as he tried to force himself to focus on the drills.
Focus, Riley. Focus…
But it was no use. His mind kept wandering back to you, to the way you had felt in his arms, to the way you had called his name. The sound of your breath, the feel of your body against his—it was all he could think about.
"Oi, Ghost, you good?" Soap's voice cut through his thoughts.
Simon gritted his teeth, his jaw tightening as he turned toward Soap. "Fine. Just tired," he lied, his voice thick with tension.
Soap eyed him suspiciously but didn't press it, continuing with his exercises. But Simon's mind was elsewhere. He needed relief.
His breathing became shallow as his thoughts spiraled again. Focus on the mission. Focus on the team. But nothing was working.
His gaze flickered over to where you were sparring with Gaz, your movements graceful and precise. You looked so damn good, and it only made his situation worse. The thought of you, of last night, had him hot and bothered in a way that was beyond his control.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, clenching his fists.
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed a break. A cold one.
Without a word, Simon stalked off toward the locker room, his pace quickening as he got closer to the showers. He couldn’t think straight anymore. His body was betraying him, and he knew there was only one thing that could cool him off.
The sound of the cold water hitting his skin was a relief as Simon stepped under the stream, closing his eyes for a moment to let the chill settle into his muscles. But even the cold water couldn’t help him shake the image of you.
You.
His hand gripped the shower wall, his teeth gritting as the memories flooded back—your taste, the way your body had shuddered against his. How had he never felt anything so intense before?
He growled, pressing his forehead against the cool tiles. This is ridiculous.
The water ran over him, but he could still feel the heat from his thoughts, and it was making him insane. He had never felt this way about anyone, never so consumed by desire. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.
And yet… when he thought about you, when he thought about being with you, about the way you made him feel… he couldn’t help but want more.
The sound of your laugh echoed in his mind, the way your hands had held him close, the way you had whispered his name with such sweetness and trust.
Focus, Riley. Get your shit together.
But the truth was, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to get it together anymore.
He leaned his head back, letting the cold water hit his face. All he could think about was you. And right now, that was all he needed.
You noticed Simon’s absence the moment the sparring session ended. While the others laughed and exchanged quips, his brooding presence was nowhere to be found. Soap had mentioned Simon “seemed off,” but no one else seemed concerned.
Except you.
The thought of him slipping away in that quiet, stoic way of his tugged at you. You knew him better than anyone here—better than he probably wanted you to. He wasn’t just blowing off steam; something was bothering him.
“Hey, guys, I’ll catch up later,” you said with a casual wave, earning a curious look from Price but no protests.
The locker room was quiet when you stepped in, the sound of a running shower guiding you toward him. You paused outside, listening, your heart aching slightly at the low groan that slipped through the noise.
You didn’t need to see him to know what was going on. Simon had been different all morning—distracted, tense. And you could hazard a guess as to why.
Slipping inside, you moved quietly toward the shower stalls. Steam clouded the room, and the closer you got, the more your chest tightened. You peeked around the corner, and there he was—Simon, his broad shoulders hunched under the icy spray, one hand braced against the tile wall. His head was bowed, his body taut with tension.
“Simon,” you called softly, stepping closer.
He froze, his head whipping around. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the heat lingering there, barely contained.
“What are you doing here?” he rasped, his voice strained.
You took another step forward, your hands clasped in front of you, your gaze soft. “I noticed you were gone,” you said simply. “Wanted to check on you.”
His jaw clenched, his gaze flickering away. “I’m fine.”
You tilted your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Are you, though?”
The faint pink coloring his ears told you everything you needed to know. He was embarrassed, vulnerable in a way he hated, and it broke your heart just a little.
“You don’t have to deal with this alone,” you said gently, stepping closer.
“(Y/N),” he warned, his voice low and gravelly.
But you didn’t stop. You reached out, placing a hand on his forearm, and he flinched slightly before relaxing under your touch.
“You’re my man,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “Whatever you’re going through, I’m here for you. Always.”
His eyes met yours, conflicted and raw. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the water.
“I do,” you countered, your other hand moving to cup his cheek. He leaned into your touch despite himself, his eyes closing for a moment.
You pressed a kiss to his chest, your lips brushing against the scarred skin. “Let me take care of you, Simon.”
His breath hitched, and when he opened his eyes, they were filled with something between desperation and adoration. He didn’t say a word as you gently nudged him back against the wall, the water cascading over both of you.
Lowering yourself to your knees, you held his gaze, your hands trailing down his sides. He was already hard, straining against the fabric of his wet boxers that he hadn't taken off on purpose... fighting his desires, and you could see the way his breath quickened as you touched him.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” you interrupted, your voice firm yet full of affection.
Sliding his boxers down, you freed him, your hands moving with care and reverence. He was already trembling slightly, and the vulnerability in his eyes only made you more determined to show him how much you loved him.
You leaned forward, your lips brushing against his tip, and he let out a ragged gasp, his hand moving to tangle in your hair. His restraint was admirable, but you didn’t want him to hold back.
As you took him into your mouth, his low groan echoed through the shower, his fingers tightening in your hair. You moved slowly, savoring the way he responded to you, the way his body trembled under your touch.
“God, (Y/N),” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your eyes soft. “You don’t have to hold back with me, Simon. I’m yours. Always.”
His chest heaved, his hand moving to cup your cheek as his other stayed buried in your hair. “Mine,” he repeated, his voice almost a growl.
You smiled, your lips brushing against him before you continued, your pace steady and deliberate. He was unraveling, his breaths coming in short gasps as he tried to hold himself together.
When he finally came undone, his release was accompanied by a deep, guttural moan, his body trembling as he braced himself against the wall. You stayed with him through it, your hands steadying him, your touch full of love and care.
As he sank to his knees in front of you, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. “You didn’t have to do that,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of gratitude.
“I wanted to,” you replied, your fingers brushing through his damp hair. “You’re everything to me, Simon. I’ll always take care of you.”
He kissed you then, his lips slow and tender against yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.
“You deserve everything,” you said firmly, your hands cradling his face.
He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as the water poured over both of you. In that moment, there were no shadows, no walls—just the two of you, completely and utterly in love.
Simon held you tightly, his head buried in the crook of your neck as the steam from the shower enveloped you both. His breathing was still uneven, his body trembling slightly as he came down from the high you had just given him. You ran your fingers gently through his damp hair, placing soft kisses along his temple, whispering reassurances that only made his chest tighten further with emotion.
He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky to have you, and yet, every time he thought about it, he couldn’t stop the overwhelming need to show you how much you meant to him.
Especially now.
Because even as the warmth of your love settled in his chest, his mind was betraying him—images of last night flooding back with vivid clarity. The way you had writhed beneath him, the taste of you on his tongue, the way your body had arched as you fell apart under his relentless attention. God, he could still feel the way your thighs had quivered around his head, the sweet sounds you’d made as you begged him for more.
And now, you were here. Warm, soft, and all his.
His arms tightened around you, his lips brushing against your neck as his voice came out rough and low. “(Y/N)…”
You hummed softly, tilting your head to press a kiss to his cheek. “Yes, Simon?”
His lips found your skin again, pressing lingering kisses along your jawline, each one filled with an intensity that made your heart race. “Need you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Your fingers stilled in his hair as you pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes searching his. His pupils were blown wide, his gaze filled with both vulnerability and a raw, unrelenting desire.
“Simon…” you started, your voice soft and full of affection.
But he didn’t let you finish. His lips captured yours in a deep, searing kiss that left you breathless, his hands roaming over your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. The water cascading over you both only added to the heat building between you, and when his lips left yours to trail down your neck, you couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped you.
“You’re mine,” he growled against your skin, his voice thick with possession.
“Always,” you breathed, your hands gripping his shoulders as he shifted you against the tiled wall, his large frame towering over you.
His lips found your collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before his mouth moved lower. His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips as he knelt before you, his dark eyes looking up at you with an intensity that sent a shiver through you.
“Simon, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he interrupted, echoing your words from earlier. “You’re mine, and I need to taste you again. Now.”
Your breath hitched as his hands gently guided your legs over his shoulders, his lips pressing kisses along the inside of your thighs that had you trembling. His eyes never left yours, even as his mouth descended on you, drawing a gasp from your lips that quickly turned into a moan.
“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered against you, his voice muffled but no less reverent.
The moment his tongue flicked against you, all coherent thoughts left your mind. Your hands flew to his hair, gripping it tightly as he worked you over with a skill and fervor that left you breathless. He was relentless, his lips and tongue worshiping you, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady as you writhed beneath his touch.
“Simon—” you gasped, your voice trembling as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.
“That’s it, love,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Let me hear you.”
Your cries echoed off the tiled walls, his name spilling from your lips like a mantra as he took you apart piece by piece. And when you finally came undone, your body shaking with the force of it, he held you through it, his tongue and lips coaxing every last wave of pleasure from you.
When you finally opened your eyes, your breathing ragged, you found him staring up at you, his lips glistening and a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
“You taste like heaven,” he murmured, his voice rough and filled with adoration.
Your cheeks flushed, and you couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly, pulling him up to kiss him deeply. The taste of yourself on his lips only fueled the fire between you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close.
“I love you,” you whispered against his lips, your fingers brushing through his damp hair.
His arms tightened around you, his forehead resting against yours. “I love you too,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “You’re mine, (Y/N). Always.”
“And you’re mine,” you replied, your lips curling into a soft smile. “Whenever you want me, Simon, I’m yours. Always.”
The look in his eyes was pure devotion, and as he kissed you again, you knew there was no place you’d rather be than in the arms of the man who loved you so fiercely.
Simon Riley, the Ghost, had faced countless enemies, weathered impossible missions, and endured more than most men could fathom. But nothing—nothing—prepared him for the way you utterly unraveled him.
It wasn’t just the way you looked at him with those eyes that saw right through his walls, or the soft smiles you reserved just for him. It wasn’t even the way your body felt against his, or how you melted under his touch. No, it was everything.
You were his perfect storm.
And the addiction? That was a whole other beast.
It had started as a way to focus on you, to make you feel as worshiped as he believed you deserved. But somewhere along the line, Simon had realized he was the one who couldn’t get enough. The taste of you lingered on his tongue like a haunting melody, the way you trembled under his hands etched into his memory like scripture. He’d think about the breathless way you said his name, the way your thighs squeezed him, the soft pleas falling from your lips, and he’d lose himself.
Even now, as you sat curled up on his lap in the common area, innocently running your fingers over his chest and chatting with Soap, Simon was struggling.
Your scent was still faintly on him—evidence of the indulgence that had happened not even two hours ago. He’d dragged you into the locker room after training under the pretense of “needing a word,” only to fall to his knees before you, murmuring praises against your skin as he drove you wild.
And here you were, like nothing had happened, laughing softly at Soap’s antics, while Simon could only think about taking you back to his room and doing it all over again.
Soap’s voice pulled him from his spiraling thoughts.
“Ghost, you’ve been quiet. Everything alright, mate?”
Simon cleared his throat, his arm tightening subtly around your waist as he gave Soap a curt nod. “Fine. Just listening.”
Soap grinned, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Must be you. You’ve tamed the big bad Ghost, lass. Never seen him this relaxed.”
You giggled, the sound like music to Simon’s ears, and leaned back into him. “I’m just lucky, I guess.”
Simon ducked his head to hide the smirk tugging at his lips, his fingers trailing along your side possessively. Lucky didn’t even begin to cover it.
Later that evening, when the base was quiet and the team had retired for the night, Simon finally had you to himself.
You were in his room, wearing one of his shirts, the hem brushing your thighs as you moved around. His eyes followed your every step, the way the fabric clung to your curves, the teasing glimpse of skin that sent his thoughts spiraling.
“Simon?”
Your voice broke through his haze, and he realized you were standing in front of him, looking at him with a mix of curiosity and concern.
“You alright?” you asked softly, your hand coming up to rest on his cheek.
He didn’t answer right away, instead leaning into your touch, his eyes closing as he took a steadying breath.
“I’m fine,” he murmured, though the hoarseness of his voice betrayed him.
“Are you sure?”
His eyes opened, meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. Slowly, he stood, towering over you as his hands settled on your hips.
“I need you,” he said, his voice low and raw. “Now.”
Your lips parted, a soft blush creeping across your cheeks, but you didn’t hesitate. Your hands slid up his chest, curling around his neck as you pressed yourself against him.
“I’m yours, Simon,” you whispered, your voice trembling with affection. “Always.”
By the time he had you on the bed, spread out beneath him, Simon was entirely undone. His lips trailed down your body, his hands worshiping every inch of you as he worked his way lower.
“You drive me insane,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire.
You giggled softly, your hands tangling in his hair. “Good.”
His breath hitched at your teasing tone, and he looked up at you with a smirk that sent shivers down your spine. “Careful, love. You might regret that.”
But the only thing you regretted was the loss of your breath as his lips and tongue made contact, his hands gripping your thighs as he devoured you with a hunger that left you trembling.
Simon wasn’t just passionate—he was thorough, determined, and utterly dedicated to making you feel as perfect as he believed you were. Every sound you made, every arch of your body, only spurred him on, and by the time he finally pulled away, you were a trembling, breathless mess.
As he kissed his way back up your body, his eyes met yours, filled with a raw intensity that made your heart race.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
You cupped his face, pulling him down into a soft, lingering kiss. “You don’t have to. I’m yours, Simon. Always.”
His lips curved into a rare smile, and as he pulled you into his arms, holding you close, he knew without a doubt that you were the best thing to ever happen to him.
The moment Simon joined with you, it was as if the rest of the world ceased to exist. There were no missions, no burdens of the past, no shadows creeping at the edges of his mind—only you. You, who met him with such tenderness and love, grounding him in a way he never thought possible.
His movements were slow, deliberate, savoring every second. The way your body molded to his, the way your soft gasps and whispered praises filled the room, sent him spiraling faster than he wanted to admit.
“God, love…” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with emotion. “You… you’re too much.”
“Then don’t hold back, Simon,” you whispered, cupping his face as you kissed him deeply. “I love you. All of you.”
Those words undid him completely.
Simon didn’t last long—he rarely did when it came to you. The intensity of his feelings, combined with the sheer perfection of being with you, overwhelmed him every time. But even as he came undone, his mind was already racing, determined to make up for it.
And he did.
Before you could even catch your breath, he was moving, his lips trailing kisses across your skin, his hands exploring your body with reverence.
“Again,” he rasped, his voice laced with desperation as he looked up at you, his dark eyes filled with adoration. “Need you again.”
You giggled softly, your fingers threading through his hair as you nodded. “I’m yours, Simon. Always.”
What followed was a night neither of you would forget.
Every touch, every kiss, every whispered declaration of love was etched into your souls. Simon couldn’t get enough of you—your taste, your scent, the way you responded to him like he was the only thing that mattered.
And you… you were more than happy to meet his fervor.
There was no rush, no urgency—just the two of you, lost in each other. Simon made love to you like a man starved, each round more intense and passionate than the last. His stamina surprised even him, driven by the overwhelming need to worship every inch of you, to show you just how much you meant to him.
By the time the early hours of the morning crept in, both of you were exhausted, tangled together in the sheets. Your head rested on his chest, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his skin as his arm held you close, his hand stroking your hair.
“You’re going to ruin me,” Simon muttered, his voice thick with affection as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
You smiled, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He chuckled softly, his rare smile lighting up his face. “Never. You’re everything to me.”
“And you’re everything to me,” you replied, leaning up to kiss him gently.
As the two of you drifted off to sleep, still wrapped up in each other, Simon couldn’t help but think about how lucky he was. You were his anchor, his light in the darkness, and he would spend every day of his life proving just how much he loved you.
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Just a small drabble about Capt. Price grappling with the UK gov. and their role in different conflicts
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“What?” you turn over your shoulder, “John, years of your life have been dedicated to this' ' John continued to scrub the dishes as if commenting on the weather, and not leaving a career he’s been in for over 20 years.
“It’s all going to be alright, I’ve got savings, Love” He said crossing the kitchen to hold your hands, “we’ll be alright.”
“You love your job” you urge squeezing his hands, “I don’t understand”
He dropped his hold on you, wringing his hands ``I- I’ve done a lot of things. Unforgivable things. But the bullshit orders they’ve been passing out lately, I just can’t justify it.” He steps forward again, slipping his hands into the soft plushes of your hips, your hands trail up his arms finding his neck, “I just rationalise the orders”
You shift your hands to cup his face, leaning back allowing him to curve himself over you, leaning in you ask “can you tell me?” He slowly shakes his head, “okay” you stand back up, clapping your hands together “Now, what about our boys?”
Leaning back with an appreciative chuckle tightening his grip on you, “My lads will follow me wherever I go”
Reader admits her feelings for Ghost on a mission, sex happens. PinV, oral, fingering, dirty talk.
“You bring ‘em in like stray dogs. Leave it this time.” Ghost’s order is borderline amused when you eye the contraband sitting atop the server racks. He’d rolled up his sleeved coat after an hour of sweating in the server room, revealing thick muscled forearms that sent your eyes darting for more than just weapons to loot. The man was distracting, with either the voice, the body or the way he commanded a room. He was turning into a liability, but you weren’t sure how to dismiss yourself from the team any sooner. You’d already asked Price for an out, which he guaranteed would happen as soon as they could manage without you.
Getting shot because you were busy staring at the lieutenant was not an ideal way to expedite the process.
“We’re going to have to find something to do here. I couldn’t even play Snake if I wanted to.” You mutter, toeing one of the eighteen massive steel beams just in the tech room alone. With the amount of tech they supplied, you’d been amazed at the lack of personnel guarding the damn things. Further stunned at the little time it’d taken to find the massive fans and cooling systems and shut them down.
It’d taken only minutes for the basement to become uncomfortably warm. Half an hour in, and you’d stripped free of your coat and shoved it into your already full backpack. Simon had offered to carry it in his back on your behalf, but you declined. Going through his things, being at his back but not watching it was too intimate for some reason. Sure, he was your teammate, and sure, you’d swiped more than a few mags of ammo from the exact backpack, but the soft way he’d said it, how he’d eyed you a moment after taking it off felt like toeing a border that you were more than aware of.
“We’ve got two hours before our bird arrives, you’ll be fine.” He dismisses your complaint, shrugging his shoulders and shifting the pack around. You step towards him, forgetting your own rules and boundaries around him for a moment, and raise your arms to unbuckle the chest strap of the pack. His hands catch yours and his brows narrow behind the mask. You suddenly are distinctly aware of how easily he could break your hand in a hundred different ways, but the warmth and gentleness of his gloved touch is the most distracting part of it.
“You should take a break, let me carry it for a while.” You fuss, hoping that it comes off as helpful and not nagging. You’d already insisted he buy a balm for his shoulder and knees at the shop closest to the safehouse. Was your concern for him too obvious? “So I don’t have to hear you complain about how sore you are later?” You press, noting how his eyes dart from your eyes to your lips, then to where your hands meet.
Your stomach rolls, and you fear for nausea with the intensity of it. With the way his dark eyes somehow see through you and into what your words really intend. “Let me take care of you. Let me touch you.”
And it’s a miracle he doesn’t see the way you watch his every movement, that or incredible stupidity. But you know he isn’t stupid. You know he reads others like the damned menu he’d stolen from your hands once you’d arrived here. The Intel Target had reserved a time with a particularly well known black market dealer and their joint decision to dine out had resulted in one of the best meals of your life.
He knew you couldn’t read the language, and had taken it upon himself to just know you. To know exactly what you wanted and how you’d wanted it cooked. He’d ordered your meal as fluently as he held a gun, and you’d nearly forgotten about your mission in the bliss of the taste of it all.
He nods once, a slow movement before he’s slinging his rifle strap over his head and removing the pack with lethal efficiency.
“What’s that look about? What’re you thinkin’?” He asks, eyeing you as you push the memory away.
“How good that damned dinner was.” You answer truthfully, wondering if losing him isn’t worth the safety it would ensure. The pack weighs heavy on your shoulders, along with the guilt.
He rolls his neck and sigs as you adjust the straps to your body, clicking the chest buckle into place and tugging it tight. “Maybe I’ll convince Price to keep you ‘round.” He said, and you can hear the mocking in his tone.
Your words come automatically. “I’m needed with second squad.” You lie. It’s what you’d been telling Soap for the last three weeks, no more detail, no more emotion than that. But Simon… he knows something is wrong with the quipped words and selective tone. But it’s the only thing you’re able to tell him, really. His brows twitch together for a moment at your short explanation, and he turns to you fully, taking his eyes off the exits. Your heart thunders, blood pounding in your ears as loud as the servers begin to whine around you.
“Second squad-” He practically spits the name. “doesn't deal in your expertise, Leto.” His voice rumbles and your mouth falls open as he steps closer, towering over you. For a moment you can only marvel at the brutality of his build. A tank of a killing machine he is, tall and built and ready for you to climb. A True, full blooded warrior, to the very core.
And behind that mask, and those eyes that pierce through to your very being - He knows. Oh God, he knows you’re lying. Your eyes go wide, and like a fool you forgo all your interrogation training. “What isn’t Price telling me?” He growls, his hands going to the radio at his hip.
You stammer, trying your damnedest to put on a show of innocence. “Nothing, he wouldn’t-” God now he’s thinking Price is going to betray him, you’ll tear the team to pieces if he thinks-
“Guess I can ask for myself-” He pulls the radio free, his eyes still boring into yours.
He raises it slowly, giving you time to lie more, to come up with a shitty excuse for why you’d been avoiding missions with him for the last few months. Why you’d had to beg Second Squadron to open a spot for you and your expertise as he’d called it.
“Stop-” You gasp, hands catching his before he can make the comms live. His finger brings the small screen to life, the green glow reflecting in his eyes. “Fuck Simon, christ. Okay, Okay stop.” You breathe, and surprisingly he allows you to take the radio from him.
“I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. With you-” The words feel like poison as you release them, it aches deep in your chest to know how real they are. His eyes flash wide, then his features harden, his mask adjusting to what you’d imagine to be a flexed jaw and thin lipped grimace.
“I asked to be switched. You’re… distracting. I- get distracted around you, I mean.” You sigh, and your sweaty hands leave your weapon, a dull reminder of the real reason you’re in the sweltering basement beneath miles of concrete.
He stills, body going taut and flexed in that way he does when he’s listening for enemy footsteps.”Go on.” He insists. In this moment it wouldn’t be so bad if enemies found you. It’d save you from having to explain further.
“Goddammit Ghost-” You push a hand through your hair, tugging slightly. “I’ve had it a rule for myself for my entire career to never get involved. And here you are, ruining it.” You spit it out, like your feelings are somehow his fault. At least he knows now. At least you don't have to go on lying to him when he can tell your words are false.
There’s a long pause, the only sound the whirring struggle of the tech around you. His eyes don't leave yours, and you duck your head in shame.
“‘M’not Ghost to you, though, am I?” He steps closer, closing in around you, making it so you’re forced to stare up at him and arch backwards against one of the boxes behind you.
“What-” You shake your head, confused at his question.
He leans down close, and you tense, ready to fight him if needed. But his words had no intent of violence in them, not even a hint of it. Still, your muscles bunched, ready to attack if he so much as raised his voice. Ready to fight. Ready.. For what? He’d been the guarding your back for the last four years, since you’d been assigned to 141. He’d never hurt you, physically anyway. Was your body preparing for his rejection? Was it truly ready to try to fend off the man twice your size that had bested you in every sparring competition you’d ever had with him?
His mouth is on the cusp of your ear when he speaks. “I’ve heard you whinin’, moaning my name.” He says slowly, and your heart stops for a moment. Heat surges from your neck to your ears. Your eyes prick with embarrassed tears. “Oh Simon, ooh fuck.” He mimics, rolling his hips forward, his thigh brushing the inside of your own.
“Ghost-” Your words are choked, and you’re relieved when he interrupts you.
“We’ve not shared a room in some time, but I still hear you.” He pulls back,only enough to look you in the eyes and he smiles, his eyes crinkling when he stares you down. “I still..listen for you.” He nods slightly, his eyes flicking from yours to your lips.
Your breath hitches in your throat, and you're on him before he can say anything else. His mask is warm and wet with sweat, but he lifts it up enough to expose his mouth and the stubbled chin and jaw. His lips are magnetic, pulling you in and keeping you there as he palms your ass. He flicks the front strap of the backpack off and in a moment you’re shedding layers and layers of gear and armor plates that suddenly seem ridiculous to be carrying in the first place.
If he’s the one getting you killed, dying may not seem so harsh.
He’s tender and giving until you nip at his lower lip and scratch down his back once he’s removed his vest, then he’s teeth and demanding hands that you knew could do exactly this. What you’ve dreamed about, apparently.
He picks you up with ease, bringing you back to a windowless room where you’d downloaded the server information. He sets you stop a cold desk and swipes an arm across the surface, sending office supplies and monitors crashing to the ground before he’s on you once again. His tongue traces yours slowly, rhythmically as his hands search and pull and bite into your skin. Calloused, strong fingers brush over your breasts and grip every part of you’d been imagining since you’d joined 141.
He’s feral and somehow controlled at the same time, a balance of will and want. Only you’ve been waiting for this for years. You’ve been dreaming about him, and the want for him outweighs your will and control. “I need you.” You gasp when he lifts your shirt over your head. You pull his up as well, marveling at how solid he is, how built and perfect every feature is.
You want to taste it all.
But he’s controlling the pace, and you have no problem with it. His tongue traces masterfully over your skin, along the column of your neck, sending a new surge of fire to your core. Maybe you would retract your request to move to Second Squad, if it meant you’d get to be with Simon.
He rips your pants down, dragging your panties with them, exposing your swollen cunt to the air. “Fuck me-” He breathes, working his own pants to the floor around his boots. He kneels before you and spreads you apart, his eyes dragging over the most sensitive parts of you.
“Intend to.” You gasp as his bare hand circles your clit. He pulls his other glove off with his teeth and lets it fall to the floor, never looking away from either your pussy or your face as he learns you in a whole new way.
“Filthy fucking girl.” He growls approvingly, before burying himself in your pussy. The first stroke of his tongue from your center to your clit has you gasping, rolling your hips forward for more, and his eyes flash to yours, his pupils are enormous, his brows lowered in a look you’d previously describe as deadly. Now, you understood in those moments he was looking at you with desire. Your thighs clamp together, but he only groans and pushes harder on to you, his tongue lapping and flicking over your clit wildly.
He pulls away only to lap at his middle finger, making sure you watch as he coats it in his own saliva. Your hips rock upwards, keening for his touch again. His other hand is pulling slowly at his cock, now freed from the black pants that are only held on by his thigh holster. “Ghost-” You whine, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him better.
“Patience.” He warns, then finally lowers his finger to your entrance, his eyes devouring the way your body reacts to his warm digit. Your head lolls back, the burning ache for him relieved slightly while he works you open. He swears and adjusts his positioning. Then His tongue begins a slow pattern on your clit again, and he swears he’s never been so close to coming just from the feel of someone.
“Fuckin’ perfect for me-” He hisses when he slides deeper inside of you, reveling in the warm wetness there, his cock surges and he swears under his breath. He curls his finger and thrusts it forth, prodding your insides and searching for the things that’d make you tick.
“Ghost- Simon-” Your breathy moans have him coming undone too quickly, so he removes himself from you, damning every god he’s ever heard of for the horrid timing of your confession. Shit, if he’d just asked before the mission - when he’d first heard price talking about you moving teams… No, not now. His frustration is put into a box to be used later.
He grips the base of your neck and hauls you upward, smashing his lips into yours in a bruising kiss that he hopes leaves a mark on himself. At least then he’d have the proof for himself to know that this was real, and not another of his fantasies. He pulls back, and smiles at your confused, pouting expression. Then, before you can talk back like he knows you want to, he laps at the finger covered in your wetness, wishing he could have the taste permanently ingrained to his mind.
He hadn’t been keeping an eye on your hands, and your touch to the base of his cock has him stiffening in surprise. He stumbles forward when you pull him, hissing when you rub the head of his cock against your needy cunt. He can’t help but lean into it, his breathing only coming out in short puffs while he regains his self control. “Slow.” You say, relaxing as much as you can while he slides forward. You lay back and embrace the sweet stretch his thick cock brings. His thumb finds your clit and he circles it slowly while he fills you.
His eyes flick to yours for assurance with every inch, but all he can see is the red marks along your throat and collarbone from where he’d bitten at you. More, he wanted more. The thirst for your skin on his tongue is insatiable. He gazed upon you, reveling in the feel and sight of you around him. The swollen, red lips that he wish were on his own throat, but he cant bring himself to request that of you when your body was laid out before him like this. With every inch he pushed into you, he finds something new to marvel over. The scars, the freckles and stretch marks, the callouses and tan lines - every part of you that seemed like a secret before now. He silently vows to himself to memorize them all, to take stock of every one of those scars so he could be sure he wouldn’t miss any new ones.
He bows over you, planting wet, sloppy kisses across every feature he could reach once he’s fully buried inside of you. Your walls squeezed around him, and his cock twitches again. He bites into his lip, the pain distracting him from the pleasure for a moment. He pulls back slightly, and slides back in. Your moans are synchronized. You chant his name like a goddamn prayer, and he could swear he bit a hole in the side of his cheek.
“How d’ya want me?” He asks, leaning down, hoisting your leg up over his muscled and forcing you to take him even deeper. You cry out, but with the movement his cock brushes over the spot inside of you, hiking your need to a new level. Close. So close with such few movements. This man was a god. Or a demon. Most would likely say a demon of some sort.
“Tell me sweetheart, how’ve you dreamed this?” He asks, sliding out fully and spearing himself back in. Your eyes roll back and an animalist sound claws its way from your throat. Your insides clench around his length, pulling him in, in in, and somehow you still need more. You need all of him. The demanding heat inside you requires it. You fumble for his chest, where his tac vest usually would allow you to haul him forward, but his hand catches yours, and pins it back beside your head.
You arch and preen for him, rolling forward though he’d bottomed out. He’s swearing and practically purring with satisfaction of watching you. God you’ve never felt so desperate for something, never felt like you needed another person this badly before. A demon, definitely a demon.
“Such a pretty fucking show for me.” He rolls his hips back, then thoroughly back into place. A sound you don’t recognize leaves your throat in response. “In my head, I’ve taken you on top ‘a every inch of that safehouse.” He pulls out, and snaps his hips forward again, leaving you quivering with need. “I’ve had you comin’ on my face, my hands, my cock, on whatever toy you want…” He hisses, pulling back slightly to watch his glistening member re enter your wetness. “Is this all you want - my cock buried in your pretty pussy?” His hand squeezes your thigh, then goes to your clit, and for a moment you can’t believe you’ve held on this long. Your body trembles beneath him and your knees pull together, but it doesn’t stop him.
“Yes Simon, yes god, yes-” You pant, then pull your joined hands to your face, he’s still playing over your clit when you suck his pointer finger into your mouth and his eyes fly to yours. You can’t imagine the sight of yourself, but something changes for him in that moment. He moves, leaning over you fully, one hand cupping the back of your neck and forcing you to look into his eyes, the other on your hip, holding you firmly in place. His forearms barricading you while his hips snap forward at a brutal pace, forcing the tip of his cock into that sweet spot that makes you come nearly instantly.
Your eyes go wide, mouth open while obscene sounds spill from you. His breathing, the way he bites his lip, all of it is too much.
You’re coming, and coming and screaming but everything has gone quiet in your head. Only his darkened eyes matter, the way the paint black has started melting away, the way his brows pull together and how his eyes graze over every one of your features admiringly as you gasp his name over and over again, his cock forcing your orgasm like he’d fucked you a million times and knew exactly what to do.
Only the waves of ecstasy exist to you, that and the smell, the weight of his body over yours, the heat of him. Your legs shake, hooking around his backside and pulling him deep into you. Within a few more strokes he’s gasping, his body shuddering and your stomach is suddenly covered. He brushes hair back from your face, and a wry smile forms on his lips. He pulls the mask back down, over his reddened lips and pecks your cheek before shakily pushing himself up. He grabs the backpack, pulls a sweater from it and begins wiping you clean.
Summary: You get locked out on Valentine's Day and have to sleep over at a certain Lt.'s flat.
C/W: Reader is dressed a little inappropriately
A/N: Never tried something like this before so I hope it buffs out. Also, super late Valentine's fic whoops
Word Count: 1k
“What do you mean he’s not available?!” You stand with your forehead against your door.
“Barrack’s manager is out on leave, he’ll be back tomorrow. Recommend you stay with a friend for now.”
“Wait! Where’s the emergency ma-” *click*
What the fuck!
You huff, banging your head against the outside of your door. Today was one of the worst days of your life. You planned a date with your boyfriend of one year only to be dumped right before you were supposed to meet up. And after bawling your eyes out decide to run out to the fountain to get back the hydration you lost.
The redness around your eyes finally went away but they were so puffy you couldn’t even see your keychain still hanging on the wall.
You’re now stuck in the middle of the hall on Valentine’s Day in a short tank top and your bedtime booty shorts hoping a soul doesn’t appear and see you with all your goods hanging out.
The barracks manager - or whoever that was - told you to find a friend. You didn’t have any here. You’d been in the unit for all of five months and they weren’t all that accepting of new people. They oozed the “prove yourself worthy of our clan” mentality. You roll your eyes just at the thought.
Ughhh. I really don’t want to.
You whine internally as you pull up Cpt. Price’s contact on your phone hoping you’re not interrupting anything.
“Sergeant y/n, what’s the purpose of your call?” He sounds annoyed. You hear a feminine voice in the background and him softly shooshing it.
“Sir! I’ve been locked out of my room and the primary barracks manager won’t be in till tomorrow. I don’t have anywhere to stay.”
“That’s unfortunate, isn’t it?” His voice strains lightly. He’s quiet for a moment and you’re unsure if you’re supposed to say something or…
“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll message you soon.”
You sigh in relief. Maybe he’d contact the emergency manager and they’ll come unlock your door.
You stand with your arms crossed, back against the cold wall for what feels like forever until your phone finally buzzes.
Cpt. Price: Bld 920 Room 1208. Stay there tonight.
You’re about to flood him with questions, like: Where’s the key? Is there someone already there? Who’s room is this? But before you’re done typing he sends one last message.
Cpt. Price: I’m busy tonight with work so no need to thank me. Or call me again.
Work…? Yeah right!
The room was at least in the same building as you. Beats trekking in the snow in slippers and the ungodly attire you have on at the moment.
You make your way up the stairs cursing the base for not putting an elevator in your building. You peer at each door while wandering further down the hall.
1206… 1207… 1208!
You take a deep breath before knocking quietly.
God, I hope it’s at least a woman.
A few seconds go by before the door swings open. You stand wide-eyed. If you had less control your jaw would be on the floor too.
You stare back at your Lt. in all his glory. He stares back at you in nothing but low-hanging sweatpants. His blond hair is disheveled, the color matching the patch of hair on his bare sculpted chest. You’d seen him maskless before but from afar. He’s someone many avoided, his demeanor wasn’t exactly inviting and his wrath, from the rumors, was even worse.
The light flooding through the door frame illuminates his face enough to show the fine features up close. The scars running through his lips and cheeks only add to the stirring inside you that’s leaving you speechless.
As you try to stop yourself from ogling him right here and now he notices your eyes popping out of your skull and softly blows air out of his nose.
Is he laughing at me?
He decides to finally break the staring contest.
“What d’you want, pet?”
You stutter a bit before getting the words out,
“I got locked out, the captain told me to come here. He didn’t tell me it was your place.”
It was his turn to let his eyes wander. His eyes rake over your tank top, your arm over your chest to conceal the fact you’re braless, your exposed stomach and shorts that barely did their job as clothes. You stand there waving your water bottle around as you speak, completely unaware of the look on his face.
A smirk pulls at one of his lips as he listens to you ramble about the barracks managers not doing their jobs. Your voice gradually gets higher the angrier you get.
“What the hell are you wearin’?” He interrupts.
“Why are you answering the door half-naked?” You shoot back.
He sneers, “You show up at my door wantin’ a place to stay and you have an attitude?” He pulls his phone from his pocket seeing a barely coherent message from Price.
“Fine. No point in arguin’, Price is probably with the missus, doesn’t want to be bothered.” He steps to the side allowing you to come in. You cautiously accept and step into the space.
His place was neat, and well-kept, more like an apartment rather than the prison they kept you in. You turn back to look at him and notice the tattoos covering the skin of his arm. He pretends not to notice you checking him out as he walks to the hallway closet and pulls out a pillow and blanket.
He hands them to you, “Is that enough or d’you need a bedtime story too?”
“Little Red Riding Hood’s my favorite, please.” You snark, as you drop the pillow and lean over to throw the blanket over the cushions. You swear you hear his breath catch in his throat but get quickly covered up by him clearing his throat.
“So… What are you up to on Valentine’s Day?” You prod hoping to learn something about the most feared individual of the unit.
“Just another day, means nothin’.” He leans against the wall behind him. You sit with your legs crossed on the almost comically large couch, probably custom-made for his giant ass. You lean on your hand and look up at him.
“Is that so?”
“What happened to that muppet you’re always moanin’ bout? Should be with him.” He tilts his head to the side.
“Nah, he’s no good. Decided he liked by friend better.” You laugh sadly. “Can’t seem to keep them this time of year. I’m too cool for it.” You try to joke but end up cringing on the inside. His chest rises with a soft chuckle.
“That right?”
“You know it.” You wink at him.
The two of you go quiet for a moment.
He decides to break the silence.
”You want some tea, love?
*** Decision Time ***
Why not? I'm already here and he's being nice. Sure, I'll have some tea.
Or...
I don't wanna be a bother. He's already having to let me stay over. I'm gonna pass on tea.
