#Simon Riley x reader
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Thinking about a mechanic!AU where the 141 boys run a garage and need a new receptionist. They hire you because you’re just so cute (great tits) and have a decent resume but it becomes a slight problem when they realize you’re a bit… dense.
Total ditz to be precise.
But they can’t really get mad when you get the keys for clients mixed up and look at them with those big eyes all teary and a little pout pushing out your lower lip.
Price is the most patient, perfectly content to walk you through how to file paperwork and fill out forms. Instructing you in a low voice while his breath brushes the shell of your ear. It’s really their fault for having such a terrible system, you know? Don’t worry about it too much, dove. He’ll settle his big hands on your shoulders and gently trace up and down your arms. See? You’re getting it. Just needed some more practice, hm?
Johnny is more than happy to show you around the garage, rattling off everything he knows about all those nitty gritty details that go right over your pretty little head. He’ll pop open the hood of some sports car and point to the engine to show it off. No, bonnie, you’ve got tae get in close. Closer.
Until you’re bent entirely over in one of those too-short skirts you wear everyday. It takes all his willpower not to yank you into the supply closet.
Gaz is just so sweet to you. Always bringing you little treats and candies to suck on. To help you concentrate, of course. Always greeting you with a soft ‘baby girl’ at the beginning of your shift. Whenever you’re standing around be it at the printer or counter - wherever really - he’ll slip a hand on your waist. It always trails a little lower, his pinky just edging on the hem of your too tight jeans.
Ghost gets frustrated with you to the point of causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes. He’s feels guilty, sure, but bloody hell just print the damn receipt. He avoids you for the most part. Until one evening when it’s pouring down. You forgot your rain coat of course, silly girl. He offers you a ride which you take happily.
After that he can’t get rid of you. You bring him coffees (how you remember his order word for word but not where you last left your own cup is beyond him) and giggle at his jokes. When a client gets too snappy or too loud he’s the first to step in - standing behind you glaring at them with his huge arms crossed over his chest until they back down.
#will I turn this into a full fic?#idk don’t tempt me#just trying to get this out of my system so I can work on my other ongoing fics#call of duty#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#ghost cod#john price#john price x reader#cod x reader#ghost x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz x reader#cod#soap x reader#simon riley x reader#john mactavish x reader#john price x you#mechanic au#drabble#holly writes#poly 141 x reader#poly 141
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wait wait because imagine being a normal OF creator or a cam girl, just a small name nobody who does it for the sole purpose of getting through college. you keep your face out of everything, nothing in the background of any video of yours is personal, like once you get your degree this entire account is getting deleted and it'll be a thing of the past. (not that you're ashamed or anything. we respect sex workers of all kinds here)
and you plan on doing a different kind of video: one of you fucking yourself with a new, much bigger toy. usually you keep to the rabbits and bullets but following your friends advice, you fucking yourself on a dildo wouldn't be terrible.
plus you need it, sweetheart. when was the last time you even had a date?
bitch. (affectionately)
and as soon as you walk into your usual sex store, you double take. there is no, NO, way that is pornstar!ghost's dick you've just spotted as a dildo.
he's been your favorite pornstar long before you even started this side hustle. who in their right mind can resist that beast of a man with the mask and the tattoos and the heaving thing that's between his legs--
you take it home immediately.
it's almost sad how stupid you fuck yourself on it, cunt split open and dripping onto the floorboard for the internet to see but in that moment, you don't give a fuck.
you don't remember how many times you come that night nor how many viewers you had watching your puffy lips swallow "ghost's" cock whole, but come morning, you notice your bank account and it is padded.
PADDED.
one particular tipper was incredibly generous and they even left a message.
i'd love to see you do that on the real thing.
yeah, me too.
(whoever that is becomes a loyal follower who tips regularly.)
*screaming at the thought of simon getting himself off at your video. hasn't come that hard in months and that says a lot since he's yknow, a pornstar.*
#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#call of duty#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x f reader
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she's so cute, the poor thing. what the fuck is he supposed to do with a pretty girl like this? (18+, a little smidge of dark!simon)
she's so dumb. she nods when he talks, says yes, simon, yeah when he asks her if he can take her home. she purrs yes, simon, m-more when he buries his masked face between her thighs as he makes her ride his covered mouth. she sings when he touches her, cries when his gloved fingers fuck her open, and she whines s-so good, simon, please, more, simon when he bottoms out into her soft cunt with all of his clothes still on.
vest strapped, thigh holsters still buckled, cargo pants still around his waist, nothing but his belt buckle open and his zipper down when he fucks you into the cushions of your couch. you're drooling, positively cock-stupid, bouncing with the rough rhythm he keeps. it's salvation, coming home to a pretty girl underneath him, and he wants to hold you hard enough to make you bleed when he grips the meat of your hips and watches your ass push back against him.
so dumb. so stupid. the prettiest girl he has ever seen, and she has no idea what it is that fucks the shape of them into her so that they will know if someone else has been here. she has no idea what the thing on top of her has done, has no idea how deranged and terrible his mind is, she doesn't know.
she never asked how he knew where she lived. she never asked how he knew which button to press in the elevator. she never asked how he knew to turn left instead of right. she never asked where he got that key, or why it worked when he opened up the door of her flat.
all she asks for is for him to fuck, please, simon--m-more!
she's so cute. she'll do just fine.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost mw2#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost mwii#ghost x reader#cod#call of duty#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut#simon thoughts#dark!simon
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Simon is cold, he’s rough, rude, and doesn’t give a shit about anyone else’s opinions.
Except for you, to you he’s soft, vulnerable, sweet, loving, and happy.
One day you go to drop off his lunch at base as he has forgotten it.
You walk in, dressed in a light pink sundress with flowers on it.
White sandals on your feet, your toes painted white and your nails done in a light pink.
You walk in and go up to the receptionist. All eyes on you.
“Is Simon here?” You ask softly, a small smile on your pink lips
The receptionist looks at you confused, “Simon? Ma’am I’m afraid I don’t know who you’re speaking of.”
A few minutes pass and you’re waiting on the receptionist, when all of a sudden a group of men walk in.
Everyone stands up and salutes them except you, you look up from your phone and see your husband.
“Simmy!” You run through the group of men until you reach Simon, hugging him tightly. The room goes silent as everyone stares.
Some people whisper knowing that he’s most likely gonna push you off and say a rude remark but he doesn’t. Not to you.
He wraps his arms around you as well and picks you up. “Hey love,” He kisses your cheek and hugs you tighter. “What are you doing here?”
You pull away and hug his arm, smiling brightly. “You forgot your lunch, where were you?”
“Just a mission.” He grumbles, he holds your hand and without even saying bye to his comrades he leads you to his office.
Leaving everyone shocked and confused, they all thought that he was lying when he said he was married. And especially they didn’t expect his wife to be so gorgeous.
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18+ MDNI
Ghost punishing you for being a bad bad girl and not listening to him... idk man whatever
He's pulled your panties aside and hovers above you, slapping your slick, wet pussy.
"What did I tell you? Huh?!" he snarls, grabbing your jaw to make you look into his eyes which are flaming with rage and lust, "I'm... I'm so s-sorry, Si!" you say in a breathy voice.
You'd blush and shy away at the sound, the heavy impact of his big palm against your soaked cunt... if you weren't too far gone.
"P-please, Si!" you whine pathetically, not knowing if you're pleading for him to stop or already stuff your desperate, begging pussy.
The sound of your whiny pleas blend with the wet smack of his hand on your pussy while you nearly drool and lose your mind over the aching pleasure.
"You like this, don't you? Huh?! You dirty, dirty girl! You like it when I slap your pussy, yeah?!" he chuckles at your dazed state, "Y-yeah!" you gasp as another harsh spank is delivered to your soaking wet folds and he rubs his palm on your cunt in a somewhat soothing manner to calm the soreness.
He can't take it anymore, almost cumming at the mere sight of you, plush thighs spread open and your pretty pussy sopping wet with your desperate arousal.
He takes his throbbing cock out of his sweatpants and strokes the leaking tip over your waiting folds before slowly, teasingly easing into you.
His thick cock effortlessly slides into your warm, welcoming walls, taking him in and enfolding him entirely.
You both moan as the warm sweet sensation floods through your bodies.
His fat veiny cock fills you up real nice, stretching you out to your absolute limit.
And he doesn't even hesitate to pound into you mercilessly from the get-go.
He fucks you with such force and vigor that you think you're gonna pass out from the razing mix of pain and pleasure.
You're a whimpering, drooling mess beneath his bulky weight as his meaty cock jams into your slick cunt, his husky groans floating beside your ear.
"Come on, love. You gonna cum f'me?" he rasps out while your moans get higher in pitch paired with your squelchy walls tightly clasping down on him.
The tingling feeling pooling up in your belly, soon ruptures into all-consuming flames that wash over your whole body.
And his gravelly growl of absolute euphoria fills your ears as he fills up your needy womb with his warm cum.
#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader#cod x reader#ghost cod#cod ghost#ghost call of duty#ghost riley#ghost simon riley#cod fanfic#cod#cod mw2#mw2#call of duty#cod modern warfare
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I'm just imagining being annoying as fuck and the boys decide to fuck with you back.
So they take turns throwing you around to each other. Like, at first you're squealing and flailing but eventually you realize they're not going to drop you and you just kind of give in to their strange punishment.
And, of course, Price chooses to walk into the rec room at that very moment. He just watches over his coffee cup as you're tossed around from Sergeant to Lieutenant to Sergeant.
He turns and leaves. He doesn't have time for this.
#when ur being bad this is how they get you to stop#besides its strength training for them so they dont care lol#call of duty#cod imagines#mw2#mw2 headcanons#simon ghost riley#cod mwii#john soap mactavish#simon riley x reader#captain price#kyle garrick
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Simple Math / Part Thirteen
Simple Math masterlist
Ghost/Soap/female reader
4.2k words - AO3
Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Nurse!reader. Domestic slice of life. Feelings of fear, self loathing, anxiety, dread. Complicated emotions. Verbal depiction of domestic violence. Non sexual intimacy. Scars from cigarette burns. Very brief daddy kink. Sick character (not reader). Comfort.
Confessions.
The park is quiet.
You hoped it would be- middle of the day, in the middle of a work week, in the middle of the city. There are a few people around, walking, running, lingering. Enjoying themselves, the warmth of the sun on their face, a bright spot amid a typically grey winter.
It makes it easier. To look.
To watch.
To wait.
And you do. You wait, and you wait. You sit steady on the park bench, pretending to be remotely interested in the rough paperback cradled in your lap, spine already cracked flimsy by Simon’s grip. It’s Stephen King. Carrie, if you’re precise. A story of stolen girlhood and rage.
You swallow the shards of glass and acid the pages bring forth.
Deep breath.
The breeze gusts, and your shoulders nearly shake. It’s been a long, long time since you’ve sat out in the open like this.
Easy prey.
You may have always been easy prey. Easy and young and stupid, easy, and naïve and manipulated. You fell for every trick in the book. You didn’t see the signs until it was too late.
Still, you watch. You wait.
You considered, for a while, that if Philip was around, if he was in the city, looking for you- he’d arrive here. Like magic. Like a classic villain, materializing in a plume of smoke.
And while it’s not exactly comfort you feel as each minute ticks by and he fails to appear, there’s relief in your soul for certain.
It’s a risk, to sit here. A question. With an answer, for now.
Will he? Won’t he?
Today, the answer is he won’t.
Your phone vibrates, and you don’t need to look at it to know, guilt worming its way into the depths of your heart, anxiety piquing as you imagine both Simon and Johnny at their house, their home, worried.
Don’t fool yourself. Don’t give yourself too much credit. Don’t get carried away.
Someone clears their throat over the back of the bench, and you whirl.
“Hey, sorry.” Your pulse slows from a gallop to something slower, and you shake your head.
“You can’t sneak up on me like that.” The man shrugs his second apology, legs spreading into the spot next to you. You’re practiced at this, familiar. Knowledgeable enough to keep your hands from shaking, even though the tremor builds through your bones.
“Been waitin’ for you to call.”
“I’ve been busy.” You eye the black bag in his hands, a small black fabric pouch, gold zipper glinting in the sun. “That everything?” He nods.
“Can I ask-“
“No.”
“Just seems strange, is all. Pretty, polished thing like you, needin’ all this. Most of my clients are more… rough around the edges.” Your teeth dig into your tongue. Already, this guy is less discreet and more obnoxious than your last purveyor. You wish you had hidden your face.
Like Simon.
“We’re solid, then?” You unzip the pouch, cursory eye roaming over the collection inside, checking off a mental list. Usually, you would feel relief at this point, but today, it sours and rots. Liberation burns into a roaring wave of uncertainty, and your fingers tighten over the zipper.
“We’re good.” He stands, giving you one last long look, and then his mouth shifts into a half smile. “Good luck.” Your polite nod is strained and forced. A nonverbal fuck off.
He takes the cue, and slinks away, disappearing around a corner and out of sight.
The bag weighs heavily in your hands. A terrible reminder of the truth.
You’ll never have a life. You’ll never have a family. You’ll always be alone.
You’ll never be pretty or polished or perfect.
You’ll always be this.
Scarred. Sectioned off. Scared.
Desperation wells, and you close your eyes. You see Johnny, and Simon. Their faces. Sunlight in bleak darkness.
Love and family and strength.
The ache in your chest widens. You want to be home, with them. Curled up, with them. Sitting at the table and eating dinner, with them. All these things, these domestic, familiar things that once seemed so unattainable, now within arm’s reach.
But still so far away.
Your shoulders relax a fraction, dipping lower, the strain on your injury zinging through your muscles as you roll them, and you shove the little bag into the backpack, above the clothes you pulled from your apartment.
Deep breath.
Johnny’s the first you see after locking the front door. He’s in the kitchen, half leaning on his crutch, fishing something out of a pot, a noodle of some kind, and he freezes, eyes heavy with relief, when you come around the corner.
“Bunny.” His good arm reaches, fingers brushing together, cold against warm. He coos. “Ye’re freezin’.”
“It’s cold.” You agree, unzipping the front of your jacket. He slides cautious and slow touch around your waist beneath it, and you go with him, face burrowing into his chest, just below his collarbone. Your nose is nearly smashed, but you can still breath him in, feel him, be in this moment with him.
His hold tightens. “What is it?”
“Sorry it took me so long.”
“That’s alright, was jus’ worried is all. Text us back next time.” You nod, but stay silent, still taking gulps of air, nosing against the collar of his shirt to find his skin. “Pretty girl,” his hand strokes over the back of your head, warm breath on your cheek. “Ye alright?” You breathe through the threat of tears, though they sting and threaten to sink you.
“Ye-yeah.” You choke, and he tries to pull back, grip steady on your upper arm, but you follow him, still trying to crawl inside and hide, wrap yourself up in him and disappear.
“Hey now,” he clucks his tongue, trying to re-focus you, trying to get your attention, nimble fingers cradling your jaw, “what is it?”
There are no words to explain it, these feelings. The fear. The dread. The bile rioting in your stomach, the anxiety churning like a turbulent sea. It’s like no matter what you do, it all comes back, no matter how deep you bury it or how much you try to change the tide.
It’s easier to lie.
“I’m tired.” You whisper, and he rubs your back.
“Did ye eat?” No.
“Yes. I got something at the hospital.”
“Paperwork all in order so ye can hang out wit’ us until ye’re better?” His smile is infectious, a mirror blooming across your own face, and he dots your nose with his lips. “There’s our girl.” Your toes curl. He tugs the backpack into his grip, and you let him, let him push you up into the counter, drop your bag to the floor, slip his tongue between his teeth. You let it all go to your head, let yourself get lost in him, twist your fingers in his hair, nipples pebbling stiff as his mouth finds the sensitive skin of your neck.
He takes it all away. Every time.
“Johnny.”
“I’ve got ye.” He finds an opening, a soft spot between your jeans and your shirt, hands roaming upward and over, everywhere. He’s everywhere, effortlessly, and you’re along for the ride, clinging so tight like you’re afraid you’ll fall.
And then-
It stops.
He’s holding your face, blue gaze unwavering, focused. “Bun, talk to me.” Your throat throbs, words sticking like taffy, clawing their way up in a jumbled mess until the only thing intelligible is what spills out.
“Is this real?” You’re a child. Small and scared, desperate for some sort of reassurance, some semblance of security.
“Is what real?” His fingers close over yours, lifting them to his lips. “This? Us?”
“Everything. All of it… I- I-“
“It’s real. It’s been real since ye held my hand the first time. Or at least, it’s been real for me… since then. Thought ye were an angel. An answer to a prayer.” He cracks a smile, thumb rubbing across the slope of your cheek. “An’ I’m not the praying type.”
“There’s… you don’t know me, Johnny. There’s so much… you don’t know.” Your chest heaves, anxiety stuttering inside your lungs, air turning thin in your mouth.
“I know, shhh. I know.” You press your face back into his chest, words slowing to a stop, a trickle. “Ye remind me of him, ye know. A lot prettier though.”
“Who?”
“Si.” He kisses your temple, your forehead, peeling away to peer at your face. “Guarded… but scared under it all. Ye dinnae even know how life can be, too busy runnin’ away.”
“Johnny-“
“Ye’ve got secrets, I know. But it’s the same thing I used to tell him. Eventually you’ve got to let go, let me in. Let us in, Bun. We’re not goin’ anywhere. We’re not afraid. Let us prove it.” Your lower lip trembles, eyes burning with the brunt of tears. “Shhh, dinnae cry. Ye’re alright, everything’s going to be okay. I swear it.” You do nothing, nothing except stand there, half folded into him, breath and touch agonizingly slow, steady in his hold.
The two of you stay there, in the silence, until the agonized sear of distress starts to fade, and you begin to balance, ship righting itself after a long night in rocky seas.
Penny’s bedroom door is open.
The soft glow of a nightlight floats into the hall, and you peer past, finding Simon with his arms full, reclined in the rocking chair, a nearly asleep Penny gap mouthed in his arms. You wave.
“Hi,” he whispers, “get everything you needed?”
“Yeah, all set.” You nod to the baby. “She’s knocked.”
“Bath time was rough.” He traces her cheek, twirling a finger in her hair. A soft, faultless picture, his features delicately framed by shadow, thick arms the perfect place for a baby, an easy cradle.
It’s an intimate moment, and inside it, you feel out of place.
“I’ll see you downstairs?” You shift away, motioning, and he hums.
“In a few.”
Everything is slow with them in the evenings, you’ve realized.
They move leisurely, dancing around one another, Simon constantly watching and waiting, for both you and Johnny, anticipating. It’s a natural role, one that seems more permanent over necessary considering the circumstances, Johnny falling into an unhurried pace, languishing on the couch after dinner and dishes are done, fingers mindlessly stroking into the soft spot beneath your ear. Simon leans over, kissing Johnny and then settling at your side, an arm stretching around your back. “Should we watch something?” Johnny brightens.
“A movie?”
“If you’d like. Bun, any suggestions?” You blink. It’s a surprise, one that’s never occurred to you, the ability to simply choose a movie.
“Umm… no?”
“What’s yer favorite?”
“I don’t know. Whatever is fine. What do you guys like?”
“We know what we like. We want to know what you like.” What do you like? Comedies, you suppose. Something light and funny, something to distract the never-ending stream of thoughts cycling through your head.
“Uh, have you guys ever seen Forgetting Sarah Marshall?” Johnny chuckles.
“It’s been a while.” He flicks through the icons on the screen, thumbing over to where he starts to type it in. What if they don’t like it? What if they’re humoring you? What if you picked wrong?
“Or, if you don’t like that, we can do something else. Anything. I’m not picky. It doesn’t have to be-“
“Hey,” Simon murmurs, warm palm resting on your knee, “that’s perfect. We both like that one.”
“Dracula musical.” Johnny smiles, finding it easily and clicking play. Your breath catches at the ease of it all, of picking a movie and that being that, no anxiety about a reaction or something triggering popping up on screen.
You can just… enjoy it.
The light in their bathroom is a little too bright.
Your toes stretch across the tile, nerves thrashing in the pit of your stomach as you stare in the mirror.
You don’t know who it is looking back at you.
You don’t recognize the girl getting ready for bed, brushing her teeth, wearing a pair of pajama pants and Simon’s shirt.
There’s a disconnect, some semblance of wires crossing, some phantom of someone else, living in your skin.
Because it can’t be you, getting ready to crawl into bed between them. It can’t be you, who fell asleep with her head on Simon’s stomach during the movie, can’t be you who stole a kiss from Johnny as Simon propped his leg up on the stack of pillows.
You’re playing house. Playing a game.
It won’t last.
It can’t.
You wrap a finger up in the hem of Simon’s shirt, frayed and torn edges pulling apart below the seam. It’s an old one, something he tugged out of a drawer and tossed on the bed, faded graphic turned from white to grey against a rusted black backdrop. It’s soft, and worn, and comfortable, an article of clothing well loved, and you wonder if Johnny’s worn it too. If it’s been passed around, washed, and dried a hundred times.
“Everything alright?” Simon leans into the bathroom, Johnny in view just past his shoulder. He’s not wearing a shirt, just soft, flannel pants, and you stare at the scars dotting his torso before dragging your gaze away.
“Yeah, sorry… I got distracted.” You turn the tap, rinsing your toothbrush before placing it by itself on the edge of the sink, out of place next to the cup holding theirs, and Penny’s.
You blink slow, allowing your eyes to close for a fraction of second.
“Ready for bed?” Johnny beams at you, lush and sleepy, hand outstretched, reaching.
You take a deep breath. “Yeah.”
Simon’s bedside lamp is still on, barely illuminating the dark. It’s quiet, and warm, and you bask in the space between their bodies, fingers playing idly with the hem of your shirt.
When Johnny’s fingers graze the skin under the fabric, your chest tightens. He strokes back and forth, over your navel, blazing heat from his palm tingling into your skin. You’re being torn in two, swallowed by the ocean, tugged in different directions.
You struggle to regulate your breathing, small draws coming in quicker, and Simon covers Johnny’s hand with his own, stopping the movement.
“Will you show us?” He murmurs.
“Sh-show you?”
“The scars.” Oh.
Will you?
Even though Simon’s already seen them, this feels different. This feels like a choice. Like you’re peeling something back, baring yourself.
You close your eyes and pull the bottom of your shirt to the top of your ribcage, cool air ghosting over your exposed skin. Johnny makes a sound, a twisted whisper of something pained, and you shiver.
A thumb slides over the raised skin on the left side of your belly. “These are from cigarettes?”
“Yes.” You almost want to look, want to see, but can’t bring yourself to do it, to witness their disgust, their shock. You’re hollow. Drifting. Falling away from them. Someone shifts, the bed moves, jostles slightly, but you block it out. Every muscle in your body is taut, jaw locked, and fists clenched.
This morning was intimate but this… this is something else. Something more.
“Can ye feel them, still? Do they hurt?” Two hands roam, rubbing gently, skimming.
“No but… they’re hideous.”
“No.” Simon croaks, voice thick. “There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t perfect.” Your heart cracks, and the light touch of fingertips disappears, replaced with a swath of breath and then-
Lips.
He’s kissing them.
It stops your heart, dries your mouth. Robs you of your breath, your head spinning into an enormous vortex of disbelief. Simon’s mouth travels, dotting your skin between each ugly, raised bump, carefully pressing a kiss to each one, gradually. He takes his time, and with your eyes closed, you can feel his body hovering above you, holding steady just over your frame. Johnny’s forehead rests against yours, and he cups your face, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek, sweet and slow.
“Will ye tell us… about how you got them? Who gave them to ye?” Simon cradles your hips, firm pressure folding into your skin, the curve there, and he squeezes, prompting you, expecting. You don’t know how he does it, how he’s so easily able to guide you, and Johnny. It’s seamless.
“I…” You don’t know what to say, if you were to say anything at all. How to answer. How to begin to explain. How to confirm what you know they already suspect, how to start this story. This nightmare.
Are you really doing this? Could you really do this?
There’s a sliver of sun, begging. Pleading. It rails against the cracks in your heart, desperate.
So, you spit out the only thing you know for sure.
“He liked to hurt me.”
“Who?” Simon’s question is immediate, and your ribs expand with a long breath.
“My… ex.” Stop talking. Stop this, stop it, stop- “He’s a monster.”
“The healed breaks on your x-rays…” He trails off, and you reach blindly, searching for an anchor. Johnny gives it to you, clutching your hand in his, thumb soothing over your knuckles.
“Yes.”
“And more.” Simon whispers, and Johnny draws a sharp breath. You nod.
“And more.”
“Your neck, and shoulder?” There’s a long silence, as you sit atop the wall. As you wait and try to decide if you want to jump off or continue to sit here… trapped at the top, teetering on the edge while they wait below.
You’re in their life now. You said you’d try. They should know.
You trust them.
Don’t you?
“He found me.” You confess, cracked and bleeding and hung out to dry. Three words barely scratching the surface of the truth, saying almost nothing at all and still so much. You stumble, and panic, fear bubbling up to the surface. “I’m sorry, I told you before- I said-“
“And we told ye; nothing is going to get ye while ye’re with us. Ye’re safe, bunny.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about!” you blurt, a near snap, and Johnny freezes. “It’s you guys, and Penny, and your friends, you- you don’t know what he’s capable of. You don’t understand. He’s chased me across the world, he always finds me, no matter what, no matter what I do, o-or where I go-” You’re rambling, nearly hyperventilating, and slipping away, succumbing to the rolling black clouds overtaking your mouth and mind, stuttering and falling, drowning in an endless darkness.
They don’t know. They don’t understand. They can’t.
You’re weak. You’re stupid. You’re nothing.
You’re a child again. A lost girl. Alone and scared. Trapped in the dark.
“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” You shake your head, and Simon catches it between his palms, holding you still. You can fight and flail and run, but he’s still there. Strong and safe and beautiful in every way, a foundation of love, of trust. “It’s just us, we’re here. With you. Look.” Johnny tightens his hold, and your bones rattle inside your skin, aching and splintering, shredding you from the inside out.
“I can’t.” You hiss, trying to curl away. You can’t face them, or this. The reality. The truth.
It’s easier to run. Who were you kidding? You can’t do this. You should have already been gone.
But they won’t let you go. Not now. Not when they have you so close to the light. So close to the sun.
And maybe it’s time to accept it.
“Look at me, pretty girl.” Johnny murmurs. “Ye can do it.” The pull of his voice drags you closer, comforts you, and you long for him, long to see his blue eyes, overgrown mohawk and gorgeous smile. You long to relax into him, to hear the thump of his heart, steady and strong. He’s a lighthouse in the pitch-black night, a guiding light. It’s enough to lessen pressure building in the back of your skull, and you slowly blink, both of their concerned faces coming into view.
The three of you linger silence, holding each other, decompressing from your confession, your fear that feels too much sometimes. It all fades, night turning long, and eventually you yawn, blinking away the sleepy stars in your eyes.
“There’s our bunny.” Simon kisses your cheek. “My good girl.” My good girl. Turning it over in your mind makes you squirm, allowing it ricochet back and forth with his accent, and you wish you could latch onto it, memorize it, hear it every day. Johnny gives you a bemused smile.
“Ye liked that?” He raises an eyebrow at Simon, and then presses his lips to your ear, whispering. “Ye want to be a good girl for daddy, little bunny?” Daddy. You choke. You anticipate disgust, revulsion, but none of it comes.
Only… intrigue. Warmth.
“I think that’s enough for tonight.” Simon interrupts gently. “Thank you, sweetheart. For trusting us. I know it’s hard.” You turn into Johnny, and Simon rolls to flick out the light, pulling up tight behind you, sliding an arm under the pillows. You burrow deeper into the blankets, snuggling between them to find the warmest spots, and sigh.
“You both… make it easier. You make it easy.”
The world from yesterday is forgotten the next day when Penny wakes up with a fever.
The house is thrown into confined, regulated chaos, but chaos all the same. She wails almost the entirety of the morning, miserable, and you ache for both her, and her dads, who are unmoored and anxious. You don’t even balk when Simon asks you to hold her, explaining he has to call her pediatrician.
“Hey, you’re okay.” You coo, rubbing her back. She’s warm to the touch, but not scorching, and it gives you some comfort, even with what little you know about peds. You rock her, pacing, as Johnny watches uneasily from the couch, typing unending questions into a web search about babies and fevers. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I know you don’t feel good.”
“It’s 38.1… that’s fine, right? As long as it’s under 39?”
“I think so.” You try to reassure him. “I’m not a little human nurse though, so I can’t be sure. But it hasn’t been that long, Johnny. We don’t need to worry until at least twenty-four hours.” He nods, lips quirking into a small smile. “What?”
“Ye said we.”
“Well… yeah…” you trail off, and he shakes his head.
“Jus’ like the sound of it, is all. Like how ye look, holdin’ our baby.” You give him a look, half exasperated, half doe eyed, as always, because you can’t help but feel a little lovestruck or dazed whenever you glance his way, always taken by him, no matter the moment.
Simon steps back inside from the patio, swooping to rub his nose in Johnny’s hair and squeeze his shoulder affectionately. “The pediatrician says if she gets worse, or doesn’t improve by tomorrow, to bring her in.”
“Good.” You bounce her, propping her up on your shoulder. “That’s good.” She gurgles, croaking through her miserable fever. “Poor baby girl, I’m sorry.” You pat her again, trying to help settle her-
She coughs, and something warm runs down your back.
“Shite.” Johnny curses, Simon immediately trying to pull her from your arms, but you shake your head.
“There’s no sense in her throwing up on you too.” You explain.
“I’ll go grab a towel, and some clothes. Do you want to change your shirt?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” You keep your hand steady on her back. You’ll both need a thorough wipe down now, maybe even a shower.
“Sorry, bun.” Johnny frowns, but you reassure him, still rocking Penny in your arms.
“It’s fine, really. I’ve been through way worse with bodily fluids, trust me.” The bottom stair creaks, in the way that it only does for Simon, his mass too much for one of the wooden slats.
When you look up, you realize he’s not moving, only standing shock still, clothes and towel and a baby blanket in one hand,
and the contents of the little black bag in the other.
You left it on the dresser. You left it out in the open, unzipped, on the dresser.
Your blood freezes. Johnny frowns, looking between his partner and you, trying to desperately draw a conclusion that doesn’t come.
Simon holds the little navy-blue book up, the one with your picture in it, but with a name they won’t recognize. A person they wouldn’t know.
A person you don’t even know, yet. A new life. A new identity.
“What’s that?” Johnny’s quizzical, intrigued.
“Bunny.” Simon breathes, and you shake your head. It’s all you can do, just shake your head back and forth until your brain is rattling around in your skull.
You can’t stop it.
They’ll never love you. They won’t accept you. They won’t understand.
“It’s- it’s j-just in case,” you stammer, panicked and tongue tied. “you… you don’t understand, I have to have it… just in case.”
“What is it?” Johnny demands, and Simon flips the front of the booklet around-
revealing the cover of a brand-new American passport.
#peaches writes#simple math#ghoap x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#ghost x soap x reader#soap x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#ghost x reader x soap#johnny mactavish x reader#ghost x reader
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can you please write ghost and a reader that's very shy, like cant look at him in the eyes and blushes very easily, but when is having sex with simon is very vocal and demanding
love this nonnie!! wrote this during my lecture :3
simon is very very understanding… holding hands on the sofa? your face is turning red and you’re blubbering apprehensively into his chest on the sofa, legs straddling his beefy thighs comfily, his hand stroking your head.. only teases slightly.
“ooh, baby all red?”
“quieett.”
“all cute n’ soft.”
kissing? you’re trying hide yourself in his neck afterwards, his wandering hands hungrily groping at your waist n’ hips..kissing the soft landscape of your throat, teeth nipping and bruising at it—telling you how you don’t need to be embarassed.. he isn’t even doing anything yet.
pda? you’re complaining about how it’s innappropriate to kiss at the park, empty.. it’s dirty to, not socially acceptable! he doesn’t care, pecking your cheek for a second has you complaining and shouting at him, so dramatic..
sex? you’re so controlling, sitting yourself down on his tongue and rocking your hips back and forth, listening to the lewd ‘aaahh—‘ sounds and slurping, your hands gripping the headboard for dear life..
“simon-more, give me more. now, i need it.”
“bossy-boots, eh?”
you’re quick to shut him up with your grinding.. spilling your sweet nectar as he sucked at your clit, it all becoming too much..
let’s you take charge sometimes, bouncing atop his heavy cock after a long days work, babbling about how good it feels with his length entering and leaving your fluttering hole, his thumb tracing the mold of your stomach with such loving tenderness.. but you’re all bark no bite,
doesn’t take him long to shove your face into the mattress and ram into you with such desperation and hunger, hand striking at the fat of your ass without any reconsideration.
“fuckin’ taking it perfectly, yeah?”
“yes simon—yesyesyesyesyes..that feels so—so fucking good..oh, ah..”
“not so shy now, eh? just fuckin’ desperate for my dick, dirty slag.”
#ghost x reader#ghost imagine#simon ghost x reader#ghost smut#dilf ghost#ghost is babygirl#💞} riley speaks<3#simon ghost riley x reader#💞} riley rambles#ghost simon riley#simon riley ghost#ghost call of duty#ghost fanfiction#simon riley fanfic#simon riley headcanons#simon x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost simon riley x reader#simon riley smut
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ANDROID GHOST AJDBAHGEJADHJWHAH SKEHEBJWBDJA WKRBBWJF IM NEVER GOING TO THINK ABOUT ANYHITNG ELSE EVER AGAIN
also question: is there like a cum storage in his body that would have to be manually refilled?? if so imaging fucking him until it’s literally empty
It does have to be manually refilled. Trying to find a way to put a come making system in Ghost's body was a bit more challenging than you thought it would be, so you opted for the refillable route. Much easier. Plus you figure he won't run out too quickly. It's not a huge amount that gets stored, but you figure it's enough.
You did not anticipate that going his entire android life without a dick or orgasm software would probably lead to some... overconsumption once he did have it. Ghost shows up like two days later and needs to be refilled. He'll tell you straight up it's because he was masturbating too. He's got a "lot of time to make up" and boy is he making up for lost time.
Also "fucking him" is a bit of a stretch, "being used to get him off" is more accurate. Because that's what he does. He moves you with mechanical strength and precision like a living doll made to take his cock. In a way you are. You designed his dick exactly to your own desires, meeting his specifications while you drooled over the mechanics and tested the synth skin under your tongue. Now you sit on your knees with your head bumping against the wall as Ghost thrusts your perfect cock into your mouth, holding your head between his hands and pulling you down until you gag.
"Giving you what you deserve lovie," He tells you, something achingly tender in the swipe of his thumb against the tears staining your cheek, "lemme shut that brain o' yours off for a while."
He pins you to the workbench, keeps you on your back and presses your knees up to your shoulders. The weight of him is enough to keep you from moving as he pushes his thick cock into your dripping cunt, the angle perfect for him to beat against your cervix with each short thrust. It's too much too fast. The ache of it punching pleasure deep in your stomach, your cunt clenching as it tries to keep him inside. Your head spins, your breath catches, Ghost hooks your legs over his shoulders and laces his fingers behind your head. He forces you to bend under his weight, makes you watch the way his cock disappears into your puffy pussy and comes out glistening with slick.
And he'll keep you there, keep hitting that mind numbing spot deep inside you until your legs are shaking and you're screaming his name. He'll fuck you through orgasm, tap his metallic forehead against yours and let your breath fog his faceplate. He'll fuck you through his own orgasm, make you realize that despite adding a routine to increase sensitivity with each consecutive orgasm, you didn't actually program in a refractory period. Ghost will fuck you until he's empty, and then he'll fuck you past that.
"Making up for lost time," He'll tell you when he finally lets you up. Making up for lost time, you think as you stretch your aching legs towards the floor and try to find your balance. You're losing time on your back and on your knees, and now you've got synthetic come sloshing around and dripping out of you.
Price can't fire you for this, can he?
#cod x reader#x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#mw2 ghost#ghost cod#android!ghost#cyberpunk au#just dump like a half gallon of come in my girl Ghost#would anyone be interested in.... no I shant say
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husband simon "ghost" riley
husband!simon who cried while reading his vows, looking around the venue to see his team cheering for the both of you. They're one of the few people invited from his side of the room, but it was all the family he had and needed.
husband!simon who feels like he waited for this moment his whole life, the moment you finally said yes, giving yourself to him fully. Wearing the fanciest piece of clothing he ever had, saying the most important words he ever did, standing right beside you was a dream come true.
husband!simon who wouldn't drink a lot during your party, just admiring the view of you dancing and being so happy for him, with him. Especially enjoys when Kyle and Johnny stumble upon you and chuckle, pushing you towards the dance floor, having the time of their lives at the wedding of their favorite couple.
husband!simon who would take secret pictures of you, especially if you fall asleep amongst some guests. Head on Price's shoulder, Kyle's lap, or tangled up with Johnny on the couch in the hallway of the venue. He'll definitely torment you with them later, especially since you didn't really have a chance to get back at him as he has a spider-like sense for cameras and quickly avoids them.
husband!simon who's the happiest man alive beside you and would do absolutely anything to make you happy too. Acts of service are his favorite way to show you his love, especially when he's back from deployment for some time. Doing most chores and bringing you hot tea every morning,
husband!simon who spends as much time with you as he can, usually at home where he can just pull you close without caring for others. Grabbing your hips while you wash the dishes or pulling your waist when you try to get out of bed are a must.
husband!simon who just can't resist you, thinking about you all the time. Being far or close doesn't matter, you're on his mind 24/7. You can sleep beside him or be a thousand kilometers away, he's still thinking about you. If he can't see your face in the morning, he'd just imagine it with a smile on his face.
husband!simon who attends therapy regularly so he can be a better version of himself for the both of you. Especially if you're planning to make your little family a bigger one.
husband!simon who suffers from sleepless nights whenever you argue. He can't just fall asleep when you've just argued, so in most cases, he occupies his mind by cleaning the entire house or filling in some missing reports.
husband!simon who gets his stuff after the argument and gets ready to sleep on the couch, only to smirk when you enter the living room and make him come back to bed. You can't sleep without him as much as he can't without you. Yeah, you may not talk, but his arm will find its' way around your waist as you fall asleep.
husband!simon's favorite way to make up after an argument is waking you up with his arms around your frame and soothing apologies spilling from his lips. He loves the way you immediately pull him closer and comply, adding your own apologies to the mix.
husband!simon who is too old to care about morning breath, if you don't mind, he'll put a thousand kisses all over your face at any time of the day, especially to wake you up.
husband!simon who brags about you to his mates and won't shut up even if they complain. That's the price they pay after begging him to get to know more about his secret little love before.
husband!simon doesn't care about the money, because let's face it —he's got tons of it and will gladly spend it on you. Buys you secret gifts that he hides around the house before deployment, so you don't miss him too much.
husband!simon leaves the room whenever you call him. Your conversations are sacred, no matter how much his team wants to say hello, it's your time. They can call you themselves if they are so interested.
husband!simon who becomes a handyman as soon as you ask for anything. Your shelf is not leveled properly, and the sink is broken? Don't worry, love, he'll take care of it.
husband!simon who watches lots of documentaries with you in your free time. Also, secretly enjoys cooking shows and even more secretly — makeover TV shows. Especially the ones where they turn alternative-looking people into some normies, and loves to complain that they rip them off all their personalities.
husband!simon will get a matching tattoo with you. Probably already has some that remind him of you.
husband!simon who becomes very conversational, something you wouldn't expect the day you two meet. If you finally let him open up, he's yapping all the time with you, just rambles about all the little things that are on his mind.
husband!simon who very much enjoys those conversations while you two have sex, makes it even more sweet and domestic in his mind. Most of the time, you two talk about plans for the day or random chores that you need to finish while he pounds into you, making you both giggle and out of breath.
husband!simon definitely changes his tone around you. When Johnny heard that for the first time, his jaw dropped at the soft way he talked to you.
husband!simon who does everything in his power to protect you. The address he doesn't share with anyone, burner phones to contact you while being deployed, highest quality security. Most of the time uses nicknames instead of your name when in public, and probably one or two guard dogs that are y'alls most-loved pets (he pretends not to see how you spoil them while he's gone).
husband!simon who takes you on nice vacations whenever he can to make up for the time you two lost while he was deployed.
husband!simon who cannot see his future without you, you're stuck with him for eternity.
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#riri writes#ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#cod mwii#cod mw2#gender neutral reader#cod#cod mwiii#simon ghost riley cod#ghost cod#headcanons#hcs
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Viking!simon
Harsh times come again, and it’s kind of a war, so they are already expecting invasions or fights near the clan, so Simon teaches the wife how to defend herself, but only if she needs it (he makes it really clear that she just have to use it if it’s really really needed)
One night the clan is invaded, and just like the last time he hides her (but better this time) and tells “stay.” and that is what she does, she keeps herself quiet and still until she hears children screaming. Their “neighbor’s” children. She grabs the dagger that Simon used to teach her and goes help the kids
I don’t know, the man probably didn’t hear her coming or she pretended to not know how to fight, actually for me it doesn’t matter, but picture it with me: Simon trying to find her after the fight and getting desperate that he can’t find his wife, he goes to the safe house where they are attending the ones who got hurt, he is looking out for her, and that is when he finds her, her back to him, but he can see his neighbor children (the baby on her hip and the little girl being hugged in a protective way), he runs toward them just to find the wife covered in blood, but the look in her [rage] eyes tell him everything, and she says “the blood is not mine”
And he falls in love with her
how does it feel to be a fucking genius? hmm? tell me.
c/w: mentions of blood, mentions of pregnancy and children
he doesn’t even question why his heart starts racing when he doesn’t find you in your shared home. nor does he question the way relief floods his bones when he sees you, safe and sound with the neighbours kids clinging to you
it feels completely natural to feel this way to him. of course he would be worried. you’re his. he immediately drops to one knee in front of you so he can be face to face, checking over your face for any signs of distress or pain
the same way that it feels natural for him to raise his jagged scarred hands up to cup your warm cheeks and rest his forehead against yours. eyes closed as he thanks the gods that you’re safe
“this is not my blood, simon. i’m fine.” you whisper, your hands coming up to lay over his. the moment shared between you two is tender, new even…
“I was worried about you…” he mumbles, pressing his lips to your forehead. you stay like this for a few more fleeting seconds before pulling away, switching back to your usual selves
you and simon wait with the children until they are found by their next of kin. simon can see the reluctance to give them back, he sees that longing look in your eyes. and you looked like such a natural holding that baby on your hip
perhaps it was time for simon to start expanding his bloodline, he thinks. get you to pop out a few kids for him to train into the best and strongest warriors. give his lovely wife a few chubby babies to fuss over and take care of when he’s busy with his duties as a warrior :(
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost simon riley#simon riley#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader#viking!simon#mw2#cod mw2
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Just Simon Riley thoughts <3
Simon Riley who got a lil tattoo on his forearm- opposite of the existing tattoos on the other one. It’s something small, something that makes him think of of you. Something separate from the trauma fueled tattoos on his other arm, something he can look at on missions and be reminded he has a home to come back to, a person to come back to, you.
“I’ll get back to ya, sweet’art,”
Simon Riley who doesn’t want a big welcome home party, just wants to find wherever you are, flop down on top of you, and relish in the fact that his hands can caress your softness so sweetly. You make him feel human, whole.
“Hm. Missed ya, love.”
Simon Riley who is so unbelievably devoted. There is no other in his eyes, only you. You who still found your way into his heart even when he was doing nothing but pushing you away. You who always had a kind touch and a bright smile. You who had no reason to try with him- but you gave it your all anyway. No, he can’t look at anyone else, not when he is practically addicted to everything that is you.
“Only you, love. Can’t see no one else when I got perfection waitin’ f’me at home.”
Simon Riley who is trying so damn hard to love you. Simon who is trying to love you in the ways he knows you deserves yet believes it’ll never be enough. Sweet pet names, soft touches, constant reassurance. He’ll freeze hell over with his bare hands before he lets a day slip past that you believe you’re anything less than a deity in his eyes.
“I gotcha, love. I gotcha.”
Just Simon Riley 🥺🥰❤️🩹
#simon ghost x reader#cod x reader#older bf!simon#141 x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x you#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#sammys soft times
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NSFW Size Difference HCs with Simon Pt 2
F!Reader, Part 1
Before you, Simon never had a partner that was able to take him more than halfway. So the first time you took his cock all the way down, he knew right then and there he was going to marry you
This man is thick everywhere, which is fun when it comes to stretching your pussy open, but not so fun when it means you can’t fully wrap your legs around his waist :(
Lube is a must-have when you’re having sex, but cum is a decent alternative when you’re in a pinch (good thing he’s always making sure to pump you full of it 😊)
Thinking about trying anal? Go right ahead! So long as you’re okay with not sitting right for the next week
You thought the reason he has such a big car is because he needs the leg room. While that’s partially true, it’s also because he likes to fuck you in the backseat without bumping his head on the ceiling
Speaking of which, you’ve had to rein him in when it comes to getting adventurous on where you have sex. You can only break so many dining room tables before he realizes maybe it’s better to stick to the bed
He got you one of those clone-a-cock dildos because he knows none of your toys can satisfy you like he does. In return for such a nice gift, you make sure to send him videos of you using it when he’s off on deployment
You never understood his obsession with raising your hips up everytime he took you on your back – that is, until you looked down and saw for yourself how your stomach bulged from where his cock was hitting you from the inside 😳
Beast of a man that he is, he doesn’t let himself get too rough with you in bed. He’s not trying to break you, poor little thing :(
That being said, if you give him permission, he’s not above pinning both your wrists to the mattress with one hand as he fucks you within an inch of your life
One of his favorite things to do after pulling out of you is spread your lips apart and watch how your little hole gapes for him
It’s okay, baby. He knows how puffy and swollen your pussy gets after having two loads fucked into it. But you can take another one, can’t you? That’s a good girl…
#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley smut#ghost smut#cod smut#ghost cod#ghost mw2#simon riley x you#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#cod mw2#call of duty#modern warfare 2#female reader
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The best part about having a boyfriend in the military was having him home with you again after a long mission.
Simon was panting softly over you and his broad shoulders blocked your view, pumping in and out of you slowly to let you both savour the moment. You quiet whimpers and gasps echoed through the room as your legs remained wrapped around his waist and hands pawing at his back. When his movements stopped, his head dropping to your shoulder, you had to stop and focus on what was happening.
you thought that he had finished - if he did, that was okay! But it was just quicker than usual. “Simon? Honey, did you cum? It’s okay if you did, I can just-..”
your words were cut off when he shook his head against your shoulder. Your hands went into his hair and gently scratched at his scalp, pressing gentle kisses to his cheek. Inside, you could feel his cock soften slowly, his body still on yours as he kept his head on your shoulder.
“M’sorry, lovie…” his soft words echoed through the room as he went to try and continue his previous actions. Your hand went to grasp his, shaking your head as you wrapped your arms around him to hold him closer.
“Shhh…don’t worry, Si. Okay? Let’s just cuddle, yeah? We don’t have to have sex.” Your words were comforting, allowing him to relax completely with you. His body was pressed against yours as you kept scratching his scalp.
who needs sex when you have a big bear to cuddle?
#simon riley#simon riley x reader#ghost call of duty#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#ghost cod#ghost#cod modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost x you#fluff headcanons#fluff#slightly suggestive
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thinking about fellow soldier!reader coming back to ghost after having been mistaken for kia
gn!reader x simon "ghost" riley
-maybe he's back in your shared apartment, holding the last photo he took with you.
-it was taken the day of your birthday, with your arms around simon's waist and a gleeful smile permanently etched on your face.
-you were looking directly at the camera with your eyes crinkled at the corners. simon, however, was looking at you and only you with an expression only a lovestruck fool could manage.
-he had long since stopped crying about what he believed was your death. when price came to him with a somber expression and the news that you were on the wrong end of an explosion, the only thing he could do was cry or be angry.
-now, he felt nothing.
-you could imagine his surprise when he hears the front door open. did he forget to lock it? was someone breaking in? he didn't care enough to prepare himself for a potential attack.
-but, no, you walked in with an ungodly amount of bandaged wounds and a tired look on your face.
-you expected him to stand from his place on the sofa to meet you, but he didn't. he thought he was imagining things, again, so he said nothing.
-"simon," you said softly, not bothering to take off your shoes and throwing you things onto the ground next to you.
-still, he said nothing.
-"i'm sorry. i'm so, so sorry. price said he tried to contact you but that you never answered," you continued. nobody knew where you and ghost lived, and simon's grief took the form of self-isolation.
-he still didn't answer you at this point, and it was becoming unsettling.
-"simon, can you hear me?"
-"you're not real," was all he could muster. he didn't have the heart to tell "fake" you to go away or beg himself to wake up from his supposed dream. "i can't do this again. you're not real."
-you realized just how hard your false death had hit him.
-"i'm real. i promise. i was able to take cover last second and-"
-"no. you're dead with not even a body to recover because i wasn't there to protect you. god, i..." the words got stuck in his throat as he leaned forward on the sofa, holding his head in his hands and near trembling.
-you dropped to your knees in front of him like a follower worshipping their god. taking his hands, you held them tight as you could in a silent attempt at convincing him you were alive.
-there was a moment of silence between the two of you before he drew his hands away from yours. it made your heart hurt.
-"simon..." you were grasping at straws, now, trying to figure out how to convince him of what was true. maybe there was something in your luggage that might help.
-as soon as you turned your body to your bags by the front door, you were pulled right back in by a pair of strong arms.
-he was hugging you like the moment he let go, you'd disappear into thin air (and, in a way, he believed it to be a possibility). after being pulled from your shock, you immediately brought your own arms to reciprocate the embrace.
-"(y/n)," he said, trying to keep his voice stable. there was still a part of him that couldn't believe he had you with him. if he weren't so thankful, he'd be lecturing you about acting wreckless on missions and convincing you to quit your job so nothing like this happened again.
-but, for now, he was content like this.
#call of duty imagine#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#cod imagine#cod mw x reader#simon riley imagine#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost imagine#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#ghost x you#cod angst#call of duty angst#simon riley angst#ghost angst#rara writes
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Thinking about Simon swaddling your waist with his muscular arm and pulling your body closer to his until you’re fully flushed against him, so he can feel all of you. Like all of a sudden sensing this urge to feel you. And he takes your jaw in his rough, calloused hand, his thumb brushing over the soft skin while his blazing gaze burns through you. And he crashes his lips onto yours, kissing you with such fiery passion, all the fierce love and devotion he holds for you in his once deemed cold, dead heart that you have melted over the years, seeping through his lips and flooding into your heart and soul. All the while holding you tightly against him to make you feel all his love, all of him. Until you’re left feeling dizzy and floaty, breathless in his arms as his eyes fixate on yours once again, taking note of the knowing look in your eyes. And you know this is his way of showing how much he loves and adores you without any words.
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