#bouncer!simon riley

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Bouncer Ghost blurb

Just thought about Ghost as a bouncer

Thinking about how you and your friends would go to the pub/club he’s working at, the large man catching your eye and keeping your attention the second you spot him at the entrance

Bouncer!ghost is big, shoulders broad, towering over everyone, has biceps bulging even through his hoodie as he has arms crossed somehow leisurely over his chest, hands big as paws wrapped around those thick arms, the face-covering and hood pulled up making him no less intimidating

For some reason, bouncer!ghost would have you nervously fishing out your ID, fingers tapping against your upper thigh as his darks eyes flickers from your face and down to your photo

A grunt would be the only thing preceding bouncer!ghost’s eyes falling to yours before he hands your ID back again, and you wouldn’t be able to contain the shiver running down your spine as he cocks his head backwards, directing your group inwards as he retake his previous position

Bouncer!ghost would not leave your mind, no matter your friends trying to entice you with the guys scattered around the place, the memory of the huge man making you scrunch your nose at whoever they pointed towards

Each time you glanced around the space, you would drag out the moment when you looked in the direction of the entrance, indulging in how you could watch bouncer!ghost through the window

And as if the universe hears your debauched thoughts about the man, your friend excuses herself to go for a smoke, an opportunity that you jump at quickly enough your friends are almost shocked

You don’t smoke, yet still you exit the building with your friend, something in your chest fluttering as bouncer!ghost’s gaze meet yours briefly, enough for you to give him a small smile as a formal greeting much like your friend did just second earlier, before moving past him and to the arranged smoking area

With bouncer!ghost in your close vicinity again, the drinks you’ve had suddenly feels a lot stronger as you giggle along with your friend as she lights a cig

As someone else asks your friends for a lighter, you advert your eyes to bouncer!ghost, appreciating the view he offers at the entrance as he talks to two guys who even they need to look up at him, god he’s just so big

You would return back inside with nearly dragging feet once your friend is done, having no reason to remain, but your chest flutters a last time as bouncer!ghost spots you nearing and hauls the door open for you

Your smile would be much timider this time around at his action despite telling yourself it’s nothing but custom, yet as you enter first and look back to talk with your friend, your eyes move over her shoulder to meet the brown ones looking after the two of you, feeding your delusion that maybe, maybe there was another reason behind bouncer!ghost’s action

Less than thirty minutes later, without your friend this time, you excuse yourself from your group, needing some fresh air

You don’t even know why you did it, the air not much fresher due the smokers scattered in the caged-in part of the sidewalk outside the building, or yes you did, your eyes flitting and briefly meeting bouncer!ghost’s as he notes your presence as you angle your body to pass him despite the lack of queue to enter

You exhale heavily once you lean against the building’s facade, stone digging into your back, the smell of smoke less potent with much fewer smokers huddled in the area compared to earlier

You try to make your glance around smooth, but when you look to the left, your eyes briefly connect with the pair of brown eyes already upon you

Something about bouncer!ghost makes a warmth erupt in your body and your attention to hastily flicker away, instinctually to the ground before you catch yourself and try to look to the side at the other people catching a break form the stuffy air inside

“Forgot your fag?” The slightly muffled but clearly deep voice catches you off guard, eyes widening as your attention is pulled to the side, bouncer!ghost now having his mask rolled to the bridg of his nose, cigarette currently being lightened between his lips

“M’no”, you answer makes his eyes flicker side-ways to eye you, releasing a deep exhale of smoke into the air as he drops his hand, pocketing the lighter

“Didn’t think I saw one earlier”, he says before taking another inhale, directing his eyes forwards before surveying the immediate area

“What?”

“Ya didn’t have a smoke earlier, only your friend”. Were you shocked he’d noticed? Yes, you were, as you hadn’t noticed him paying as much attention to you as you’d done him.

“No, not a fan”, you explained.

“Why you here then, ain’t much fresh air?” Did you imagine the tug in his lips? No, the same cockiness making his sentence sound more like a statement than question was evident in his eyes when he looked at you.

It made you mouth fall open, before you pressed your lips together and you gave him a shrug, adverting your eyes.

Through the corner of your eye, you noticed how he crushed the remaining cigarette beneath his booth with a confident grind of his foot, suggesting your lack of answer was enough for him to know why. If he didn’t already.

“Think that’s enough air for now”, you excused yourself at the realisation, hearing a gruff sounding chuckle follow your informal end to your joint presence.

“Know where to find me”. Your head snapped upwards towards him as you turned to move to the entrance, effectively also towards him. His eyes hints at his amusement instead of a smirk as he now had pulled down his mask, but you knew the same quirk of his lips as earlier was hidden beneath it.

You couldn’t help how your eyes widened when he gave you a wink upon having caught your attention, nor how your body set alight as he stepped in front of you, making you look up at him, as he opens the door for you again

Bouncer!ghost would notch his head forward to look at you, and if he didn’t square his shoulders and grow another inch in satisfaction when he saw your flustered state

It felt like you had a searing heat in the back of your head the rest of the evening, your friends not helping as they pestered you about the interaction they’d seen

And those very friends would be the ones who pushed you towards bouncer!ghost when you wrapped up your stay to head to the next place

“Asking me on the clock?” You could bet one of his brows raised beneath that mask of his if his cocky tone was anything to go by when you stepped up to him, your friends not too far away down the street.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes despite the wavering flutter in your chest at the prospect of having bouncer!ghost reject your advance. “Can just say no and tell me to fuck off”.

The bite in you tone after a few more drinks, not nearly to make you drunk but enough to loosen your nerves, apparently amuses bouncer!ghost as he chuckles deeply and takes your phone from you, the device comically smaller in his hands than yours the brief moment he taps the screen. He hands it back locked and with the edge pinched between his forefinger and thumb, so nonchalant in his action.

“Ask your friend to take a picture if you end up on the curb”, it’s mocking, but not mean, having you shoot him a deadpan look that don’t last long as your friends squeals makes your break into a grin.

#simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley headcanons #ghost mw2 #simon riley cod #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost headcanons #ghost fanfiction #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod mw2 #simon riley x you #ghost x fem!reader #ghost x you #ghost x female reader #simon riley x female reader #bouncer!simon riley #bouncer!ghost #implied age gape

[moongreenlight]

Ghost as a club bouncer. My brain is doing a hard reboot.

Him in one of those tight-fitted black tees. Big shoulders completely blocking the entrance?

Him standing with his arms crossed over his big barrel chest glowering down at people trying to get in with fake IDs or without paying the cover?

That stupid trope of him questioning your ID? What’s your address? What’s your birthday? What’s your sign? You trying to buy me a drink? And then he grudgingly waves you inside?!!

The idea of him being the one person in the club you shouldn’t be talking to, and especially not sassing that draws you to him all night???

Him standing in front of VIP and you trying to get through but there’s a big crowd but he’s so big and tall that he can see you so he just reaches out and drags you forward by the wrist with those big huge giant tattooed arms of his?!!!!!!!!!

Trying to flirt with him all night and him being stone cold until you finally decide to give it up because there’s some drunk guy looking to actually pay you some mind and when you go to the bathroom and come back out you see Ghost throwing the guy out??

AND THEN YOU GET ALL HUFFY AND TRY AND ARGUE WITH HIM AND HE JUST ROLLS HIS EYES AND TAKES YOU BY THE ARM AGAIN??!!!!!!

LEADS YOU THROUGH THE EMPLOYEE EXIT TO HIS CAR SAYING HE’LL TAKE YOU HOME. AND THEN ON THE DRIVE HOME WHEN YOU’RE BICKERING HE SAYS SOMETHING ABOUT

“Don’t know how to behave. Been humpin’ my leg all night. Have to sort out that needy cunt of yours see if you can’t stay out of trouble then.”

#obviously I’m very normal about it thanks for asking #been a board certified bouncer pouncer my whole life tbh. don’t know why this took me so long to think of. #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #cod mwiii #cod mwii #cod mw3 #cod modern warfare

[dovabunny]

GhostSoap AU Concept - I know those hands

Soap's favourite way to destress is watching Ghost's videos. He never talks, it's just gorgeous big strong hands that bakes, cooks, and dismantles weapons.

Watching those hands go from kneading dough to cleaning a sniper rifle is so hot in ways he can't explain.

He has notifs on for his videos, has rewatched them countless times, and has had many shameful fantasies of those strong hands on him.

His favorite moment is a faint but deep chuckle when he was chopping carrots and one part shot off into a window by the 'thunk!' sound of it. He has it saved as an audio file on his phone.

Soap comments on every video, often the first to! Giving detailed praise of what he liked and how he loves his videos, and how they make his day. Ghost never responds to comments though, Soap suspects he doesn't even check the comments.

Soap, or 'MacSoap69' even changed his profile pic to a cute one of him covered in paint laughing at Gaz taking the photo. A delusional fantasy that maybe it'll catch Ghost's attention.

Gaz knows of his crazy simp crush, says it's sad. Soap doesn't care, he has no interest in anyone but Ghost.

However, Soap can only shoot down and think up excuses to avoid so many blind dates till he gives in to Gaz trying to set him up with an 'actual person'.

He arrives at the fancy restaurant his (pretentious) rich 'date' chose at 8:25 for their 8:30 reservation. It's been a really long while since Soap actually dressed up nicely to go out and felt good about how he looked in the mirror.

Then the asshole stands him up. He gets a text an hour late that he's in a meeting he'll reschedule, without actually rescheduling or apologizing.

By now Soap has gotten many pitying looks as he kept telling the waiter he's waiting for someone, looking around expectantly. At the text his face falls and so does his mood.

Of course. Man probably came, took one look at Soap with his rough hands, mowhak, and stupid face and decided it's not worth it.

He wants to cry. He feels so stupid.

He asks for the bill for his two glasses of Scotch. By now the place is starting to empty. He took a table on a busy night just to waste everyone's time. He plans to give a big tip.

The waitress returns but says the chef asks if he could stay just a few minutes longer. Soap is baffled. He'd seen glimpses of the man in the open style modern kitchen, kinda hard to miss the gorgeous giant who looked both out of place and perfectly in his element. In fact he'd been keeping himself distracted by watching him work and move around the kitchen.

But what does the chef want him for? Fuck...is he going to get chewed out for hogging the table all night without ordering?? It scares him but he guesses he deserves it.

He says he'll wait.

15min later the chef comes over to his table, his apron and hat off, two plates are beautifully presented but proper big dishes unlike the 'fine dining' fancy plates he saw other guests get. Did he...make this just for him?

"Mind if I join you?"

But that's not what has Soap stunned silent. A little breathless.

The hands carefully placing the plates down like an offering...

...he knows those hands. Knows them better than his own.

"...Ghost?"

"Hello, MacSoap69."

#soapghost #ghostsoap #johnny soap mactavish #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #the fancy ass date was graves in my mind #maaaaaaaaybe Ghost got the bouncer to get rid of Soap's date #for tactical reasons

[forestshadow-wolf]

Part of the gambler husbands au

Bartender!Ghost who has an affinity for simply appearing with peoples' drinks and bouncer!Soap given the nickname by his friends bc no matter where he goes he's kicking someone out for being disrespectful, ya'know keeping places clean of icky people. His best friend Gaz makes fun of him, says he can never get away from this job.

Ghost doing fun little party tricks to entertain the patrons who sit at the counter insted of a booth or the pool tables. He makes friendly conversations. He knows his regulars, smiles when he sees them walk in. Maybe he sees some commotion at the opposite end of the bar, soap is up front, and he can't leave the bar station. He catches the eye of whichever regular is closest to him, asks them to grab soap.

Soap being beckoned by one of his favorite regulars, he had to help them frim getting harrassed by some snob saying that "they wasn't a proper pronoun" or whatever, he was quick to put him in his place. They brought him homemade brownie the following night. The regular gestures to the far side of the bar where he can begin to see tensions rising. He thanks the patron and makes his way over. He's not sure how long he'd missed this, but a fist is loading up to be thrown just as he's pulling up to introduce himself into the situation. He grips the bicep tightly, places himself between the two. Works to ease the situation, luckily it resolves with nobody needing to be escorted out. He thanks his regular, offers to buy them a thank you drink, they decline "saying they just want to keep the peace" and he agrees.

The 1-4-1 bar is open 8pm to 1am, during the day simon and johnny go out. Sometimes they're soap or ghost. Sometimes they go find trails to hike. Sometimes they don't go out at all, instead they sleep in, have a late breakfast, have movie marathon before they have to head off to work.

#el rambles #gambling AU #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #ghostsoap #soapghost #implied kyle gaz garrick #implied john price #kyle gaz garrick #john price #The 1-4-1 Bar #bartender!ghost #bouncer!soap

[peachesofteal]

Can we please please please get some more Simon x single mother au? Possibly him helping in the garden/ keeping emmaline out of trouble while Mom works in the garden

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 18+ mdni / mild sexual content

“Ow! fuck!”

Your hand jerks, drawing back to your mouth with a hiss. 

“What is it?” He forces himself still, staring daggers at where the tip of your finger has started to leak blood, a thick drop dripping down the side before you bring it to your mouth, lush lips wrapping around your injury. “Are you alright?” His tone is tightly controlled, even keeled, nonchalant, but on the inside, worry gnaws away at his stomach, chewing through the organ until it’s spilling free and running rampant through his body. 

“There’s a piece of glass in here.” In the garden bed? “Some of the other tenants, hang around up here at night. They usually leave bottles or cans behind.” The worry turns to anger, a simple plan slowly taking shape in his mind, a strategy to find the rooftop partiers, and ensure they never leave glass in your garden again. 

Emmaline cries, nose and brows wrinkled in irritation, and you turn to coo at her, finger still half in your mouth. 

“It’s okay, little pea. Just give me a second.” She continues to fuss, and you sigh, wilting like one of your own little flowers, left too long in the sun without water. You blink, and it’s like you’ve shed your sunlit skin for an exhausted shell. Oh, sweetheart. I know it’s hard, but you don’t have to do it on your own anymore. 

I’m here now. 

“Can I?” He asks softly, warming at how your face lights with relief. 

“Yes, please.” You point to the bottle that’s tucked in the side of the backpack, and he unbuckles her from the bouncer that you lugged up the four flights of stairs earlier, even though he had texted you an hour before and politely suggested you wait for him to be finished his phone call, so he could help you. 

You went up anyway, much to his displeasure. Displeasure, that he had to swallow, permanently. 

You’re not his. Not yet. He can’t be disappointed by resistance or refusal when you don’t even know all the ways he can be there for you yet. He knows you’ll learn. You’re a smart girl. His smart girl. 

Emmaline lays nestled in the crook of his elbow, slightly elevated on her back, and he pops the cap of the bottle easily, rubbing his index finger against her cheek to trigger the reflex that will open her mouth. When it does, he keeps it at the right angle to ensure the formula doesn’t flow too fast into her belly. 

“You’ve done this before.” You murmur, reaching into the backpack for a band aid. You’re studying him, tracing over his face, his hands that are nearly the size of your baby, and he can feel the scrutiny, the curious intensity of your gaze. 

“Had a nephew. I was around a lot, when he was this age.” He had a brother too. And a mother. A sister-in-law. A family. 

Emmaline gurgles around the nipple, and he slips it free, sitting her mostly upright, giving her a gentle pat on the back amid her protestations, little grunts that he’s sure she means as ‘feed me’ and ‘more’. He waits for you to ask him the dreaded questions, the focus on the word had, the inevitable conversation about loss and family and pain, guilt and grief that can make a man feel like he’s been buried alive. 

You don’t.

Instead, you simply say, 

“Emmaline had a dad once, too.” 

It’s nearly 2100 when you knock on his door later, baby monitor in one hand, two amber colored bottles in another. 

“Hey. You busy?” His heart does a double tap inside his chest. Bad timing, the worst. Your sweet mouth is slightly open, hopeful, teeth parted just barely to reveal a flash of tongue, and his jaw clenches against the wild need that catapults through his veins to his cock. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? You motion to the monitor. “Just went down. Figure I have about an hour before I pass out myself and could use some adult time.” Shit. The duffel bag next to the door practically speaks for him, irritatingly reminding him he has a plane to catch in less than two hours. 

“I can’t, I’m about to head out.” Your brow furrows, confusion churning into understanding within a moment, disappointment flickering across your expression before it smooths out. 

“Right. Okay.” 

“I want to.” He hurries the words. “But I travel… for work and I have to be on a flight in a few hours.” You’re already half turning away, slinking off to your apartment, giving him a soft agreement as you go. 

“Sure, yeah.” 

“Wait, sweetheart,” You startle at the pet name, eyes going wide at the inferred affection. “when I get back, let’s… have a drink.” You nod, and he smiles a real smile, barely tugging his lips upward, probably hardly visible to you. The kind of smile he’s been wearing around you these past two weeks, the kind of smile he tries to give Emmaline when she stares at him. 

“Alright, sounds good then.” Your key finds your lock, and he steps out into the hallway, trapping your gaze with his own. 

“You girls be good.” He says, a parting instruction, and a bashful, bewildered smile of your own curves across your mouth. 

“We will.”

#light on #peaches asks #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #peaches writes

[cordeliawhohung]

i was wondering if i might be able to put in a request, if possible? simon riley mafia/guard dog vibes? i can absolutely expand with more ideas on that too if you’d like but just overall those vibes are amazing and your mafia works are immaculate ♡ ♡ ♡

sorry this took forever work was killing me lmao. but vibes are perfect! gives me a bit more freedom in writing. hope you enjoy (and thanks for getting me to write more mafia!au stuff lmfao) (:

mafia!141 masterlist

cw: violence, simon beats the fuck outta someone, crude comments, slight in limbo spoilers/foreshadowing but only if you squint? terrible cliches but oh well

It wasn't your first time seeing the glint of a knife in dark light, but it was your first time having a blade brandished at you in a threat.

Really, this was all your fault. Innocent intentions of wanting to bring your boyfriend some takeout from work was what got you caught in that mess, and had you been better at following instructions you would have been inside. Instead, you botched the directions to the VIP section the bouncer up front had given you, leading you into a trap straight out of a horror movie.

You had hardly gotten the chance to round the corner before this man, some wanna-be mugger, slapped your to-go box out of your hand. Still warm and fresh steak, along with a ridiculous amount of chips, flopped out of the container and onto the ground just as you felt your back collide with the wall next to you. Brick wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing to have shoved against your spine, but it certainly beat the wicked curve of the knife that was used to threaten you.

Everything in you urged you to run away, to scream, to fight, to do something, and yet all you could do was stand there like a deer in headlights. The only thing you could focus on was the man's eyes, and how he glared at you so sharply you were certain he could kill you with his gaze alone. He pointed the knife closer to you with his other hand outstretched, waiting for it to be filled.

"Are you fucking deaf?" the man snarled. "I told you to hand over your shit."

Those were the first words that fully registered in your brain, and you couldn't get your voice to cooperate. Your hands raised in an attempt to put some more distance between you and your assailant, yet that seemed to do nothing but only aggravate him further.

"Do you think I'm fucking around? I'll kill you and take it off your damn body if that's what you want," he urged further.

"I don't... I don't have anything."

Those were the first words you were able to stutter out, and you hated that it was the truth. There was nothing on you worth taking; no cash or card, not even any expensive jewelry. Worst of all, you didn't feel scared. A terrible numbness settled over you as your eyes stayed locked onto the blade that threatened to embed itself into your body, and all you could think about was that you hoped it didn't hurt when you died.

"You bitch, don't fucking lie to me. I don't have time to-"

That wretched man never got the chance to finish his words before a metal clinking cut him off, followed quickly by a crunch. The pure silence that followed was then interrupted by a piercing, guttural scream, and it was only then that your mind was able to make sense of the events that took place in front of you.

Simon, your big, beautiful bastard of a boyfriend, found you. How, you weren't quite sure, but you were thankful nonetheless. Most of what took place happened too fast for your brain to fully comprehend it, but you were able to figure out that the knife was no longer in the mans hands, and in fact, his hand no long seemed fit to hold anything at all. Several of his fingers twisted inhumanly, sitting at awkward angles that you knew no fingers could naturally position themselves. He gripped his wrist with his uninjured hand as if he could choke off the pain, but all he could do was sniffle and grovel.

"Watch your choice of words when you're talkin' to her, yeah?" Simon warned.

His huge frame slipped behind the man as he grabbed a hold of the back of his neck where he pushed him to the ground. His knees collided with the cement ground with a sound so sickening you could nearly feel the pain he felt. Even then, Simon didn't let the mugger off easy. His hand slipped into the mans short hair where he yanked his head back, forcing him to look up at you.

"Apologize," Simon demanded.

For a moment, the man couldn't get any words out. It was as if your positions had switched too violently for him to get his brain to work properly, but after a not-so-gentle nudge from Simon, his thoughts seemed to sort themselves. He sniffled as pained tears welled in his eyes, and you hated yourself for almost feeling bad for him.

"I'm sorry," the man sputtered out.

Despite the pain in his voice, it wasn't enough for Simon.

"Sorry for what?" he urged, grip in his hair only growing more forceful.

"Sorry for... for hurting you, I'm sorry," he winced.

"Yeah, I'm sure you are," Simon grumbled.

With a final shove, the man fell forward onto his good hand, nearly missing the now ruined steak and chips that was supposed to be Simon's dinner that night.

"C'mon, sweetheart," Simon urged, bringing your attention away from the crumpled mess of a man in front of you. "Let's clean up."

You didn't start crying until you realized Simon had been hurt. With clothes darker than night itself, his blood had blended all too well into his shirt, obscuring the cut he had gotten on his side. The only thing that had calmed you down was him bringing you into a private bathroom and letting you sit on the counter as he cleaned himself up. Seeing him hurt wasn't something you ever wanted to witness. Really, you never thought a man like Simon Riley could get hurt. Yet seeing the minor cut he had gotten compared to the major wound you would have endured was enough to quell your worries and halt your tears.

"How did you know where I was?" you asked.

Your legs didn't quite reach the floor as the counter was higher than most average bathrooms. You swung your feet as you watched Simon clean his cut with careful eyes. It wasn't deep, thank goodness, though it took him more gauze than imagined to stop the blood flow.

"One of the guys called up saying you were headed through the VIP entrance, and I came down to meet you. When I realized you weren't there, I knew somethin' was wrong. Besides, the cunt's demands weren't quiet," he explained.

Any other time, you would have been flustered being in such a situation with Simon. Behind closed doors in a bathroom of a club together would have already been nerve wracking enough, and the fact he had shredded his shirt was cause for you to be more abashed. But in that moment, you couldn't help but be eternally grateful he had been there, even if he had shattered a man's hand over it.

"I see why John has you hired as a bouncer," you admitted humorously. "I've never seen anyone... dispatch another person like that."

Simon's dark eyes flickered up to you as he finished bandaging his wound, and he moved to the sink to quickly clean his hands of the blood. Once he was clean, he moved in front of you where he stood between your legs, though not at all sexually. His hands came to rest against your side where he gave you a gentle and reassuring squeeze.

"I'd do anythin' for you," he said.

You wanted to explode into monologue. Wanted to tell him that he shouldn't be so willing to do things for you, even if he was capable of it. There were a million reasons why you didn't deserve him, why he shouldn't try and protect someone already damned, yet you couldn't get yourself to speak them.

Noting your silence, Simon pressed a caring kiss against your forehead before pulling away and snatching his ruined shirt off the counter.

"C'mon," Simon urged as he put the soiled clothing on.

Intrigued, you hopped off the counter. "Where are we going."

"To get dinner," he replied. "Bastard ruined my meal, and your night. Figured we could make somthin' back at my place."

The smallest of smiles graced your lips as Simon straightened himself out in the mirror, and when he looked at you again, he nearly smiled, too. You quickly wiped at your eyes as you silently prayed they weren't too swollen, and then with some sort of bravery you didn't know you had, you reached for the sleeve of his shirt with a quiet chuckle.

"I'd like that."

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mafia!ghost #mafia!simon #f!reader

[cmncisspnandmore]

One Night Stand

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley X Reader

Warnings: Slight mention of death??

Summary: After moving to London, you decide to go to a bar your first night in town.

Word Count: 3,475

A/N: Hi! Welcome to my very first Simon Riley Series!! Im so excited to start this series. I have been brainstorming the idea for a few days now. Im hoping to get one part out a week. But please be patient if they take a little longer. This first part isnt super long but i wanted to give something to introduce the series.

Next: Part 2

The music thumped loudly outside of the crowded bar, the heavy smell of alcohol and smoke wafted from the open door. A drunken girl stumbled out of the bar, her head back in laughter. She adjusted her too small top as she glanced over her shoulder at the man walking behind her. His face was flushed, a drunk smile on his face as well. They stumbled towards the curb together, one arm out hailing a taxi from the street. 

The man wraps his arms around the woman's waist, keeping her steady as he pressed his lips against her ear. Whispering something in her ear that made her laugh again, a blush forming on her cheeks. You tear your gaze away as they climb into the Taxi, the door slamming shut behind them. 

The dim lights of the bar in front of you are warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the wildly thumping bass, and loud noises from people who had one too many. Taking a moment you glance down, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. This was a bad idea, you never went out to bars. The last time you went out to a bar you ended up almost getting kicked out due to your friends over intoxication, she had a few too many and tried multiple times to dance on the sticky black bar top. Finally a bouncer had helped you drag her out of there, you then spent most of the night holding her hair back as she threw up in the lou. 

But yet, here you are, standing in front of a bar in a new town. A town where you knew no one, and no one knew you. 

Exactly how you wanted it.

A fresh start.

Or so you hoped.

With a deep breath you stepforward, sliding past the throng of people crowding the door. Inside the music was even louder, the bass vibrated in your chest as you pushed forward towards the counter. Behind the bar you watched as a man with a mohawk effortlessly threw bottles around. His graceful movements caught the attention of the patrons. His smile radiated in the low light, as he poured various alcohols into a shaker, making exaggerated movements as he popped the lid on and shook the contents together. 

In one fluid movement he poured a row of shots, filling each tiny shot glass with just the right amount before he slid them across the clean black top towards the guests. Slipping into an empty bar stool you watch as he takes orders, his smile never leaving his face as he takes the rag off his shoulder and wipes down the counter. As he reaches under the bar top he grabs a beer popping the bottle cap off and slides it to the man on the end of the bar. His bucket hat tips in acknowledgement as he grabs the beer. Bringing it to his lips for a sip before he gives the bartender a wink. 

The man in the bucket hat turns his attention to the man on his left, his head slightly down, black ball cap covering his eyes. In the terrible lighting of the bar you could see the sharp angles of his jaw as he laughed at whatever bucket hat said to him.

“Hello lass, what can I get for ye?” A thick Scottish accent jerked you away from your people watching. Standing in front of you is, Mohawk bartender, his hand resting on the bar top in front of you as he looks at you. His bright blue eyes watching you, as you straighten up in your seat. Your fingers nervously tapping on the cool counter as he gives you a soft smile. 

“Oh.. uh, just a Vodka Soda?” You say, but it comes out as more of a question.

Mohawk laughs, his white teeth flashing as he shakes his head at you. “You sure about that?” He teases, his voice light as he turns towards the wall of alcohol on the back wall.

“Did it sound that bad?” You shrink down in the seat. 

“Ney, you aren’t a regular ‘round here, are ye? I know almost all of them,” Mohawk says as he grabs a highball glass and fills it with ice. He tips a bottle of vodka into the glass, the clear liquid slowly inching up the ice. Your eyes follow the rising liquid, only flickering back to the bright blues of the bartender when he grabs the nozzle of soda and adds it to the glass.

“I just moved here, first night in town actually,” You smile as he slides the now full glass towards you. Taking the black thin straw you stir the contents for a moment before putting it to your lips and taking a sip. The vodka burns the back of your throat, warming your stomach as your eyes trail over the bartenders face.

He was handsome, along with his bright blue eyes, he had a strong jawline that was covered in a stubbly beard. A slight scar ran down his forehead towards his left eyebrow, but it was hard to see in the dim lighting. A smile played at his lips as he watched you take a sip, the towel from his shoulder wiping down the bar again. He was muscular under his gray fitted t-shirt, it was evident as he started replacing the supplies he used from making drinks, his muscles flexing as he reached up to put away a top shelf liquor. 

“Well, welcome home then. The names Johnny, but most people just call me Soap,” Soap said over his shoulder, as he glanced back at you. Your lips around the black straw, as you take another deep sip. The slightly sweet drink goes down slightly easier now, the knot in your chest lessinging with each sip. 

“Y/N, Y/n y/l/n. Why do people call you soap?” you tilt your head to the side as Johnny comes to stand in front of you again. He leans his forearms on the bar, getting closer to you so it was easier to hear over the music. 

“It’s just a nickname I was given years ago, got it from a few of my service buddies,” Soap smiles, flashing his white teeth once again.

“Service? You’re a military man then?” You muse, wrapping your hands around the half empty glass.

“Aye, that hard to believe?” Soap raises an eyebrow at you, and you can't help the laugh that bubbles up in your throat.

“No, no,” you wave your hand in his direction, earning another smile from Soap. 

“So what brings you to London?” He asks, as he turns towards a new patron. You watch as he listens to the customers order before going about making their drink. As he adds the alcohol to the shaker he looks over at you. The extravagant flipping and mixing ceased as the atmosphere of the bar seemed to calm down slightly. 

The louder patrons from the door have gone, the music turned down slightly. The thumping bass is no longer as strong, giving you some relief from the constant vibrations in your chest. You didn't realize how tense the entire atmosphere of the bar was making you. Not until the people around you started talking amongst themselves in normal volumes instead of having to yell over the music. The knot forming in your chest settles some as the alcohol buzzes in your veins, filling you with a warmth that seems to radiate from within.

“Just needed a change I guess,” you stare down into the cup in front of you. Eyes following the swirling ice, as you mix the half empty drink with your straw.

“Change is good sometimes,” Soap smiles, as he comes back over to you. From the corner of your eye you can see Bucket Hat and Ball Cap look over at you two.

“I guess.. So how long have you been in London?” You ask, bringing the straw to your lips once more. 

Bucket Hat and Ball Cap stand from where they are sitting and move down the bar, towards where you and Soap are talking. For a moment you aren't sure what they are doing until they slide into the seats next to you, Ball cap on your left, Bucket Hat taking the seat next to him.

“MacTavish! Leave the poor girl alone,” Ball cap scolds, and Soap rolls his eyes.

“Haurd Yer Wheest,” Soap grumbles, although he tried to look annoyed, the playful glint in his eyes says otherwise. 

“Be glad LT isn’t here, he’d scold you for not speaking English,” Ball cap snorts, as Soap and Bucket Hat laugh. Soap leans across the bar and punches Ball Cap in the shoulder lightly, and they both smile at each other. Clearly they knew one another, their playful banter and relaxed posture gave that away. 

“Excuse them, they don't know how to act in front of a lady,” Bucket hat says to you, peering around Soap and Ball Cap. “I’m John Price, and this,” he gestures to Ball Cap, “Is Kyle Garrick.” 

“Y/n, nice to meet you,” You reach down the bar and shake hands with each of them. Kyle gives you a small smile, his perfectly straight white teeth peeking out behind his full lips.

“Call me Gaz, it’s nice to meet you too,” Gaz lets go of your hand and you grab your almost empty drink. 

“I was just welcoming Y/n, to London. It’s her first night here.” Soap chimes in, and Price and Gaz nod. The effects of the alcohol were starting to kick in more now. Your cheeks felt flushed, and your insides felt warm and fuzzy. 

You barely drank and it was almost embarrassing how having only one drink made you feel. Across the bar Soap once again reached down and pulled out two beers for his friends. He popped the tops and slid them towards them. His large hands rested on the counter as they talked. The black towel he used to wipe down the counter every once in a while slung over his shoulder. 

The conversation flowed easily between the three of them, and you often found yourself just watching them talk. Soap and Gaz joked with each other, teasing one another like siblings. While Price watched them, poking fun at one of them every so often. It was like watching a family interact, it made you almost sad.

Your thoughts drifted back to your own family.Before you could be pulled into the depths of your own mind, suddenly the drink in front of you was full. Your eyes catch Johnny’s, he gives you a wink as he walks towards the other end of the bar to take someone's order. You quickly down the fresh drink, coughing slightly as the Vodka burns down your throat and settles in your chest. The warmth blossoms across your cheeks, as you listen to Gaz and Price talk. You continue to push down the feelings that sting that back of your eyes. 

Maybe going out wasn't a good idea, the last thing you wanted to do was be the drunk girl crying at the bar. But the pain in your chest as you watch the dynamic between the three of them stings. It slices away at a piece of you, the piece you thought you left behind at the graveyard when you got in your car two nights ago and set off towards London. 

“You okay?” Kyle asks, his soft brown eyes peer at you from under his baseball bap.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm going to go to the bathroom. Watch my drink?” You ask, pushing yourself up from the bar stool. The world tilts slightly the full effect of the two drinks you downed in the past hour hitting you. You sway slightly for a moment before you steady yourself, your hands gripping the bar stool to support yourself. 

“Of course,” Kyle smiles, turning back to talk to Price and Soap. 

You shuffle through the small crowd of people around the bar and spot the bathroom in the back corner of the bar. You dodge people as they mingle, managing to make it to the back of the bar with minimal stumbling. You shove open the swinging bathroom door and walk over to the row of sinks. You rest your hands on the white sinks, leaning over at the waist you take deep breaths. Your chest feels tight as you struggle to pull full breaths in, the emotion clawing at your throat as you fumble for the faucet.

The cold water sprays into the sink, the sound drowning out most of the noise from the bar. Freezing water bites at your wrists as you thrust them under the stream. The hair on your arms stands up as a chill prickles along your heated skin. Tears burn at the back of your eyes, and you squeeze them closed.  It was a bad idea, the world tilts and spins, a wave of nausea starts to creep up your throat. 

As the tidal wave of emotion threatens to spill over you, like someone filling an already too full cup. You abandon the still running sink, water dripping down your arms onto the dirty tile floor of the bathroom. Stumbling out of the bathroom you glance around. Eyes wide, like a deer in headlights, the glow of the emergency exit sign at the end of the hall catches your eye. Your feet feel like lead blocks as you shuffle towards the door. It’s slightly propped open, a brick acting as a doorstop. The cool London air rushes through the cracked door, and you push it open. The cool air stings your face as the door slams against the brick doorstop.

The alleyway between the bar and the neighboring building is dark. A single street light casting a yellow glow from the sidewalk feet away from where you stand. You press your back against the cold brick wall a few steps away from the door. Tipping your head back you force yourself to drag the cool air into your lungs. 

Your lungs burn as you fist your shaking hands at your side, nails biting into the soft flesh of your palms. As your heart hammers in your chest, you fight back the tears that pool behind your closed eyes. You squeeze your fists tighter, the bite of your nails starts to cut through the fog in your head. 

Maybe you should’ve just stayed at your flat, then you wouldn't be standing in the cold alleyway of the bar. You wouldn't have fled the bar where people were being genuinely nice to you for once. You wouldn't have to figure out how to explain your absence to Soap. Or squirm under Kyle and Price’s intense seemingly knowing gaze. 

You should’ve stayed home.

“You shouldn’t be out here in the dark,” a slightly gruff voice mumbles to your right.

Your eyes flutter open, you scan the dark alleyway, eyes landing on the massive figure that steps out of the emergency door. You blink a few times, clearing away the tears from your vision. A man stands next to the now closed door, he was massive. Broad shoulders and chest, covered by a black fitted t-shirt. He blended in with the shadows of the alleyway despite his massive size. 

“Are you going to kidnap me? Or kill me?” You ask, you meant for it to be teasing but it came out almost hopeful.

“No, I just came out here for some air, I didn't realize there was someone out here doing the same,” he chuckles, moving slightly into the light. In the dim lighting you can see him better, he was wearing all black, except for a face mask that rested over his mouth and nose. The lower half of a skull was printed across the mask. His dark brown eyes scanned over you, as you stared at the mask. 

“You sure? Most of the time people standing in dark alleys wearing masks have less than legal reasons for being there,” you raise an eyebrow at him. 

Your eyes widen as he lets out a laugh, a loud bark of laughter that catches you off guard. “Trust me, my intentions aren’t criminal,” his voice was smooth and deep like honey, as he stepped closer to you.

“What are you doing out here?” He asks, one eyebrow raised, hands shoved deep into his pockets. 

As he stands in front of you, even with an added 3 inches you still had to crane your neck up to meet his gaze. “I needed some air as well,” you mumble, he was standing close enough you could feel his body heat radiating off you. Your skin prickles at the heat, goosebumps raising on your arms. 

“I’m Simon,” he smiles behind the mask, his hand outstretched towards you.

“Y/n,” You reach out grabbing his hand. The warmth from his skin radiates up your arm. Small electric shocks skitter across your skin at the contact, the anxiety in your chest from earlier fizzles out. He gives your hand a slight squeeze before letting go, and immediately you want his hand in yours again. 

“So.. uh.. Listen. I'm not usually one to just casually suggest things like this… But I'm having a really rough night… and…” you trail off, wrapping your arms around yourself. You swear you can see the smirk behind the mask as Simon leans forward slightly, one arm resting on the wall next to you, half caging you in.

“Wanna get out of here? I bet I can take your mind off things..” Simon whispers, his other hand coming to catch the bottom of your chin and tip it up so you're fully looking at him. His brown eyes dark as they trail down your face and your chest. Before they land back on your eyes, the scar down through his eyebrow puckers as he raises one at you.

“Please,” the air rushes from your lungs as you step forward. You weren't lying, you didn't normally just go home with people you met in back alleys of bars. In fact you have never hooked up with someone like this before. But you were desperate to keep the looming thoughts at bay. You needed a distraction from the storm brewing below the surface, and like one broken soul staring at another. On some level you think Simon saw that. There was something in his brown eyes that was familiar. Something you saw every morning reflected in your own eyes. Something you tried hard to shove down into the box where you kept your emotions. 

Grief.

It was like a magnet, something that forces people together. So here you were agreeing to go home with a complete stranger you met moments ago because you needed something to drown that out. And from the look in Simon's eyes he understood that, because on some level he needed it too. 

“Come on, Love,” Simons voice is soft as his large hand wraps around your waist as he guides you out of the alleyway and towards a black truck parked on the side of the road. You glance over your shoulder, looking back at the front of the bar. Through the large glass window you can see Soap, Gaz and Price still talking and laughing. Your absence seemingly gone unnoticed, your highball glass abandoned on the counter top as someone else has slid into the seat you once occupied.

You climb into the passenger seat of Simon's truck, turning your attention to look out the windshield as he climbs into the driver's seat. The roaring of your thoughts flooding back in the quiet of the truck’s cab. You pick at your fingers as he pulls out of the spot. From the corner of your eye you see Simon glance over at you, before he reaches up and pulls off the skull mask. He tosses it onto the floor of the backseat and focuses on driving. 

In the passing streetlights you study his face, blonde stubble litters his jaw, a few thin silvery scars are scattered across his jawline and nose. They weren't ugly by any means, if anything they added character to his otherwise smooth skin. His nose was slightly crooked, you assumed from being broken at one point in time. Simon's eyes flicker to yours, causing you to avert your gaze, like a child being caught doing something naughty. Your eyes trail along the moving scenery as you try to squash down the embarrassment of being caught. The overwhelming anxiety that maybe this was a bad idea. 

Simon’s large hand lands on your thigh, the warmth of his palm sinking through the fabric of your jeans.

And suddenly, the noise in your head is quiet.

Next: Part 2

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #COD #cod mwii #cod x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost cod #soap #simon x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost #x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon #series

[ysljoon]

Love Maze-Chapter 2

pairing: single dad!simon 'ghost' riley x live-in nanny!reader wc: 1.3k warnings: none for this chapter a/n: this chapter was a little slow BUT we made some progress eeee im so excited to go from here yall 🫣 MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked) <prev chpt. >next chpt.

You stare at your apartment triumphantly once you see everything packed away. You lugged your suitcase out the door and now you’re on your way back to the Riley household. You were curious about Ella’s father. He was a very hard man to read and didn’t seem like a man for much conversation. Hopefully, you could bring down the walls he’s set up and get closer to him because to live with someone who appears unapproachable seems awkward to say the least. Yes, you’re there for the child first and foremost, but it would be nice to get to know him outside of being your employer.

Also the mask? What is that about? That should’ve raised more red flags in your mind, but the opportunity seemed too great to be able to look over that. He seems to be hiding a lot, but maybe he just needs time to warm up.

You showed up at 8 a.m. on the dot and knocked on the door. You distracted yourself with the pleasant dewy weather of the morning while you waited for Simon to answer the door. The door swung open faster than you expected and you had to dodge it at the last second to avoid it hitting you square in the face. Simon gave you a gruff ‘good morning’ and moved out of the way to let you inside. He still had on the black surgical mask, but his attire was a jarring difference in comparison to the first encounter. He had on blue cargo pants with harnesses hugging his thighs and a zipped-up blue windbreaker. Ella was held against his hip with one hand and the other hand had a black vest in the other. You were well aware that he was military personnel, but you didn’t think you would be acquainted with that side of him so soon. 

You rolled your suitcase in behind you and awkwardly stood in his kitchen while waiting for him to give you further instructions. He placed Ella down in her bouncer and leaned against the counter across from you. His eyes looked bored when looking at you and there wasn’t really an emotion you could use to describe it, but it didn’t feel good to see the least. “I just fed Ella her morning bottle. The formula is in the cabinet over there.” He pointed above your head behind you. “And all bottles are in the dishwasher. Feed her about every 3 hours or whenever she’s feeling fussy.” 

He tilts his head to the side to indicate to follow him and you do. He takes you to her nursery and it is very bare bones of a nursery. It has all the essentials with a crib, a dresser equipped with a changing table and baby monitor on top, a black suede rocking chair, and a trash bin. “In the dresser is where all the diapers and wipes are stored. The top drawer has all of her binkies,” He crouches down to the lowest drawer. “Here’s an extra baby monitor. I already have one in my room so keep it on your bedside table.” You nodded, taking mental notes of all the information he was giving you. He wordlessly walks out of the room and takes you across the hall. “This is the spare room, make yourself at home. The closet should have enough space, but if you need more just let me know and the bathroom is attached.” You gave him a grateful smile. 

“Thank you so much for your hospitality, Simon.” He gave you only a grunt in acknowledgment of your words. “I’m heading to work now, since we’re in a lull right now I should be home around 6 pm. Text me if you need anything. If you don’t hear from me within the hour contact my captain. His name is John Price.” He handed you a small square of card stock with John’s name and number scribbled on it. You reached for your phone immediately out of your pocket to input the number. Simon gave you one last look over before heading out the door and you bid him one last farewell. You made your way to the living room and looked at Ella with a fond expression. “Well, Ella it’s just me and you now.”

The day moved along swiftly. It was easy to turn on your caregiver mode, but you did do some quick online shopping when Ella was having her afternoon nap as it came to your attention quite quickly that there was a scarcity of baby toys for her to play with. Ella was an easy baby though she was rarely very fussy and during diaper changes, you were able to keep her distracted enough to have her giggling. The sounds of her laughs had you wrapped around her finger. She was an adorable little girl. 

Once 4 pm rolled around you decided to scour Simon’s cupboards to see what you could cook for dinner when he comes home from work. His pantry was scarce and you made a mental note to visit the grocery store tomorrow. You were able to scrape together a garlic chicken pasta for dinner and once that was done you let it sit on the burner on a low heat to keep it warm as it was only a few minutes until Simon was home. You made your way back to Ella to scoop her out of her bouncer that you kept her in while you were cooking, bounced her on your hip and sang lullabies to her. Her wide little eyes stared at you and observing her face made you realize how her eyes were identical to Simon’s. You weren’t sure how the rest of her facial features compared to Simon’s as he kept it concealed. 

The door knob jiggled and the jangling of keys alerted both you and Ella to the arrival of Simon coming back home. Suddenly Ella started getting squirmy in your arms and wanted to be held by her dad. He quickly shuffled at the front door putting down his belongings and kicking off his boots. He made his way over to you and scooped Ella out of your arms and cradled her in his strong, muscular ones. “How was she today?” “She was great, barely fussy at all! Oh, I made dinner by the way so whenever you’re ready to eat I can dish it out for us.” Simon did smell the aroma of food in the air, but he thought you only cooked enough for yourself he didn’t expect you to cook for him. He also noted how you said us instead of just him. He wasn’t used to someone being this nice to him since he joined the 141 and the task force tried their best to welcome Simon. This was definitely something to get used to. 

“I’ll take a shower first and then we can eat. If you’re hungry now though you can eat without me. You waved him off and told him you’d be fine waiting for him. He doesn’t strike you as someone who has an extensive shower routine. You sat on the couch with Ella accompanying you by your feet just crawling around and found a cartoon for her to enjoy on the TV.

Simon came out of the bathroom in 10 minutes flat with his blonde hair damp and-oh. Simon was standing in front of you without the mask and wow. You couldn’t understand why he covered up his face. He is handsome, to say the least. You averted your gaze and cleared your throat making your way to the kitchen. You silently plated servings for the both of you and Simon silently was by your side getting the utensils. Dinner was uneventful as Simon didn’t have much to say and you could see it in his face that he was tired so you didn’t want to bother him too much. Simon said he’ll wash the dishes since you cooked and you nodded. He wished you a goodnight and you made your way into your room to get ready for bed. The first day of the job is done and you would think it went pretty successfully. You couldn’t help thinking about Simon’s face until your eyes became heavy with sleep. 

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty modern warfare #ghost x you #cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic

[yunggoblin]

Always Working - Simon 'Ghost' Riley (18+)

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Stripper!Female!Reader

Summary: Simon works as a bouncer at a strip club you perform at and a customer gets a bit handsy.

Warnings: 18+ Blog, Oral (Female Receiving), Cussing, Smut, Riding, Slight Breeding King, PTSD Episode, MINORS DNI!

Word Count: 4,202

If someone were to ask Ghost what he’d do after being in the military he’d most likely just laugh and expect to be dead during battle. Ghost never saw himself in the retirement stage, he lived for the battlefield and he saw himself dying there. But that all changed when Price forced retirement early on Ghost.

Ghost wasn’t the only one, Soap also was forced to retire and a bunch of other men. Price stated there was a younger, fresher batch of men coming into the military and taking over Task Force 141. Ghost didn’t care that he was being replaced, he cared about not working anymore, especially for his country or maybe it was the fact he was scared shitless going back into the community. He didn’t know how he’d act upon regular civilians. The real world wasn’t like his missions he’s been on.

He’s been prepared on how to take an ambush from the enemy but wasn’t ready to speak to an elderly woman who needed help crossing the street or a small child staring at him with his mask over his face. That’s when Ghost realized he was a night person, less innocent people out and about staring at him whereas it seems like barely anyone during the darkness even paid attention to him.

So, what was Ghost doing after being released?

“Ghost.” Someone called out to Ghost who was leaning against the brick wall outside the building, looking towards the indoor bouncer who had a worried look on his face he informed what was going on. “We have a problem with that same guy towards Y/N.”

Ghost nodded, flicking the lit cigarette he was smoking and pushed himself off the wall and switched places with the indoor bouncer so he could check ID’s before anyone enters the strip club. That’s right, Ghost was an overnight bouncer for a strip club. The military retirement settlement checks were pretty damn good, a few hundred thousand a month to cover his bills, food and whatever the hell he wanted to buy, but Ghost was a working man. He couldn’t sit around at home doing nothing all day. 

The very first night Ghost was a retired man he walked into this strip club for a drink only to toss out a man who was getting too handsy with a dancer. The owner was slightly intimidated towards Ghost at first only to smile and say; “How would you like a job?” Ever since then Ghost has been working here, that was nearly four months ago.

Ghost knew who the bouncer was talking about, there was an older man named Gary who liked to hit the club right when it opens and toss singles to the girls. Usually he’s on his best behavior for the first few hours but after a few drinks he starts to get handsy and loud towards the women, that’s when Ghosts steps in. 

Since the club has been open for a few hours, Ghost knew exactly where Gary was. Ghost past booths full of rowdy men who soon fell quiet towards his presents. The knew not to fuck with Ghost and respect the women if they still wanted to enjoy the entertainment. As the booths were now behind him he could hear the men speak up and cheer once more towards the talent. 

Making his way towards the back of the building, Ghost passed by private rooms that were being occupied by private dances. He made his way toward room five only to stop the bartender that was about to walk in there and serve Gary more drinks. “Hold on Daisy, I think Gary here has had enough for the night.” 

The small brunette woman nodded and parted ways from Ghost, heading back to the bar to make more drinks for other customers. Ghost pushed past the long black curtains, the room was slightly dimmed with red lights from the corner of the room, music was coming from the speaker while Gary was leaning against the black cushioned leather chair enjoying the view in front of him.

Ghost also was enjoying the show. There you stood in the middle of the room, spinning and twirling around on the silver pole connected front the ceiling to the floor board. The way your half naked body moved swiftly with the music, your hair perfectly falling over your shoulders and the look in your eyes that made Ghost smirk knowing you were in the moment of the dance. Ghost glanced down at Gary, surprisingly shocked that he was well behaving for you, so what Ghost didn’t understand was why did the other bouncer say Gary was being handsy?

The loud echo of the harsh slap rang through Ghost’s ears as his eyes widened with anger. A large red hand print was forming on your bare ass cheek as Gary spanked you hard. You yelped loudly, grabbing the pole and straightening yourself up after bending over to give him a slight view of what your lacy thong was hiding. “Well don’t stop now darling! I have a full chub here!” Gary yelled.

You looked at Ghost, behind Gary who didn’t seem to notice the large bouncer. Ghost’s hand came down, clamping Gary by the back of his neck and lifted him up from the chair. “Shows over.” Ghost snarled.

“H- Hey!” Gary squirmed against Ghost’s strength. “I paid for two hours with her Ghost, you can’t just rob me like that!” Gary tried to fight against Ghost, even digging his heels into the carpet of the floor. Ghost kept moving towards the exit, basically dragging the smaller man. Approaching the door that had the red exit sign Ghost slammed the smaller male against the wall next to the door. 

“If I ever see you in here again I’ll fucking gut you myself, do you understand?” Ghost’s eyes were dark as he stared down at the man. 

Gary’s frightened features showed Ghost that he wasn’t going to be coming around here anymore. Nodding, Gary swore he wouldn’t come back here. “Good. Now go.” Ghost pushed him towards the exit door and shut it behind him, automatically locking the ex-customer so he wouldn’t come back in. Ghost exhaled through his nostrils, making his black balaclava damp, his tense shoulders slumped as he tried to calm his beating heart. 

He felt stares and glances towards him. Slowly turning around to face the people and dancers, everyone was staring at Ghost. “Go back to having a good time. Men, reminder do NOT touch the talent or you will be kicked out!” 

All the men murmured and nodded their heads, agreeing with Ghost’s rules and went back to watching the women as they started to dance again. Ghost fixed his mask over his face, clearing his throat as he made sure his appearance was decent once more before seeing you. 

Walking down the long hallway towards the back rooms, Ghost stopped at room number five and knocked on the side of the wall before entering. “Come in, Ghost.” 

Ghost pulled back the black curtains and entered, watching you pick up the scattered money laid all over the floor, his eyes traced the curve of your ass as you moved around. The small attire you wore gave him very little imagination needed when he could see how hard your nipples were in the bra. “You alright?” His English accent was thicker as he was still slightly angry at the customer for touching you.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” You sighed out, combing your fingers through your messy locks. “You know, it feels like we’re robbing the guy.” You chuckled as Ghost squinted at you, confused.

“How so?” Ghost crossed his tattooed covered arms over his large muscular chest. 

“Man comes here on a daily basis, always pays well and gets a two hour private lap dance only to not finish it because he can’t keep his hands to himself.” You counted the money in your hands. 

“Seems to me someone should follow the rules and he could finish for what he paid for.” Ghost gruffed out. 

“Easy big dog, I’m not complaining.” You pulled five twenties out of the pile you had. 

“You’re not complaining that he spanked you?” Ghost narrowed his eyebrows as he looked down at you while you walked up to him. 

You smiled at how protective Ghost was towards you, even if he didn’t mean to be, but the man was just doing his job. “No, not that. I’m not complaining that he pays nearly three hundred dollars for a two hour private dance only to be kicked out halfway through it and not refunded.” You pushed the one-hundred dollars into Ghost’s black gloved hand. “Besides, I’d rather have someone else’s hand print on my ass than his.” You looked up at Ghost as he stared down at you.

You couldn’t help but to smirk as you love to flirt with the large security bouncer. “Thanks for protecting me, you do more than what Tyler does.” You rolled your eyes knowing the other security guard just ran to Ghost after hearing about the problem. 

“Yeah, anything for my favorite girl.” Ghost’s chuckled, he could feel his face heating up underneath his balaclava as he got the hint that you wished it was his hand on your ass. “You know, you really should keep this money. It was you who got assaulted.” Ghost tried to give you back the money but you shoved his hand right back into his chest. 

“I know Dale doesn’t pay you shit, keep it.” You encouraged him, patting his hand.

You weren’t wrong, the pay was shit and the hours were long, but Ghost didn’t give a shit about the money or the long shifts as long as he knew you were safe. “Fine, but I’ll be thinking of you when I spend it.”

“I know you think of me a lot, I bet.” You teased him. 

Ghost swallowed thickly, shifting his weight on each foot as you laughed at him. “I knew it. I’ll even give you an extra job, walk me to my car after we close so you know I’ll get to it safely?” You pouted up at him, your hand still cupping his that held onto the money. 

“I suppose I can put in the overtime.” The outline of his lips twitched upwards as he smirked at you. 

“You know what time I get off.” As you slipped past Ghost you gave his ass a light tap in his black tactical pants. 

Ghost jumped slightly, watching you leave the small private room. His eyes were on your bare ass as you swayed your hips with each step you took, teasing him. “Little minx.” Ghost grunted, grabbing the inner thigh of his pants and adjusting them so no one could see the lining of his hard cock. 

The teasing between you and Ghost started the first week he was employed. At first it was just talking at the bar taking a few shots. Alcohol for him to ease his nerves about being around people, alcohol for you to loosen up and dance in front of strangers. Ghost thought he’d be an alcoholic, it seemed that alcohol helped him and his nerves but he was wrong, it was you who helped him through his anxiety and PTSD moments.

“Ghost, Ghost I need you to breathe.” You said as you pulled Ghost into a closet, shutting and locking the door to have more privacy.

His lungs, it felt like they were collapsing as his throat tightened up and his brain throbbed. Memories, awful memories of his teammates going into battle flashed behind his closed eyelids. “Fuck!” Ghost roared, his hand collided against the wall making a loud ‘thud’ sound. Ghost nearly killed someone. 

The man demanded more alcohol and tossed a shot glass towards the bartender Daisy, making it shatter against the wall. The loud sound of glass shattering got Ghost on edge making him flinch from the hectic sound. Grabbing the man by the throat, Ghost pulled out his knife from his hidden tactical pants pocket and held it to his throat. Everyone was scared and shocked by Ghost’s actions but not you. 

Your soft hands were on his shoulders and your small voice in his ear telling him to drop the knife and let the man go. He wasn’t going to at first until he felt your soft hands apply pressure to his shoulder, snapping him back to reality. This was a strip club, not the battlefield. Not an abandoned building that he and his squad was clearing out. Ghost stepped away from the man who ran out of the club crying that he was going to call the police. 

“If the cops come, Ghost isn’t here. No one of that name works here.” You tol Daisy as you grabbed Ghost’s arm and pulled him towards the closet. 

“Talk to me big man.” Your voice was soothing Ghost as he was finally breathing normally. 

“Fuck.” Ghost sighed out as the episode he had was out of his system. “I- I guess I just had a PTSD moment.” Ghost scratched the back of his head, the mask he wore was damp with sweat. Ghost looked at your confused expression. “I was in the military, high up.” Ghost explained. “Seen some shit people will kill themselves to not live within their head.” 

You nodded, cupping his jaw as you stared up at him. The circles of his eyes smeared in black paint. “If you ever have these episodes, you come to me. I’ll be here for you.” You leaned up towards him and pressed your lips against his skull cheek. “Let's hope we see more of those, you with a knife is pretty hot.” 

“Behave yourself, Y/N.” Ghost chuckled as you laughed with him. 

“Never heard the word before.” You teased, pulling out an old chair. “Here, chill in here for a bit. If anyone asks about you, not a word about you. If we really need you, we’ll come get you. You just relax.” You patted the top of his head and walked back out to do your job.

“Thanks, Y/N.” Ghost said after you closed the door, not to be used to hospitality. 

“Are you ready to go?” You asked Ghost who was waiting by the front door. You tossed on your sweatshirt. After clocking out you changed into your regular street clothes and stuffed your entertainment clothing into your gym bag. 

Ghost nodded, opening the door for you. “Bye Y/N, bye Ghost.” Daisy waved from the bar she was cleaning up and refilling bottles after serving customers throughout the night.

“Night Daisy!” You and Ghost said at the same time. The cool late night wind hit you in the face making you shiver, it was a nice night for summer, almost too nice. “It feels like fall time.” You crossed your arms around your body, walking next to Ghost towards your car. 

“Hey, I love fall time.”

“Of course you do Ghost boy.” You laughed at him, hinting at his balaclava. “Thanks for walking me to my- what the fuck!” You yelled, noticing your driver side tires were flat. Rushing towards the other side the passenger side tires were also flat, a deep slash visible showing that the tires were no longer compatible to hold air. “Fucking Gary.” You huffed, grazing your tongue over your teeth before you gritted them.

Ghost looked around at the building, seeing a surveillance camera pointing towards the parking lot. “I’ll have Tyler look over the tape and see if it was Gary, we’ll call the cops first thing tomorrow's shift. Luckily we have the bastards file throughout membership. But first,” Ghost pulled out his keys to his car. “Let's get you home.”

You walked with Ghost towards his car. “Oh look at you, protecting me during my shift and driving me home. How will I ever repay you, Ghost?” Jumping into the lifted jeep you shut the door after you sat down in the passenger side. 

“I can think of a few ways you can repay me but let’s just get you home first.” Ghost placed his keys into the ignition and drove off to your place.

Arriving at your apartment, Ghost followed you up the stairs stopping at your door. “You want to come inside so I can repay you?” You wiggled the keys into the holder, pushing your door open.

“Yes please.” Ghost followed you inside the apartment, he didn’t really have time to soak in the photos you had hanging up or the books you had placed on the shelves. Ghost grunted lowly as you shoved him down onto the sofa. “You practice at home?” Ghost grinned, seeing the long stripper pole in front of him, standing tall in the middle of the living room.

“Maybe just a little, practice makes perfect.” You said clicking play on the remote having music play from the speakers. You grabbed onto the pole, twirling around on it. As you twisted on the silver cold pole, you stripped bits of clothing here and there all the way down to your bra and panties.

“Practice does indeed lead to perfection.” Ghost hummed, his dark eyes watching you grind against the post. His teeth sinked into his bottom lip as he spread his legs, trying to adjust in his now tight pants. 

You couldn’t help but to smirk at Ghost, noticing the large bulge in his black pants. “Awe.” You coo, leaving the post you got on all fours and started to crawl towards Ghost, making sure to give him a perfect view of your breasts peeking out from your bra. Reaching his legs you placed your hands upon his knees, moving them inwards on his inner thighs. “Is my poor Ghost boy hard?” 

Ghost’s breath hitched in his throat as your soft hands grazed against his hard cock underneath his pants. “Hmm, fuck.” He groaned, trying not to buck his hips against your touch but it was no use. “So fucking hard, Y/N. I’ve been hard since I saw you dancing tonight.” Ghost’s eyes were dark as he watched your fingers dance along the button of his pants. 

“Well then, let me help you.” You purred, dipping your fingers into the hem of his pants and tugging them down. Your mouth watered at the outline of his cock through his boxers. His large dick making a big tent points up from the fabric. Grabbing the elastic waistband, you pulled his boxers over his veiny cock. Ghost let out a throaty moan as the cool air hit the tip of his cock making it twitch.

Swallowing the large pool of saliva in your mouth, moaning as your hand wrapped around his large thick heavy dick. “Oh fuck.” Ghost tossed his head back. “Please, please, fuck, Y/N.” Ghost’s voice was soft as he begged for whatever you had planned for him. 

“Poor Ghost boy, so hard.” You leaned forward, placing soft kisses against the head of his pre-come oozing cock. Kissing down his long shaft your tongue darted out and gave his heavy sac some kitten licks. Placing your flat tongue at the bottom of his shaft you slowly licked upwards and engulfed the tip of his cock into your mouth, slowly swallowing him down. 

“S- Shit! Y/N.” Ghost moaned, his hand grabbing your hair as he slowly rolled his hips into your mouth. “Good girl, fuck such a good girl.” Ghost moaned, his cock twitching in your mouth as you kept suckling him further down your throat.

The way his cock twitched deep in your throat had your cunt dripping, you could feel the juices slowly drip down your thigh. You moaned around his aching cock as your cunt clenched around nothing, begging to be full already. 

Bobbing your head up and down fiercely on his cock, you moan once more around his cock sending vibrations down his shaft to his balls. The taste of him had you craving more and more each time you pushed yourself further. “Y/N- I’m- Fuck, I’m going to come.” Ghost choked out.

Swirling your tongue around his cock one last time you slowly pulled yourself away from his saliva covered dick. You moaned, licking your swollen red lips. “Oh you fucking brat.” Ghost snarled, his orgasm backing off. “I was going to shoot my fucking load down that tight throat.” Ghost grabbed you by your waist and pulled you onto his lap. “But I guess I’ll just fucking fill this pussy with my come.” 

Straddling Ghost’s lap you gasped loudly as his two thick fingers plunged inside of your pussy. “G- Ghost!” You sobbed as you rolled your hips against his touch. 

“Fuck, this sweet cunt is so creamy all over my fingers.” Ghost hummed, his fingers diving in and out of your sloppy pussy. “That’s it my sweet girl.” Ghost praised as he watched the pleasure wash over your face as you tried to ride his digits faster. 

“Ghost, fuck yes. Please.” You begged, gripping onto his shoulders you kept slamming yourself down his thick fingers only to cry out loudly as he added another. “Christ!” You sobbed. 

Ghost chuckled lowly at how you plead for him. He could feel that you were getting close to your orgasm as your cunt fluttered tightly around his fingers. As you were about to push yourself down on his digits his fingers left your soaking pussy. “Ghost!” You sobbed out as your buzzing body was slowly coming down from your high.

“Not so fun when it happens to you, huh?” 

“Please, just fuck me.” You begged, your head resting upon his forehead. You looked into his dark eyes, panting. You could feel the tip of his leaking cock press against your entrance but not pushing inside. Your hands danced along the black mask, slowly pushing it upwards. 

“Mask stays on, love.” Ghost grunted out, his accent oozed thickly. 

Stopping your movements, the black fabric rested upon the tip of his nose, showing his plump lips and slightly stubble beard. Leaning forward, you crashed your lips against his, moaning at the sweet taste of whatever alcohol he drank earlier from tonight. You squealed against his mouth as his cock entered you. “Oh god, Ghost.” You gasped against his lips. The feeling of his large cock impaling your tight cunt had you shivering for more.

“Simon.” Ghost grunted which made you pull away and look at him. “Names Simon, call me Simon.” Simon’s lips twisted into a smirk, showing somewhat of his white perfect teeth.

“Simon.” You let out a breathy moan. “Oh, Simon.” You moaned louder as you started to rock your hips faster on his cock. “Right there, Simon. Right there.” You sobbed out as the tip of his cock grazed in an area you’ve never reached. 

Your nails dug into his dark shirt as you held on tight to him, holding yourself close to him. The sound of his thick cock pushing into your wet cunt was a sinful yet wonderful noise, it had your stomach twisting tightly along with hearing Simon moan lowly each time you raise yourself to the tip of his cock and slam down.

“Fuck, little girl.” Ghost snarled, his large glove hands gripped your waist as he guided you down his fat cock. You could feel the ridges of his cock each time he entered you. “I’m going to fucking come in this little pussy and fill you with my seed.” Simon’s voice was deeper as he fucked himself up into you. “Going to watch you grow round with my child and watch you perform.” Simon hissed.

The thought of performing with Simon’s child growing inside of you had your cunt clenching around his cock. Simon chuckled deeply as he noticed the sudden tightness. “That what you want lovie? You want me to fuck you sideways and get you pregnant with my kid?” Simon’s thrusts became more sloppier as his twitching cock pushed further inside of you. “Fuck, watch your tits get big and round full of milk.”

You were lost for words as you leaned against Simon’s shoulder, moaning as you were now a fuck doll for Simon, your movements stopped as you became paralyze from pleasure. Your clit grinds against Simon’s lower abs from each thrust. “Come with me little girl, I can feel your sweet puss squeezing me.” Simon’s large hands grabbed the flesh of your ass, marking it.

Your vision blurred as Simon’s cock kept drilling against your g-spot. “Oh- Oh yes! Simon!” You sobbed loudly, slamming back down on his cock as he pushed himself inside of you, pausing his movements as his come erupted inside of you. You both cried out loud as his long ropes of come spit inside of your spazzing cunt. “S- Simon, oh fuck Simon.” You shivered at the feeling of his warm liquid flowing inside of you.

“Shh, good girl.” Simon cooed as he rubbed your back, you both staying there for a while. “Well, it might not be my handprint on your ass but it will be my come dripping out of your cunt.” Simon noted.

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[flamehairedwritings]

Stray: Chapter Three

Characters: Lt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female Reader 

Rating: E, 18+ ONLY

Words: 6.2k

Summary: Ghost has a fine time making you admit you need want him.

A/N: Chapter Three of Six. A chapter posted every Monday!

Entire Story Tags: hurt/comfort, angst, enemies are lovers, porn with plot, they're not nice people, but are they

Chapter Tags:  Angst, simon says some not nice things again, simon literally says, angst, dub-con, just to be safe, mdom, rough, nipple play, slight edging, hold the orgasm, multiple orgasms, throat holding, slight choking, slight overstimulation, biting, marking, gloves on, one spank, slight fight for dominance, a little switchy, reader gets one over on Simon, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie

Read on AO3

Stray Masterlist

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites. I do not consent to my work being used for AI purposes.

─

Chapter Three - Club 31 High

“The shit people wear these days.”

“I don’t know, I think you’d look lovely in tassels.”

“Fuck off, Gaz.”

He hears Gaz chuckle in his earpiece, making him sigh as he adjusts his grip on his rifle, continuing to gaze through the scope at the street below.

More like back-alley, actually.

A short queue of masked people are waiting to be let through a rusting metal door, a big bloke with shades on even though it’s fucking night taking their names and checking them by speaking into a walkie.

“I think he’s more of a leather man.”

“Shut up, Soap.”

“Look at that handsome fucker there, arse out an’ all. There’s your look.”

“Can we keep the channels quiet, for fucks sake, there might─”

Ghost breaks off as a figure enters the field of his scope, striding down the alley, heels echoing.

He knows those heels.

And he’s never lucky enough for things to just be fucking coincidences.

“Ghost? What’s goin’ on?”

He exhales a long, exasperated breath as he follows the figure, thin-strapped black dress with thigh-high split touching the ground, the square, low cut neckline pushing the figure’s tits in and up tantalisingly, the silky black, wavy wig reaching down to the waist.

The mask that’s resting on top of it is the final giveaway.

Why can’t it just be a fucking coincidence.

“Ghost?” Gaz prompts.

“There's been a complication,” Ghost grits out.

The complication in question strides past the queue, and smiles at the bouncer who smiles and nods familiarly.

And when the door is opened for you, you look up, find him up on the roof, smile, and pull the half-skull mask down over your face.

And then you pass through the door.

“Fuck,” Ghost hisses, lifting his head and swiftly getting to his feet.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Keep your eyes and ears out, boys. I’m goin’ in.”

─

Deep purple and blue lights flash quickly, and music blares. He can barely fucking see or hear. But thankfully he’s fitting right in, every single person here masked up and in either some kind of uniform, fancy suit or dress, or barely anything. Anyone and everyone is welcome here, as long as your name’s on the list.

His certainly hadn���t been, but they’d scoped out a back entrance earlier in the day, through the cellar, and he’d only had to evade a couple of bar staff before he’d found his way here.

‘Here’ is Club 31 High, as exclusive as they got, and probably fucking gorgeous to other people. Marble columns and floors, plush red seats and curtains, chandeliers, it seems more suited to opera and orchestras than the sultry, Deep House music that’s thumping throughout the chambers. People grind and rock against each other, off their faces on drugs or alcohol. He has to move around the edge of the rooms, passing people kissing, sucking cocks, fingering, and fully fucking in the darker corners.

Anything goes here, as long as your name’s on the list.

He scans each briefly illuminated face, trying to find yours, or, really, the mask you seem to think would be so fucking funny to wear. Some people grab at him along the way, trying to pull him onto the dance floors, or rub against him, caressing him. He passes by swiftly, trying to get through quickly without drawing too much attention. He’s spotted some bouncers here and there, and there’s got to be cameras everywhere, though how they can pick anything up is a wonder.

Gritting his teeth, he heads into another chamber, this one bigger, the ceiling higher. It’s even louder and darker in here, and, moving down the steps into it, he wishes he’d brought his fucking headset. It wouldn’t look so fucking weird to wear it here.

He scans the crowd, but it’s nearly fucking impossible, people are dancing too much and the lights are flashing too much and─

A hand slides across his lower back, around his side, and someone stands in front of him, both hands resting on his vest. He’s about to step away, disappear into the crowd, when his eyes lock with yours.

“Hello, Simon,” you say with a smile, though he lip-reads it rather than hears it.

How can anyone fucking hear in here.

As if hearing his thoughts, you slide your hands up, wrapping your arms around his neck, and only have to rise up a little higher due to the heels to rest your lips against his ear.

Even then he can only just hear you.

“I knew I'd get you out dancing one day.”

“The fuck are you doing here?” he shouts into your ear.

“Having a girl’s night. And we were told strictly no boyfriends, so shoo.”

Stepping back, you release him, smile lingering, and turn, melting into the crowd.

“Fuck sake…” he hisses, following after you swiftly.

People move out of the way, too far gone to be annoyed at being shoved. His eyes are fixed on the back of your head, and then, when you stop suddenly, he nearly collides with you as you turn to him. Raising your hands and arms above your head, you sway your hips, and he rolls his jaw.

“Let’s fucking go,” he shouts, knowing you can lip-read, too, though no one would have a hard time understanding him.

Your blood-red smile widens.

Turning around, he thinks you’re about to set off again when you actually take a step back.

And then you lean back against him, settle your hands on the back of his neck, and grind your ass back against his cock.

Raising his eyes to the pitch-black ceiling, he pushes out a harsh breath.

For fuck’s sake.

You don’t stop, rolling your hips, arching your back, able to find the beat of the noise and make it seem like music to him.

His fingers flex at his sides.

No, no, no.

Shoving you away, gritting his teeth, he watches as you turn to him, lips lifted in a wide smile.

A game, always a fucking game.

He can see you’re about to move again, disappear and have him searching like a fucking dog, and he won’t have that.

His hand darting out, he grips your upper arm and moves first instead, pulling you through the crowd. You don’t hit at him and if you’re shouting, he can’t hear it. Though you’re just as likely to not want to make a scene as him.

At the edge of the room, he spots someone heading out of a door into this room and heads to it, pulling you through it into a small, circular chamber. A marble table is at the centre, with dozens of white roses in a large vase resting on top of it, and as the door swings shut behind you, it does a fantastic job of muffling a large portion of the music. Not enough, though, and it’s still too public here. He pulls you towards another door, marvelling at how you still haven’t said a word, and pushes it open. There’s a long corridor, doors on the left, a mirror that stretches all the way down on it on the right. How anyone could see themselves in it is a mystery, though, as the lights are so dimmed you could barely see your own face.

Pushing the first door open, using the handle, he finds it’s a bathroom, a small, really fucking fancy one.

Perfect, but not this one. He pulls you down the corridor, right to the end, and you still don’t say a word, heels echoing.

Those fucking heels.

Reaching the final door, he pushes it open, finds it empty, and then pushes you in, releasing your arm. He steps through after, locking the door behind himself. It muffles all sound of the outside, he thinks most likely by design, these bathrooms not just for pissing and shitting, but fucking too.

And what a bathroom to fuck in. The toilet is to his left, the grandest he’s ever seen, made from the same marble as the floor and walls, a thick red rug is in the centre of the room, in front along the far wall is a plush red loveseat, and to his right, a marble counter stretches across the short wall along with a mirror, with a sink cut into it and what must be designer products in the corner. The light’s not as dim as it was out in the corridor, but it’s still low.

What he wouldn’t give for some clear fucking strip lighting.

His attention returning to you, he watches you, your hands behind your back, that fucking smile still in place.

Hang on, hands behind your back…

“Come here. Hands where I can see them.” He moves forward, and you raise your hands, empty, as you lift your chin and inhale a breath.

He thinks he might see your lips part before he bends down, but that’s probably just from taking the breath.

He can’t help his gaze from briefly dropping to your heels. Yeah, they’re the ones.

Leather, platform, thick straps, heavy gold buckles at the ankles.

He remembers the cold feel of them against his shoulders. 

Shoving the memory away, he starts to roughly pat and feel at your legs, searching for weapons.

He hears you exhale a laugh, widening your legs obediently when he taps a hand from one to the other. “Oh, Simon, they take weapons at the door, they’re in the lovely cloakroom.”

“All of them?” His hand moves up the thigh where there isn’t the split, and he pauses when he feels steel against his gloves. Lifting his head, he arches an eyebrow at you, watches your smile widen, and then slides his fingers under the holster and pulls sharply, ripping the knife from your thigh. He tosses it behind him, making a mental note of where he thinks it lands. Moving his hands to the other thigh, then out onto the silk material of the dress, he slides his hands up your hips, over your stomach, around your back, and then to your waist.

It’s now your turn to arch an eyebrow as his hands near your chest, swiping between and under your tits.

“Do you really think I could conceal anything else in this?”

“Wouldn’t put it past you. Turn around.”

He makes you before you can, gripping your shoulder and spinning you to face the mirror. The sudden action makes you have to press your hands down onto the counter to steady yourself. Your lips twitch as he slides his hands up your hips and across your back. It’s cut low, though, to the middle of your shoulder blades, so it doesn’t take him long.

A hand moves up your bare skin, up the back of your neck, under the hair, feeling along the scalp of the wig.

You hum gently, closing your eyes as your lips twitch again, and his hand quickly leaves.

It goes instead to your mask, which he slides off, and inspects the inside.

“Really fucking funny, wearing this.”

You meet his gaze in the mirror. “Admit it, it turns you on.”

His lips press together, and he tosses the mask onto the counter. “What’re you doin’ here.”

“Well, I was very much enjoying myself, and then you just grabbed me like a brute and pulled me in her─”

“Stray.”

“Simon.”

You tilt your head, a smile lifting your lips as you gaze at him in the reflection.

He, though, is stone-still.

“It’s not fuckin’ funny anymore, Stray.”

Your eyebrows raise and your lips part in faux-surprise. “Oh, is this about what happened at the warehouse with Angelo?”

He hates the way you say the name, nearly purring it.

“You nearly had me and the boys killed.”

“But none of you did die, did you─”

“I said nearly.” The bark of his voice has you silencing yourself. 

For a very brief moment.

“So, what, I’ve betrayed you, have I, Simon?” You snort. “That’s your own fault.”

He still hasn’t moved.

“Did you think I was going to hurt you. When we were there.”

Silence.

You’re looking at him in the reflection, mouth in a thin line, and he’s looking at you.

You don’t speak.

His mask and the dim lighting hides the flexing in his jaw.

“Do you think I’m gunna hurt you now?”

He needs to know.

He hopes you don’t fucking realise how much.

Silence stretches on again.

He doesn’t ask again, but you know he won’t move until you do.

You keep looking at him a little longer, though.

You did hurt me. You broke my heart. You betrayed me. And you don’t even know it.

Lifting your chin a little, you give him a light smile. “No. I wouldn’t let you.”

He exhales a breath, something easing in his chest but not enough. “Is that right. You know, you’ve put me in a fucking position here─”

“No, Simon, it’s you who’s put me in a position.”

Your far-too-pleased with yourself smile returns as you press your ass back against him.

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t move. “I’ll finish. You’ve put me in a fucking position where I could, no, should, walk out of here, let you go, let this all be done. Or…” Suddenly, he grips your hip, hard enough that you hiss in a breath. “... I could repay you for what you did at the warehouse.”

You panic for a moment that Soap told him, but, no, the fury in his eyes tells you otherwise.

You know what a grateful Simon looks like.

“Repay me? You’ve just been moaning about how awful it was.”

“Well… You were working so hard to make it up to me, weren’t you.”

“‘Make it up to you’─”

“Grinding on my cock like that. You were practically begging for forgiveness.”

You laugh, your head tipping back slightly.

“Oh, you’re so─”

His hand suddenly darts up, gripping your jaw under your chin, tipping your head back further as he simultaneously takes a step forward, pressing you against the counter.

“No, you don’t get to fucking talk unless I tell you to,” he murmurs against your temple.

If you obey now, right now, then he knows you’re in; in once more in this twisted fucking game he should end but he just fucking can’t.

He watches you in the mirror.

Your eyes slide down to meet his.

And you don’t say a word.

He exhales a breath, dropping his chin a little so his lips are closer to your ear. “I’m gunna ruin you for him. It’ll be my cum leaking out of you, running down your sweet legs as you trot on back to him in those fucking heels.”

Fucking hell.

Your stomach twists deliciously as you gaze at him.

And you risk it. 

“Is that a promise?”

You can’t see him smile as he allows this one insolence. 

“It’s a given, love.”

Raising his other hand, he pulls the material mask over his mouth and then bites at your jaw and kisses down your neck.

You gasp and moan almost with relief as the hand then slides across your stomach until his forearm is against you, and he pulls you back further against him, closing the little space there is.

His vest causes you to have to arch your back though, your ass once more firmly against his cock, and he’s not going to fucking complain.

“Look in the mirror, look at yourself,” he murmurs, your eyes having fallen shut, and he bites at your jaw again as they snap open. “You’re going to watch all of this, and you’re gunna fuckin’ think about it while his cock’s inside you. You’ll be thinking of me and only me when you cum.”

Your breathing has sharpened, but there’s a burning in your eyes, some kind of anger there.

There’s probably a defensive quip for Vitale on your tongue, but you’re still behaving.

“Look at you, bein’ a good girl for me,” he murmurs, and your lips part on a sharp exhale.

He loves when you behave, almost as much as when you don’t.

His hand rises, and he tugs the neckline of the dress down, exposing your tits and making them lift higher. He rolls your nipples between his fingers, and he chuckles lowly as your knees buckle momentarily, a moan escaping you.

“Does he do this for you? He doesn’t strike me as a giver.” He moves his hand from your tits to your mouth, resting two gloved fingers against your lips. “Suck.”

You do, instantly, swirling your tongue as you find his eyes in the mirror.

“Yeah, good girl.” He indulges for a few moments longer, his cock twitching in anticipation and memory, and then he swiftly pulls his fingers away. Moving them back down to your nipples, he circles them with your saliva.

Your back arches as much as it can as you sigh out moans, remembering to keep your eyes open.

He mouths at your cheekbone, not giving you an inch of room. “How does that feel? Speak.”

“Good, so fucking good,” you breathe, trying to rock your hips back against him.

Ghost hums his approval lowly, breathing in the scent of your skin, a hint of fragrance there from whatever you’d put on it. 

“I want you dripping,” he murmurs, twisting, pinching and pulling your nipples, going from one to the other. “I want you aching for my cock until you think you’ve gone mad. I want you begging for me.”

He can feel your pulse through his hand spread across your throat and neck, his fingers gripping at your jaw still. 

It’s faster.

“Good, isn’t it, love. You dripping yet? Is your cunt soaked?”

Your body is on fire, his fingers so fucking good but it’s not enough.

Managing to turn your head closer to him the smallest amount, you try to find his lips, murmuring, nearly pleading, “Mmh, take your gloves off.”

He angles his head away. “They’re stayin on. And did I say you could talk?”

Suddenly his hand leaves your tits and grips the skirt of your dress, tugging it up over your ass roughly. You try not to appear too pleased as he chuckles.

“No knickers? You were wantin’ this, weren’t you? Wantin’ me?”

He brings a hand down on one of your ass cheeks, swiftly and sharply, tearing a soft cry from you.

“Speak.”

You exhale a laugh, unable to help yourself. “Your ego is almost as big as your─”

The grip on your throat tightens a little, for a moment.

“No smart words from you today, just the truth.”

The truth. How frightening.

Still, though, you smile.

“But that was the truth. And your cock is big.”

His lips are against your ear once more, voice low, demanding. “So tell me, then. You came here wanting it, didn’t you?”

You expect him to perhaps spank you again, play with your nipples maybe or caress your skin. But he gives you nothing. It’s maddening.

Licking your velvet-red lips, you exhale a long breath. “... Yes.”

You feel him smile.

“Good girl.”

He plunges two gloved fingers into your pussy.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out, hands pressing against the counter.

He nips at your earlobe. “I’ll allow that, only because you sound so fucking sweet.”

His fingers move instantly, fucking you slow and deep.

And he barely takes a breath before speaking again.

“How many fingers does he need to stretch you properly? Dainty little things, weren’t they. Does he have to work hard, poor fucker.”

And, yes, the anger’s there again, burning in your eyes, and your teeth are biting into your lower lip.

It’s satisfying to him, as fucking twisted as it is, that you so clearly want to snap and yell at him, but you won’t. For him. Because he said you can’t.

It makes his cock so fucking hard.

He wants to see just how good you’ll be, how much you’ll obey him.

What will be your breaking point.

“Does he cum first, or does he make you first? Countless times, like I can, like I do. Does he know what you sound like when you’re desperate, out of your mind, overstimulated but fucking begging for more?”

He slips a third finger in, still moving them tantalisingly slowly but deeply as moans fall from your lips.

Yet despite giving them to him freely, anger is still clearly blazing in your half-lidded eyes. 

And he can’t get enough.

“Do you moan and grip at him, beg him, hang on to him. Do you look up at him with those pretty fuckin’ eyes, beggin’ with them when your head’s too fuckin’ empty to form words? Do you─”

He catches himself.

Your words from the warehouse have been circling round and round in his mind since you spoke them.

And I love him─

Had that been it. Were you going to say that you love him fucking you.

Or that you love him. End of. Full stop.

He’d never know, and he hadn’t wanted to know.

He still doesn’t want to know.

Exhaling a harsh breath, he slips a fourth finger in.

Every breath you exhale is now a moan, one hand gripping at his forearm, and your other suddenly moves back, cupping the back of his head, your fingers pressing in.

He can feel your walls clenching around him, fluttering, and he groans against your ear.

“You gunna cum already? You been that desperate for me?”

He listens to you moan and mewl for a few moments longer, fingers flexing against your throat, before he orders, “Speak.”

Your legs are nearly trembling. “Yes.”

“Beg me. Ask me to cum.”

“Please, Simon, please can I cum, please, I need to, please─”

“Mmh, not yet. Hold it.”

You make a strained sound, eyes closing tight, and he fucking loves that you’re obeying.

But he doesn’t want to reward you. Not yet.

Lips against your ear once more, he watches you in the mirror. “Did he fuck you later, after we left, after we burned that place to the fucking ground. Did you ride him, did you tell him sweet little things to soothe his fuckin’ ego. Did you hold him─”

“Simon─”

“Did I say you could speak.”

There’s no anger in your eyes now, just… 

Why would you be sad. He doesn’t fucking understand it.

Are you that attached to the fucker?

Whatever reason for it… he fucking hates seeing it.

Softening his grip on your jaw a little, he turns his head slightly, lips pressing against your cheek.

“How does this feel? Does your clit need some attention, is it aching for me? Speak.”

“Yes,” you breathe again, knees bending slightly for a moment as you try to rock your hips.

His hand finally releases your jaw and lowers, and he walks you back half a step to give himself the room to slip his hand down your stomach to the slit of your dress, yanking it up so his fingers can find your clit.

You gasp sharply as he strokes at it, your body jerking slightly as you hang on the precipice of your orgasm.

He watches you in the mirror, your eyes closed, mouth open, chest heaving.

And still you don’t allow yourself to cum.

Opening your eyes, though, you beg him with them.

Fuck…

He presses an almost kiss to your cheek. “Cum for me, love. Go on.”

You cry out as you grip at his head, your back arching, and you cum instantly. Your pussy squeezes at his fingers, gripping them tight, and he grunts against your skin, pressing another nearly-there kiss to it.

“That’s it, good girl, cum all over my glove, give me it all.”

Your body jerks as you moan, and when it finally goes slack, your head leaning back against him, he smiles.

“That was a big one, wasn’t it. You’ve been fuckin’ desperate for that.”

You just try and catch your breath, your fingertips softening on the back of his head. He pushes your head to the side with his own, then drops his lips to your neck. 

“Speak,” he grunts as he bites your shoulder.

You inhale a shuddering breath, swallowing. “… Yes…”

“Good girl.” Pulling his fingers out of you, biting you again when you moan as they leave you, he groans lowly as he wipes his fingers on the ass cheek he’d slapped. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

You hum somewhat weakly in reply.

Not weak enough, though.

You gasp sharply and your hips buck as he starts to stroke your clit again. Your eyes snapping open, you lock your gaze with his.

“You’re gunna cum again for me,” he murmurs against your skin.

Still sensitive, your hips buck again, but he’s stroking so lightly, so gently, though that’s almost making it even better. His other hand slides over your stomach, his forearm holding you against him again, your hips now only able to jerk a little.

The blissful pleasure of your orgasm has only faded slightly, so with each stroke he gives, it rises a little higher… but… and you fucking curse yourself… it’s not enough.

And he knows it.

“Need somethin’ inside you, don’t you,” he says against your ear, still holding your gaze.

You nod, your breathing long, deep and shaking as you try to regulate it.

He exhales a breath. “Not yet. And this time, you’re not gunna take your eyes off yourself.”

Fucking hell…

Dropping your hand from his head, you flatten both palms against the counter and shift your gaze to your own, and he chuckles quietly.

“Good girl.”

His fingers quicken.

Your teeth grit as you try to stifle a sharp gasp.

“No, no, don’t be doing that…” He’s looking at you in the reflection still, head leaning against yours. “… You’re gunna look at yourself and you’re gunna be loud.”

The way he caresses, circles and strokes your clit, the leather of his glove slick against it…

You’re leaning your head into his, hips bucking, and you give in, mewling loud enough to fill the space because you don’t care, it just feels so good.

He’s biting at your shoulder and neck again, too, almost with a sense of frenzy.

And then he starts talking again.

“What does he say when I mark you like this? Do you hide it from him? Do you avoid him?”

Muscles in your jaw jump and flex as you grit your teeth tightly

His eyes flick up to you. “Speak.”

“Yes,” you grit out.

“And what does he say?”

You stare at yourself, eyelids fluttering a little as pleasure sparks through you.

“Speak.”

Your jaw is clenched tight, teeth pushing into each other.

Suddenly, you turn your head closer to his.

“Kiss me.”

“No,” is the instant answer.

He’s punishing you, and you know it. 

It could be worse.

He could have left.

So why hasn’t he.

Why is he here, fucking you.

If you betrayed him, if he hates you that much, why is he here.

Why is he asking these questions.

Why does he care.

Does he care.

You’ll probably never know.

The anger that had been bubbling inside you, simmering in some kind of control, now explodes as you gaze at him.

How could he care.

Your elbow drives into his lower stomach, just under his vest, and then you slam your head back, the back of your head colliding with his nose and jaw.

“Fuck─ What the fuck─” he starts hissing, releasing you automatically.

Spinning, you shove him backwards.

“What─”

You shove him again, silent.

His brow is furrowed, eyes slightly wider. “Love, are you oka─”

You shove him again.

He falls back onto the loveseat with a grunt, and you straddle him instantly, gathering the silky material of the dress around your hips. His eyes narrow slightly in realisation then, his hands going to your thighs, gripping them.

“This what you want, huh─”

“Shut up,” you snap, releasing the skirt of the dress and tugging his belt open. “I don’t want to hear from you anymore.”

His mouth still exposed, you can now see the self-satisfied smirk he gives you. “You want my cock inside you instead, yeah.”

“Shut up.” You pull open the button of his trousers.

“You that desperate for me?”

“Shut up.” You yank the zip down.

“Do you cling at him like this─”

Your hand flies up, gripping his jaw. 

Leaning closer, you hiss, “Shut the fuck up.”

His smirk is now gone, and an anger that nearly matches yours smoulders in his dark eyes.

And then he knocks your arm away, so you punch his shoulder, then grab at his throat, your other hand going for his trousers. He shoves your hand away from his throat so you use both hands to pull his cock out as he fists at your dress, lifting it higher to expose your pussy.

From this angle, he can see it glistening now, wet, open and ready for him.

“Christ…” he hisses through gritted teeth, watching you position his aching, flushed pink tip against your hole.

Watches you sink down on him, his cock disappearing inside you.

He makes a strained sound in the back of his throat, balling your dress up in his gloved fists.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you, Simon,” you breathe, hands now firmly gripping his shoulders.

Fixing your gaze on his eyes, before he can answer you start to move your hips, and you don’t want to be slow, you don’t want to tease, you don’t want to give him any gentle satisfaction at all right now, so you set a hard, firm pace, riding him aggressively.

“I bet your cock was hard the moment you saw me, and the way you came running after me… Who’s the desperate one?” 

His eyes flick up, locking with yours, and your entire body is taut, waiting for him to switch this once more, while also feeling pleasure burst and spark through you.

“I told him about your base and here you still are, fucking me, wanting me wet for you, marking me… like you don’t even care… and what if one of your boys had died─”

Snarling, he shoves your hands off his shoulders, grips them at the wrists and holds them at your sides.

“You’d better watch your mouth.”

You laugh, and you don’t know where it comes from. “Oh, have I hurt your feelings? I didn’t know you had any.”

He’s silent, the only sound his short, harsh breaths as you ride him.

You don’t look away. “Take the mask off.”

“No.”

“Take it off.”

“No─”

“Let me see you.”

He falls silent.

When he moves, it’s swift.

A hand darts up and grips the long hair of the wig, and he yanks, pulling your head back.

You cry out as your back arches, small, delicious bursts of pain sparking along your scalp where the wig is secured.

His other hand runs firmly down between your tits, to your stomach, to your hip, gripping it. It’s possessive, how he does it, and it pisses you off. Knocking his arm away so he releases the hair, you grip his shoulders again, nails digging in, and you lean forward until your forehead nearly presses against his mask, and you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, locking you in that position.

He pushes against your hip, trying to put some distance between you but you won’t let him.

“Look at me,” you hiss, and he does, stilling as your eyes lock on to each others.

And, somehow, neither of you speak.

You just look at each other.

His gaze is hard, jaw tight, and you just ride him as you grip at him. Ride and squeeze your walls around him until…

His lips part on an exhale, no, not an exhale… a moan.

Ghost moans.

The corners of your mouth lift into a breathless smile as you squeeze him again, desire surging through you.

He grits his teeth at the sight of your smile, low grunts coming from the back of his throat, hands now tight on your hips, and you feel something feral snarling and snapping its jaws inside you.

“Come on, come on, come on, come on…” you hear yourself murmuring, squeezing your slick walls around him every time your hips rise.

His mouth is open, fast, quiet breaths escaping him, and you want to kiss him, you want to bite at his lips, you want to have him kiss you fiercely and deeply in the way that shows you he cares, even if it’s just now, even if it’s just for a little while.

Your mouth hovering over his, you don’t, though.

Because he doesn’t kiss you.

Makes no move to.

Gasping as a wave of pleasure suddenly rolls through you, you realise one of his hands has moved, his gloved fingers now somewhat clumsily stroking at your clit.

There’s almost a sweetness to it; that he’s still wanting to give you pleasure, make you feel good despite both your previous words, despite the slight curling of your lip and his hardened eyes.

You hate him.

He probably hates you.

“Cum, cum for me…” you suddenly realise he’s groaning, fingers of his other hand gripping at your thigh, almost desperately.

Gritting your teeth, your nails bite into his shoulders.

You hate him, you hate him, you hate him, you hate him…

“Cum for me,” you hiss, the pace of your hips starting to stutter slightly as your orgasm nears, dangerously close.

He’s staring up at you, unable to stop small moans and grunts from falling from his open mouth.

“Love─”

“Cum in me,” you command, and he inhales a sharp breath, hand darting from your clit to your hip, gripping tight, and then his hips jerk as he cums.

His eyes squeeze shut as he exhales a deep, shuddering breath, and your own fall shut as you moan, feeling his cum deep inside you, and the thought of it, the feel of it, the knowledge that, yes, it will leak out of you exactly as he intended, has you cumming, too.

Your head falls forward, leaning against his, and you hear his short, sharp breaths as you mewl, his hand sliding from your hip to your lower back, fisting your dress there.

Your hips slow to a stop as he breathes hard against your shoulder, and you try to soften yours, your arms staying around him.

The only sound that now fills the room is his breathing, and you just listen to it. Just feel him against you, inside you.

His hand flattens against your back.

His fingertips press in a little.

Gentle.

You pull back, press your hands against his chest and push yourself off of him.

His cock slips out of you unceremoniously, and he grunts as it does, but you’ve already turned away, adjusting your dress and flattening it.

You hear the metal of his belt clanking together as he tucks his cock away, before he zips his trousers up then secures the belt.

Pulling the top of the dress up over your tits, adjusting them, you then smoothe the dress down. Running your hands down the wig, you run your tongue along your lips, feeling the lipstick having collected in some areas. Smoothing and spreading it out with your finger tips, you’re aware of how silent he is behind you.

You hate him.

“This was the last time,” you hear yourself say.

“Sure it was.” 

Why is he still entertaining this, entertaining us.

You’re about to ask that exact question, snap, shout, scream it, when he speaks suddenly.

“You’re scared of Vitale, aren’t you.”

You still, hands paused in needlessly adjusting your dress again, eyes flicking up. Turning to him, you’re expressionless.

“What?”

He’s still sat down, hands resting on his thighs, mask back in place, eyes on you. “I saw it. At the warehouse. Why does he scare you.”

A corner of your mouth lifts a fraction. “Nothing scares me, Simon.”

“I did.”

You pause before you can catch yourself, so you make your mouth lift a little higher. “You didn’t. You startled me, there’s a difference.”

His eyes haven’t left you. “I know what I saw. On all accounts.”

Exhaling a breath, you push your hair over your shoulder. “Think what you like.” Turning away, you head towards the door.

“Stray.” 

His tone has you halting, but you keep your back to him, staring at the door. 

You hear him stand, take a few steps towards you.

“I know you were scared of me. I know that. What I don’t know…” You remain silent. “... What I don’t know is if you were scared for me.”

Silence.

He can’t believe he’s fucking said it.

Not even a proper question, just words, but words that have been rolling round and round in his mind incessantly.

He gazes at your back, that tautness in your shoulders, your waist moving as you breathe, your head slightly tilted down.

Then, you half turn to him… and there’s nothing on your features.

“Why would I be. I’m nothing but a whore, remember.”

A coldness spreads through his chest as he watches you go, his own, fucking regrettable words, in your voice, echoing in his mind.

─

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Tagged: @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @gifsbysimplysonia, @ryethebrokengae, @poohkie90, @corvusmorte, @captainutsstuff, @ff-huntress

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #ghost smut #simon 'ghost' riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #my writing #flamehairedwritings

[mikhailwrites]

Look at me like we've never met before / Ghost x Soap

Kinktober #2 - Roleplaying

John is sitting at the bar, nursing his glass of scotch. Usually, he only drinks whisky on a special occasion. Well, he supposes tonight is a somewhat special occasion. He's not a Sergeant of the SAS tonight. It was a stupid idea. Something he’d read somewhere and thought would be fun, but now he just feels... nervous. How the hell is he supposed to pretend he doesn’t know Ghost? Ghost! There is literally no one like him. He takes the glass and sips at the scotch. It calms his nerves some. Whatever, he’ll just enjoy himself, have a bit of fun, and then they’re gonna fuck, and come morning, they’ll be Sergeant John MacTavish and Lieutenant Simon Riley again.

His thoughts are interrupted when he notices movement in the corner of his eye, and suddenly, he knows he can play along. Because the man that just entered the picture is Ghost, but at the same time... it’s not.

The man looks like trouble. Broad shoulders, scars only barely hidden behind plain black medical face mask, large hands that could kill a man. The blonde hair does very little in terms of softening the brute. As does the deceivingly nice dark red button-up with a tasteful pattern paired with black chinos that hug the man's legs and especially his arse tight. John looks away, hoping he wasn't caught staring and feeling a little bit underdressed in plain jeans and an even plainer white tee. He’s been told it suits him, and he can believe it; John is not a complicated lad, and the get-up the blonde guy sports would look ridiculous on him. Like a costume. That, honestly, might be, in part, what intrigues him about the stranger. By all means, he can see him in worn denim and a tank top or maybe a cheap suit fit for a bouncer. Yet the clothes he wears suit him. He looks like... what exactly? Something prestigious yet predatory. There has to be risk involved. A lawyer? An entrepreneur? Stock trader? John’s intrigued because what can he say? Slender, pretty boys never quite did it for him. Dark, mysterious, huge and menacing blokes, however? Now, that is right up his alley.

Turning the glass in his hand, he downs the rest of the drink, savouring the thick smokiness and the burn of the alcohol on his tongue. Should he order another one? Does he actually want to hit on the lad?

The choice is made for him as another glass lands on the counter. As he looks quizzically at the bartender, she only shrugs, nodding towards the blonde stranger. “Compliments from the gentleman over there.” John looks the man over, trying not to flinch as dark brown eyes lock on him. There is absolutely nothing gentlemanly about him. Not even when he raises his own glass in a silent toast, he looks like a tiger stalking its prey. However, he did buy John a drink; it would be rude not to thank him, especially since John doesn’t drink cheap.

Grabbing his drink and sitting next to the stranger, John feels small, which is ridiculous, of course, because John is not a small man. "Thanks for the drink. Ye shouldnae have," John smiles, letting his accent slip deliberately. The stranger's eyebrow rises as he tries to decipher what John just said. This close, John also gets to smell him. The stranger’s wearing something interesting, no doubt very expensive. There’s musk, at first, then some exotic wood, morphing into something dark and spicy. There are layers to it, and John finds that he actually really likes it.

"It's no bother. You looked like you were debating whether or not to have another, I merely assisted." The stranger has a nice, deep voice with a distinct rasp to it. There's also a hint of accent. Manchester, maybe? John licks his lips.

"Mhm, was waiting for some company, but it seems I’ve been stood up," John says with a pretend annoyance.

“One person’s loss is another’s gain,” the stranger notes cryptically, taking a swing from his glass. John smirks. Oh, the lad is smooth, if direct. John’s definitely interested, and it seems to be mutual.

“Name’s John,” he extends his hand.

The stranger takes it. His palms are dry, warm, and surprisingly soft. “Simon.”

John lets go of Simon’s hand after holding it for what would definitely be considered too long. “Simon,” he rolls the name on his tongue. It’s a soft name, gentle, almost. No hard r’s or pointed t’s. “’S a nice name.”

“Thank you?” Simon chuckles. That, too, seems a bit out of character, but maybe he simply read Simon wrong. “You sound local, are you?”

John smiles, fiddling with the glass and turning it in his fingers. “Aye, from Inverness, actually. I’m only in Glasgow for a few days before I head back. What brings you here?”

“Business,” the answer is clipped. It’s clear that he’s unwilling to discuss it any further. John doesn’t mind; he’s not that interested, anyway. “I have to say, I’m somewhat surprised by the city. I’ve heard so many bad things about it, and I can see why.” John is already jumping the gun, more than ready to defend Scotland and all its parts (even the certifiably weird ones) from yet another smug, entitled Brit, but Simon isn’t finished yet. “It’s got character, and most people don’t like that. They want simple, uncomplicated, boring things.”

“What do you want, Simon?” John narrows his gaze, boring into the whisky-brown eyes.

“Something interesting,” he smiles, swallowing the last of his drink. Before he sets the glass down, he runs his tongue over the edge, chasing the last remnants of the taste. It’s a deliberate show for John’s eyes only.

Feeling bold, John rests his hand on Simon’s knee. The implications of the gesture are clear as day. How would it feel to have those large hands on him? To be overpowered and taken? Or, maybe even better yet, to have all this strength beneath him? To command it? Having Simon surrendering and pliant? John quiets his mind, lest the rest of the bar gets an eyeful of his stiff prick; these awfully tight jeans would do absolutely nothing to hide it.

“If you’re thinking half of what I’m thinking,” Simon says, low and incredibly enticing, “we should probably move this upstairs.”

John hasn’t paid and exited an establishment faster in his life, with Simon right behind him.

They are keeping their hands to themselves until the door closes behind them. After that, it’s a fair game.

John pulls Simon down for a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. Before he can do anything more, he’s being manhandled. Simon presses him against the wall, grabbing his arse and hoisting him up as if John weights nothing. John lets out an exasperated laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it but plays along, wrapping his legs around Simon’s waist and his arms around his neck. His prick is pressed between their bodies, and John rolls his hips, gasping at the amount of delicious friction he gets.

“I bet I could come like this,” John breathes out, half drunk off his scotch, Simon’s smell and this entire scenario, which only just an hour ago, seemed preposterous and could never work.

“Now, wouldn’t that be a shame when we have a perfectly good bed to ruin, sweetheart?” Simon growls, running the tip of his tongue along his ear, and John shivers. The pet name is new, and as stupid as it is, it’s doing something to him.

“Let me down, then,” John asks, and Simon obliges, unaware of what he just unleashed.

John shoves him back with enough force to catch Simon off-guard, sending him stumbling back until the back of his knees bump into the bed. He goes down without a fight. Before he can do anything more, John is on him, straddling his waist and impatiently working on the small buttons of Simon’s shirt. He’s tempted to cut his losses and rip the damn thing, but Simon probably wouldn’t approve. Never one for frivolous wasting.

Finally, finally! He reveals a pale chest dominated by a long, thick scar from the heart surgery, a flat abdomen with fine, fair hair, a collection of more scars. He knows every and each one of them intimately.

John kisses Simon on the neck, then the collarbone, and proceeds to lick at his nipple, revelling in the tight gasp he gets. He does it again, grazing his teeth over the hardened nub. Simon grabs at his forearm, grip strong enough to leave bruises.

“Fuck, Johnny...,” he breathes out. Now that’s out of character. Are they back to their usual selves? Whatever.

John doesn’t waste time, getting rid of Simon’s belt, unbuttoning his pants and divesting him of them quickly.

John drinks the sight in. Simon’s shirt lies open and crumpled around him, the blood-red colour of it beautifully contrasting against the paleness of his skin. The simple black briefs strain with his hard prick. It’s a sinful picture, one John commits to memory. For this moment alone, the whole charade was absolutely worth it. However, the moment passes, and John desperately needs more.

Bending over the edge of the bed, he finds Ghost's duffel bag and, soon after, a bottle of lube and condoms. Not that they need those; it's merely a testament to how far Ghost was willing to go with the roleplay. Before he can turn around, Ghost smacks his arse as John very helpfully offered.

John yelps in surprise, looking at Simon with the most disapproving look he can muster. A sly grin that answers him tells him he wasn't very successful. Were he slightly less horny, he would think about some proper vengeance; as it is, he takes off his briefs, breathing out as slightly chiller air hits his prick.

He's a bit careless with the preparation, partly because he already did some beforehand. Simon watches him with searing intensity as John fingers himself open. He doesn't say a word, doesn't as much as twitch a muscle. He just looks with an insatiable hunger as John finally removes Simon's underwear and resumes his place sitting on Simon's hips.

"Tell me what you want, Simon?" John purrs, enjoying the momentary illusion of power.

Simon smirks, putting his hands on John's thighs, kneading the muscles gently but insistently. "Need me to spell it out for you? I wanna fuck that tight arse of yours until all that'll be left in your pretty head is my name."

John's breath catches in his throat, his blue eyes widening a fraction. They do a bit of dirty talk every now and then, but it still catches him by surprise. He does recover quickly. While his brain, for once, doesn't have anything clever to say to Simon, he opts for something even better as he takes Simon's prick and slowly sinks down on it. He moans loudly, not holding back in the slightest. He has to when they shag in the barracks, and he hates it just as much as Simon does.

"Fuuuck, I love yer cock," Johnny whines as he bottoms out, closing his eyes and enjoying the stretch and the fullness. He startles a little bit as Simon takes his prick in hand, giving it a firm, slow tug.

"I think my cock loves you too, Johnny," Simon chuckles, but it's breathless and strained.

Johnny huffs out a laugh before he goes up and down again, maybe a tad too fast. He whimpers and knits his brows together, but the discomfort subsides soon. He sets a steady rhythm then, even though he knows they won't last. Simon wanks him off like a bloody specialist, and judging by his low moans and unfocused gaze, he's not far behind.

He doesn't mind. It's dead brilliant, really. Picking up the pace, Simon helps him a bit, meeting him halfway. The room is filled with the filthiest of sounds: wet slapping of skin meeting skin, moans and breathy encouragements. Johnny gives up, whining as Simon jerks him to completion while fucking him through it. It's an absolute bliss that swallows him whole.

Simon is mindful, slowing down a little bit but never stopping as he chases his own orgasm. It's just around the corner, clawing at his insides with the insistent "yes, yes, yes, just a little more, almost there, come on, come…" until he groans, throwing his head back on the pillow, arching up and fucking into Johnny, as deep as he can get as he rides the high.

"Not bad for a one-night stand, huh?" Soap says smugly because, of course, he has to say something bloody stupid.

"I've had better," Ghost deadpans, fully aware that the remark will get him at least two days of silence.

#call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #ao3 writer #soap mw2 #ghoap #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

[moongreenlight]

HOUSEKEEPING!

Hi! I’m Seph (she/they). <3

I really only write for Task force 141 at the moment, though I could be persuaded to do something else. If that time ever comes, you’ll be the first to know. For now, we’re just sticking with the TF boys.

Minors do not interact. 18+ account.

If you do not have your age quickly accessible on your account, I will block you!!

I almost 100% of the time write exclusively F!Reader. These fics sometimes contain dark/mature themes that may not be appropriate for every reader. If there are highly sensitive topics being discussed, there will be a TW/CW at the beginning of the story. Be warned that they may not be detailed or tagged correctly. I am not responsible for the media you consume.

Asks are closed right now! <3

MASTERLIST!

Captain John Price

I. Young Housewife Headcanons (nsfw)

II. Young Housewife Headcanons

III. Young Housewife Headcanons (nsfw)

Sass Headcanons (nsfw)

I’m not a baker (nsfw)

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

Horny bullshit (nsfw)

Money, money, money (drabble)

Like a Virgin (nsfw drabble)

I. Playing House (suggestive drabble) (cbf!)

II. It’s your duty (suggestive drabble) (cbf!)

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish

Bad idea, right? (nsfw drabble)

Hard to get (nsfw drabble)

I. Whispered Prayer

II. The Other Side (nsfw)

Housekeeping! (nsfw drabble)

Dionysus (nsfw drabble)

This angle (suggestive drabble)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

General Headcanons (nsfw)

Hand Slander (nsfw drabble)

Back of his truck (nsfw drabble)

Dad!Simon horny bullshit (nsfw drabble)

Government hooker (nsfw)

I. Rumors only grow (secret wife)

II. Keeping secrets (secret wife)

Ptolemaea I (CW)

Ode to the bouncer (drabble)

Come over (drabble)

Ghoap x Reader

Missing (CW)

Whole of 141

Pack Mentality (drabble)

Say he likes crazy girls

WIP Wednesday! (ongoing tag)

#moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites

[your-highnessmarvel]

cotton candy | s.riley

CHAPTER EIGHT

Pairing: Simon Riley aka Ghost x Original female character

Warnings: KISSING. SMOOCHING. TONGUE KISSING.

Chapter Summary: Operation Starlight is on. But Laura doesn't know if she has what it takes to even do this thing.

A/N: OIIII I love this!!!!

Masterlist

Taglist: Open

Will be posting on AO3. IF ONLY I CAN FIGURE OUT HOW IT WORKS LMAO.

Chapter eight

It was so god damn cold!

My skin would peel from the frigid wind if it wasn't fastened to my bones like glue. Who would have thought that the South Asian weather could drop to sub zero temperatures and mimic the worst of Antarctic weather?

But here I was, hands under my pits to warm my fingers, standing in line behind two young girls with hair as dark as mine. They looked buzzed, blazed and confused, and the looks they kept shooting me over their slender shoulders gave my goosebumps goosebumps.

"Fucking hell," I muttered.

I heard the telltale crackle of the comms device in my ear. And then, Soap's drawl in my ear, "Don't start yapping those ugly words, lassie."

I smiled, the sound of his voice and the lilt of his accent making the ice in my bones thaw a little.

"I'm cold, Soap," I answered under my breath, pressing my chin to my chest to brace against the harsh wind.

"You'll be inside in a few minutes, mami," came Ale's honey voice. He sounded like a stripper through comms.

But who I really wanted to hear was Ghost. I wanted him to tell me he was alright, that he'd made it inside. Because that meant that I would cross someone in there that would potentially be him. I had to look for a blonde man with blonder lashes and a heart-shaped mouth.

No. I had to look for Alvarez and walk to the extraction point. I had two jobs and that's it.

"How did you guys make it in before me?" I asked. "In America, that's the other way around. Women don't wait in the cold."

Someone cleared their throat over comms. "That's because you're in the wrong line, sweetheart." It was Gaz, and when I looked over my shoulder, I saw him standing beside our Plan B car, smoking a cigar.

He motioned to my left with his chin and winked. Bless this man.

I looked over the shoulder of the girls in front of me and saw a lady walk to the bouncer and offer him a few bucks. Well, that's why Ghost had handed me Baht bills before we got out the car. It wasn't just to pretend to buy a drink.

When I made it inside the club, my skin felt soft, as if I had been a hard slab of chocolate placed near a raging fire.

I gave a few more bucks for the entrance fee, made my way clumsily through a dark hallway, and made my way towards the music. The closer I got, the more it echoed and throbbed in my chest, beating with my heart like two drums in sync.

I pulled the red velvet cliché curtain and stepped onto the mezzanine, where a sea of roiling bodies danced under me. Glaring, jetting blue and green lights washed over the dancers, and I gripped the railing, looking over to get a better glimpse at their faces.

The music was good and they moved to it perfectly. I caught the flash of a silver bracelet, a glimpse of someone's bright red hair, skin on skin, hands and nails digging into any exposed flesh.

It was the dream of any raver, any dancer who wanted to get lost into the notes. It was intoxicating to look at.

Someone bumped into me, spilling their drink across my top, ice tumbling into my bra. The drunk dancer excused himself in Thai and tried to clean it up, but I was too flustered, too raw to let him. Instead, I walked right passed him and followed the glowing yellow sign for the bathrooms.

It was another world in there. Behind the hardwood door, the music was muffled and replaced by the sounds of a flushing toilet and a sink that was accidentally left open. I grabbed onto the paper towels and dried my chest and dove into my bra to retrieve the melting ice.

Two girls burst in, laughing, and the fright it gave me sent me hollering. They stopped cackling and looked at me, watching as I tried to calm my racing heart.

One of them, the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, with cherry blonde hair and a pink, round mouth, cocked her head. "You're American?" she asked, holding onto the other girl's shoulders. She was American too. One of the former girl's blocky bracelets got stuck in the other girl's brown locks.

"Yeah," I answered.

"Who's that?" came Soap in my ear.

"Wow, I thought we'd never see any Americans here tonight!" the girl said, thunking against the wall, blonde locks falling into her eye. She smirked and laughed. "Your outfit is so nice."

I threw the paper towels into the bin. "Have a nice night ladies," I said.

"Wait," the blonde said, slurred mostly. She put a finger up, curled it, smirking like she had the nastiest secret about your beloved coworker. "I bet you want some meat tonight, eh?"

My cheeks heated like a match, instantly burning to my ears.

Someone laughed on comms.

"I - well, no."

She scoffed. The other girl yelped when the blonde slid to the floor, bruised bare knees bending up to the sky.

She laughed. "There's these guys upstairs," she slurred, gulped, and I could see the vomit clawing up her throat.

"Get closer," it was Ghost, and the command sung in my bones, struck me like a slap in the face, and my feet slid closer to the girls.

"Guys where?" I asked, scratching the inside of my wrist.

She scoffed again. "They're like, Thailand's fake mafia or whatever," she continued, chewing on her lip. Please God let her finish that sentence before she yacks.

"Fake mafia?" I questioned. "Like the Godfather?"

Her blue eyes light up, mouth opening. "Yes!" she answered. "And they paid me drink after drink like... and they told me to get more girls up there because they're bored, I think."

I nodded, nails clawing at the soft skin of my palms.

"Ask her what they look like," it was Ghost again and his order burned into my ear, lighting in my throat. As if he had tied strings to my limbs and puppeteered me.

"Are they handsome?" I asked. "I have a specific type."

"Good girl, Laura," came Soap through comms. Something brewed in my belly, like hot embers.

The blonde raised her brows, as if recognizing a fellow wild card girl.

"They have these dark, slick back hair, you know?" she said, trying to get to her feet. The other girl winced, pulling at the strands stuck in the blonde's bracelet. "They're tall and all full of muscle. And they're wearing these like black suits, like... John Wick, yeah?"

"Hmmm," I said. "Tattoos?"

"Atta girl."

She frowned, turning to peer at her friend. The brunette looked up at me, clearly less intoxicated than her friend. "They have these hand tats, like tigers or something stupid like that."

Never liked big cat tattoos either.

"That might be them," Soap mumbled. I fidgeted in my place, waiting for their orders. "Ask them how to get up there." Bingo.

"That makes me want to go so much," I giggled, trying to fake some kind of girlish, bathroom pact.

"That's so fake, mami."

"Where do I go?" I asked the girls.

The brunette carried her friend over into the open stall. "Just find the stairs that go up, not down. Give your name at the door. They let about any girl up there."

And just before I was bursting out the bathroom door, the blonde finally yacked.

"Guys," I whispered through comms. "I go up there alone?"

There was a long silence while I meandered through the mezzanine, looking for the stairs. But I didn't need to hear any answer because the problem found me first.

The man standing guard at the bottom of the stairs turned. When he faced me, his features felt like a puzzle I'd solved before and I could easily put back. He was familiar, down to the fucking busted front tooth when he sneered at me.

This was one of the men that were there when Ben talked with Alvarez.

And by the looks of it, he recognized me too.

"Shit," I breathed. I took a step back, and if this guy wasn't suspecting me already, that sure as hell made it clear now. He knew exactly who I was and that I wasn't, clearly, dead. I'd seen Alvarez's face. And I was here.

"Laura, what is it?" It was Ghost.

"He recognizes me," I answered. The guy brought a walkie talkie up to his mouth, keeping his eyes on me.

He took one step forward. Feet appeared at the top of the stairs. Three pairs. I looked up, saw three men descending, dressed up like they're the toughest assassin in the Continental.

Then Dude 1 pointed at me. And all four looked up to meet my gaze.

My heart beat against my rib cage, my breath coming in short spasms.

"Run," Ghost said.

I felt his command in my bones.

I turned, my feet, squished in the shoes that were a size too small, screamed in agony as I mulled against the wave of clubbers.

It felt like running in a dream, fighting against an invisible force holding me back, feeling the fire nipping at my heels. I made it to a hallway, bouncing off the wall like a clumsy idiot, and raced through. People knocked into me, bruising my shoulders, scraping against my elbow. But I felt along the wall, running until my knees ached.

I flew passed another hallway, gripping the wall to push my momentum. I'd always been fast. Ghost could tell you that.

"I'm taking the East side!" I heard Soap in my ear.

"I'm taking North!" that was Ale.

"I think I saw her on the mezzanine floor!"

But I didn't care. I ran and ran, passing partygoers and lovers and drunks.

Until, "Laura." His voice culled me out of my panic, slamming me back down into my body, into the fear beating against my chest, the terror running through my veins.

My ears were drumming with the echo of my breath.

"What do you see?" he asked.

I turned. "It's a room. It's so dark in here Ghost."

"What color are the walls?"

"Green, I think," I said, bracing my shoulder on the wall and walking backwards, away from the entrance, watching for any moving bodies. There was another entrance to another hallway to my right. This place was a maze.

"What are people doing? Is the music loud?"

I looked around. "People are..." The irony of it made my mouth shut. "They're making out?" Five couples were strewn about in various stages of making out or... oh, that was third base.

"Music?"

My ears were ringing but not loud, thrumming bass. "No, it's muffled though. I can hear it." I turned away from the lovers, focusing on the hallway I just came through. Waiting.

I heard shouting. Men. Fear gripped me like a cold hand, like fingers digging into my throat, clawing between my ribs.

"I see you."

His chest came resting, hot and firm, at my back. I stopped dead in my tracks, feeling his breath along the top of my head.

"Turn around, close your eyes," he ordered, his fingers gripping on the exposed skin just under the hem of my camisole, where my belly was exposed.

"Ghost, what do we do?" I asked, panted, hearing the men closer, louder. I almost fantasized that I could hear their feet slamming on the ground.

"Close your eyes, Laura, and turn." He was so firm, twisting me around, hair flying across my eyes and I closed them instinctively.

I felt warm, rough hands caressing my face gently, holding onto my cheeks like I was made of glass and he was made of stone.

"Don't open your eyes," he whispered, and this time, his mouth was at my ear and I could feel the warmth of his skin, his stubble, his lips against my jaw. He really wasn't wearing a mask.

And then he pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek. I heard, behind me, the rustle of feet, shouting, and I tensed, like someone had poured cement down my spine and left me out to dry.

Ghost sprung us into action, one arm snaking around my waist, effortlessly lifting my feet off the floor and flinging us to the side. My back collided with the wall, and his entire frame pressed against me, covering me, hiding me. I could feel his thighs pressed against mine, his hands skimming along my waist, his face in the crook of my neck.

His face.

But I kept my eyes closed. I shut them tight, wincing when I felt him move, hovering his lips over mine.

The shouting was there, right in the hall, coming in the room.

"Ghost," I whispered. Lips trembling, hands clutching the front of his shirt.

I was on fucking fire.

He pressed one hand into my hair, combing his fingers through the strands and he pulled, tugging my face back. And then he kissed me.

He kissed me like he was a man starved, molding his mouth to mine, prying my lips apart so he could pet his wet tongue against mine. He groaned into my mouth, fingers tugging painfully at the roots of my hair.

This wasn't just a distraction.

His hips pressed flush against mine, his free hand roaming over my stomach, inching upwards until he held my breast in his grip. I squeaked, bracing my hands across his back, and I felt the fire lick up my spine at the thought that I could finally touch him. Finally feel the hardness of his muscles, the heat of his skin under his t-shirt, the ridges of scars, the valley between his shoulder blades.

And my hands went up until I could plunge them in his hair.

My world pinpointed to the breath he was breathing into my lungs, the feel of soft, blonde strands between my fingers. The scruff of his stubble burning my chin. The feel of his thumb and forefinger pulling at my nipple through my camisole. The grunt that broke through my teeth and echoed off his mouth as he kissed, devoured me.

And when my hips, my waist, pushed against him, I knew I was in big fucking trouble.

But he pulled away, panting, hiding his face in my shoulder, in my hair. He breathed against me and I opened my eyes, noticing his blue tee, the rise and fall of his wide shoulders.

And no one else in the room except us and a few lovers making out.

"Close your eyes," he panted, hands resting against my waist, fingers clawing at my frame. But his tone was sweeter and his accent so sluggish it was like he was drunk. One hand came up, fingers digging into my breast, tugging me closer. He was tearing at the fucking seams.

I could feel him, hard in his jeans, pressing against my belly. His thumb smoothed across my nipple, his teeth grazed my shoulder, tongue tasting the skin there.

His hips twitched, grinding into me, pushing me back harshly against the wall. I winced, hissed, but his hands caressed the side of my neck.

I closed my eyes. I felt the heat, slipping like tar down my belly. I bit my lip, feeling the heat, the pressure build between my legs.

Bravely, I pressed my face into the soft spot where his shoulder meets his neck and I bit him, marked him like he'd marked me in the shower. He groaned, pressing into me until the breath left my lungs. Until I squealed into his skin, feeling hot and cold, insects scuttling along my skin, my core aching. I felt his hand press my hip into the wall.

"I'm not looking," I whispered and God, my voice was wretched.

I felt him move, but his hands moved away from my breast, my neck, toyed with the hem of my camisole, index inching under it.

He breathed a shattered, shaken breath into my neck. I felt him grind into me, breathing close to my ear. He was so hard, so warm in his jeans. I wanted to touch him.

I wanted to say his name, to breathe the syllables through my lips, but the crackle of someone clearing their throat through comms made me slam right back to reality.

We'd just made out in front of the entire task force. Laswell included.

"Get Laura to the extraction point, right now." It was Soap.

"But Alvarez," I said. Ghost pushed back from me. I kept my eyes tightly shut.

"We need to get you out. They know you're here, mami."

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, but no one answered.

I waited, perched between the wall and Ghost, until he moved away. I was so scared, so defeated, that I stayed there, eyes closed. The heat on my skin died, the buzzing of a million bees under my skin quieted. The ache, that throbbing, wet need between my legs, though, that didn't ebb.

Someone's warm hand tapped my elbow. "Open your eyes, lassie."

Soap smiled down at me, eyes so kind. He was dressed so normally too. It made him look so... brotherly. He gave me a look, raking his eyes from feet to toe, assessing. He could definitely see the red of my cheeks, my swollen lips, my hair in a mess.

"Time to go."

I let him put an arm over my shoulder, pretending we were friends, lovers even. He put his head down close to mine, mouth at my ear as we walked out onto the mezzanine, towards the exit.

"I'm sorry you had to do that," he muttered into my ear. I grabbed onto his wrist, where it lay on my shoulder. He was so warm.

A shiver sliced down my throat because... I hadn't hated kissing Ghost. Having to kiss him was the best part of this evening.

"It's fine."

Soap brushed his nose across my temple. His breath fanned the side of my face. "You'd tell me if it wasn't?" he asked, and his voice, so low, so comforting, made my insides roil.

What was wrong with this task force? What was wrong with me?

#simon riley #ghost #cod #ghost cod #simon riley x oc #ghostxoc #ghost smut #simon riley smut #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #ghostxofc #simon riley x ofc

[gipsyavnger]

Work in progress for an AU story I’m brainstorming based off the story I’ve got going on Ao3. OC!female Isobel Williams is the Chef de Cuisine of The Eleanor, owned by Kate Laswell and her wife. Right across the street is Bar 141, owned by John Price. His manager/bouncer/part time bartender/ jack of all trades Simon “Ghost” Riley has a thing for the stubborn chef but she’s oblivious. Little do they both know, a company called Shadow Company is determined to buy the restaurant and the bar to use them to front their gun running business.

#my stuff #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw #cod #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #ghost x oc #call of duty fic #cod mw fic #fan art #cod mwii #cod mwii fic #call of duty modern warfare ii #simon ghost riley fic #simon riley fic #cod mw22 fic #original character #cod mw22 fan fiction #call of duty fanfic #my edits #ghost x isobel

[societieshq]

basic   occupations  ( kitchen  ,  clean up  ,  and   entertainment )  are   randomized   every  week  .  however  ,  special  occupations  are  chosen  specifically  upon  major  .  take  note  that  even  if  you’ve  been  selected  for  a  specialized  role  ,  your  muse  will  still  have  basic  occupations  assigned  to  them  as  well  .  if  you’d  like  to  apply  for  a  specialized  role  ,  it  can  be  given  out  as  rewards  for  being  inclusive  ,  plotting  with  other  /  new  members  ,  and  good  activity  !  we  will  also  have  other  awards  featured  for  your  muse  ,  such  as  in  character  weapons   ,  medication  ,  events  ,  roommates  ,  and  plot  arcs  /  drops  !  please  remember  to  like  once  you’ve  read  &  give  a  nice  drum  roll  to  our  NEW  and  OLD  elected  leaders  !  (  keep  in  mind  ,  leadership  is  ALWAYS  subject  to  change  ,  and  may  be  given  out   ,  or  taken  away  in  future  plot  drops  .  ) 

kitchen.

breakfast cooks: theodore abraham , max duval

lunch cooks: nolan kane  ,julieyye aguilar

dinner cooks: josie lawrence, chandler rhodes

quality check: minnie mae

dishwashers: esme macmillan, zac abraham

servers: maya macmillan, reese du pont,

clean up.

garbage duty: dylan carmichael, taay chuntaketta

litter clean up: anika morales, damien riley

street sweepers:harry ramano, marni vanross

leave raking: bora ree, sylvia nyugen

town laundry: rosie asker, summer jakobsen

grass maintenance: ryan kang, stevie henson*

graffiti maintenance: karolina gould, carly fitzgerald

pool maintenance: soraya miranda, valentina ribeiro

lake clean up: luciana rossi, elenor richards*

entertainment.

painted keg bartender: hero kelly

delta diner servers: zara summers

delta diner cook: tatum west

delta karaoke host: margot lindell

alleyway bouncer: wolfgang simon

alleyway bartender: katherine whittmore

alleyway poker host: jack singh

.

specialized.

medical doctor: esme macmillan (two slots)

surgeon doctor: valentina ribeiro, rosie asker (two slots)

obgyn doctor:  (one slot)

psychologist:  carly fitzgerald* (one slot)

therapists: (unlimited slots available)

paramedics: (unlimited slots available)

coroner: (one slot available)

med techs:  jack singh, bora ree (unlimited slots available)

autopsy techs:  (unlimited slots available)

pharmacists:  (unlimited slots available)

patrol guard: wolfgang simon, (unlimited slots available)

agriculture:  damien riley, ryan kang, (unlimited slots available)

researcher: stevie henson*, (unlimited slots available)

ethologist: taay chunktakett (one slot)  

engineer:  max duval, zara summers, josie lawrence (three slots)

biochemist: (two slots)

astronomer:  marni vanross (unlimited slots available)

supply counters: maya macmillan (unlimited slots available)

city council: summer jakobsen, karolina gould, reese du pont, nolan kane, (four slots)

chief guard: chandler rhodes (five slots available)

lawyers:  chandler rhodes, (unlimited slots available)

confessionals: (unlimited slots available)

religious speaker: (unlimited slots available)

public speaker: katherine whitmore, sylvia nyugen (two slots available)

current leader: minnie mae. (chaotic)

current leader: margot "maisie" lidell. (lawful)

as always  ,  if we’ve missed a muse  ,  please don’t hesitate to contact us with any questions or concerns  !

#hallowayadmin

[simonxriley]

Crimson Day - Chapter 2

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Gary “Roach” Sanderson

Summary: After Ghost and Roach survived Shepherd's onslaught, they confess their true feelings for one another. Agreeing on leaving this life behind, they decide to buy a house together.

A/N: For anyone who doesn’t know I decided to rewrite half of this story for some personal reasons. I was only writing Ghost how a lot of people saw him (which I actually loathe) and wasn’t writing him how I personally saw him which made me not like updating this so I said fuck it and went with a rewrite and now I am writing Ghost how I see him. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

chapter 1 

ao3 & FF 

Roach awoke when a pain struck his abdomen. He wondered why he felt something heavy draped over his waist. Then he realized he wasn't alone, and he wasn't in his room. Smiling to himself, he gently moved Ghost's arm a little higher above his healing wound. The gesture, unfortunately waking the man up.

"What's going on?" He opened an eye and looked at Roach

"Nothing, when you moved, you accidentally hit my wound."

"Shit....Sorry about that, did I hurt you?" Ghost was now fully awake. Glancing over Roach's body to see if he's done any damage.

"No, just a slight pain, nothing to worry about." Roach smiled at him. He glanced over to the clock while waiting for Ghost to answer. His eyes widened when he saw it read 8:00 am. "We should get up...."

"Why?" Ghost settled back down and raised a brow.

"Cause it's eight in the morning and we're not the only ones still on the base."

"Fuck." Ghost leaped outta bed and got dressed. "Why am I rushing? We're both out of commission and we're both retiring." Ghost mumbled to himself. That made Roach laugh. He got up off the bed and stretched.

"I should get dressed too." Roach headed for the door to go back to his room for a change of clothes. Abruptly stopping at the door.

"What's wrong?" Ghost gave him a confused look as he pulled on his pants.

"Check to see if anyone is coming down the hall. I don't need people asking me why I'm in here."

"Right...hold on." Ghost went to his door, opening it and peaked his head out. "Clear."

"Okay.....uh should I meet you in the rec-room? or?" 

"Yeah, that sounds good.....but you're not leaving without this." Ghost crushed their lips together. Roach hummed into it, wishing it would last longer. Ghost pulled away and smiled at the younger man. "Are you just gonna stand there smiling or are you gonna get dressed? ya git."

"I'm going, I'm going" Roach said with a wave of his hand. He left Ghost's room and went to his. He put on a pair of jeans and a loose fitting t-shirt. Sitting down to lazily tie his boots, he started to smile to himself. He never though he would confess his true feelings for the man or that Ghost would feel the same. Now they're both retiring and moving in together, could it get anymore sappy? Once he was done 'tying' his boots, he went to the rec-room.

                                                                xXx

Opening the door he spotted Ghost in his usual spot. He sat down in front of him, looking at the coffee cup already on the table.

"You didn't need to do that." said Roach, gesturing to the cup.

"I wanted too." Ghost stated simply.

Roach took a sip of his coffee and it was exactly how he liked it. Apparently Ghost did pay attention.

"Won't people start to wonder why you're getting me coffee?" Roach asked while taking another sip if his coffee.

Ghost looked up from the newspaper he was reading and looked at Roach. His blue eyes piercing into his brown ones. "Hmm probably. Let them. It's not like we'll see them again after Soap and Price are done." Ghost exclaimed.

Roach looked down at his half empty cup. Ghost noticed Roach's sullen state and grabbed on of his hands. This snapped Roach out of it.

"Look...Bug, I know how much this place means to you and how much you're gonna miss it, maybe you can get a job at the S.A.S training grounds in Crendenhill."

"Yeah. Maybe. How come you're not that upset?" Did Ghost not like it here? or was he just hiding his feelings?

"Who say I'm not. This place was home. Most of the people here have families to go back too. I don't." Roach was slightly taken aback by how forthcoming Ghost was. He was never the one to open up about his emotions, at least until now that is.

"I could be your family." Ghost looked up from the cup in his hands and gave him a confused look.

"What do you mean?" Roach shook his head in disbelief. Sometimes Ghost could be very dense. That or he was just playing and wants to know what people's motives were.

"I'm saying, since I know you don't have a family. That I could be. Family doesn't end with blood Simon." Roach stated simply. Ghost didn't say anything, he just stared at his hands. Roach knew he was contemplating his words. It was better not to say anything.

"I think I can live with that." mumbled Ghost.

Roach smiled. He thought about what Ghost said about getting a job in Crendenhill. What would they do for jobs. Roach could get a normal job and Ghost could work for the S.A.S. Roach could see a normal job wouldn't suit Ghost, unless he was a bouncer in a bar. During Roach's brainstorming, he had that imaginary light bulb go off in that head of his. "Do you want to live in Hereford?"

"I don't mind. Do you?"

"No, not at all. I was thinking we can buy a house in Hereford. You could work at the training grounds and I could get a regular job or work there as well. What do you think?" Roach started to get all giddy. He was excited for the future and what it holds for him and Ghost.

"Yeah. It sounds fine. You don't want to stay in the states?"

"No. I think a new place would be better. New memories. It would be like starting over."

"Now that you've mentioned it. That sounds like a brilliant idea." Roach smiled. He was glad Ghost was okay with this idea of his.

"We still need to pick a place to live. That's better said than done since no one here has a laptop." Roach sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Shite. Do you have any other ideas in that brain of yours Gary?"

"One." Roach stated.

"And?"

"We could live at my place until we find somewhere to live in Hereford? I have some money saved up so we wouldn't have to find a job before we moved." Ghost nodded. It was a good idea as any. "Uh. I live in a one bedroom apartment by the way."

He didn't know if Ghost would be okay with that. Yes they did share a bed last night, but they just got together. He wasn't sure how fast Ghost wanted to take this. He could sleep on the couch if he wanted. "That's fine. Did you forget we slept in the same bed last night?"

"I know that. I'm just making sure you're okay with it. And I'm also okay if you want to sleep on the couch instead of the bed." Ghost just nodded. Roach would see how things pan out when they're back at his place.

Ghost got up from the table. Making Roach give him a confused look. "I'm going to train, you wanna come?"

Roach got up from the table and put their coffee cups in the sink. "Sure. At least you can train." Roach mocked. He hated how he couldn't do anything because of these injuries

Ghost went to retrieve his beloved ACR, while Roach went to observation box. When Ghost walked out he had a bewildered look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"I'm gonna miss this gun."

#ghost x roach #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #call of duty #modern warfare #cod