hostile territory
♡ simon "ghost" riley x female reader ♡
18+, public/semi-public sex, overstimulation, breathplay (hand over mouth), rough sex, hidden in plain sight
♡ synopsis: simon riley doesn't play well with others, and he certainly doesn't do "family BBQs." while your dad and cousin speculate about your mysterious boyfriend, ghost is busy operating in hostile territory. he doesn't do grand entrances, he does tactical extractions. and right now, he’s got you pinned in the shadows of the hallway, claiming you within earshot of everyone you know.
“so, what's he like?" your cousin leans in, voice dripping with curiosity. she's got that gleam in her eye that says she's ready to dissect every detail. "your mysterious boyfriend."
you shrug, swirling your drink. "he's... tall. quiet. works in the military."
your dad snorts from across the lawn. "military, huh? bet he's all muscles and no brain, just like those yanks on tv."
you roll your eyes. "he's british, dad. and he's smarter than anyone in this yard.”
your cousin grins. "is he hot? like, action hero hot? does he have a six-pack? does he carry a gun?"
you chuckle, but your cheeks heat up. "yeah, he's... fit. and yes, he carries a gun. but that's not the point."
"oh, it's totally the point," she insists, nudging you with her elbow. "i need details. is he gonna show up here looking like a walking recruitment poster?"
before you can answer, you feel it—a sudden stillness in the air, like the shadows just got deeper and the temperature dropped a degree. you don't hear him, not a footstep or rustle of clothing, but you know he's there. simon always moves like he's part of the night, even in broad daylight, a predator who's learned to silence his own existence until he chooses otherwise.
your eyes dart toward the side of the house, where the shadows seem to pulse with possibility.
"just need another drink," you mumble to your cousin, the words tasting like ash in your suddenly dry mouth.
you slip away, your heart already hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. the moment you're out of sight behind the tall hedge, a gloved hand clamps over your mouth, swallowing your gasp. another arm, thick and unyielding, wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against a solid chest that radiates heat even through your summer dress.
"do you think your dad would mind if i borrow you for five minutes, love?" simon's voice is a low rumble in your ear, thick with that manchester drawl that sends shivers down your spine. his breath is hot against your skin, and you can feel the rough fabric of his balaclava brushing against your cheek.
you nod, eyes wide, and he chuckles darkly. "good. stay quiet, yeah? don't want your cousin asking too many questions about why you're flushed and breathless when you come back."
he lets go of your mouth, and you turn to glare at him, but the heat in his eyes stops you.
"si, you're insane," you whisper, tugging at his hoodie.
"only for you, pet," he mutters, hitching your dress up and yanking your underwear down in one smooth motion. he lifts his mask just enough to reveal his mouth, and his lips are on your neck, teeth grazing your skin. "spread your legs. now."
you do as he says, gasping when you feel him against you.
"si, please—"
"shh," he growls, shoving two fingers into your mouth to shut you up. you suck on them greedily, and he groans. "fuckin' hell, love. you're gonna get us caught."
he pulls you deeper into the shadows, toward the dark corridor next to the guest bathroom. it's risky—anyone could walk in—but simon doesn't care.
his mouth crashes against yours, a brutal, claiming kiss that swallows the gasp trying to escape your throat. there's nothing gentle about it—this is a kiss of possession, of marking territory before the enemy can advance. his tongue pushes past your lips, tasting of mint and something uniquely him, dark and dangerous. you taste the faint, metallic tang of adrenaline on his tongue, the same flavor you've come to associate with him after missions.
he lifts you with an ease that never fails to make your stomach clench, your feet leaving the ground as he pins you against the rough siding of the hallway. the wood scrapes against your bare back through your dress, a minor discomfort that only sharpens the pleasure coursing through you. his body is a wall of muscle and heat against yours, shielding you from prying eyes while simultaneously trapping you in this delicious prison of his making.
with one arm still supporting your weight, his other hand moves with practiced precision to his zipper. the metallic rasp of teeth parting is shockingly loud in the sudden quiet. there's no fumbling, no hesitation. just efficient, tactical movement that tells you this isn't his first time operating in hostile territory.
he pulls his jeans down just enough to free himself, the fabric bunching at his powerful thighs.
a soft sigh escapes him as he frees his cock, thick and already hard against your stomach. he doesn't waste time teasing or prepping; that's not what this moment is about. this is about claiming, about reminding you who you belong to when you're surrounded by a world that doesn't understand the dark, violent edges of what you share.
his long fingers find your clit, circling with a pressure that makes your toes curl. you're already soaked, your body betraying you with its eagerness. the rough pads of his fingers slide through your folds easily, gathering your wetness before pressing against your entrance. he’s testing you, feeling how ready you are, how desperate for him even with your family just yards away.
"knew you'd be ready for me, love," he growls against your lips.
his thumb continues its maddening circles on your clit as two fingers sink into you, curling to find that spot that makes your vision go white. your back arches off the wall, your head falling back to hit the siding with a dull thud that makes him chuckle.
"careful now, love," he murmurs, his lips trailing along your jaw.
the fabric of his mask brushes against your skin, a constant reminder that even in moments of intimacy, there are parts of him he keeps hidden. this is your simon at his most honest, stripped down to his basic instincts: protect, possess, pleasure.
he withdraws his fingers, replacing them with the head of his cock, and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. he pauses there, teasing you, making you squirm against the wall as your family's laughter drifts from the yard. It's a torturous contrast—the cheerful, normal sounds of your family gathering versus the raw, desperate need coiling in your belly.
"please, si, pleasee—" you whisper, the words barely audible.
with one sharp thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely. your world narrows to the feeling of him stretching you, the rough texture of his hoodie against your nipples, the distant sound of your uncle telling a terrible joke, and simon’swhispered praise in your ear.
"bloody hell, you're tight," he mutters, his voice strained. "quiet now, yeah? unless you want your cousin to find out what kind of guy i really am."
you claw at his back, trying to stay silent as he thrusts into you, each movement deliberate and deep. the contrast between his rough hands and the way he's holding you makes your head spin. "si—"
"say my name again, love," he growls, his pace quickening. "but keep it down, or i'll have to gag you properly."
you nod, biting your lip as he drives you closer to the edge. the sound of laughter from the yard feels a million miles away, but it's enough to keep you on edge. simon's grip on your hip tightens.
he kisses you then, deep and hungry, swallowing every sound you make. his hand leaves your mouth to grip the wall, and he bends you slightly, just enough to get the angle he wants. you gasp, "slow down, si—"
"no time, pet," he grunts, thrusting harder. "gotta make this quick. you can take it, yeah?"
you nod, dizzy from the way he's moving inside you, the way his voice rumbles in your ear. "you're mine, love. no one else gets to touch you like this. you understand?"
"yes," you whimper, clutching at his arms. his pace becomes relentless, and you can't hold back the moan that escapes. he immediately silences you with his hand, his thumb brushing over your lips.
"shh, flower, you're doin' so good," he mutters, pinching your nipple through your dress. "just a few more, yeah? think you can handle that?"
you nod again, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. simon leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "gonna walk back out there with my cum dripping down your thighs, aren't you? look your dad in the eye like nothin' happened."
the thought makes you clench around him, and he groans. "fuck, love. you're gonna be the death of me."
his control snaps. he yanks your dress down, exposing your tits, and his mouth is on them, hot and desperate. he bends you over a nearby table, one hand on your back, the other guiding himself back inside you. "rub your clit," he commands, his voice rough. "don't stop 'til you come."
you obey, fingers moving frantically as he pounds into you from behind. "si, i love your cock," you gasp, the words spilling out. "you're so fuckin' good—"
he growls, his hips slamming into yours. "that's it, my good girl. tell me how much you love it."
you do, over and over, until he can't hold back anymore. with a final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you, groaning your name as he fills you up. you follow right after, your body trembling under his.
for a moment, neither of you moves. then he pulls out, tucking himself away and fixing your dress with surprising gentleness. he kisses your temple, his mask still in place.
"go on, love," he murmurs. "i'll be out in a minute. try not to walk funny."
you shoot him a look, but there's a smile tugging at your lips. "you're unbelievable, simon."
he grins, that familiar smirk hidden behind the mask. "that's why you love me, flower."
simon riley might be a pain in the arse, but he's your pain in the arse—and you wouldn't have it any other way. ghost or not, you will always be his flower, his girl, his everything. and he will always be your shadow, your protector, your sinfully handsome nightmare.
and as you walk back to your family, you can still feel him on you—his scent, his touch, his mark. and you know, no matter what happens, you'll always come back to him.
and you know it wouldn’t be the last time he fucks you senseless with your family around...
♡ first time writing for this fandom, ok? i'm shaking a bit...
xoxo
