Imagine: Simon Riley has taken an interest in you, the base's archive librarian, ever since he started taking quiet refuge in the space when the outside became overwhelming. It's hard to follow the "Stay Quiet" rule when he is insistent on making you cry in pleasure.
A weight lifted off of Ghost's broad shoulders as soon as the heavy door closed behind him, hiding him away from Soap's onslaught of pressures to hang out after work. He didn't mind going to the usual pub, but this time the request was a full blown strip club. The fact that Ghost said no in the first place made Soap have a personal goal of wearing him down.
When you asked if he needed assistance, he finally noticed that he wasn't alone in the room that was normally dead. You were sitting behind a desk, a fictional book in your lap to pass the time and a glimmer of interest in your captivating eyes. It was extremely rare to have soldiers come to Archives. Everything was digital nowadays. Still, the base couldn't risk their important, physical documents being left unattended. That's where you, the Archive Librarian, come to in to play.
And that is what you did a majority of the time. Read. Play solo card games. Reorganize and dust on occasion. Everything and anything to pass the time while everyone opts for the more accessible wonders of technology.
So when Lieutenant Ghost came in suddenly, you were instantly intrigued.
"Didn't realize this old paper closet had a librarian." He confessed, feeling rather foolish for never having met you before. He would have definitely introduced himself if he saw your pretty face anywhere else on base.
"No, most people don't. I'm the only one that opens that door on a regular basis. Anyway, looking for something?" You inquired once more.
Ghost shook his head, walking further into the archive tentatively like he was in your house. As he got closer, he got a better look at you. A real hidden beauty right on base. "Temporarily running away from a problem, but only because the bastard is too stubborn to take a no. You mind?"
You waved a hand dismissively, allowing him to catch a glimpse of your nail polish. He instinctively imagined those pretty colors traveling through his hair, tugging his locks tight. "Stay as long as you need."
After that, Ghost began visiting you everyday in secret. It was easy to talk to you since you were so open for conversation. Once in a while, you would have a cup of tea ready for him, tempting him to skip his responsibilities all together.
During a visit, you excused yourself to the bathroom. While Ghost waited, he got curious about the current book you were reading. You had a new one every week, each cover looking different from the last in different ways.
When he read the synopsis on the back, he couldn't help but flip open to where your bookmark was.
As soon as you returned and noticed what he was doing, your cheeks turned crimson. The book you were enjoying was a rather smutty, kinky, romance novel. A spicy book that kept you entertained at work and your imagination going when you were home. The place you bookmarked was right in the middle of a sex scene, one that you had to pause and save for home.
And here Ghost was, the man you had in your head when you remembered those steamy sentences in bed. The man that so pleasantly entered your life with confidence and thoughtfulness.
With your brain short-circuiting, you scrambled to explain yourself. "Ah, my friend is letting me borrow it. It's not something I would normally pick up. Just figured I would try to read something different."
"Mmn, and what do you think of it? I see you're pretty far into it. Is it exciting?" He pressed further, enjoying the way you cutely blushed and nervously come up with excuses.
Your face grew even more flushed and you swallowed. "It's not bad, I guess."
Ghost stood from his seat, stepping over to you and placing his hands beside your head, pinning you against the sturdy bookshelf. "I know we haven't know each other for long, but I can tell you're lying. How about you try again?"
His voice came out in a low, rough whisper. Your heart could leap from your chest. Before you knew it, you told him how hot you thought the scenes were. And with even more flirtatious encouragement, you admitted that you got off on it at home. That you replaced the characters with you and him.
Wanting to fulfill your fantasy, Ghost released his sense of control and started fucking you between the shelves. He stood, your body pressed against his strong chest as he supported your weight by grabbing your ass and leaning you against the shelf.
His cock was buried inside you, his size much bigger than your toys. Each thrust was deep, purposeful, and absolutely world-shattering. With the position, you were able to melt into his chocolate eyes that were focused behind the mask.
It didn't matter to you that his mask was still on. In fact, it made your cunt pulse in rhythm with his hips. "Such a hidden gem you are. Getting away with reading such naughty books at work. Waiting for me to come find you~"
His deep voice echoed in your head, daring you to respond. To cry. To sing your song of pure pleasure.
"Careful, beauty. Don't want to break your quiet rule. This is a library, right, Ms. Librarian?"
The only way you could withhold the rule was to kiss him through the mask, the fabric eating up your moans as you came all over Ghost. You would never be able to look at the books the same way again.
I really need someone to help me find this cowboy ghost fic. It’s a Couple chapters long and I think maybe she was given/taken from her family due to her father??? I think. Idk it was so good and I can’t for the life of me remember it. They had Train scene too where yn got dolled up potentially.
Worse case does anyone have cowboy ghost recommendations?!?
Might be fairly odd, but do you do like little space stuff? Not like reader relyis on Simon for eveebut like.. Yk. I think it would be so cute. You can make it NSFW if you want to
(also can I be🐇anon?)
Yess I do, it’s my first time writing about it so I hope u like
and yesss u can be my bunny anon 🐇 :3
Simon loves taking care of his sweetheart. Always cradling you in his arms.
His big hand resting on your head as he pats it softly, gently rocking you with you on his lap.
You hum a soft tune as he lights up a ciggy making sure the smoke doesn’t reach your face.
As he rocks you, he notices a wet patch on your pyjamas, your sweet face all flustered and red.
“Anythin’ ya wanna tell me sweet?” He teases, taking a drag of his ciggy and lighting it out as he lowers his head to reach yours.
“No sii” you shy away from eye contact, turning your head the other way.
“Y’know what the rules are right?” He turns your chin with two fingers so you look at him, gripping softly as he inches himself closer to your lips.
“if ya ever feel needy who are you supposed to tell?”
“You daddy, m s’posed to tell you” you lower your gaze, cheeks flushing with warmth.
“Then why didn’t ya?”
“I didn’t wanna rely on ya for everything, wan’ed to fix things m’self too” you whisper out, your core aching more and more.
“Aww my sweet little girl the choice ‘s yours. If ya wan’ daddy to help ya out he can”
You stay still for a minute.
Your mind debating wether you should go for the easy or tough route
His knee bumps against your cunt breaking your train of thought and your self restraint
“Mm yes daddy I wan’ your help”
You cuddle into his arms, putting your head under his neck as you position your cunt against his knee.
Simon grips your waist and motions you to move your body.
“ah-fuck daddy feels soo good” you slur out,
Simon chuckles under his breath, he loves seeing his princess so fucked out because of him.
“Yeah baby? Ya like? Go on use yr’ daddy more yeah, use me all the damn time.”
Slowly you find yourself reaching your orgasm, legs shivering because of the intensity.
Gripping onto Simon’s collar your head falls back as you cum on his legs.
As he kisses your head he wraps you in his arms. Rocking you against him.
“and next time don’t hide from me luv, yr’ never gonna be too much”
Promising Simon that he’ll get to cum in you, but you’re bouncing so hard onto him, your orgasm taking you at full force that your legs give way and you’re toppling backwards into his legs.
Poor guy can only rut his hips into the air as he cums on his stomach, letting out a cut off moan at his own surprise.
cw: (MDNI-18+ ONLY) explicit sexual content, dark themes, allusions to stalking, manipulation/coercion, dubcon
mdni banner: @cafekitsune
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You were just trying to be nice to the guy, show him a little customer appreciation. You should've known better.
Whenever the big blonde Manc showed up at your shop, he always ordered a hot cuppa and a slice of lemon pound cake. Didn't matter what was on special that day or what was in the display case, he always asked for the pound cake. Nothing else would do.
You hadn't seen him in a couple of months, which over the past year or so you had learned was sort of his MO. He'd stop in every day for several weeks in a row, then poof! He'd vanish until, months later, he'd just suddenly reappear again. You never asked why; it wasn't that kind of relationship. He never was much of a talker, that one.
So, yesterday he showed up again—just suddenly out of the blue, like always—and wouldn't ya know it, you were completely sold out of the pound cake. Usually you wouldn't be, but it just so happened that an old bird had popped in before lunch and bought the last of what you had for an afternoon tea she was hosting for her knitting circle.
You obviously had no way of knowing that would happen, but still you felt bad because you could tell he was disappointed. You even offered him some free macarons to make up for it, but he just grunted and shook his head, then paid for his tea and left.
Well, of course, you wanted to make it up to him, him being one of your regulars and all. It's simply good business, you told yourself, looking after your loyal customers and what not.
So, the next day you were ready for him. You even went so far as to set out the tin of his favorite brand of earl grey in anticipation of his arrival. You then fretted for hours, keeping a close eye out for him, until he finally showed up. You were all smiles as he approached the counter.
"Got any uh tha' pound cake left t'day?" he'd asked in that grumbly, gruff way of his.
"I do!" you told him, giving him a coy smirk.
"Gimma a slice then, an' my usual brew."
You were on pins and needles while making his tea, giddy with nerves as you slid the green-and-white striped cake box across to him with his to-go cup. You were keen to see his reaction. His dark eyes squinted at it, darting back and forth between you and the box.
"Wha's this, then? I asked fer a slice, not a whole bloomin' cake, ya muppet." He scoffed and pushed the cake box back towards you.
Well! Not exactly the reaction you were hoping for. Feeling a bit peeved, you pushed it back. When he glared, you shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about it.
"I felt bad that you left empty-handed yesterday, so I wanted to make it up to you. That's an entire lemon pound cake, made just for you."
He blinked, his pale brows furrowing into a bothered little frown. He eyed the cake box, looking a bit perturbed, then reached for his wallet.
"No no!" you blurted out, waving him off. You gave him a sheepish look, suddenly feeling put on the spot. "It's um—It's on the house." You scratched at the back of your burning neck, eyes sliding off to the side. "Gotta take care of my loyal customers, don't I? Wouldn't want to lose ya."
And he just stared at you. Didn't say a word in response.
In fact, he stared at you for so long, you started to fidget. Sweat began gathering in your pits, your body tense and overheated. Had you overstepped, offended him somehow? Your mouth fell open, but nothing came out of it. You weren't quite sure what to say to him, so you just gaped up at him like a stupid, daft cow.
He tilted his head, eyes hooded and lazy. "Ya sayin' ya made this especially f'me, pet?" he finally asked.
The situation was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. "Um... Well... Y-Yes, I suppose I did."
Planting his hands on the counter, he leaned forward, his dark, glinting eyes raking over you as he hummed in consideration. Just when you thought you might spontaneously combust from embarrassment, he straightened to his full height and the corners of his mouth curled up into a wicked little smirk.
"Wha' time do ya usually get outta here?"
Your breath gusted out in a rush, and you realized you'd been holding it the whole time. "Around seven," you croaked, then cleared your throat. "S-Seven o'clock..."
"Christ," he grunted, making your eyes bug when he reached down and shamelessly adjusted himself. "Olright then. I'll be back 'round seven f'ya." His eyes bore into yours as he took his tea and cake from the counter. "I'll walk ya home."
Then out the door he went.
Your mind was in a daze for the remainder of the day, the passing hours little more than a blur. He's coming back; he's walking me home, your mind kept repeating.
Your anxiety eventually got the best of you. You'd pretty much talked yourself into nicking out early to avoid him, but your plan of escape went completely awry when he walked back into the shop at six-thirty.
Oh, dear God...
"You're early," you squeaked.
He rolled his massive shoulders, then took a seat at one of the tables. He stretched his long, tree trunk legs out and crossed them at the ankles. "Figured I'd wait while ya finished closin' up. Care t'make me a brew first, though?"
Your body went on autopilot, making him a tea while your mind screamed into the void. Then you shuffled off to finish closing up for the night while he sipped his tea. He helped you turn up the chairs to speed things along, and was right on your heels when you finally locked up for the night.
It was all you could do to keep up with him as he led you by the hand a few streets over to your flat. You were so flustered, it didn't even occur to you at the time that he somehow already knew the way.
The next thing you knew, he was herding you up the stairs to your floor, taking the keys from your trembling hand to unlock the door himself. Maybe it was an attempt at self-preservation that gave you the courage to balk at the threshold and turn to face him.
"Thank you for walking me home, Mister..." Your lashes fluttered and a nervous titter bubbled out. "I'm sorry. I never even asked for your name."
Heavy hands landed on your shoulders, sliding down to your biceps as he smirked a wicked grin and walked you backwards through the doorway.
"Name's Simon, lovie. Simon Riley."
The gravel in his voice sent a chill shuddering down your spine. He laughed low and wicked when you jumped after he kicked the door shut behind him.
"'S olright, li'l girlie. 'M gonna take real good care uh ya. Jus' relax an' let it happen, yeah?"
That was the extent of your conversation for the next few hours. You really weren't capable of speech during that time, and he mainly just growled out orders at you.
"Get yer knickers off an' spread those pretty thighs, doll."
"Fuck. Tha's it, lovie. Keep suckin' it just like tha'. Told ya you could take more."
"Quit squirmin' an' keep them legs open. Can't eat properly wiff ya squeezin' my head."
"Just breathe, sweet'art. You can take it all. I'll make it fit."
"On yer belly, arse up, princess. 'M not done wiff ya yet."
"Quit yer whingin' an' come f'me again."
That's not to say he wasn't generous with the praise too, though...
"Ya look s'pretty wiff my cock in yer mouth. Like a fuckin' angel."
"Mmm... Never tasted a pussy this good. Could eat ya all night."
"Bloody hell, 's tight. Feels like heaven."
"Good. Fuckin'. Girl. Nngh! Knew ya could take it all."
"Christ... 'Got me 'bout t'come olready, lovie."
"Look bloody gorgeous sittin' on my cock, lass. An' lookit how yer tits bounce. Fuck... FUCK!"
"Not gonna last—feel too bloody good. Gonna fill this pussy up!"
And he did. He filled you up to the brim and left you a boneless, quivering mess. Then he cleaned you up and tucked you into his side. Best sex ever, you thought before drifting off to sleep.
It was so good, in fact, that you didn't even get mad when he ghosted a kiss on your cheek and slipped out of your bed then out of your flat before dawn. He never was much for chatting anyway, so you figured he'd rather skip the awkward goodbye the next morning. It was a bit disappointing to know you'd probably lost a good customer, though.
And yeah, maybe you were a little sad when he didn't stop in for his usual slice and cuppa the next day, but honestly, it was probably for the best. He always did strike you as a little too intense, maybe even slightly unhinged. Yet it was probably that hint of danger that drew you to him in the first place, like a moth to a flame.
It might be fun to dance in the flames on occasion, but his brand of fire would consume you if you stayed too close for too long. Ah well. At least he left you with some good memories to keep you warm at night.
By six that evening the store is dead, your last customer having departed a half hour ago. Deciding to close up early, you flip the sign on the door and turn the lock, then head to the back to clean. You're already planning on a long soak in the tub with a glass of wine once you get home. Simon left you with sore muscles and a bone-deep ache between your thighs. You swear you could still feel the shape of him impressed into your inner walls.
You're in the process of shelving a stack of loaf pans, dithering over Chinese or pizza for dinner, when you hear the telltale jingle of the bell above the door. Startled, you gasp and loaf pans go scattering across the floor, making a terrible racket. Hissing a curse, you toss your hands up in frustration before stomping back to the front.
"Sorry! We're closed," you call out as you shove through the kitchen door, then come to an abrupt halt.
Wait. Didn't you lock the door?
"'Ello, lovie."
Simon's leaning against the counter, a devilish little quirk on his lips.
"How did you get in here?" is all you can think to say.
"Took yer spare set uh keys before I left this mornin'. Needed the key t'yer flat, but didn't wanna wake ya, so I helped myself. What was oll tha' racket?"
"I dropped the loaf pans," you mutter, in a daze.
He huffs a dry laugh. "Sorry if I startled ya. Was gonna call, but figured ya'd be busy closin' up the shop." He starts flipping the chairs up onto the tables. "Ya almost done? 'M ready t'go home an' relax. Been movin' house all day."
"Moving house?" you parrot, a sense of dread settling like a stone in your gut.
"Yeah. Figured I'd move tuh yers since yer flat's bigger than mine. Nicer, too." He smirks. "But don't worry. I didn't toss any uh yer shit. Got rid uh mine instead. 'S all secondhand junk, anyway."
You feel like you're in some sort of surreal dreamscape, where up is down and right is wrong and nothing makes sense anymore. Alice taking a header right down the old rabbit hole.
"You... You moved into my flat? But... But—why?!"
He rounds the counter, steps slow and steady, a predator stalking his prey. Scared little rabbit that you are, you tremble but don't move, some deep-rooted, primal instinct warning you to stay very, very still. Your head tilts back, eyes wide and unblinking, fearful of what you see smoldering in the dark depths of his eyes. Hellfire. Damnation.
"Shh..." he shushes you, placing a rough palm against your cheek. "We both know why. Yer just scared 'cause now ya know that I can see ya. But I've always seen ya, lovie. Always knew what ya wanted, what ya needed. Was just waitin' f'ya tuh figure it out."
Wrapping his fingers around your throat he draws you close, licks into your mouth like it's his to possess, like you're his to claim. He then spins you around and swats your bum to get you moving.
"Go grab yer stuff. We'll take care uh the rest uh this in the mornin'. 'S time t'go home."
You stumble to the back to get your things, mind numb, thoughts empty.
Later that night, eyes staring blindly up at the shifting shadows on the ceiling, you quake as he sinks slowly between your thighs, listen to the filthy praise he mumbles against your lips. His breath tastes sweet, like pound cake, and you swallow it down, make it your own.
You were just trying to be nice, but you should've known better. You can't feed a feral stray like him without consequences. Because a beast like him is bound to follow you home.
these headcanons are heavily inspired by the fanfiction made by @anghimalaaynasapuso
Riley has a personal vendetta against Simon’s gloves. Every chance he gets, he tries to pull them off with his teeth, like he knows they’re hiding something.
--
Simon never takes his coffee order off the counter immediately. He hesitates for a split second, like he's gearing up for battle against his own prosthetic.
--
Simon doesn’t do small talk, but he remembers details. Weeks after reader mentions being stressed over an exam, he casually asks, "How'd that test go?" like it’s nothing.
--
Simon’s idea of expressing gratitude is fixing something instead of saying “thanks.” reader’s car, their busted light switch, their wobbly chair—if something’s broken, it mysteriously gets repaired overnight.
---
Simon secretly likes reader’s messy, cluttered space. It’s the opposite of his own, which is sparse and lifeless. He won’t admit it, but being surrounded by their half-finished projects and coffee cups makes him feel grounded.
--
He always refuses to let reader pay for coffee when they take breaks together. His excuse? “Your hands shake too much from caffeine already.” It’s definitely not an excuse to take care of them.
--
Simon who keeps every single part reader has replaced in his prosthetic. Even if they’re broken, he can’t bring himself to throw them away. They’re proof that someone cared enough to fix him.
--
If something reminds him of reader, he buys it without thinking. A keychain that matches the stupid charm on their bag? Into his pocket. A limited-edition coffee blend they mentioned once? Already ordered.
--
Simon knows readers schedule better than they Do reader might forget what they have planned, but Simon doesn’t. “Didn’t you have that thing today?” He doesn’t even look up as he says it, but somehow, he always knows.
--
Simon who tells himself he’s just “looking out for them,” but deep down, he knows he’s gotten too used to their presence. If they’re gone longer than usual, he finds himself looking for them without realizing it.
--
Simon who just knows. If they’re having a bad day, he won’t ask; he’ll just hand them their favorite snack or start driving somewhere quieter.
--
Simon who won’t ask, “Are you okay?” outright, but he’ll casually comment, “You look like shit,” before handing reader something they need—water, food, or a jacket they didn’t realize they were shivering in.
Ghost had another nightmare. But this time, you were by his side.
Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader
✨A little continuation of Nightmare✨
You can also read this on my ao3🌹
“Ghost! Ghost!”
You shook him awake, pulling him back from the depths of his nightmare. He jerked upright, instinctively reaching for his gun, but you pushed him back down with all your strength.
“Ghost! Are you awake? You were having a nightmare!”
Your eyes locked onto his—those dazed brown eyes beneath the mask, unfocused and restless. Slowly, the tension in his body faded. He blinked, finally seeing you, and the rigid set of his muscles softened in an instant.
“Y/N… I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
His voice was hoarse, laced with exhaustion. Lifting a hand, he brushed his fingers along your cheek, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Then, with a long exhale, he let his head fall back onto the pillow, his palm still resting against your head, as if grounding himself in your presence.
“I’m fine. What about you? Was it the same dream?”
Resting your chin against Ghost’s chest, you wrapped your arms around him—not that you could ever fully encircle him, but you tried anyway.
“Mm…” he murmured, shifting onto his side. His arm curled around you, pulling you into the shelter of his embrace. Lowering his head, he pressed his forehead against yours, and you nuzzled into the curve of his neck. Held close like this, the steady rhythm of your breathing intertwined with his.
“I’m right here, Ghost. Don’t be afraid,” you whispered against his skin, your voice soft as a lullaby.
His eyes fluttered shut once more. Nights like these—when you were by his side—were the only ones he ever found peace in. Tightening his hold, he pulled you closer, as if trying to anchor himself in your warmth.
just thinking about reader having an nsft tumblr acct and tf 141 being obsessed with it..
cw: sexual content, slight voyeurism?
soap is the first one to stumble on your tumblr account. he originally got tumblr because he wanted inspiration for meal planning and thought about making his own fitness blog.
of course, he eventually went down the rabbit hole of hornyposting and after a few weeks, he discovered you.
you had started this blog to feel better about yourself, or at least that’s what you told yourself, maybe you just liked the attention. either way, you started off slow, posting in a sheer shirt or just a bra but not wanting to show off too much.
it only took a bit of prodding and pleading from your followers to get you to post your whole body. that’s where johnny first saw you, in a post where you did a full body reveal (sans face for obvious reasons). it had a few thousand notes and was the top picture for some of the tags you used.
soap practically felt his eyes bulge out of his skull at the sight of you, this perfect lass posting pics like that for free??? he was quick to follow you and then look at the rest of your posts, spamming you with likes as he went through your entire blog.
he contemplated keeping you to himself but knew the others would appreciate you just as much as he did, so he saved the original post he saw of you and sent it in the group chat. their messages were immediate, something to the effect of “holy fuck.”
that’s where the obsession with you started, and soap acted as their drug dealer, sharing in the group chat when you posted a new photo. of course, the other three knew that they could coax your username from johnny and they could make their own tumblr account to follow you but they found it more exciting getting your pics this way. one thing he did share with them was your throne wishlist which was full of lingerie and cute clothes you might want.
you had posted in sets you had gotten from other followers and the guys were interested in how they could buy you things too. your eyebrows practically disappeared into your hairline as you checked your phone and saw that your entire wishlist had been bought out. even the stuff that you put on there as a faraway desire, like the pair of mary jane’s you had been eyeing or the marker set that was too expensive to justify buying with your own money.
you always tried to thank people who bought from your throne personally, dming them on tumblr and sending exclusive pics in the things they bought for you. problem was, it was all under anonymous accounts and you didn’t get any messages owning up to the shopping spree. you decided to make a post asking who just bought you all that stuff and that you’d like to thank them.
soap was quick to message you, claiming responsibility for the gifts bought. you both get to talking and he mentions how he shares your pics with his mates, and how they get so excited when he sends a new picture of you. you respond back how you’re honestly so flattered, and you’d like to talk to them as well and thank them for their contribution to your wishlist.
eventually, you find some app or website that you can use to chat with them while not giving out any personal information. of course, when the things they ordered come in the mail, you make sure to send them plenty of videos and pictures.
they are hooked.
now it’s almost like you have four sugar daddies, paying for your bikini waxes (if you want them, they don’t mind hair down there yk), sending you money for groceries, for getting your nails done, or just because. sometimes, they even compete between the four of them to see who can make you the happiest (determined by the amount of exclamation marks you use when thanking them).
a/n: this is so self indulgent and kind of based on some of my experiences when i had an nsft blog on tumblr lolll 🙈 anyway, this is kinda unedited and rambling but would any of you guys want me to write more w this concept?
