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your first mission with simon ghost riley didn't go very well.
cw: smutty, ghosts a brat
the cell door you had been working to override had slammed in ghost's face, and at his attempt to open it, you could hear him mutter a curse under his breath.
"fuckin' hell."
"what happened?" you walked over to where he was, and once you tried to pull on the same door, you realized. you two were stuck in the cramped, dark and wet jail cell.
"fuck,” you exhaled and pinched the bridge of your nose.
"stop copying me, cunt."
"oh go to hell, ghost."
"no thanks, i'm trying to get as far away as possible from ya, baby."
you groan out in frustration and banged your head against one of the bars, the condensation sticking to your hair, and all ghost could do was chuckle at you.
"you're so fucking dense."
"eat shit," you hissed out as you swung a closed fist at his chest.
once you made contact, you knew that it was very possible it was your last moments before death.
simon crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked down at the floor while shaking his head, "tsk," he took a step towards you, "always gotta be so physical," he shoved you back, causing your body to slam against the brick wall.
and guess what? you shoved him the fuck back.
"if you think for one second," you shoved him again, this time pulling his shoulder strap down so he was at eye level with you, "that I'm gonna let you throw me around just cause you want to, you're fucking hilarious. you've got a lotta nerve to even think about touching me, let alone push me back when I've pushed you first-“
ghost grabbed both of your arms from the front of you and shoved them behind your back, pushing your tits out from your shirt and right below his face. he looked down at your cleavage before bouncing back to your eyes, "y'wanna know what I think?" he spat right down the valley of your breasts and watched his saliva snake down your shirt, "i think you like it."
you squirmed under his weight, under his eyes. "fuck. you."
"you. wish."
ghost wasn't an idiot. he could feel the way you were rubbing your thighs together, how your pupils were dilating by the second and the soft pants coming out of your mouth.
"I'm saying all this, baby 'cause I know, if I were to fuck you right now, you'd probably be the best pussy I'd felt in years. maybe ever. I'd wanna take you home and do it over and over again until you're gasping for a break. I'd feed you well. id take care of you. I would fucking love you until death. but that's not who I am, and that's sure as fuck not who you are."
you watched his eyes gaze down to your lips as he lowered his head to yours.
"why not?" you whispered.
"because, baby, I don't fuck women who don't want to. I like wet pussy, not scared pussy. I want it hard and rough but I don't wanna break you forever. and unfortunately, I'll bet you a million dollars that if I reached down and checked right now, your sweet pussy wouldn't be wet. not even close. right?"
you gulped as his fingers realized one of your wrists and snaked down the side of your thigh, "that's a lot of money."
he slithered his hand back up to your waist band before sneaking a finger inside, "isn't it?" you could barely hear his smirk through his words over the intense volume of your heartbeat. you knew for a fact, that someone just lost a lot of money.
as ghost swiped a finger down the middle of your panties, he groaned, "fuck, I'm gonna be bankrupt aren't I?"
"its a stupid bet to make after spitting on a woman's tits."
Please I’m literally at work and this thought would NOT go away
Roommate!Simon Riley who sits in the bathroom while you’re in the shower.
The first time it happened he’d been so lost in his head he hadn’t even noticed the water was running. It was after work, late at night. When he walked in and heard your shriek, he was quick to cover his eyes, despite the shower curtain, fumbling for the door while a constant stream of apologies fell from his lips.
“Simon! Is that you?” Your voice was shaky, and he realized, just by the simple sound of your tone, that you weren’t screaming because he’d walked in, you simply just hadn’t known he was home.
“Yeah love, ‘m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.” His fingers nervously fiddled with the door handle, squeaking hinges reminding him to take his weight off of the old wood.
“No it’s okay, you just scared me is all.” You peeked your head out of the shower, dripping loose droplets of water all over the rug. “You can stay in here ya know. I wouldn’t mind the company.” Didn’t have to tell him twice. He was sat.
He listened to you ramble as he cleaned his bloody knuckles, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo with every breath. He found comfort in it, even found himself longing for the lingering smell of your hair when he was away. That’d never happened to him before, not since you came along.
He liked how the smells weren’t harsh, they were just you.
“Hey Riley! Hand me my towel please?” He turned his gaze from the crimson sink to face you, quirking a smile when he saw the way you clenched your eyes shut, soap suds dripping down your forehead. “Got soap in my eyes.”
An amused huff came from his nose. “I can tell.” Instead of handing it to you, he grabbed your jaw with one hand, bandaged fingers careful as they wiped from the corner of your eyes to the outer part and back again. It wasn’t necessary of course, but you didn’t need to get a perfectly clean towel soaking wet before you needed it. That would be silly.
“Thanks,” You couldn’t help how breathless you sounded, eyelashes fluttering open to see his stern ones focused on making sure the rest of your face was dry.
“Welcome,” It was gruff and short, but he meant it, truly.
After that, it didn’t necessarily become routine, but if you got home from work, and he was there, it was bound to happen. You just had so many things to tell him. Stories of rude coworkers- about how they tried to steal the cookies he’d bought you, but how you were determined to eat every single one of them.
He’d follow you around like a lost puppy, finding solace on the toilet seat when you finally managed to get your ass in the shower. He made fun of you once for how distracted you got, and after seeing the fake pout on your lips he couldn’t stop. Picking on you was his favorite past time after all.
He loves how you sing softly, and he queues away the songs your the loudest to in his head, storing them away to discreetly surprise you with later. The sound of your voice just soothes him, even if it’s not always on key.
Sometimes he’ll even tell you about his day too. It’s not often, but when it happens, you remind yourself to stay dead silent. He was like a baby deer, one wrong move and you’d lose him.
When he inevitably goes quiet mid conversation, you always urge him to continue. “C’mon Riley, I’m listenin’” He melts right then and there every time.
The towel is always in his hands once he hears the shower turn off, ready for you to grab whenever you’re ready. You always insist on doing the rest of your routine behind the safety of the curtain.
“I don’t mind leaving love,”
Another peek of your head and another puddle of water.“Simon Riley, finish telling me your story or I’ll murder you.” It was a pretty convincing argument. He’d obviously listen so he didn’t die. Not because the cute little angry crease between your brows drove him crazy or the way your eyes were stormy with determination made him feel a little horny.
It was always the small things with you.
“Alright you sassy lass, I’ll talk.” And so he’d finish his story, handing you whatever products you asked for every now and then before you reached your hand out for fresh clothes.
As he turned around to get them he’d hear a loud slam, the sound of bottles clattering and your quiet hiss making him alert. Before he could even say anything though, you’d counteract his concern.
“I’m fine. Just slipped on my fucking conditioner.” And oh if he didn’t belly laugh.
Now, sometimes, you’d follow him to the bathroom, and he’d let you. Those these were the moments where he wouldn’t get a second to speak. Because you’d talk, and talk, and talk some more, and he’d eat it all up like it was his last meal.
He’d go to bed thinking about the sound of your voice, bottle it up and take it with him when he had to be away for to long. Because a minute without the sweet sound of your presence was a minute to damn long.
i asked someone to do this for me once and they looked at me like i was crazy and said no :( (is this only cute in my head???????)