Ghost, To Gaz, Drunk Out Of His Mind: Garrick Thinks He Knows Everything But He Has No Idea I'm In Love

Y/N: I cant believe we're locked in this room together Ghost, throwing the key out of the window: Truly unfortunate

The answer to your problems is self-discipline

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ brief suggestive content

"Why are we stopping here?"

Vacation was great. It was everything you needed, he needed, a perfect slice of memories now engrained in his brain, moving pictures tucked away for him to think about when he's trying to fall asleep alone on a cold, threadbare safehouse mattress.

Not to mention the hundred photos he took of you in that bikini.

But now, it comes to an end. Now, he's about to blindside you with painful, shocking reality.

He didn’t plan it like this, not really. The town is outside of the place he chose for vacation, but not close enough that it’s in a travel path. It’s far enough away from town, tucked into grassy hill, but still close enough to civilization. He’s not a monster, after all. He knows you wouldn’t appreciate being cut off from the world.

Plus, Price and his wife live a few clicks to the east.

"Simon?" He finds your hand, shutting the passenger door and leading you to the walk. “What is this?”

The words stick in his throat, and you watch him warily. “It’s… let’s just go inside.” The keys feel like an anchor in his pocket.

“What?” Your face twists in confusion. “Go inside?” You let go of his hand, and the sapphire sparkles in the sunlight. He reaches out of instinct.

“Mama-“

“Don’t ‘mama’ me… tell me what is going on.” You shirk out of his grasp.

“This is our house.” Your jaw drops.

“What?!” You shriek. “Our what?”

“Our house. I bought it, for us. F'you, and Orion.” You're standing a pace away from him now, too far for comfort, shuddering. When you clap a hand over your heart, his body goes cold. Stress. Stress can exacerbate your condition. "I need to keep you safe."

"I... I don't know what to say. You bought a house without asking me?" You're waspish, and he's too fast for you, too tactical. You're in his arms in a second, his fingers pressed to the artery below your jaw. It's too fast.

"Take a deep breath." He murmurs. "Try to calm down, everything is going to be fine."

"No!" You jerk backwards and he lets you go, bereft at the loss of your warmth against his chest. "You don't just get to blindside me with this and then think everything is going to be fine."

"I know. 'm sorry. I just... I need to keep you safe, sweetheart. You and the baby. Your flat is great but-"

"But nothing." You hiss and stomp away, before turning back, slicing through the air with an open palm. "My flat is great. It's my home! Mine and Orion's." You sniffle. "I thought it was yours too." Fuck.

"It is. It has been. But it's not safe. It's too exposed, there's no security, your windows face the street. The neighborhood is too difficult to disappear into and away from. It's too populated."

"Gaz and Cami live there." Not for long. He doesn't tell you about Gaz's long term plans, the ones that involve a house just over the hill. He doesn't think it would do him any favors right now.

"Will you just come inside and look at it, at least?" You shake your head. "It's not a bad drive to the beach. You could take Orion as much as you want. Teach him to swim. We could take as many vacations as you want, as a family. Please, give it a chance. That's all I ask." You cross your arms over your chest, but after a minute, nod.

"Fine."

The house is a blank slate. He didn't have time to get anything done, but he tries to pitch it as a selling point. "You'd be able to do whatever you want." You raise an eyebrow.

"Like paint the kitchen pink?" He swallows.

"Sure." You're trying to test him, punish him, but he's not upset. He can already tell you're starting to entertain it all. The house is triple the size of your flat, with three bedrooms, a sizable kitchen, even a garden.

He follows you around, your finger trailing over the walls, window sills, trying to hold his tongue, allowing you space to work through it in your mind. "What if I have to go into the office?"

"You said you never go into the office. You're completely remote." You glare.

"And how are you going to get here? It's so far from your base."

"There's a small airport to the east. We'll get in and out that way. It will be quick."

"We?" Shit.

"Ah, Price and his wife live, kind of close by." You blink, and then laugh out loud.

"You've got to be kidding me. Is this your plan? Some sort of weird commune for special task force wives?" It's the first time you've said, called yourself his wife, and his cock swells beneath the zipper on his jeans, possessive instinct flowing freely. "Don't."

"Don't what."

"I know that look." Still, you don't move as he stalks closer, close enough you're backed up against the windowsill in the master bedroom.

"What look mama?"

"The caveman look you get. Me husband, you wife." You try to imitate his accent, and he chuckles.

"I love you." You roll your eyes.

"I'm pissed at you." There's fire in you, one that burns too bright to be quelled by most, but he's made it is business to know you so well, he can tell when there's something simmering beneath the surface.

"But you like it." Your skin is satin soft, and he strokes your cheek.

"I do. I'm really mad, but I do like it. You... you did a good job."

"Gonna forgive me?"

"Depends." You smirk. "Are you going to earn it?" He presses himself to the inside of your thigh.

"How can I do that?"

"Want to christen our new bedroom?"

Oh he makes me SICK

having a praise kink but being unable to accept compliments means ghost's whispering shit in your ear like 'you're so fuckin' stupid, how can you not understand how easy to fuckin' love you are? your empty little head just can't grasp how goddamned sweet and good you are f'me all the bloody time? is that it?' while folding you in half over the nearest flat surface

Artist @ cartumante on X

Just thinking about Simon with a sexually repressed!fem!reader and showing you that anal can be enjoyable. You’ve been badgered into it a few times with past partners but it was either mid at best or outright unenjoyable. Whenever he asks about putting his fingers ‘back there’ you shoot him down, and he’s not the type to press you for it.

But you’re naturally curious (not to mention men make it sound like it’s the holy grail of orifices, which makes you feel a little guilty for withholding it) so you’re the one bring it back up.

I think he’d be patient and methodical, knowing just what to say and do to soothe that voice in your head that says it’s no-good-bad-dirty for him to put his fingers or cock there. Maybe he ties you up first, does something to give the illusion that it’s out of your hands. That always makes it easier for you to submit, to stomach your own desires.

He uses way too much lube, til it is dripping off of you onto the bedsheets, works you up with fingers in your pussy first until your hips jerk toward his touch, ropes straining around you. He is so patient as he works you open on a single finger, and then two, keeping his other thumb on your clit, confusing you by mixing your pleasure with the odd sensation his fingers evoke inside you. The whole time he’s calling you his brave girl and it just heals something that used to hurt inside you, idk.

my first playlist after discovering Simon Riley for a day and a half

I feel so called out

YOU AND GHOST MAKE UP AFTER A FIGHT

I uh...kinda got carried away on this one. 18+ minors dni.

➼ you're fighting over something stupid, but both of you are stubborn as hell and won't let it go. the walls of your apartment shake as you slam the door behind you, and you can hear Simon's exasperated groan even through the door as you storm down the stairs

➼ it's late when you come back, the living room and kitchen empty. the door to your bedroom is closed, and the lights are dimmed. you debate sleeping on the couch, but fuck it, it's your bed too

➼ though simon doesn't look up from his book as you close the bedroom door behind you, you can feel his eyes dragging over you as you pull your shirt over your head, drinking in the bare skin of your back, the curve of your waist where it flows into your thighs. you hear a strangled mix of a sigh and a hiss leave his mouth as you pull your pajamas on, his eyes snagging on the lace hem when you turn to throw your clothes in the hamper

➼ you forcefully pull the sheets back, slipping into bed and tightening your jaw. simon glances up from his book, the left side of his lips pulled up, and you send him the darkest glare you can muster.

"this doesn't mean anything, simon," you snap, rolling away from him to switch your lamp off, "it's my fucking bed too." simon only chuckles, marking a page in his book and turning off his lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

➼ you lay in silence angrily, as far away as you can get from simon. you take deep breaths, trying not to revel in the warmth that simon exudes. though you hate to admit it, it's colder than you thought without being wrapped in his arms.

➼ you hear sheets rustle and suddenly, simon's chest is pressed against your back, head tucked in the crook of your shoulder, stubble scratching your neck.

"missed you today," he whispers, hands settling on your hips, dragging higher and bringing your top with them, "missed you so fucking much angel." you set your jaw again, hating how only the brush of his against your skin could get you so riled up, could get your resolve cracking.

➼ you don't respond, but your body sinks back into his, goosebumps erupting across your ribcage as his hands travel higher. you knew where this was going the second his fingers reached the hem of your shirt, but you still gasp softly as his huge, callused hands cup your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers.

"fuck you, simon riley," you try to hurl the words at him, but they come out as whine, your back arching as you lean towards his hands, chasing the stimulation. he groans, cursing under his breath as he slips his bare leg between your thighs. "i know," he groans, "i know, i'm sorry, lovie, let me make it up to you, please..." his voice his low, husky, desperate, one of his hands trailing downwards to land on your hip.

➼ his hand guides your hips as you roll them against his thigh. it's slow and messy, his low voice and the darkness only making you leak harder on his leg. you're moaning freely now, clenching desperately around nothing, head thrown back, landing on simon's chest. he's not in a better state, rutting against you, unable to stop the groans and swears that leave his mouth.

"you're a piece of shit," you gasp as you turn around, pressing your lips to simon's. he kisses you back desperately, still moving your hips against his as his tongue sweeps across yours. "i know, i know," he gasps against your lips. his hands are shaking as he pulls your shirt off, pulling you close to his chest, letting your nipples rub against his faded t-shirt. but it's not enough. "off," you moan, pulling at the hem of his shirt. you pull it off together, relishing in the skin-to-skin contact. you loop your arms around his neck to give you better leverage, rolling your hips harder. simon's lashes flutter as his head drops back, mouth falling slack.

➼ his hand creeps underneath the waistband of your sleep shorts, cupping you as you rut against his hand. he thumbs your clit, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as your thighs start to shake, a blush creeping down your neck and chest.

"si," you gasp, and he bites his lip at the sound of his nickname, "think- think I'm gonna-" "cum for me," his voice is halfway between a growl and a whine, he's so desperate, he's about to cum in his boxers like a fucking teenager just from grinding against you and the thought only makes him whine, ducking his head into your neck.

➼ you cum hard, all over simon's hand and wrist, thighs trapping him between your legs. he drags your lips into a messy kiss, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit until you whine from overstimulation and push his hand away. he brings his hand to his mouth, eyes rolling back in his head as he sucks you off his fingers.

➼ you lie there together in silence, one of simon's arms thrown over your waist as you catch your breath, forehead resting on his scarred chest. his fingers toy with your hair idly.

"i am sorry, you know," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. you look up at him with a soft smile on your lips, pressing a kiss to the back of his free hand. "i know," you whisper back, "i'm sorry too. it was a stupid fight." simon tilts your chin up, huge hand cupping your jaw as he kisses you, slow and soft and sweet. "though," you start, speaking against his lips, "if this is how we make up, maybe we should fight more often." simon throws his head back and laughs, a true, full-bodied laugh. you press a butterfly kiss to the tip of his nose before pushing the blankets back and padding to the bathroom. simon groans, both at your absence and at the glare of the bathroom light, propping himself up on his elbows and throwing an arm over his eyes. "come back," he groans, blinking in the harsh light. you shake your head with a little hum, starting the shower. "nope. we both need a shower. a clean, sinless shower," you emphasize as simon pulls himself out of bed with a smirk, making a face as he pulls off his ruined boxers. he wraps you in his arms, tucking his head into the crook of your shoulder as steam starts to fill the bathroom. his hands are greedy as they trace over your bare skin, and he drinks in your giggles like wine. he can't believe how in love he is. "no promises," he whispers in your ear, tucking a strand behind it and leaving a kiss on the arc of your shoulder. you playfully shove him back into the shower, laughing harder as he pulls you in after him.

➼ all in all, it's a pretty good way to make up after a fight.

who put feelings in my porn????