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Simon Riley posts an ad for a stray cat he does not want, and you answer.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem! Reader

Tags: fluff, short n’ sweet, eventual romance/smut

Pt. 1, Pt. 2 | ao3 | mlist✎ᝰ.ᐟ

It has to be some form of trauma. A hallucination. A dream. Anything but that stupid fawn-colored cat outside his door.

Scratching. Meowing. Terrorizing him.

He ignores it for as long as he possibly will. Turns the volume of his TV up, washes clothes to drown out the sound, pretends for a while longer that he doesn’t know what’s waiting for him just outside his wooden door. That it doesn’t have a tail and four legs.

But he can’t push it away forever, he’s a man for fucks sake. He doesn’t flee and cower in the face of a threat. A small one at that, curled on his skull mat, waiting for the moment he accepts his fate and opens his damn door. A hostage in his own home.

So, he cracks his door open— just a smidge.

Looks to see if the animal is really there or if the voices, cats, inside his head are playing a cruel joke on him. And sure enough, there it is, licking its paws leisurely as if it fucking belongs there.

A part of him had been hoping he was going crazy, that he was just imagining the high-pitched meow. He could deal with crazy, preferred it actually.

What he couldn’t deal with was the cat outside who seemed convinced he was its home. He’s grateful he hasn’t deleted your contact yet, for multiple reasons now.

It’s easy to ignore the cat, even easier to shut his door in its face, deny it access to his home. Now, as he remembers the events of last week, he thinks he should bring it inside. He’s not entirely fond of the idea, but he’s even less fond of roaming the neighborhood for a second time for the cat.

This is how he finds himself staring at it with a scrutinizing squint and crossed arms on his kitchen counter. It stretches, two front legs reaching out while its hind raises in the air. Simon has to ignore the fact that it’s dirty paws are on his kitchen counter and that it’s fur doesn’t fly in the air as it shimmies itself into a sitting position. He’ll have to bleach the spot and purge the area of any remnants of the pest.

The cat doesn’t seem to sense his aversion because it just stares back, slowly blinking, tail whipping behind it like it’s happy, content. Staring affectionately at him like he hasn’t spent the last several months doing everything in his power to get rid of it.

When you arrive, he begrudgingly takes it into his arms, opens the door to an anxious smile and more fuzzy socks. He dangles it between the two of you with both hands around its torso.

You squeal at the sight, “Churro! What are you doing here, huh? It’s a long distance, pretty lady! It must have been a very dangerous adventure.”

Simon watches you talk to the cat like it can understand you, watches the way your brows pinch, and a small frown forms on your lips in actual concern for its safety. It’s confusing that you would care so deeply for such a thing, but it makes the corners of his lips twitch.

Churro just meows, rubbing her nose and forehead against your cheek. This makes you coo, smiling gently at her, pressing your cheek against hers in turn.

You haven’t even turned your focus to him for a second, no ‘thank you for watching the demon,’ no ‘hi, how are you?’ Just more kisses and sugar-spun words to your precious kitty.

“Was the big scary man mean to you?” You ask, staring at it with beady eyes, “Did he call you the devil again?”

Oh really, cat lady? That’s how it’s going to be? He supposes teasing is better than you being terrified of him.

He scoffs, “Did no such thing.”

You finally look at him, giggling softly as you pull Churro back against your chest, “I’m sure you were nothing but generous to her.”

“I was. Treated the damn thing like royalty.” He grumbles because he was. Carried it into his home even though he wanted to do the complete opposite just so you could have your bloody cat back. And all he has to show for it is you ignoring him for the likes of the cat.

“Well,” You say, nodding your head, “I’m sorry you had to deal with her again. I left her inside before leaving for work, I’m not sure how she managed to get out.”

That was the first time it happened, and of course, it wasn’t the last. Nothing seemed that way with ‘Churro’ because the following week she made her appearance at his house again.

It became a routine. Once a week Churro made her way over to Simon’s like she was visiting him, Simon messaged you— ‘The demon is here.’

Sat Churro on his counter and watched her with pinpointed eyes while he waited. Then you arrived shortly with snuggles and apologies. A new explanation each time; you closed all the windows, checked twice, even locked them! Same with your doors, there was no way for her to get out, but somehow she always managed to escape.

Simon didn’t entirely mind the whole ordeal. Didn’t mind you, quite frankly, he liked opening his door to Tasman slippers, a glimmer in your eyes, and a soft noise of excitement. Pretended as if it was because of seeing him and not the stupid cat in his hands.

Except somewhere along the lines, Simon’s hatred for Churro morphed into something else completely. Ignoring her for as long as he could turned into letting her in after the first scratch. A glowering scowl shifted to furrowed brows. Crossed arms and balled fists became relaxed and loosened at his side. Helicopter supervision simmered into free access, let Churro roam his house while they waited for you.

That wasn’t to say he liked the damn cat because he didn’t. Tolerated her at most. For you, at least.

Irritation still burnt his lungs when he watched you coddle her, when you ignored him as you took her into your arms and rocked her back and forth, when you cuddled her close to your chest and hummed tender words to her instead of him.

Simon wasn’t exactly sure what it was or what it meant. Not when he deprived himself of anything of the sort, thought he had buried it six feet under and sealed it with a cross. But that was the thing, he couldn’t exactly mourn the loss of something when he hadn’t fully committed to severing it of himself completely, held on to it with a thin thread.

It became painfully apparent when he texted you not to come to pick up Churro one day; it was pouring rain, storming, and as much as he didn’t want to have the damn cat overnight, he’d much rather keep you from being stuck in a storm. Still, he opened the door to drenched clothes, shaking fingers, and chattering teeth. His temples pinched, ushering you inside instantly.

Maybe he shouldn’t care, shouldn’t invite you inside, but he does anyways.

“Bird,” He sighed, “Told you to stay home.”

“I know,” You shivered, petting Churro with a wet palm, “But I felt guilty. I know you don’t want Churro here and we’re just inconveniencing you.”

“Not an inconvenience, I don’t mind doing it for you,” He grumbled, “Stay right here. You’re not going back until the storm stops.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, mouth parting slightly, but he doesn’t give you time to respond, leaving you standing there in shock before bringing back dry clothes for you, a black sweater, and gray sweats.

“Here,” He grunted, handing you the clothes, “You can change in my bathroom.”

“Oh no! It’s okay, I can just go home,” You argued, attempting to push the clothes back in his grasp.

Simon levels you with a sharp look, makes you pull the clothes to your chest because he won’t take no as an answer for your safety.

“Okay, yeah,” You nod your head, “Yeah.”

He makes tea on the stove while waiting for you, Churro jumps on the counter in the meantime, with a soft chirp, plopping her way over to rub her body against his forearm.

“Oy, be careful,” He chastises, pushing her away, “Stove’s bloody hot.”

“So you do care about her!”

Simon turns around to find you standing in the doorway of his kitchen. There’s a smug look on your face, but he doesn’t focus on that, can’t focus on anything other than how you look in his clothes. You swim in the material, sweater sleeves hiding your hands completely, sweats pooling at your sock-clad feet. He has to pinch the inside of his cheek to hide his smile at the sight.

It’s cute. Endearing. Makes his teeth ache in his mouth, fingers twitching against the pot on the stove in a strangely possessive way. He doesn’t even care that he’s been caught caring for the damn pest when something warms curls in his chest.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lies.

You laugh, padding your way over to his side, “Oh, whatever. Now I know why she keeps coming over here to see you.”

“And why’s that? I can’t for the life of me figure out why she won’t stop botherin’ me.”

“Maybe she has a crush on you,” You joke, cupping Churro’s face in your palms, “Huh, pretty lady? Do you have a crush on the big scary man?”

He snorts, “Not likely.”

You lean towards him as he hands you a cup of tea, “Maybe she thinks you’re her dad.”

Simon stares at you a little dumbfounded, watches you turn to talk to Churro again, asking if she thinks Simon is her dad. He tries to submerge the overwhelming feeling underwater, drown it, and wash away the insinuation, but it’s almost impossible when you’re adorned in his clothes, oversized fabric hanging off your smaller frame.

Excuses himself by clearing his throat, throwing your soaked clothes in the dryer to distract himself from the drowning.

The storm lasts for a little while, so you sit on his couch with Churro curled in your lap, purring quietly to sleep. Simon tries to scavenge a meal for you, but he doesn’t have much in his fridge, wishes this was planned, so he could cook you something worth eating. You don’t mind, shushing him when he apologizes with an assortment of snacks on a tray, giggling softly at his poor attempt to feed you.

“It’s okay,” You reassure, smiling pleased at him, “I’m not really hungry anyways. Next time we can prepare more.”

Yeah, next time.

When the storm relents, the two of you are preoccupied, finishing a movie you wanted to watch. Some rom-com, he doesn’t entirely know, can’t focus much when he’s sitting next to you on his couch. There’s a measly cushion separating the two of you, sitting on either end of the couch, but it still claws at the back of his mind no matter how much he tries to rationalize it.

In his home. Sat on his couch. Wearing his clothes.

He tries not to be greedy, claim you as his own, but it only gets worse when you pull your feet up, leaning your head against the back of the cushion, snuggling deeper into his couch, and making yourself comfortable. He’s sure you don’t even realize that the storm ended or when you turn towards him and ask if he liked the movie.

He doesn’t mind that you stayed after the rain stopped, doesn’t even mind that Churro made her way to his lap halfway through the rom-com. You don’t point it out either, just flicker your eyes with a knowing smile.

Did he like the movie? He honestly can’t recall a single line.

@lighthousebats @cococococ @sai-int @tessakate @starboykel @imrandomstuffsblog @your-internet-tenshi @glossy01 @orangegreensun @uriahs-burn @ye-olde-trash-panda @akkahelenaa

thank you to my sweet @bunnybeaches for the cat name ‘Churro.’ 🐇🤍

perv!johnny and perv!kyle who spot you at the public pool, lounging in that cute little string bikini, and decide then and there: they have to have you. but johnny's never been one for patience, so kyle ever the loyal accomplice, takes a little dive.

with a pair of goggles strapped on, kyle slips beneath the water, unseen, fingers deft as he tugs at the ties of your bikini bottoms. a quick pull, a flick of his wrist, and they’re gone. (kyle will put them to good use later, don’t you worry.)

you don’t even notice at first. not until you make your way toward the pool ladder, reach the first step, and feel a cool rush of water where fabric should be. panic sets in, your thighs snap together, and you sink back into the pool, trapping yourself beneath the surface.

enter johnny. ever the gentleman, he strolls over with a towel slung over his shoulder, offering it out to you with an easy grin. his cock chubs at the slightest glimpse of your bare ass as you wrap it around yourself, hurrying back to your lounge chair to slip your shorts on. when you return to hand him the towel, cheeks warm with embarrassment, you murmur something about how grateful you are, how you’d love to repay him somehow.

johnny tilts his head, smirks. that so?" his voice drops, low and inviting. "how do the showers sound?"

you freeze. gulp. but before you can even think of a response, his hand is already at the small of your back, guiding you inside.

the door swings shut behind you. and outside, gaz takes his post, arms crossed, standing guard until johnny signals him for his turn.

quite the duo, those two.

Simon Riley is a stubborn bastard

Always has been

Likely always will be

His parents told him so

His teachers told him so

His commanding officers told him so

Whether it’s how he prefers to take his teas or how he listens to no one but himself, there is no doubt that Simon Riley is a stubborn bastard, if not the most stubborn person he knows, with a long list of references to confirm it

That is, until he meets his match

Until he meets you

A firecracker housed in the body of a woman nearly an entire foot shorter than him, you were reaching new heights of strong headedness that would have left any other man reeling, but he wasn’t any man

Your unshakable determination and his relentless tenacity landed the two of you in more spitting matches over the next few months than a boys locker room, often ending up chest to chest and toe to toe as two unmovable forces collided

You clearly had no qualms about the differences in stature as you never failed to step up to the man who soon was finding any reason to pick fights with you, if it meant you ended up close enough for him to smell the adrenaline radiating off of you, to see the smaller details in your irises as they flamed with untamed passion

Like they say, it takes two to tango, but eventually someone’s toes are bound to get stepped on

It takes over half an hour after the debrief for you to convince the behemoth of a man to grow a pair, roll up his shirt and let you see his injury already, the both of you practically fuming but the time you get your hands on his pale flesh, pointedly choosing to ignore his slowly dwindling protests as you clean and dress his wound

As stubborn of a bastard as he is, as the minutes tick by and you remain in his orbit, he can’t help how his gaze softens the longer your soft fingers are poking and prodding at touch starved skin no one else has even seen in years, can’t help how his breath catches as he watches his favourite spitfire take care of him with a gentleness he never knew she possessed before

He’s thankful for the mask hiding his reddened cheeks every time you lock eyes with him, your gaze checking in on him in a way your words would never dare to

He’s almost starting to wonder if he’s been too harsh with you, if he should be more lenient, but then you go and open your mouth and say-

“You like me.”

“Fat fuckin’ chance.” He’s grumbling all too quickly, eyes now looking anywhere but at you or your hands on his abdomen that are so close to inching towards his-

“You definitely like me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“There a fuckin’ gas leak in ‘ere? Lucky I even bloody tolerate y-”

“Okay.” You cut him off, snapping your first aid kit shut and coming to stand, forcing him to meet your gaze head on. “I’ll just go get Johnny then. He can help you finish up wit-”

“Sit down.” He manages to grind out through clenched teeth, hands reaching out to pull you back in your seat, if not a little closer than you were before

“Thought so.”

Two of, if not the two most stubborn people they’ve ever met, the rest of the 141 are already placing bets as to when the wedding will be, Soap willing to put a 20 down betting that you’re both too bullheaded to be the first to say I love you until you’re at the altar

okay but delivery driver könig who’s always picked to do the large deliveries (appliances, furniture, bulk items) meeting you…

he’s at his favorite stop, an animal shelter where the nice old lady who’s in charge just tells him where to put the giant sacks of kibble, signs the release form, and quickly sends him on his way, except… linda had a dentist appointment today, and you were tasked with receiving the food. he usually hates chatty people, but when you start asking him random questions about his job as he’s unloading sack after sack of food into the storage closet, he finds himself answering, quietly, but answering all the same, for once. what really seals the deal is when you compliment him for being so strong, marveling at his arms (“wow, you could crush my head with those things!”), and now he’s ducking his head, pretending to check one of the feed bags for damage to hide the light dusting of a blush on his face, even though the black surgical mask he wears hides it pretty well…

needless to say, suddenly you’re very interested in taking over linda’s package duty and könig’s rushing through any other deliveries to have time to linger at the shelter, unloading each sack as s l o w as possible to talk with you for longer. <3

Sorry for being inactive guys, im sick and my dog is really sick :( he is hospitalized, he has a liver poisoning, excessive itching, he's throwing up and having diarrhea, and i don't sleep it's been 2 days my nose is clogged and i look like a zombie i can't even walk straight my eyes are heavy and my appetite ain't the same

priceghost x reader. dubcon themes.

thinking about being john’s newly-wed, barefoot and warm as an oven, stumbling to the door when you hear his iron foot fall. it’s been months, but you recognize the cadence on the porch. sounds like morning tea and his favorite cigars.

unlocking the door and throwing yourself into his arms, smelling the space above his shoulder, inhaling…petrichor. wet dirt. blood.

that isn’t your husband.

you slowly peel yourself away, stunned when your eyes meet brown instead of blue.

“where’s…”

“right ‘ere, dove.”

you glance over the stranger’s shoulder (who is still holding you up) and find your husband, looking a little too amused that his wife is in another man’s arms.

once you reach him, he kisses the top of your head, before rubbing your shoulder to coo the loud creature of embarrassment before it reaches your mouth in the form of an apology.

“you’ve met simon. he’ll be staying with us for a little while.”

you glance between the two before meeting your husbands eye. “I-“

“im sure you don’t mind the extra stomach, right darlin?”

you swallow.

“of course not,” you glance at simon, who’s face remains neutral, “the more the merrier.”

you meant for meals. they seemed to understand it differently.

now you sleep between the two of them, quilt unnecessary while their meaty limbs keep you sweltering.

the bed is heavy, and you haven’t complained because you’re a hostess, and simon is john’s friend. even when you feel him palming your clothed cunt ‘in his sleep’, you don’t fuss.

instead, you silently turn on your side, trying your best to subtly grab your husbands attention.

but he’s already there, watching. smiling gently, like he does when he says he loves you.

“there there dove. you can learn to share, right?”

König was still getting used to office work; this wasn't his way of working. He would rather smack the shit out of someone instead of being sat in a desk for the whole day and dealing with paperwork.

Wearing a tie and suit wasn't his thing; he kind of missed the weight of the gear on his body and the uniform that was all sweaty and dirty by the end of the day.

But you, you make it less miserable. You were the one to make sure he was ready to go, his sweet wife that makes his life worth living and that he loves with all his heart.

You always enjoyed tying his tie before he went to work, and he always enjoyed watching you. It was so adorable seeing his sweet wife so focused, with your tongue peeking out of your lips and your brow furrowed (the way you tie isn't the greatest, but he won't tell you that; he loves you too much). And then giving him a little kiss before he goes to work.

Last night, he arrived late, and when he got home, you were already sleeping and dinner was cold. He had to heat it up in the microwave and eat without you, had to wash the dishes without you, had to shower without you, and just then, he could cuddle your warm, soft body. He wanted more; he was needier that night, but, maybe you had a bad day, were tired or something, he didn't want to wake you up, having to take care of himself alone in the bathroom. He never imagined he would ever do anything like that again after getting married, but, oh well, he doesn't want to bother his sweet wife, who was always so caring and loving.

In the morning, everything went as usual; you cooked him breakfast while he showered. Of course, he called you to help him with his tie, the innocent sweet thing you always did before saying goodbye. But he was restless, his leg shaking, breathing a little too heavily, and the hands on your waist a bit too tight.

Fuck it, you looked too irresistible helping him like that, looking too cute tying your husband's tie, tongue peeking out, eyebrows furrowed, hands slightly touching his chest.

All of a sudden, he picks you up and throws you in the bed, the bulge in his pants now looking a lot more obvious...

Let's just say you had to help him with his clothes again and that he was late to work.

Precious Flower

Vladimir Makarov x Inexperienced!Virgin!Reader

cw: housewife kink, breeding kink, makarov is an asshole and a softie at the same time, kinda toxic relationship, forced marriage, p in v, misogynistic makarov if you squint, he's mean :(, rough sex, virgin inexperienced reader, unprotected sex

Makarov had everything he wanted — power, strength, money and loyal soldiers but there was one thing he wanted the most —, a wife.

He grew up in a very unstable household, his father used to yell at his mother for everything and his mother would yell back, they were both abusive to each other, he still remembers the day his mother threatened to poison his father, she was the one that cooked after all and how his father yelled names at her.

He didn't wanted that... Well, he doesn't want a woman that stands for herself, that's it. So he got you — an young inexperienced thing from a poor family that had more mouths than they could feed and wanted to get rid of you as soon as possible for some good money —, he knew it was illegal but he doesn't care, he's a terrorist after all.

You were such a shy, scared thing and Makarov didn't quite helped. While exploring his house (that apparently was your house too now), you accidentally found a secret room at the basement, full of guns, knives and gear and when he found you there, he basically dragged you upstairs and told you not to go there again.

Makarov just wanted three things when he gets back home — food, shower and some pussy — You always prepare his favorite meal each time he came back. Filled the bathtub with warm water and soap. But the last one you were always reluctant so the far it went was some blowjob. But today, he was determined to finally get inside of you, he was your husband after all, he deserves it.

After a long deployment, he gets home at night, approximately 8pm, he was tired, hungry, stinky and horny. "дорогой, where are you?" He calls out when he steps inside the house. "Here!" You shout back and he follows your voice, finding you cooking.

He, still in gear and dirty, hugs you from behind, pressing his cock against you, you can feel it, of course you can. "Mhm... What are you preparing?" He whispers in your ear. "It's your favorite, I can't remember that name..." You answer, getting tense as you feel him basically humping against you. It's not his fault, he gets so aroused just watching you doing domestic stuff, he's a bastard.

"I'm not hungry for food." He says in a dark and lustful tone before forcefully turning off the stove and picking you up, making you scream in surprise. "Vlad-" "Just shut up." He cuts you off, going upstairs, carrying you as if you weighted nothing.

He throws you in the bed and starts taking off his gear in a hurry, you just... Watch, he was so desperate it was quite amusing, you never knew you could have this power on a man. Soon, he was just in his boxers, he was muscular, full or tattoos on his upper body and a stab wound on one of his shoulders. "See? This is the body of a man."

"uh, i-i-" "Don't stutter, my woman speaks what's in her mind." He cuts you off again, he was always like this 'my woman dresses nicely' 'my woman is always clean and showered' 'my woman always cooks for me' 'my woman sucks my cock when i ask her to' 'my woman let me grope her without complaining' 'my woman obeys'

You gulps, "I... I'm not sure if im ready, Vlad." Nervous, you look away from him. He just... Stares at you, "I'll make you be." He gets in bed and helps you take off your dress, your body so soft compared to him, no battle scar, no scary tattoo, no wound scar, so warm and safe.

He kisses you, it was desperate and wet, you were inexperienced so— "You're a bad kisser." You just nod, embarrassed. He smirks, enjoying how embarrassed you were getting and then he goes down on your body, starting by kissing your neck and marking you, with his teeth and scent, eliciting soft moans from you.

He doesn't waste time with your breasts, he just goes straight to between your legs. He practically rips off your panties, making you flinch by how aggressive he was getting. "Don't be scared, it'll just hurt more if you get scared." He starts playing with your little bundle of nerves, enjoying the reactions he was getting out of you.

"Hm... You're so wet, you're enjoying this, aren't you?" He teases and you nod, he frowns and slaps your pussy, "Speak." "Y-yes, i-" another slap, "Don't stutter." "Yes!" Another one, "Louder!" "YES!" "That's it." He smirks seeing the tears forming in your eyes, it hurt so good, so pleasurably painful.

He goes around the entrance of your pussy with his finger before inserting one, "Mhm... Are you a virgin?" He asks and you nod, "What a pity, I'm not going easy on you." He warns and inserts another finger, you were so wet it was basically sliding in and out. He was so good with his fingers, applying enough pleasure on your clit and the right amount of speed to make you see stars.

Your back arch, it didn't took long for you to orgasm, you've already played with yourself before but it was nothing compared to this. He was starting to get impatient, he takes your fingers out of inside of you and forces his fingers inside your lips, making you suck them clean.

Makarov grabs your legs and puts them in his shoulders, releasing his leaking cock from the prison that was his boxers. He wasn't that long length wise but was thick, you knew that stretch was gonna hurt. He puts the tip in, making a wave go through your body, "W-wait-" he looks at you. "What's wrong?" He frowns, "I'm-" "It hurts?" "N-no, it's that-" "Then shut up." He makes you gulp, nodding.

He inserts the rest of his cock, it wasn't long but it reached just the right places, "Черт... Ты такой узкий." (Shit, you're so tight...) He moans, your walls sucking him in. Tears roll down your eyes, it did hurt, you hug him, scratching his back as a way to relieve the pain, he seems to like that as he let out a moan.

He starts moving slowly but it didn't took long for him to get faster and harder, he was so lost in the sensation of your warm, wet insides squeezing him, his hips moving like his life depends on it. "Блядь, блять... о боже... Сними это дерьмо, я хочу увидеть твои сиськи." (Shit, shit... Oh god... Take off that shit, I want to see your tits.) He then rips off your bra and starts going faster, enjoying seeing your breasts moving as he thrust in you.

He plays with your nipple, pinching them and squeezing your boobs. You were seeing stars, it was your first time, yes it hurts, but it was so good. You cum with a loud moan and he cums not so long after, finishing inside of you. "Ты будешь выглядеть такой красивой беременной." (You'll look so beautiful pregnant.)

You two were breathless, sweaty, he falls next to you, breathing heavy. You lay next to him on your side, feeling his seed leak out of you. After a few minutes, he gets up and picks you up, going to the bathroom. You had prepared a bathtub for him for when he get back, good move.

He puts you inside and then get in, hugging you from behind. "Was i too harsh?" "No..." You answer, sleepy. He rests his head against yours, smelling your shampoo, he loved your scent, so different from yours, he smelled like cigarettes, mud, sweat and you like... Home, cozy, floral and sweet. "Did it hurt?" "A little bit..." He frowns a bit, "Tell me if it hurts, I don't want to harm you." You nod, closing your eyes, "I will..."

He cleans the both of you, soaping your body with care and covering you with a warm towel. He doesn't bother to dress the two of you, so you and him sleep naked, so close to each other, he holds you like if he let you go, you'll disappear.

Maybe he has everything he always wanted now.