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insomniac!reader and I'll stay up until you fall asleep!boyfriend!simon riley
it was late into the night, the house had settled hours ago, the lights had been flicked off and the bulbs long cold. but tonight was a particularly rough night for sleep, out of all other nights, this one, for some reason, you just couldn't.
you didn't have an explanation, just like every other night, and no 'home remedies guaranteed to solve your sleep problems' had ever worked in the past. until you had met simon.
the man was similar to you, in terms of sleep patterns, as he'd stay up late into the night, unable to sleep. but his problem mostly lied with ptsd and trauma, waking up during the night and failing with being able to fall back asleep, yours lied with god knows what, not being able to fall asleep within a normal time frame. still, at least he could relate.
often, you laid in bed, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling and silently willing your eyes to droop with exhaustion and fatigue. it was fruitless. so you'd toss and you'd turn with the occasional sigh and pulling of the blanket, or throwing them off your body. eventually, it led to a low grunt from simon on the other side of the bed, either getting his warmth stolen, or nearly being suffocated by the tossed blankets, or pillows.
the sheets beside you rustled as you felt the bed dip with his weight, creaking with the shift of matter. you swallowed thickly as you felt his eyes on you, huffing out a breath as he spoke lowly, voice rough and raspy from sleep, "can't sleep with y'r eyes open, y'know."
you didn't respond, another deep sigh pulling from his lips as he pushed aside the bedding, hovering his body over yours before settling on top of you like a weighted blanket. a strained breath knocked from your lungs as you adjusted to this change.
a familiar routine when you couldn't sleep, splayed across your small (in comparison to his brutish) figure as he'd whisper sweetly in your ear, combing through your soft hair as his own eyes drooped, but refusing to fall asleep until he was sure that you had too.
even after you fell asleep, he would wait at least five to ten more minutes to ensure you stayed deep and comfortable in a safe slumber, whispering affectionately into the crevice of your neck before his words would jumble and slur together as he too fell asleep.
#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley fanfiction#ghost x y/n#ghost x reader#simon ghost fluff#ghost x you#ghost call of duty#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost cod#ghost simon riley#simon riley#ghost mw2#simon riley x reader#simon riley imagine#simon x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley cod#simon riley x afab reader#simon riley x female reader#ghost#ghost cod x reader#cod mwii#cod mw2#cod#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#cod x reader#cod modern warfare#simon ghost riley x reader
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Hi! I absolutely love your writing and I've been stalking your page for a while now and I'm really surprised no one requested that one old tik tok trends of S/Os grabbing thier partners feet from under the bed.
PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW THE COD MEN REACTION 😭😭😭😭😭
The way I cackled over this. I love a good prank, especially when there is nothing malicious or nasty behind it. Thank you so much for sending this in!! I had a freaking blast with this. Also, genuinely startled/surprised 141 is just a hilarious concept to me. Enjoy!!
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)
Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, hijinks & shenanigans, pranks, established relationship
Word Count: 800
ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
John Price
It’s unfair to do this to John, but he makes it so easy. He falls for every one of your pranks. Speedwalks right into them.
And this one is no exception.
You’ve smushed yourself underneath the bed. It’s possible you won’t be able to get out. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, you’re about to scare John.
“I’m home,” he calls out.
You remain quiet. Distantly, you hear the front door shut, and John’s heavy footfalls.
“Dove. I’m home.”
Still, you remain silent.
John calls your name this time. You do not respond.
“Cabbage?”
This time, you almost snort. John doesn’t call you cabbage unless he’s being sincere.
John appears in the doorway, pausing just outside. He takes one step, and then another. He’s just out of reach, booted feet near but not close enough.
“Car’s out front.”
Another step.
You grin, and grab at his ankles.
“What in the bloody—”
John stumbles back, nearly trips, and then rights himself. You cackle, and John sighs. Wiggling closer to the edge of the bed, you bring your face into the light.
“Welcome home,” you grin.
John shakes his head. “I’m not helping you get out from under there.”
John "Soap" MacTavish
You silently chuckle to yourself, rubbing your hands together like some comic book villain. Johnny is just off the game with Simon, walking around the house looking for you.
“Darling,” he calls out, that Scottish lilt making the pet name even sweeter.
You stay hidden, watching him pass the bedroom not once but twice.
Even from your hiding spot, you can hear him muttering to himself as he searches room to room.
His feet and ankles appear, pausing just inside the doorway before heading straight to the bathroom. He checks there, and then the closet.
As Johnny passes by the bed to leave, you take a swipe at his feet.
“Oi!” he shouts, spinning around.
You wait a beat. He takes a step. Pauses. When he attempts to leave again, you make another pass.
This time Johnny yells, rushing for the door, returning seconds later. Moving to his hands and knees, Johnny looks under the bed—but only at a safe distance.
“You,” he says, smirking. He starts crawling toward you.
“Johnny,” you warn, but it’s too late. He’s reaching under the bed, wrestling you out from under it, peppering you with sloppy kisses that leave smears of salvia behind.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Simon is fresh up from a nap. He has no idea you’re currently hiding under the bed. But you’ve taken his phone, placed it on the bed as bait, making calls on it to herd him toward your hiding spot.
Simon appears, stopping directly beside the side of the bed. Slowly, you reach out, and then manically flail about, grabbing at his sock-covered feet.
You expect that your actions might surprise him. He might even make a sound, or even swear. What you didn’t expect is to hear your unshakably dreary husband let out a shriek like that of a startled old woman. Pulling your hand back, you cover your mouth, stifling a snort.
“Bloody hell!” he shouts, taking a few steps back.
He pauses a moment, and then gets down onto his knees before flattening himself across the floor.
“Come here,” says Simon, voice eerily calm.
Oh. Oh no.
“I’d rather not,” you reply, knowing that Simon is already brewing up a punishment.
“Come out, love.”
You scoot further away. “Your tone is too neutral, Simon.”
“Everything’s fine.”
“Is it?”
“I’m calm.”
You’re nearly out the other end.
“I’ll chase you,” he smirks.
You make a run for it.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
“I’m in here, Kyle,” you call out as you slide yourself beneath the bed.
You wiggle around until you’re hidden, waiting for him to follow your voice. You hear his footfalls before he appears.
“I thought we—” He comes to a stop just inside the door. “Babe?” A pause, and then he says your name. Then, softly, “where are you hiding?”
As he steps into the room, and heads for the bathroom, his feet pass by your hiding spot. This is your only opportunity before he figures out that you’re beneath the bed.
You reach out, just brushing your fingertips against him, then retreat.
“Fucking hell!” he shouts, stumbling backward.
You do it again, and this time he growls your name. Taking a step back, Kyle drops onto his stomach, gaze narrowed as it focuses on you.
“Really?” he asks, deadpan.
“I found it hilarious,” you reply.
Kyle sighs and shakes his head. “Move over.”
“What?”
Shoving himself underneath, Kyle drags himself across the floor until you’re shoulder to shoulder under the bed.
“Bloody filthy down here,” observes Kyle. “Needs a good dusting.” He winks. “Got a spider in your hair, love.”
“I regret this so much,” you whisper.
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#task force 141#task force 141 x reader#task force 141 imagine#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#john price#john price x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz garrick x reader#john soap mactavish#john soap mactavish x reader#soap cod#soap call of duty#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#price cod#captain price cod#price call of duty#gaz call of duty#gaz cod#cod imagine#cod fanfiction#call of duty imagine#simon riley#captain john price#john price cod#kyle garrick#kyle garrick x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley fanfiction
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Ghost x reader, but it’s analog horror(ish)
HEAR ME OUT
You are an indie game programmer who designed an online ‘choose your own adventure’ style game where the player gets to go on a journey of learning how to exorcise their dead ex boyfriend who keeps haunting them. The boyfriend is lovingly named Ghost because he’s always wearing a mask to hide his rotting face. The game has ten chapters and if you play your cards right, then you can be free of his haunting and live your life peacefully. The ending screen has a final dialogue from him that says “I will wait for you.”
The game is sensational. The entire world is playing it, and you’re getting job offers left and right. It’s all overwhelming at first, but you decide to get comfortable with your newfound fame by giving a guest presentation at a local university.
Except, a week before your presentation, while you are playing the game all over again to check for any inconsistencies in the code or story, you notice that Ghost doesn’t say his usual line in the last chapter. You message one of your programmer friends who helped you develop the code for the game and they deny changing the final dialogue.
Your followers on your gaming forum don’t seem to have similar complaints so you try to go through the codes again, only to find that it has been untouched. Weird.
You feel static on the back of your neck as you reread the final dialogue in the last chapter: “I will find you.”
#simon ghost x you#simon riley fluff#simon riley x y/n#cod simon riley#simon riley cod#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#ghost riley#ghost x reader#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost simon riley#ghost x male reader#ghost x gender neutral reader#call of duty#cod x reader#cod mwii#cod mw3#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#cod#ghost angst
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Johnny towel whipping Simon in a locker room, all giggling and immature. smile dropping immediately when Simon runs his towel under water - twisting it up while slowly walking towards him, “Havin’ a laugh now, Johnny?”
#ghoap to soothe the soul#ghoap#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost headcanons#soap#john soap mactavish#john mactavish#soap cod#soap call of duty#soap headcanons#cod#cod thoughts#call of duty#hit post
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sweet as simon's sugar-mommy <3 (18+) PREVIOUS
you trace a line down the side of his mask. he looks so peaceful when he sleeps, and he sleeps like a rock with you. snores all thick and low. you needed a nap after work, and you just curled up right here on the couch, and he just followed your lead. now it's dinner time, and you're hungry, but you don't want to wake him when he looks so cute.
as your hand falls over his lower stomach, you're reminded he's not so cute everywhere. nope, not cute...but delicious.
you wake him up with soft kisses to his cheek. you tease the band of his sweats, smoothing a palm over his happy little trail, and when he blinks his eyes open and turns his head towards you, you pucker your lips and slide a hand between his thick thighs.
"can i?" you purr, and simon sighs deeply. his blushes always show on his chest, pale skin burning a little pinker, and you giggle when he nudges his nose against yours.
it's heaven with you. you look so cute. bobbing your head, pretty lips wrapped around his cock, suckling on his tip all sloppy and wet. you pay special attention to the underside of him, wrapping your hand around the tip and tugging gently until he spurts hot cum onto your tongue.
it's all worth it when he cups your face to kiss you and you feel the sting of the ring he's wearing, white gold band on his thick finger on his left hand⏤just where it's meant to be.
you sit like that beside him at the dinner table, same smile on your face as you load his plate with veggies (you need more greens, baby) that you did putting his dick into your mouth not even an hour earlier.
he takes you to work now. you hate the manner in which he does, that obnoxious motorcycle that makes way too much noise, but you couldn't help yourself when his birthday came around. you saw the helmet in the boxes when he finally moved in (just until you get back on your feet, yeah?), and you woke him up that morning naked with the keys to the bike between your teeth.
if you fucked him with the helmet on later that day, too, well...no one had to know about that.
he's getting better at receiving your gifts. at first, you had to pretend they weren't gifts. when he came out of the shower, you'd hand him some new clothes, or he'd touch something on the shelf at the shops, and somehow he'd find it in the bags once you got back home. he learned slowly that giving him things was your love language; the shine in your eyes when you saw him using something you gave him made him warm all over.
you're still getting him used to baths, too. your bathroom has a magnificent tub--white porcelain, wide and large, jets, gold detailing. the first time you tried to get him to take a bath, he couldn't find it in himself to sit still like that and relax. he doesn't know how to relax.
your new strategy seems to work, though. you kick off your heels from work. simon's in the living room, his tools laid out on the coffee table. there's a disassembled handgun there, and he's oiling up one of the chambers when you lean over the couch and wrap your arms around his big shoulders. you kiss the side of his mask, watching him, getting a little too distracted watching a thick finger push into the cylinder slowly to clean it.
"hey, hot stuff," you coo in his ear. he grunts, looking away, but you hear the heavy swallow in his throat as he tries to be anything but bashful. "i'm exhausted. gonna get in the bath. wanna join me?"
simon doesn't say anything at first. he's still feeling it out, the relaxing part, but when he turns to look at you, you're unbuttoning your blouse and shimmying out of your work skirt. both fall at your feet, and when you unclasp your bra and toss it, the drop of your tits is enough to have him on his feet and following you into the bathroom.
simon always gets in first. he settles with his back against the far side, and then you get in. you make a show of bending over to sit, and simon snarls a little when he's facing the curve of your ass for just a beat too long. you lean back against his chest, letting the warm water and bubbles cover you both. his arms circle around your middle, and you close your eyes once the water has settled.
"feel nice?" you mumble. simon just shrugs, and you turn over a little until your chin rests on his shoulder. you cup the back of his neck, scratching as his cropped blonde hair with your nails, and he hums a little. your new manicure is simon-approved, it seems, and he leans into your hand as you drag the tips of your nails across his head and soothe him that way. "you deserve it, baby."
it's hard for him to hear it, but you try to say it anyways. there's good days and bad days. some days, it's failed cake recipes and good takeout and hours spent on the couch watching movies. he'll be smiling all day, enjoying the quiet and peace of his new life, and then you'll make love and take a long walk and sleep in the next morning.
other days, the pain in his back seems to hit him tenfold. the spasm in his knee acts up, and he'll falter a little, and he'll look ashamed when he has to take a seat, even if it means sliding down the nearest wall until he's sitting on the floor and cupping under his knee with a hiss. those days, you see a little less of simon riley, and a little more of something else. he looks defeated. you know he must feel useless. his body betrays him, but his mind knows better, and you know it kills him inside because he'll spend the rest of the day quiet and in another headspace.
it doesn't matter how much of himself he is that day. simon deserves it, you know he does. he deserves good food and expensive wine and nice things. he deserves hot baths and hydrating moisturizers and as much chocolate as he can stomach. he deserves messy kisses and more than one orgasm, and if you can give him even a fraction of it, it's money and time and love well-spent. simon has always been dealt the worst hand⏤he's earned this life of luxury.
"my..." simon clears his throat as you sit in his lap at your vanity, draping a cool face mask over his face. you're listening still, just concentrating on smoothing the edges of the face mask over his nose and along his cheeks, massaging the excess product into his neck. "my team is gonna be around next week. goin' to the pub. if..." simon swallows, and you meet his eyes. "if y'd like t'come..."
you smile a little.
"is this...your little task force?" you tease, and simon just purses his lips.
"just...they want t'meet you."
you put your hands on his shoulders, giggling. he looks so cute with the face mask on, and he's even cuter when he's being shy. those eyes are deadly--a killer's eyes, you know this deep down, but simon will never scare you. he's your big, soft teddy bear, and he sleeps in thousand thread-count cotton sheets now.
"you told them about me?"
he gives you that dead stare, but all it does is make you laugh. you scoop out a generous amount of body butter from a container on your vanity and start to massage it into his shoulders.
"you are so adorable, simon," you murmur, watching and feeling as the tension in his shoulders starts to melt under your warm touch. already, your fingers are working the knots out of his neck, and he leans towards you as they touch a particularly tender area. "right there, baby? oh..."
the conversation quiets. you're much too busy concentrating on pampering your sweet lieutenant.
simon's never been nervous seeing his team before, but he's also been out of service for more than a year now.
they have experiences without him now. life or death situations that they've survived together, without him. jokes and hours spent sleeping on dirt floors, places they've seen and people they've met, and simon's been here, sleeping in a king bed and learning about how much better his skin feels now that he uses that hyaluronic acid serum you gave him a few weeks ago.
he's got a ring on his finger now. there's a credit card in his new wallet (no more velcro, baby) that he doesn't pay for, and even his mask looks different now that you insist on daily rotations of them and frequent washes.
he's a pampered fucking prince, and he doesn't know whether they will laugh at him or not be able to recognize him.
which is worse?
they look the same. his captain still looks like a tired bear, and he still wears that awful hat. johnny still has a giggly grin on his face. kyle still is the one to retrieve the drinks so he can try and talk up some bird that he'll definitely take home later.
they still leave the spot closest to the corner with the wall to his back open for him.
"where's the missus?" john asks. he's nursing a warm drink, ice long melted, and simon scratches the back of his neck.
"workin'. she'll be 'ere soon."
you're on the phone when you walk in. hair clipped up out of your face, perfectly manicured hands holding the phone to your ear as you make your way inside. you walk very assertively, expensive purse over your shoulder, and johnny leans back to look you up and down as you finally come into view. you're wearing a perfectly tailored work suit, blazer over your forearm as you talk animatedly.
your eyes light up when you see simon. you wave at him, blowing him a kiss, and simon shuffles in his seat a little.
"bloody hell," kyle mutters, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "tha' her?"
"tha's her."
you get to the table just as a server brings drinks. he sets down the beers for the sergeants, another whiskey for their captain, but you put the phone aside as you pick up the bourbon and take a whiff of it.
"what is this?" you ask.
"bourbon."
you raise a brow. "really?" you laugh a little. "that's bottom shelf, honey. open up a good bottle, and⏤i'm sure he asked for it on the rocks, did you ask for it on the rocks, baby?"
"he did," johnny grins, and you smile at the server.
"and bring it on the rocks."
you tuck a few notes into the server's shirt pocket and look at captain price expectantly.
"you gonna move, captain, so i can sit next to my fiancé, or should i sit in your lap?" you raise a brow. "great to meet you, by the way. i've heard so much about you."
john chuckles, slipping out of the booth, and you hop up onto it after him. you cup simon's masked face and kiss him softly over it, rubbing a thumb under his eye.
"you alright?" you coo, and simon just nods. "you ate dinner, right? it looks like you didn't eat dinner⏤" the server comes back with the bourbon, on ice, and you hold up a finger, "⏤do you have a menu? you know what, it doesn't matter, just bring us some fish and chips. whatever you have."
johnny can't wipe the smile off his face. he nudges kyle with his elbow, looking at him with wiggly eyebrows, and kyle just chuckles.
you pick up simon's bourbon and take a sip of it, humming low.
"finally. some good fucking liquor."
you pass it to him with a wink before turning back to his team.
"alright, what did i miss?" you ask. you put your phone on silent, sticking it back into your purse, and you assume a relaxed place there in the booth, nails scratching along the back of simon's balaclava as you pay attention to the conversation. simon nearly purrs as you scratch him, leaning into your hand as his eyes flutter a little.
you are enchanting. johnny's enamored with the way you pay such attention to simon even when you're enraptured in conversation. you always keep a hand on him somehow, always showing him you're actively thinking about him with your fingers rubbing circles in the back of his hand or smoothing a touch over his head or leaning your cheek against his shoulder. always touching, always soothing him, always checking in even without words.
kyle notices the way simon is so relaxed. his shoulders are low, his eyes are lidded, and he doesn't fidget like he normally does. he's just leaning into you, completely at ease.
john adores the way you take charge. you always have an answer to everything, and you know exactly what you want. from just the drink you order to the way you talk about your new life, there is nothing timid or questioning about how you feel, about yourself or simon.
where you live? you have places in manchester and london, you come back and forth. are you really getting married? you've never been more sure about anything in your entire life. is simon really that pretty under the mask? he'd be in more magazines if he was out of your bed more often, probably.
on the way out, you pay the tab. you slide a heavy credit card over the table, and you don't even look at the receipt, just sign it quick and take simon's hand when you get outside, waiting for your car.
"you're always welcome at our place," you tell them, smiling wide. "got plenty of guest rooms, don't we, simon?"
"plenty," he echoes, and simon opens the car door for you when it pulls up to the curb. "give me a minute, love."
you duck your head and slide inside, and simon turns back to his team, shrugging his shoulders as he looks at them.
"so?"
"mighty fine, LT," johnny grins.
that's all he really needed to hear.
his belly and his heart are equally full when you ride him that night. he's naked on your bed except for his mask, tattooed arm anchored around your waist as you throw it back, pussy squeezing his cock as your thighs meet his all languid and heavy. your mouth is open, hot breaths leaving you as your dig your nails into his shoulders, and he grunts as he feels his balls tighten up every time you gasp his name.
"what would i do without you?" you whine, and simon grips your ass tight with the other hand, shaking his head.
"i should be askin' tha'."
"n-no," you kiss him, tongue wet against his, and he groans into your mouth as you wiggle your hips, until his cock nudges against your cervix, and you can feel him in your stomach. "i need you, simon. i need you⏤"
"bloody fuckin' hell⏤"
"you deserve it," you babble, fisting the sheets beside his head. you move your hips quicker, cupping his cheeks, and the part of his face that you can see flushes pink at your words. "deserve m-more, simon, y-you deserve⏤"
your breath gets knocked out of you when he flips you onto your back. ankles hanging off his shoulders, back bowed, mouth fallen open, you melt right into the sheets as simon fucks you straight into them. he's so heavy, a big weight pushing him even deeper, and the angle has your toes in a tight curl as he throws you over a cliff's edge as his pelvis stimulates your clit just enough, right there, just like that⏤
his cum between your thighs is warm. you bite your lip when you feel his thick fingers cup your pussy, sliding through your folds before he pushes two fingers into you, soft and slow. you whine from the overstimulation, but your hips push into his hand anyway.
"you spoil me," simon mutters in your ear.
"how's that?" you whisper, nudging your nose against his. he props himself up on his elbow, pushing his fingers into you to the last knuckle. your legs shake a little, and your back arches again, pebbled nipples pressing against his taut chest as you give into him.
"olways givin' me wot i want," simon hisses. "olways sayin' yes ta me. keepin' me fat 'n happy...think i don't know wot y'r doin'?"
you giggle, touching his lips. he's fighting a smile, dark eyes trained on your own, and you trace his bottom lip as he pulls his fingers out and swipes an eager tongue over them.
you pinch his hard jaw between a few fingers and bring him closer. when you kiss, he relaxes, and the thought of simon having just another good night's sleep in your big, comfy bed makes your heart clench.
seeing his team tonight made you think, and while it hurts to admit it, you are happy simon will never go back with them. he'll never join them again. he'll always be here, his head on your silk pillow. he'll always be home, eating good food, getting the attention and the care he so desperately needs.
what he's so desperately owed.
simon would've died for king and country, and they don't deserve it. they can't have him.
he's mine.
"thanking you for your service is all, lieutenant."
it's the truth, even if he doesn't want to hear it. he's warranted this kind of life, even if he doesn't believe it, even if he rejects the soft hands and the comfy cushions and the filling food. simon is an abused dog; he's not violent to his core, he isn't a biter or a fighter by nature, but when you are forced into a corner for all your life, it's the only thing you understand⏤it's all you know.
you don't want that kind of life for him. you don't think it was the one meant for him. simon's been looking over his shoulder for his entire life, but it's over now.
it's time for him to lay his head down. it's time for him to rest.
"do you miss it?" you ask. you know he's not asleep; his heartbeat hammers under your ear, and even though it's dark in the room, you know he must be looking at you. you can feel his eyes, even though you can't see them on you.
do you miss them? do you wish you were there and not here? is there a part of you still stuck there, finger on the trigger, mind over matter, life in-between death?
"no."
simon tells you this with ease. his voice doesn't waver. his hand anchors itself to your back, where you know it will stay⏤where you know it will be tonight and even into the morning.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost mw2#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost mwii#ghost x reader#cod#call of duty#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut#simon thoughts
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Ghost: I got us matching bracelets, and you say I don't care about our relationship! Y/N: Simon, these are handcuffs
#call of duty#incorrect call of duty quotes#incorrect quotes#incorrect cod quotes#cod incorrect quotes#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#call of duty modern warfare#cod x reader#cod x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#simon riley cod#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost simon riley#simon riley#ghost call of duty#cod#call of duty x y/n#call of duty x reader#call of duty x you#cod x y/n#task force 141 x you#task force 141 x reader#tf 141#tf141 x reader#tf141 x you
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butcher!simon would definitely bring the best cuts of meat home for his missus and two little hellions, cooking it up and feeding it to you three (it was the second best meat you’ve ever had in your life, first being simon’s if you catch my drift)
butcher!simon is definitely doing the same for seafood he’s taking the shells off, peeling and cracking away. you guys eat and he just puts those muscles to work!! and you can thank him by giving him another baby, i don’t know ;)
thank you.
#cheeseatlantic#call of duty#cod fluff#cod modern warfare#simon ghost riley#cod mw3#ghost x you#ghost call of duty#ghost x reader#ghost cod#ghost#simon ghost fluff#simon ghost x you#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley#cod#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod x reader#butcher#cod au
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CW: alluded to kidnapping, Simon is drunk and lonely and wants a spouse (@nightunite for plot reasons, I’m tagging you)
Fisherman!Simon Riley who reeks of salt and smoke, a looming figure who returns from sea only to hide away in the corner of a pub. really, it’s just him, his boat, and the crappy flat he would hesitantly call home. at best, he’s a hardworking man who does whatever needs to be done. no one who’s employed him has had any complaints, maybe the odd comment on how he only responds with grunts and nods. at worst? after months at sea he’s a drunkard, hiding it well enough at first glance - the only give away being the slight waver in his walk and the smell of it on his breath
Fisherman!Simon Riley who slowly makes his way down to the coast after one too many beers, off balance as he makes his way to the dock. it’s closer than his flat, and he’s used to the rocking of the water by now. but you catch his eye, he’s never seen anyone quite like you. shoving something deep inside a crevice between a wall of rocks, padding off to walk down the sand opposite of him. curiosity wins him over, nearly stumbling down the slope of the beach as he makes his way towards the rocks. standing a foot away from where you had been, he leans forward, something catching his eye
Fisherman!Simon Riley who reaches in, a couple uncoordinated tugs and he’s pulled out— oh? well he’ll be damned, what fisherman hasn’t heard about the odd selkie? your coat cradled in rope weathered, rough hands. he’s heard stories about them, does he remember it right? returning a selkie’s coat and… and that’s as good as a marriage proposal? maybe that’s not quite true, but the slurred thought rolls around in his head. a beat later he’s carrying it back to his boat, he can give it back to you later, clambering onto the deck as he makes his way inside the cabin. shoved somewhere - a closet? under his bed? - before he’s waiting on the dock. waiting for you. maybe it’s the alcohol, but from what he can remember, you were breathtaking
Fisherman!Simon Riley who waits for you to come walking up the beach again, unaware of what’s about to unfold. a gruff chuckle leaving him when he sees you reach between the rocks, pausing before panic sets in. you had put it there, you always leave your coat right here. eyes darting around, leaning up to look just above the rocks, quickly circling the area. “What’s wrong, love?”, a deep, raspy voice catching you off guard, turning around only to freeze, “Lost something?”. he’s big, throat tight as you swallow, eyes like a predator that has you cornered. frozen in place, deep brown, nearly black, eyes gazing down at you, “Why don’t you come with me? S’not safe by the water.”. a panicked little gasp leaves you as he grabs your wrist, tugging you with him towards the docks. he only scoffs when you try to pull away, glancing over his shoulder at you, “Wouldn’t want you swept away by the waves, pet.”
#something something yeah#yeah?#we get the vibe?#fisherman!ghost#fisherman!simon riley#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost headcanons#ghost x you#ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#cod#cod thoughts#call of duty#hit post
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Simon with a reader who has some trauma around sex, asks him to stop and scrambles off to hide in the bathroom. How would he react? I’d like some comfort please, love ya <3
Simon comforting his love that has trauma
"Missed ya, love." Simon's warm voice fills the air as he settles onto the couch beside you, wrapping his strong arms around you in a comforting embrace. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, and you feel a wave of warmth and safety wash over you as he leans in closer, a smile spreading across his face.
A soft grin spreads across your face, making your cheeks glow and your eyes sparkle. As you turn the page, the rustle of the paper fills the room.
He softly kisses your neck, moving slowly along your skin. A shiver runs down your spine, and you hold your breath, hoping he doesn’t go any further. You feel a knot of uncertainty in your stomach, reminding you of the secret you haven’t shared. Everything that happened with your ex weighs on your mind.
As he reaches for the bottom of your shirt, a wave of tension hits you, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Slowly, he starts to pull the fabric off, and the cool air hits your skin as the shirt finally comes off, leaving you feeling a bit exposed under his stare.
“Simo-” your words were cut off by a kiss as he reaches for your waistband. Before he had the option to slip your sweats off, you push him away and storm away to the bathroom, tears streaming down your cheeks as you attempt to calm yourself down.
He watches you go, confusion and concern etched on his face. He runs a hand through his hair, muttering something to himself. After a moment, he goes after you, finding you curled up on the cold bathroom floor, your shoulders shaking with each sob.
He lowers himself to his knees beside you, his muscular frame dwarfing your smaller one. With a reluctant sigh, he reaches out and cups your face.
“Don’t touch me!” you blurt out, your arms quickly going up to cover your face. A mix of panic and fear enters your voice as you squeeze into the chilly corner of the bathroom. The cold tiles press into your back, and the dim lighting casts creepy shadows that make you want to disappear into the tiny space.
Simon pulled back a bit, looking confused as he tried to figure out what had just happened. “Shh, it’s just me.” he said softly, trying to calm things down.
Your chest feels tight, and every quick breath leaves you feeling lightheaded and shaky. It’s like there’s this invisible pressure on you, making it hard to take a deep breath.
Simon’s heart breaks as he watches you hyperventilate. He shifts you to sit sideways across his lap, leaning you against his shoulder. “Slow breaths, baby. In and out. That's it..” he coaches you gently, his large hand splayed across your back to keep you supported.
As you start to regain your breath, Simon’s mind starts racing with dark thoughts. He looks down at your trembling form, his protective instincts kicking in again.
“Look at me.” he uses a finger under your chin to tilt your face upwards. “Tell me why you're crying like this.”
“My ex-” was all you managed to utter before your voice caught in your throat, the weight of the memories crashing down on you. Suddenly, tears streamed down your cheeks, a sob escaping your lips.
“Oh, baby girl. You never told me.” his voice softens more, seeing how vulnerable you are.
You bury yourself into him further, desperate for any form of comfort. One of his hands comes up to caress your hair while the other presses you closer. “Did he?..”
A nod was all he needed to understand the situation. He gently lifts you further into his arms, cradling you against his chest like a child. “I’ve got you now, baby girl. No one’s gonna hurt you again.”
He starts stroking your hair again, murmuring soothing words. “Just breathe, you're safe now.” his fingers gently massage your scalp, hoping to bring you back from the bad memories.
He begins to rock you slowly, one hand still in your hair while the other supports your upper back. You feel a quick jolt in your body as you take a deep, shaky breath, letting the air fill your lungs. You try to slow down your racing thoughts and suppress the butterflies in your chest.
“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is gentle and sweet, not wanting to trigger you any further. You quickly shake your head, so he drops the subject, nodding understandingly.
He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You don't have to. Not now, not ever if you don't want to.” he continues running his fingers through your hair.
“Let's go watch a movie baby. Might help take your mind off things,” he suggests softly, his thumb brushing away a tear that slips down your cheek.
He guides you to the comfort of your shared bed before climbing in with you. “Good girl,” he utters before pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.
Sorry for the short and late post lol I've been trying to find motivation to post more so this is just quick and simple <3
#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#cod#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#cod x reader#fanfic#ghost cod#ghost fanfiction#ghost headcanons#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#ghost#cod mwii#cod mw3#simon riley cod#simon riley imagine#imagine#comfort#fluff#angst#call of duty mw2#call of duty mwii#call of duty mw3#simon cod#ghost call of duty#ghost fluff
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Why is this kinda funny though
Simon Riley with a user who basically kidnaps herself. CW : Masturbation, mentions of oral
It started with the little things. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise more frequently. You heard heavy breathing and a slick sound at night coming from your slightly open window. A blank account following your public instagram account.
You then started seeing him. A tall burly man that seemed to always appear In the corner of your eye. You never saw his face because of the balaclava he wore. And that frustrated you.
Hell, if a guy is going to stalk you, the least he can do is not hide his face.
Eventually, you got sick of it. You let the brute of a man follow you home as usual. Let him watch you 'sleep' through your window while he fisted his cock. And then when he went home, you followed him.
You honestly thought he'd catch you. Feel you watching him. Following him home. But it seemed that his post orgasmic haze rendered him vulnerable.
You followed the man to a nice looking home. Not huge or anything, but It was cozy.
You then watched through a window as he drank a glass of whiskey, before walking through the home to his bedroom.
You quickly rushed to the bedroom window, glad the blinds weren't fully shut.
The man then sat down on his bed, pulling something from his bedside drawer-hey wait, are those your fucking panties you lost? Sneaky bastard. Those are your favourite.
And now he's fisting his cock again. Only this time, he's taken off that stupid balaclava to sniff them and-oh.
Oh.
Fuck, he's hot.
Those scars, the dirty blonde hair, the slightly crooked nose from being broken so many times, Jesus H Christ.
Yeah. To say you were thinking of this mans face between your thighs was an understatement. He might genuinely be one of the hottest men you've ever seen.
You quickly went home, going to the blank account that had followed you, and with a few clicks, you found the guys private instagram. Simon Riley. He's not the only person who's good at stalking.
You then found out that he was in the military. A Lieutenant. Seemed to be really private. No matter though, you already knew where he lived.
The following day, you took the day off work, and broke into Simon's home. Moving almost all of your stuff in. He wouldn't mind.
Then, when Simon walked into his house he stopped dead in his tracks as he saw you, sipping from one of his mugs, on his couch.
The woman he'd been stalking for nearly a year.
"I-what-what are you doing here?" He muttered, eyes wide as he took off his balaclava.
"You should have shown me your face earlier. I would have moved in ages ago" you shrugged.
"Moved in?" Simon almost squeaked.
⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧
before you all panic, yes. There will be a part two :p
#ghost call of duty#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley fanfiction#ghost x reader#ghost x y/ n#ghost cod#ghost x you#simon ghost fluff#simon ghost riley x you
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The art of touch- Simon "Ghost" Riley
--- F!Reader, fluff, friends to lovers, soft!simon --- A/N: I can't see the old requests for some reason so enjoy this mess I made in the meantime
Simon is a quiet man. He's calm and collected—truly the man that most soldiers wish to be. He has confidence on and off the field. There are so many things that he is, but being insecure or nervous about anything off the field or base is not something he can say he has. When he met you, you weren't looking for anything but a friendship. So, it stung to know that the most beautiful girl he had ever seen didn't fancy a date with him. But, like anything in his life, he accepted it, in a "I'm going to get you anyway" kind of way.
It started with him trying to get you to at least say yes to lunch. Something that friends do. Which is normal, totally not a date in his mind. Will definitely tell everyone else that he went on a date though. When the "dates" became frequent, he made sure to invite you to dinner after he had helped you move into the home you bought.
His volunteering to be your handyman was normal by now. He wants to be part of your life in any way you offer. You need to drive an hour away, no problem, he has nothing to do that weekend so he can drive you there. It's not like he doesn't have paperwork waiting for him in his office. He'll complain about it later, but never to your face because he wants to become reliable.
It was something slow, so painfully slow even for him but fuck it, he was very much interested in you. So interested that he forgot about the pretty girls he would occasionally sleep with when he went on missions. He became loyal to the "relationship" you two had in his head. Who needs sex when he has the idea of you and him as a couple?
It was odd, he rarely had pure thoughts when a pretty bird was beside him but with you, he wanted to have them. So he did, he refrained from them and only thought of you for who you are. He could list two hundred things that he loves about you before he lists your body.
For you, keeping him at arm's length was a strategy. Sure he was attractive and all but you wanted something real. Not something that is formed through sex and pleasure. Something that is born of real emotions, something that can be brought up when you get asked where you were when you realised you were in love. The answer should never be in bed
Tags: @liyanahelena @mangowafflesss @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @frazie99 @idklols @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @sleepyycatt @believeinthefireflies95 @noodlezz-bedo @alexaseeraj @trinthealternate @azkza @VampyTheGoth @mariededenie
#cod#cod x reader#mwii#ghost cod#call of duty#simon ghost riley fanfiction#ghost simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley#simon riley call of duty#simon riley fluff#simon riley imagine#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#cod simon riley#ghost mw2#ghost call of duty#ghost riley#simon riley fanfic#ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader
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A helping hand.
What to do when your boyfriend is a voice actor, and needs a little help getting into the role?
TW. Smut, voice kink, blow job. Dirty talk, so MDNI (AFAB reader)
Simon Riley x Reader.
"Babe, im home!" You call out from the hall, noticing the office door was shut.
You take off your shoes and pad down the hall, quietly putting your bag and coat away. The office door was normally shut when your boyfriend was working, and you never disturbed him during his recording process.
Simon, or Ghost to his fans, was an experienced voice actor, his deep voice making him popular with the ladies and gentlemen alike, and was highly requested on erotic voice apps and voiceovers for those books you hide away in your TBR pile.
You pop him a text to let him know you are home, knowing he would read it when he had a moment, and set about changing and settling in for the night, so you were surprised when your phone chimed a second later.
"Come in, love."
You knock, and enter the door, and your jaw drops, your cheeks flushed. Simon was always sexy as fuck to you, but seeing him like this, in his domain...
The red lighting captured the ink on his forearms as his shirt sleeves were rolled back, his jeans pulled low over his hips. His cocky smile warmed you to the core as he beckoned you closer with a finger, his seated position at the desk relaxed, he looked like a king on his throne.
"Gimme a kiss, angel." He urges, his voice raspy and deep, sending a little shiver through your body as you comply, your lips pressed against his softly.
"Need a favour, a collaboration if you will." He smiles.
You frown, suspicion on your face. You just read the books, you didn't act them out for an audience.
"Need you to get on your knees for me, love. Need your mouth on me." He explains, his eyes never leaving yours.
"And no cameras, just a microphone, i have this job, and it feels a little... faked when I've been trying to record it today." he pauses, cupping your chin in his hand.
"Gonna help me out here, make me come?"
You pause, before nodding. Simon wasn't a selfish lover, making you get off numerous times without thinking about himself, and this was something you loved doing for him.
You kneel in front of him, the microphone on the side of the desk. He presses the button, and you tug at his jeans, exposing him to the cool air.
Taking it in your hand, you stroke the length of him, feeling him harden under your touch. Looking up, you see his eyes burning into yours as he speaks.
"Gonna take care of me, gorgeous?" He rasps, his voice thick with desire.
"Feels so good in your hand like that." He continues, almost narrating what you are doing to his audience.
Emboldened by his words, you nod, and stroke him faster, watching his eyes darken with every stroke.
"You look so good on your knees for me baby." His gruff voice singing through your body.
"Such a pretty girl, stroking my cock like a fucking professional." He rasps, his hips bucking into your hand, urging you to go faster.
You lick a stripe across your palm, before returning to his cock, his eyes wide in shock.
"Oh, i see you've learnt some new tricks, baby?" He laughs, his deep chuckle quickly making you melt as you nod.
"Making me feel so damn good."
You don't speak, almost afraid it'll break the illusion to his audience, so you smile up at him through your lashes.
"Gonna tug this top down, pretty thing. Wanna see your beautiful body." He looks down, raising an eyebrow, as if asking for permission.
You pull back, allowing him to remove your top and bra, exposing your skin to the cool air.
"So fucking beautiful, a goddess." He whispers, sending a blush to your cheeks.
His head tilts back as you close your lips over his head, a hiss of pleasure pulled from his lips as he feels your warm mouth over his cooled skin.
"You feel so fucking good sucking the tip of my cock like that, baby, such a fucking tease..." He rambles, threading his fingers through your hair.
"Your hair is so soft through my fingers, baby, wanna pull on it and bury myself down your throat." He warns, but he does no such thing as he watches you take inch by inch, your throat accommodating him.
"Fuck, gorgeous girl. You take me so well.. makes me feel like a fucking king." He admits, his eyes never leaving yours. Although this was for his audience, his gaze was for you, and you only.
He ruts up into your mouth, making you gag a little, he strokes your cheek with the other hand in apology.
"Gagging on my cock, pretty thing?" he asks, his 'ghost' persona slipping into the conversation. You nod, throwing him a mock scowl as you returned your attention to the job in hand.
Softly sucking on his tip, you reach further down, cupping his heavy balls in your hand, and being rewarded with a moan straight out an audiobook.
"That's it baby, take my balls in your hand too, while you suck me, making me feel amazing. Such a good girl for me." He moans, his voice raspy with need.
You slide your lips all the way down his shaft before making your way back to the tip, repeating this until you feel his legs shake.
"Gonna flood your mouth with my come, baby, you want that?" He asks, both into the mic and to you, you had forgotten completely he was recording, and nodded with a big smile on your face. You felt in complete power, this mammoth of a man eating out of your hand, and this may just be the quickest recording session you've seen him do.
"Making me feel so fucking good, im not gonna last." He chuckles deeply, his hand stroking the back of your head, eyes closed as he feels close to the edge.
You hear his moans and pleas of encouragement as he's near to coming, his hips rocking against your lips in a faster motion, desperate for release, before you pull your lips off him with a pop. Feeling a little bratty, and drunk on power, you look up with a cocky grin of your own.
His eyes opened, his chin tilted down to your face. A smirk danced across your lips as you pulled away on purpose.
He reaches down, gently cupping your neck between his fingers. Full 'Ghost mode' activated, his dark eyes meeting yours.
"Oh, pretty girl. You pulled away as i was about to come down your throat... such a naughty thing you are.."
You feel his fingers wrap through your hair again, a little tighter this time. You flush, squeezing your thighs together.
He notices this, and smirks.
"Gonna use this pretty face, and those gorgeous lips, and you are going to let me come in your mouth, isn't that right, baby?" he asks darkly.
You shake your head mockingly, sticking your tongue out in mock protest.
"Careful sticking that tongue out baby, i might use it." He warns, stroking your cheek with the other hand, before opening your mouth wide.
He positions you closer to him, your legs spread over his feet.
"I want to watch you ride my boot as you make me come, gorgeous. Then i'll allow you to come. Got that."
"Good girl."
His gaze is strong, a side of him you haven't seen, only heard about as he makes you nod by pulling your hair. Dumbstruck, you slowly rock your hips against his boot, your arousal soaking through your clothes.
He waits for you to open your mouth and take him in again before continuing. His touch soft against his harsh words.
"Such a good girl f'me." he repeats, his voice grounding you as your senses go wild at the stimulation.
"Getting off while you suck my cock like a fucking pro." He moans as you bring him back to the edge.
After a few, torturous minutes, you feel him tighten in your mouth, before releasing wave after wave of come down your throat. Your body purring in pleasure as you feel his hands in your hair, his hips flush against your mouth as he moans heavy praise into the room.
Flicking the microphone off and pushing it to the back of the desk, he pulls you up onto him before kissing you deeply, the taste of him on both of your tongues.
"Fuck, love. i didn't- You.." He gasps, his forehead pressed to yours.
You smile softly, pleased that he was stunned and satisfied.
he pushes your body back over the desk, before spreading your legs wide.
"Your turn, love. but only i get to hear you come." He smirks, before removing your clothes, and sinking down between your legs...
.........................................................................................................................
@kaeyasfuturewife @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-lover-blog @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @redzluvvesage @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @skeletonsucker
#call of duty#call of duty mw2#fanfiction#fanfic#call of duty modern warfare 2#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon riley cod#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost simon riley#ghost mw2#cod ghost
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Stupid Joke
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: You see a trend on social media and make a stupid joke, Simon responds in a very Simon way. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), humour, mention of cheating, anxiety, mention of smut punishment, one spank, very old TikTok trend that I'm only getting around to writing now, canon-typical swearing.
If there was something that Simon hated more than anything it was texting. It grated him to no end. The letters on his phone were too small for his thumbs and it ended up a garbled mess on the screen. He loathed texting. Simon also hated it when you didn’t answer your phone because that meant he had to text.
He’d been up early to go visit the base for some information that Price had needed and now he was on his way home, he’d left you snoozing in bed this morning, always such a shame to leave your beautiful body without his own wrapped around it.
morning babe, want anything from the shop? on my way home x
That single text had stolen 10 minutes of his life, 10 minutes of driving time when he could have been coming home to you.
She’s busy.
The text had come back only seconds later and caused every muscle in Simon’s body to lock up. He stared at the screen. Numb. Blinking. Once. Then twice. Then throwing his phone aside to start his car aggressively, speeding the entire way home. Fuck the shop, he needed to get home.
From beside him his phone was dinging and buzzing, but he seethed sped home, pulling up outside the house. Stalking inside as you came flying downstairs in his direction. “Simon, it was a joke. It was a joke. You tried to reason and warn him, but a noise in the kitchen caught his attention, moving past your pawing hands to find the source of the noise.
Inside a bloke stood checking the boiler, minding his own business. “Oi.” He said with a level of gruffness to his voice you hadn’t heard before, the man spun suddenly with wide eyes. “You fuckin’ my wife?” He spat out venomously at him.
“What?” The man hiccupped out. “Simon, no.” You called out from behind him, pawing at his shoulder but Simon just continued. “I said, you fuckin’ my wife?” The poor man practically paled seeing this hulking man standing before him, anger painted on his face.
“Sir, I’m sorry. I’m just here… the boiler… I’m… servicing… I’m checking the boiler.” He stumbled out quickly motioning to his toolbox and the opened boiler cover.
“Likely fuckin’ story-” “Simon. Simon, stop.” You quickly said, moving around in front of him and looking up at him. “Please, stop. Listen to me. Please.” You begged and looked over your shoulder. “I’m sorry. Just… one second…” Firmly placing your hands on his chest you moved Simon backwards from the kitchen. “Simon, it was a joke-” You cupped his face to ensure he was looking down at you. “It was a stupid joke.”
His brows furrowed, confusion evident on his face. “What?” He muttered. “I saw this stupid trend online of people texting their partners ‘I’m busy’ to see how their partners react. I didn’t think you’d show up here to skin the bloody boiler man alive.” You said in a whisper. “I’m really sorry. It was a stupid joke. I tried to call you and text you to explain…”
In his red hot rage, he’d thrown his phone aside in his truck. He hadn’t seen your explanations. “So, you’re not fuckin’ the boiler man?” He asked in a smaller tone. “No, absolutely not.” You replied with earnest. “It was just a joke and a really bad one at that.”
“Fuckin’ hell.” Simon huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “Fuckin’ hell.” He repeated in a small tone. “Almost beat that bloke to a pulp.” He said in a harsh whisper. “I’m deleting that fuckin’ app from your phone.” You nodded your head quickly in response. “That’s fair.” You agreed and reached up to rub his shoulders and upper arms. “I’m really sorry.”
Simon glanced over your shoulder to where the man continued to very quickly return to servicing the boiler, clearly wanting to get out of here as soon as he could manage. “You’re sorry?” His dark eyes then turned down to you and his lip curled up softly at the corner. “Oh, you’re gonna be sorry. I promise you…” Turning you around he brought his hand down firmly on your rear so much so it shunted you back in the direction of the stairs. “Why don’t you wait upstairs for me? I’ll be up to deal with you soon…”
Now, you knew some part of you should have been scared, but fuck if you didn’t feel excited in that moment too… maybe it wasn’t such a stupid joke afterall.
Masterlist | Ask | 27-01-2025
#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley x you#ghost cod#ghost mw2#simon riley imagine#simon riley cod#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost simon riley#ghost call of duty#simon riley smut#simon riley x y/n#simon riley fanfic#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#ghost imagine#cod mw3#cod x reader
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i should go back and revisit neighbor!simon </3 my og drabbles were kinda stinky..
neighbor!simon x reader. longer read.
you’re neighbor is a homebody. sort of.
he’s either never home or always home. you aren’t sure what he does, but whatever it is leaves his flat vacant for months at a time, not so much as a mouse breath breaching the thin popcorn walls that separate your rooms.
and when he is in the complex, you’d never know it. a shut in, the only give away is the muffled news channel that burrows through your moldings, or smithed footfall at ungodly hours.
the first time you caught him moving in while off to work. big bloke- and when you waved to him he stared, before lumbering into his complex. given, he was holding a large cardboard box, so you weren’t expecting him to return the greeting. but a hello would’ve been nice.
it was 4 months until you got a good look at him.
you were awake at a time you shouldn’t have been for a reason you had long forgotten. you do remember thinking you might as well do your laundry.
when you went down to the mat, there he was.
tracker fed shoulders taking up half the space, and on an inhale they took two thirds. clothes looked as though they had been dyed in pen ink and left to dry in hail. mud boots, thick legs, and the silhouette of a cauliflower ear against the fabric of his balaclava.
he glared at you like you weren’t supposed to be there. an anomaly, disturbed his routine. steel face, stone eyes, swear you’d seen the same look in your history books on the shields of greek soldiers.
it all scared you shitless, so you turned on your heel and didn’t go back until the morning. you make it a point to hustle past his door after that.
but you tend to take more than you can handle. swaddling your groceries as you wobble up the stairs, just barely there before your foot catches on the last step. produce among some of the other fragile items scattered across the tiles, and you curse under your breath.
you wouldn’t characterize yourself as a klutz, but it scrambling to collect your groceries feet from your door isn’t helping your case. the paper bags struggle against your grip, and it feels like you’re just biding your time until they all rip apart.
“you need help.”
its said more like an observation than it is a question. you turn slowly, and a goliath stands 6 feet and something over you. he sports a medical mask and a ballcap, which reveals new features- sun bleached skin that peels from the bridge of his nose to between his brows, which are thick and blonde. the left is cut in half by scar tissue and spite. if you squint you see freckles.
the night he scared you, you remembered his eyes as pitch. crow feather. under your bed.
you now see they’re the deepest shade of brown.
“i- no its fine i..” your arms do a dance with the bags, trying to keep them steady.
he grabs them both from you, and suddenly they still. its like handing squealing pigs to a farmer. built for holding them. it makes you feel weird that you like it.
“unlock the door.”
you do as you’re told and find your keys in your back pocket. fumble at the lock before opening the door and standing to the side to let him in. he nods.
sets your groceries down before gently tipping the brim of his cap. he doesn’t say anything before leaving.
and this started the strangest routine.
every week you’d get groceries, he’d be there.
the first time he was on the second flight of stairs. when you questioned how he knew you’d been shopping, he rolled his shoulders and scoffed.
“your huffin n puffin gave you away.”
he was there for four more trips. each time, you had gotten more words out of him. found out he had the driest sense of humor and a plethora of knock-knock jokes that you painfully laughed at.
he even kept up with the occasional flirt.
“yknow, you could start charging for your manual labor.”
“you rich?” he returned.
you laughed. “far from it. but this is a service, and you haven’t started making demands so…”
he stopped and stared at your back before you turned around. “so what?”
“i have to assume you just like me.”
he rolled his eyes, but you caught the way his cheek twitched under his eyes. although it was hidden by the mask, you had made him smile.
“don’t get your hopes up.”
all of it was enough for you to get comfortable. and then he wasn’t there.
the absence was strange enough to make your pace stutter when you reached the second floor, but you recovered and trekked to your room.
not without glancing at his door, though.
he must be back at work. surely he isn’t…well. he couldn’t have moved out without telling you. you aren’t close but maybe you are?
you thought so hard about it for so long that you placed your ear to the wall separating your flats.
after a few moments, you heard nothing. not even a mouse breath.
you felt foolish for being so relieved. and you kept feeling foolish for hoping he’d be there with every errand, and disappointed when he wasn’t.
it was 4 more groceries trips before you saw him again.
waiting at the entrance of the complex, crossed arms and black attire stood out like a sore thumb in the winter blight that bit at your nose with snow and temperatures below freezing. you picked up the pace.
when you got to the cement steps, you sorely regretted your decision to jog. not because it winded you, or it amplified the struggle you had with your bags, but because of the smug smile you could see crinkling the bastards cheeks under his mask.
“you missed me.”
you handed him a bag. “i missed your arms. carry that.”
you could hear the grin from behind you.
“whatever you say, sweet’eart.”
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simon "ghost" riley
The first time Simon saw your boyfriend, he knew.
Oh, he knew. Not in that “you’re too good for him” way you half-expected your protective, burly best friend to behave. No, Simon hated him with a ferocity so immediate, so visceral, it made his blood hum a little sharper. He didn’t just hate him. He despised him. Abhorred him. Wanted to roll his sleeves up and grate him into the damn carpet with the sheer force of his forearms alone. And if that wasn’t enough, he wanted to spend the rest of his natural-born life proving to you (and to himself, if we’re being honest) that he was better.
Tighter shirts. The flex of his fists when your boyfriend spoke in that grating voice Simon privately referred to as "discount Casanova." The subtle, almost casual cracks of his knuckles whenever the man dared to open his mouth about you in any way that wasn’t pristine worship. Every time your boyfriend laughed at you instead of with you, Simon would let out a low, bone-chilling chuckle of his own— a rumbling thing, gravelly and sharp, because he wasn’t laughing at all.
And then there was that one night.
It wasn’t like Simon was trying to hover. He wasn’t. He didn’t need to be your babysitter. You were strong, capable, smarter than everyone Simon had ever met— except, apparently, when it came to that bloody waste of oxygen you called a boyfriend. But when he saw the way your smile dimmed just a little too much at something the guy said, the way your fingers tightened around your glass as if to crush it, something ancient and primal roared inside Simon’s chest.
He stayed behind when you went home. Watched the fool stagger out into the night like a walking bad decision. Simon followed him with the quiet, measured gait of a shadow given form—leather jacket snug over his frame, boots heavy, but silent as sin.
Simon wasn’t poetic about what happened next. He didn’t need to be. There was no artistry in the precise, methodical lesson he taught your boyfriend in a dim alleyway under a broken porch light. (Broken now, thanks to your boyfriend's skull, if Simon were feeling particularly cheeky about it.) He made sure the man knew exactly why he was being "affectionately" restructured. And when the lesson ended, Simon left without a single word but with a vivid reminder that would stick for weeks:
stay the hell away.
The next morning, your boyfriend broke up with you via text message. A single line of lukewarm cowardice you barely had time to process before Simon was at your door, arms laden with snacks, beer, and the sweater you always stole anyway.
You curled up next to him on the couch, face half-hidden in the collar of that massive gray hoodie, and let out an exhausted sigh. Your voice was soft when you mumbled- sniffling with a stuffy nose from your previous sobs, “I just don’t get it, Si. I thought he cared..”
Simon didn’t answer right away, gaze fixed on the screen as Finding Nemo played in the background—a film you’d insisted on because you needed something light and harmless. Of course, to Simon, it wasn’t harmless at all. He frowned as Marlin yelled at Dory, the tiny blue fish babbling nonsense with frantic, short-term determination.
“'Course he didn’t care. Idiot didn’t even notice he was playing chicken with a shark,” Simon finally muttered, his deadpan delivery laced with something so dry you almost didn’t catch it.
You looked up, confused. “Huh?”
“Forget your boyfriend,” Simon said, tone flat as a blade. “This is why I don’t swim. Can’t trust anything with gills. Bloody sharks, jellyfish, clownfish...all useless. Why d’you think they call it Finding Nemo? Should’ve named it Simon Was Right: Stay Out of the Water.”
You snorted, unable to help yourself, and Simon glanced down at you, lips quirking upward just enough to show the barest hint of satisfaction.
And there it was. That warmth. That comfort. Simon didn’t need to say it, didn’t need to spell it out for you in big, stupid letters. You could see it in the way his arm stayed firm around your shoulders, in the way he made sure your blanket covered your toes, in the way his ridiculous commentary on Finding Nemo somehow made you feel whole again.
Yeah. You'd find your own way to thank him later.
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