#fwb ghost

[yourmessagehasbeendenied]

~ONE LESS PROBLEM​

tw; NSFW content, reader described as chubby, MDNI, p in v, toxicity, addiction , cursing, sex, how else can I make it obvious?

Addiction is horrible, it ruins your life, gets you hooked to something that ruins your life, gets you to need something you in reality wouldn't. And that's why he was your addiction.

It was never love with Simon Riley, no, he told you from the start he doesn't do that "love shit," because "It ain't never worth it, sweetheart."

At the start, it was good enough, just what you needed after a shitty relationship and break up, just a good old fuck with no feelings attached. Just a rebound, nothing else, you didn't want anything else, but let's be honest? The fact that people saw you leave the bar with a huge man like him, bigger than your ex, was an extreme ego boost.

You didn't want anything more of it, you weren't ready for anything more. A good hook up, and you went on your way the next day, you didn't fucking owe him anything. You thought that was it, until you got a message from an unknown number, claiming to be the bulky man you hooked up with, asking for round two.

"Never had a cunt like yours, sweetheart." He claimed. You learned he got your number from your mutual friend, Johnny, you two were.. Semi friends. Either way, getting a round two request from the sexiest man you've had in your life? You'd need to be stupid, to reject it.

So you did it again. You fell for his trap, fell into his arms and let him fuck you like your ex never could. You let him ruin you, because fuck, you had nothing to lose. You fell into the lion's den, let him get his claws on you and scratch you up the way he wanted to. He fucked you like you were nothing to him. Roughed you up, bent you into positions no one would, willing to break your back if he had to. He fucked like a madman, like he's a caveman needing his release, like he deserved this, like you were just for his use.

You loved it. Every fucking sick part of it. You didn't owe him shit, but you let him use you like you did, because that made you forget about everything. While you two were fucking, the world was nothing, it was a dark room and just moans full with pleasure.

So you became friends with benefits. It wasn't horrible, not at first. It was perfect, just what you needed to forget that tiny dicked asshole who thought it would be funny to fuck a random blonde bitch. Like he wouldn't cum 2 seconds after being inside you. It was what you needed to numb the pain, and it was what he needed to release the pain.

Until it turned into a huge problem. Going from it being nothing else but just fuck buddies, it turned into something way more toxic. You fell for him. Fuck, how couldn't you have? He was a big man, he fucked you like an animal, and out of bed, he was a gentleman. He listened like no one else did, was there when you needed. And he had a lethal face card, let's be honest.

You shoot your shot. You ask him out once and for all, where he looks at you and full blown laughs. He points out he would never do anything with anyone, that it "Ain't you sweetheart, Love's too much for me baby. I'm not husband material, sweet thing."

It wasn't enough for you. You tried and tried, to make him like you but it never fucking worked. You started losing weight, started trying things, but he got mad at you. "Don't you fucking dare change that body of yours, it's perfect."

So if it wasn't your body, was it your personality? You tried your hardest but nothing worked, the man just wouldn't budge. His rule was fuck only, nothing else, and you hated it. It turned into heated arguments, into hopes, and fuck him seriously. I mean why would he talk to you like you're a princess to only tell you he wants nothing else than sex?

So you got mad at him. And stopped hooking up with him. The first week was great, no problems there. Simon didn't seem to mind that you didn't wanna hook up with him, that you weren't around him anymore. It pissed you off. The second week you gave your back when he finally texted you saying, "You up?" At 3 AM, the usual routine. But the afterwards turned into the most horrible fight you ever had. "Simon, I want more." You had the most serious tone ever, when you told him that, and he just looked at you like you were a joke. Nothing to him. "I don't. How many times do I have to tell you, to get it through your stupid fucking head, huh? I don't love. You got a problem in your head for you to not understand?" He asked, growled at you. So you yelled back. "Fuck you, Simon. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of you." He looked at you one last time as he said, "Then let's stop this all together." It hurt, it stung. But you grabbed your clothes, your car keys and bag, and left him there for good. Your life started to turn out differently. You hung out with your friends more, and you finally had a better social life, not as shy as you used to be. Simon still lingered in your mind, but now that you left him there for good, no contact, you felt better. You have one less problem without him.

So you went out.

You met this guy. Sammy, or whatever his stupid name was. He seemed sweet enough, was a gentleman and just wanted to get to know you better. You thought to yourself, now with Simon gone, it was time for a change. For the better, hopefully.

You agreed on a date with him, and thought nothing of it at the time. If this works out in your favor, you get a boyfriend and you don't worry about wanting Simon anymore. That's what you thought. The date was fine, he bought you flowers and took you to a fancy restaurant where he mostly talked about himself. He didn't exactly ask questions about you, like he was a little uninterested, but he was very sweet and when you tried to say something he did let you speak. You went home giving him a hug and a "Thank you" for the dinner he paid for. Walking home, you put your headphones on, listening to music. The walk home was fine, until you walked into your home. Just as you shut the door behind you, a deep voice bloomed from your living room. "Welcome home, sweetheart."

You stood there, freezing up. Does he know you went out on a date? Were you supposed to tell him? And for a second a little guilt comes up your stomach, like you did something wrong by living your own life without him. But it disappears just as quickly because fuck that, what the hell is he doing in your house?!

"Simon, why the fuck are you here?" The lights turn on but it's like it's still dark, the atmosphere is. He slowly walks towards you as he speaks. "Waiting. For you." He slowly smiled at you, as he kept walking towards you. "How was your little date?" You swallowed. "None of your business. What the fuck are you doing in my house? Wh- why do you even have the damn key?!" You were frustrated. This is practically breaking in. You felt mixed emotions. You felt like you wanted to rip his head off for acting like this is his place, but it also scared you. His eyes gleamed with something much worse than just the intention of breaking in. It was an inhumane claim, staring deep into your soul, as if he was trying to engrave his own name into your head. "That's not the way you fucking talk to me, baby." His smirk dropped and he was in front of you. He breathed heavy, like a beast. He gripped your chin and not in a gentle way. "You're gonna get your pretty little fingers into your pockets, pull out your fucking phone, and text the bastard that you don't wanna see him again. Make an excuse for it for all I give a fuck. And after that, you're gonna get that sweet little ass into the bedroom, and-" "No, Simon." He let go of your chin. "No?" "No." He leaned next to your ear. Heavy breathing, silence. ... "Yes." He whispered, breathless. Snap. He gripped your chin harder in that moment, his hand finding it's way back to you, and he kissed you. He kissed you like he's never done it before, and he let go after a few seconds of your shock. His lips travelled down your neck, leaving purple marks, a reminder. Grabbing your ass with his other hand like it's his, like you belong to him. You don't. You want to believe you don't. But you let him use you, control you. He ripped your pants off like he needed to. It was rough, it was the usual, except it wasn't. There was something deep in his eyes, something you'd only see in a hungry man's eyes, a starving man's eyes. Desperation. He tore his own clothes off in a rush, like he was afraid you'd leave, disappear if he didn't. He didn't bother with getting you on the bed, the couch was good enough. Muttering, moans, as he looked at you with a need for your confirmation, like he needed it to live. Once he got your nod, he immediately slammed into you. But it was different this time. He wasn't rushing for release, he was rushing to mark you. He was rushing to make you his. Muttering words, like he needs your confirmation, "Tell me you're mine," "Promise me you're mine," "You were made for me baby, isn't that right love? Isn't tha' right.." Like he was begging for your answer each time. It felt wrong. It felt so goddamn fucking wrong, because it was different from all the other times. This time, He fucked you like he loved you. And you hated how real it felt. After he fucked you like there's no tomorrow, he sat up from the couch and grabbed his clothes, fixing himself up. He looked at your body laying there on the couch, and with that final look, he grabbed his shoes and left. After all, it was still just sex.

A/N: WHOOOOOOOOOooooooooo man i dont know what to even do with this to be really honest. I was just writing whatever i could and its a little rushed, so sorry. This is my second fiction and im SERIOUSLY trying to work my way up with my writing. This was fun writing, hope you guys have fun reading it too. Love ya'll, and I am gonna be working on part 2 on my last fiction. Have a great rest of your day<3

[oceantornadoo]

inspired by a dramoine fic i read! simon riley x f!reader

it’s the third time today someone has handed you simon’s paperwork and you’re starting to get confused. in fact, there’s the distinct feeling that you’ve missed a memo.

first, it was the visiting captain, so you couldn’t blame him for confusing lieutenants. but then it was johnny turning in his mission report, muttering something about “cannae be late this time if ah give it ye, lass.” which was odd, considering you weren’t his direct report (you were gaz’s). but what really sent you over the edge was getting called into price’s office and being met with a load of folders addressed to one Lt. Ghost (Confidential).

“sir, i’m a bit confused as to why you can’t just give these to him yourself.” price looked up from his desk, eyes flickering from under his boonie hat. “hav’ you seen ‘im today, lieutenant?” you nodded immediately while trying to scoop all of this paperwork (that was not yours!) into your arms. “yessir, i saw him before breakfast and then during training and then…what?” price had silently quirked an eyebrow, his beard echoing the movement. “i haven’t seen ‘im all day, so i figure it’s faster for you to deliver since you’re more well-versed in his movements than i am.” huh. “i’m sure he’s just doing his ghost thing, y’know? slipping into shadows and…”, price patiently gave you an exasperated look, “but i’ll get these to him, sir. see you later!”

the problem was, you knew exactly where simon was. in your office.

his own had an unfortunate ground level window near the track, so he was always complaining about nosy recruits until you offered to share some office space. temporarily, of course. it’s not like you were using all the empty space anyways and it made it much easier to get the opinion of your fellow lieutenant on a report by walking over to his desk, rather than going up and down stairs. that was the second point he made, and who were you to say no?

after pushing open your office door, you beelined for simon’s desk, dumping the stacks of folders on his desk. “wot’s this?” his mask was off so you could see his eyes widen at the mess of papers. “everyone now thinks i’m a drop off box for your paperwork, so i got burdened with all of this when i was doing my rounds.” he nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of his tea. “cheers, love.”

“what do you mean, cheers? don’t you think it’s odd for them to give me your paperwork? and why do we even have so much paperwork? i swear im drowning in it this week.” he snorted at your last sentence, opening the first folder in front of him while you rounded your desk, sitting in your comfy chair with a hmpf. “yer out an’ about more than me, tha’s all.” well, that was true. the infamous ghost was not known to be a sociable person on base. “i guess…” you turned to your old radio, passed down by a retired captain, and turned on simon’s favorite classical station.

“ya want mess or the pub tonight, love?” another great thing about being on base with simon - you never had to pay for dinner. “actually, that thai place we like is doing a special tonight.” he gave you a half-smirk, one cheek ticking up. “bloody raccoon. we had thai two nights ago.” you didn’t respond, instead blinking your best impression of puppy dog eyes at him. simon sighed, then shook his head at his desk. “olrigh’. the things i do.” you smiled and winked, dipping your head back down to your desk. “thanks, si.”

-

two weeks later, you were prepping for a duo mission with simon. price had been grilling the two of you for the past three hours, making sure you had everything memorized. satisfied, he leaned back in his office chair and rubbed his temples, the feeling of a headache coming on. “one more thing.” both of you snapped your head up at price, desperate to leave and eat. you’d already missed dinner and your stomach was complaining.

“the safe house is pretty small, basically a shack. one bed, no couch. i assumed ‘s fine since y’r datin-“ “‘s fine, captain.” simon cut him off, an out of character move that had you frowning. “it’s fine, cap. not like ive never slept on a floor before.” now price was frowning at what you said. he turned to simon, who shook his head imperceptibly before becoming still again. price’s brow furrowed but he didn’t push further. he got up from his chair, eyes flitting suspiciously between you two. “i’ll see you at 0600.”

“what was that about?” you whispered to simon after as you walked down the hall. “‘s nothin’.” you were missing something but it was so unclear what. “he thinks that we’re datin-“ “said it’s nothin’, sweetheart. he’s an old man. let’s get some food in you, yeah?” you nodded, letting him guide you to the kitchen. price wasn’t that old. and you were not dating simon riley.

-

the mission was beautiful, your best one in years. it was the first duo mission between you and simon, so the nerves of pulling your own weight had settled in hard. thankfully, your skills balanced each other out and you’d gotten the target in record time. now, all you had to do was wait in the safe house for exfil.

“you were so good.” you whispered once he’d locked the door. he only hummed a response, checking exit and entry points while you set up your packs, scrounging up MREs and testing the shack for electricity. price wasn’t kidding - it was practically a studio apartment. one bed, a bathroom and a decrepit stove. the soldier part of you was fine with it, but that small soft part of you ached for the warmth of your apartment. memories of yelling at simon for using all your shampoo even though he didn’t live there, of him running you a bath after a long day of training.

“you were good too, baby.” he snuck up from behind your spot on the floor and lifted you onto the mattress that had definitely seen better days. you hadn’t even checked it for bed bugs yet. “c’mere.” he pulled you into his lap, unbuckling your tac vest as you pulled off your bandana. you tugged off his mask - the hard shell since you were on a mission - and ran your nails through his short haircut. simon started kissing your neck, wet and sloppy like he couldn’t get enough. the unrestrained want he displayed sometimes scared you. the respective pulsing in both your chest and cunt scared you more.

“so are you sleeping on the floor or am i?” he flipped you over, your back flush with the mattress as simon loomed over you. there was still eyeblack around his eyes, caught on his blonde eyelashes as well, and you couldn’t help the hand that reached up to brush some of it away. “y’r funny, sweetheart.” you grinned at that - a real toothy smile. he bent down to kiss you, scarred lips caressing your own. simon bit your lip and you moaned, sliding your legs out from under him to wrap them around his torso. when you tugged him in he went willingly, grinding into your clothed cunt. his tac vest was still on, scraping against your shirt, hardening your nipples.

“keepin’ you in this bed all night.” cold fingers dipped past the waist of your pants. you were already wet, his fingers sliding easily up and down your slit as they warmed up. that’s when you realized he still had his glove on, his movements harsher than normal. wide eyes met his own, and simon stopped so you could make a decision.

it didn’t take much as you dug your heels into his back harder, meeting him in a sloppy kiss as his gloved thumb played with your clit. “fuckin’ made for me.” he whispered, and you chalked it up to dirty talk because obviously, you weren’t together. he just knew exactly what to do, giving your clit the right amount of pressure as his other fingers teased your hole, the stretch burning more than usual. it only took a few flicks and you were off, your orgasm settling through your bones like a warm cup of tea. “jesus, si.” he grinned, his scarred lips pulling up to show a beautiful smile. “know ya like th’ back of my hand, huh?” you shook your head, capturing the idiot in another kiss.

-

after the mission, after debrief and a hot shower, you made your way back to your base office. thankfully, paperwork had only slightly piled up. one envelope stood out though - a thick card-stock with glossy, swooping letters. an invite to london’s military gala, addressed to a Lieutenant & Lieutenant. simon’s name was next to yours, connected by a singular symbol. you turned to him in disbelief. simon had been going through his own backlog, but his head snapped up under the focus of your glare.

“simon, are we…dating?”

-

this was fun!!! check out the fic i linked it was so good and i couldn’t put it down.

[konigsm]

simon 'ghost' riley x f! reader

You said you'd never date a soldier-meant to deflect, not to lie. But Ghost heard it. And Ghost doesn't let things slide. Not when you're fucking him behind closed doors.

first scene based on that one tiktok from @/rxvengxrl been on my mind since foreverrrrr. rewrote this 3 times, I should be studying for finals 😣🙏. Enjoy this 1.7k mess.

It had started small—just another rare moment of downtime in the common room. Price nursed his tea in the corner, Ghost and Gaz were half-watching the footie, Gaz more focused on his phone. You and Soap were sprawled on the couch, swinging from one easy conversation to another.

He told you about his sisters, growing up in Glasgow, some nonsense about uniform regulations—and then later sometime he asked, “What d’you think about dating military men?”

You laughed. Easy. Dismissive. “Oh, no. I’d never.”

Not because it was true. But because it was safer that way. Safer than saying yes. Safer than inviting Soap’s curiosity. Ghost had been clear—keep it quiet, don’t give anyone a reason to start looking too closely.

But then you heard the shift. A faint rustle from the other side of the room.

You glanced—just for a moment—and caught his eyes. Ghost. Watching.

Only briefly. Then he turned away, smooth as ever, like it didn’t mean anything.

But your stomach dropped.

Were you… not supposed to say that?

°.•°`..°•`~.

Later that night, after dinner, there’s a knock at your door.

You already know who it is.Your stomach tightens—heavy, uncertain—and your fingers are still damp from the shower when you open it.

There he is. No gear, no mask. Just the black standard-issue tee stretched across broad shoulders, dark pants hanging loose at the hips. Short hair a little tousled. Face unreadable.

“Can I come in?” he asks, voice low.

You step aside without a word, letting him in.

He walks in like he always does—calm, quiet. You close the door behind him.

“Eat well?” he asks, tone almost casual.

It throws you off. Makes you hesitate. Because he never asks things like that. Not like that.

But he’s here. He’s calm. He looks fine. Maybe what you thought earlier was just you spiraling. Maybe the look in the common room wasn’t anything at all.

You nod. Try to maqtch his ease. “Yeah. I did.”

He just hums, like that’s all he needed to know. Settles into your bed.

You’re still standing by the door, hair a little damp against your skin. Ghost is on your bed, legs spread slightly, hands braced behind him, shoulders relaxed like he owns the space.

Then, without looking at you—like it’s just habit—he says, “Lock the door.”

Your hand moves before your brain catches up. The click of the lock sounds louder than it should.

A pause.

Then “Come here.”

You hesitate. Just for a second. Then step forward.

“Faster, love.”

It’s not sharp—more amused. But it punches right through your chest anyway. You move a little quicker, though the few feet between you feel like a stretch of no-man’s land.

You stand in front of him, heart thudding. He looks up at you with that unreadable expression, one brow arched just slightly.

Then, a low and deliberate “Sit down.”

You move to sit beside him on the bed, unsure, already lowering yourself when—

“Tsk.” A sharp littlpe sound of disapproval. He shifts, tilting his head just a bit. “On the ground, darling.”

Your breath catches. Just a beat. Then—p

You obey.

Knees brushing the floor. Looking up at him now.

And he looks down at you. Doesn’t say anything at first.

Just lifts a hand, rough fingers brushing along your cheek. The calluses catch on your skin, slow and deliberate. His touch is gentle in a way that makes it worse—like you don’t deserve the softness.

His thumb grazes one of the faint, healed scars near your jaw—leftovers from past missions. He sees them as something earned. Little victories.

You’re still looking up at him when his thumb shifts, presses against your bottom lip—just enough to part it. You stay still, breathing uneven.

Then he slips it in.

Slow. Purposwful. Thumb brushing against your tongue, tracing your gumline.

“Open,”

Your mouth parts a little more, and he presses down, pad of his thumb resting heavy on your tongue. A breath. A hum from him, low and knowing.

“Baby’s getting brave, yeah?”

You blink. Make a muffled little noise—questioning. Confused.

“Hm?” he says, thumb still in your mouth. “The common room, love. What was all that about?”

Your eyes go wide.

So it was about the common room.

Fuck.

His thumb rubs slow against your tongue, teasing more than anything. You don’t mean to react—but you do. Reflexive. Natural.

You suck, just a little.

His eyes darken. Not with surprise—he knew you’d do that. A flicker of a smirk. Barely there. “You’d never date a soldier, huh? That what you said, love?”

Your heart stutters. You shake your head, just slightly—like maybe that’ll undo it somehow.

But he doesn’t pull away.

He just watches you.

Waiting.

“You were gonna say more,” he says, voice soft but edged with steel. “They’re so what?”

His thumb slips out, slow and wet, dragging across your lip, wiping against your cheek, as he pulls back.

He tilts his head. Still calm. Still watching.

“Fucked up?” he murmurs. “Disposable? Not your type, eh?”

Then he moves. Subtle but sure. One booted foot lifts—presses between your thighs. Not hard. Just there. Crowding into your space.

“Say it again.”

“Simon—” you start, breath catching.

“No.”

“Say it again. Tell me you wouldn’t. Look me in the eyes this time.”

You try.

Your mouth opens, but the words don’t come. They’ve dissolved—ash on your tongue. Because you can’t say it.

His hand comes up, fingers curling around your throat—not squeezing, not hurting. Just enough pressure to ground you. To make sure you feel it.

His thumb settles over your pulse, dragging a slow circle. You know he can feel how fast your heart is beating

“Thought so,” he mutters.

Then he moves.

Bends low—not fast, not rushed—and his grip on your throat tightens just a touch, enough to pull you upward as he meets you halfway.

The kiss is firm. Heavy. A little messy. The angle’s off and it hurts—just slightly—pulling at your neck, your spine.

When he pulls back, he doesn’t go far. Just enough to look at you.

He grabs your arm, pulls you up off your knees with ease, and turns you—pressing your back against the bed. The mattress dips beneath you, your breath catching as he leans over, eyes dark, mouth still slick from your kiss.

“C’mon then,” he murmurs, fingers sliding under your shirt, slow and deliberate, “show me how you really feel about soldiers.”

You moan—quiet and breathy—without meaning to. And his eyes flash at that.

Shirt’s up and over before you can even think. He tosses it somewhere behind him.

His follows, and the moment it hits the floor, his dog tags swing down—glinting in the low light, dangling above your face.

You don’t even hesitate.

You lean up and bite it. Teeth against the cool metal, tugging gently.

He huffs a laugh—half smirk, half growl. “Ah, yeah?” he mutters, voice rough with want.

And then his hands are at your waistband, tugging down your pants like it’s his right. Like you’re his. Which, maybe, is half true.

His fingers find your cunt easily, slick and wanting, and he hums like he already knew what he’d find.

“Don’t date soldiers, huh?” he murmurs, fingers slipping between your folds, slow and deliberate. “But you let me do this to you?”

You gasp—sharp, desperate—as he slides two fingers in without warning. The stretch burns in the best way, and your hips buck before you can stop yourself.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Mouth says no. Body’s fuckin’ beggin’, love.”

Your reply’s a choked moan, head falling back against the bed, hands fisting in the sheets

But then he’s over you, lined up and steady, and when he finally pushes in—thick and deep—your back arches with a sob.

“Let me hear it again,” he growls, hips pressing flush to yours. “Go on. Say it.”

You try—but it’s all noise, no words, your mouth open and panting, brain slipping somewhere hazy and hot.

“Say it when I’m inside you.”

He shifts just slightly, angling his hips—and it hits dead-on.

“Fuck—!” you scream, the sound torn raw from your throat as he pounds into that spot over and over, unrelenting.

It’s too much. It’s everything.

Your body’s trembling, your vision blurring, and all you can do is hold on as he fucks you.

He's got one hand braced on the bed beside your head, holding himself steady as he drives into you, each thrust making the frame creak under the weight of him. His other hand moves up-gentle, almost reverent-pushing sweaty strands of hair out of your face so he can see you.

Really see you.

"That's it, love," he murmurs, voice thick with heat. "Scream for me."

Another thrust. Harder. Deeper.

"Let everyone fuckin' hear ya."

You sob, high-pitched and wrecked.

"Let them know whose cock you're takin'.

You'd like that, wouldn't ya?”

You nod-whimper-and he gives you another sharp thrust for it, making your whole body jerk.

Your climax crashes over you like a wave, sharp and devastating, your cry echoing off the walls. You clench around him, tight and shaking, and he groans—loud, deep in his chest—before burying himself to the hilt.

His hips stutter. One. Two. And then he’s gone with a growl, spilling inside you, pressing so deep it’s like he’s trying to leave part of himself behind.

For a long second, it’s just panting. Heat. Sweat. The smell of sex thick in the air.

Then he collapses forward with a grunt, his full weight settling on you like a goddamn boulder.

You squirm under him, breathless, still trembling. “Agh—fuck,” you groan, voice hoarse. “You’re heavy, y’know that?”

He huffs a laugh against your shoulder, not moving an inch. “You’re warm.”

“Simon.”

“Shh,” he murmurs, kissing your skin lazily, like he didn’t just ruin you completely. “Just a minute."

And even though you're still trying to catch your breath, you let him.

Because it’s Simon.

A minute he asks, you'll give him 5. (yes a 5, not a forever because you'll suffocate and die after 5 minutes)

Could u guys tell I get my bad humour from my Wattpad days (i can't seem to evolve)

[machveil]

as much as I love an angsty “FriendsWithBenefits!Ghost x Reader - Ghost keeps his distance and it creates angst with Reader. he doesn’t want to get too attached because what if he hurts them?” story… what about the goldmine that is “FWB!Ghost x Reader - Ghost keeps Reader close because they are friends, and he doesn’t want to push them away because… yeah, he needs Reader. he can’t imagine them not being in his life so he treats them like they’re his everything”

FWB!Ghost who still has trouble taking the balaclava off around you, but is comfortable doing it if you flick the lights off. as your friendship deepens he switches from the balaclava to a simple, black medical mask. that he’ll keep the lights on for. he’ll lean into your touch, eyes closed because he trusts you, as you run your hand through his hair. he’ll let you trace over the scars on his skin, maybe he can be convinced to let you dip your fingers under his mask

FWB!Ghost who cares for you all the same, if not more, after you’ve been together. he can’t imagine being cold towards you after sharing an intimate connection. you’ve been by each other’s side, pushing you away or leaving you alone sounds alien to him. he understands if you need some space while settling down, but he’s never out of sight, his warm, fond gaze on you. unless you need him to step out or leave he won’t, he doesn’t have the heart to go of his own volition

FWB!Ghost who doesn’t need anything more than friendship out of your relationship because, as he sees it, this has just strengthened your bond. your relationship with him was fine beforehand, but it’s perfect now. you’ve genuinely grown closer, and he values your friendship beyond anything else. he’s heard the 141 make remarks over, “Oi, when are you finally gettin’ together?”, but it genuinely confuses him because… you’re both genuinely happy together as just friends, and there’s nothing wrong with that in his eyes

[shotmrmiller]

✨Toni~✨

I come with an idea. I need more FWB! Simon. I need angst, I need to suffer from this man, I know he would do us so dirty.

Like imagine since the both of him and reader are non exclusive, but reader gets knocked up. She's panicking because she's on birth control, trying to figure out who she slept with last and it's HIM-

And maybe, just maybe the last time they slept together, they had a fight. Because this Mansss decided to leave us after an argument, because he had another 'appointment'.

So yeah know, now we got to tell this dick we're knocked up. And I don't know you can go from there, if you don't like this idea, delete it ignore it.🫠

BUT ANGST.

Thank you for your time, I love you Toni you rock like always! 💓

oh, so dirty.

esp if i use the fwb simon from the (platonic) cbf johnny au i got.

Johnny held your hand as you waited the 5 minutes for the results of the pregnancy test.

"What am I gonna do if it's positive, Johnny? I can't...I'm not ready to be a mum!" you sniffled and took in a shuddered breath. "What are the chances that I'm the 1%?"

His expression was solemn, thin lips set in a firm line. "Ye finally gonna tell me tha' the father is Simon or do ye wish to continue playin' yer little game?" Johnny rasped.

You rest your head on his shoulder and tiredly close your eyes.

"Was hoping I'd never have to tell you. It was supposed to be just a quick knocking of boots and then we both went my merry, his miserable, ways. But as per usual, I'm just dogged by misfortune."

The wait for the timer to ring had your heart slamming against your ribcage. The prospect of birthing a child you never even thought about having had bile rising up to your throat, leaving an acrid taste on your tongue.

You start at the piercing ring of the timer but don't move to get up.

Johnny, forever your hero, is the one who bites the bullet for you.

He gently flips over the stick, stares at it for a second, then drags a hand down his face. He also doesn't look at you as he utters, "So are ye gonna tell 'em?"

You hastily crawl over to the toilet bowl and empty your stomach.

Pregnant.

--

You told Johnny everything. How it started that one night when he had been over here for drinks, and you had put Johnny to bed because he'd gotten to sloshed, to propositioning him and then the weekly hook ups.

Well, almost everything. He didn't need to know that you gave Simon a sloppy toppy in his kitchen while he snored away that same night you asked him to fuck you.

And then how it finally ended. Simon getting redressed at witching hour because some other tart called him to go over. (your thighs had still been wet from his spend at that time)

So you had called him an unpaid whore; A worthless piece of meat— good for nothing other than cock— and told him that if he leaves, you and he are done.

He had huffed out a laugh, grabbed his motorcycle helmet off your dinner table, and walked out the door without a backward glance.

Johnny hadn't said a word the entire time, but then again, he didn't have to. His countenance said it all.

Disappointment.

He looked so devastatingly disappointed that your eyes welled with tears in seconds and spilled— one fat drop after the other until he pulled you into his arms and held you as you wept, your grief and anguish visceral.

--

"Ye've gotta tell him, bonnie. He has the right to ken."

You let out an aggrieved sigh. Again, with this. "No. He hasn't texted in weeks. Clearly, Simon doesn't give a damn about me. 'Sides, we don't need him when you're around."

A wave of dizzying nausea slams into you, and your world beings to tilt on its axis.

"Don't feel so good, Johnny, I think I need to sit down."

Strong arms catch you as your body crumples and everything goes dark.

--

You rouse from your sleep and find yourself in Johnny's bed with a sharp pounding in your head. Groaning, you turn over to your side and press your fingers into your temples— hoping to alleviate some of the pain when your phone's screen lights up.

Simon's calling.

Goddamnit Johnny. Bloody nosy parker.

You decline it and wait for his text. He's always hated when you ignored his calls on purpose.

And there it is.

Where you ever gonna tell me?

Nothing you need to know about.

No? I thought you were on birth control.

We don't need you.

That mean you're keepin' it?

My baby? Yes, obviously.

Our. Stay at Johnny's, I'm coming over.

No, no. Stay at your girl's house. We'll be just fine without you.

Cute. I'll see you in 10.

(lowkey wondering how he would react if you told him it's johnny's. lol)

[dewdrops-whammy-bar]

I think Mounty cries during sex, but only when he’s submissive. He gets three of Aether’s big fingers in him and he’s sniffling and whimpering because it just feels so so good. Cumulus rides him to the point of overstimulation and he’s got mascara tears streaming down his face (she had to make him into her princess beforehand ofc). He gets milked for the ghoul breeding program and he’s sobbing by the end of it.

[tempfrangit]

has someone already pitched a Candyman!Ghost x Reader fic?

Like Reader as a grad student looking into the ghost story of well… Ghost, sure everyone knows he was really named Simon Riley and he’s definitely dead now (right?), but the name still sparks fear in Manchester.

Reader’s whirlwind romance with her former professor hasn’t continued the way she expected, yes he’d left his wife and children and married her, but she feels like he’s distant, so she’s looking for some kind of distraction from the dull colors of her life. When she and her best friend (and hopeful co-author) decide to investigate Ghost’s home — a former butcher shop carcass left to rot. It would likely never reopen in anyway unless it was gutted and flipped, all of the buildings beautiful original designs torn out rather than attempted to save. You couldn’t help yourself from looking around, and there was such a delicious thrill in looking the rooms over.

You don’t know what possess you to look into the smashed mirror in the loo, smile playing at the edges of your lips as you caught sight of the original tiles, still so beautiful despite the time that had passed. The sight of yourself makes you sigh, brows pinching together as you touch that girl’s cheek.

“Simon Riley.”

It’s barely a whisper as you recite the supposed spectre of fear and vengeance.

When you hear your friend call you name, ask what you’d found, you turn to look behind you — and your eyes must have been playing tricks on you, because you swore for a moment a hulking man was just behind you? A shiver shudders through you

[ftmsimonriley]

i really do think gaz and ghost have a "my boyfriend's boyfriend" type relationship. like they don't have a lot in common, don't talk much or hang out by themselves that often, but they have a mutual respect based on the fact that price trusts them. ghost was already there when gaz started being price's protégé, and ghost trusts price's judgement sometimes even more than his own. their relationship strengthens when soap gets introduced, because he's definitely gaz's bestfriend and partner in crime, and someone (read: ghost) has to keep them out of trouble and so he gives them more reasons to encounter each other.

gaz eventually learns that when everything's too much, he can't sleep, and his mind won't leave him alone, ghost has an uncanny ability to find the calmest and furthest spots to chill in that become more predictable the more he seeks him out. there's eventually more than enough times that he nods off while sitting somewhere with ghost, only to wake up back in his bed.

[vultursvolans]

he’s criminally insane but at least the sex is good

[oceantornadoo]

mean!simon riley who’s not someone you’d introduce to your family. he’s a bit cruel, likes to see the bird under him crying or near it, scratching his back. he’s not used to watching his tone or putting in effort, simply doesn’t want to. for some odd reason, though, he wants to with you.

first time he fingers you, he’s a bit too rough, doesn’t understand your body yet. “hurts, simon,” and while usually, he’d fingerfuck someone past the pain, he doesn’t like the tears swelling in your eyes. “i’m sorry, baby.” he kisses your forehead sweetly, pulling back his efforts until you’re sopping wet, welcoming him eagerly. funny how it’s better for the both of you when he takes his time.

he’s half an hour late to a dinner date. took longer to wrap things up on base, and usually he’d cancel the date in favor of his right hand or a try at a pub, but he wants to see you, specifically. simon doesn’t stop to question the why behind it, the way he’s rubbing at a space behind his chest.

when he gets to the restaurant, he catches you leaving, wiping at what suspiciously look like tears. “love.” he calls it out gruffly from far away, noting how your head pops up with hope. “you’re late.” he nods, walking closer until he’s in your orbit. “‘m sorry. forgot to text.” you shake your head, looking back at the restaurant. “the waiter had the most pitying look, si. like i’m just one of those people who gets stood up.” he shushes you, tucking you into him. he’s not used to these soft moments and tries to emulate what he’s seen on a screen. “let’s get some takeaway and eat at mine, yeah? let me make it up to you.” there’s a suspicious weight in his chest that lessens when you give him a small smile. simon decides not to question it. too much mental trouble.

-

more bad date simon at the bottom of this

[samuelroukin]

yeah there's an agenda. I got reminded that people think pits are weird and there are only 3 gazprice pit fics out of a whopping 38 cod pit fics on ao3

and yes they definitely put something in ghoap but don't price and gaz deserve a little treat as well? I still keep the memory of your mistletoe fic close since I think your gazprice fics were what I looked at first after reading "no face, no case" (I find cod writers/fics that also include or mention other ships like gazprice, alerudy, pricenik, etc are a little more engaging since the other characters are usually a bit more developed) and also all of your writing makes me want to rip cardboard to shreds with my teeth

i stay stuck on there only being 38 pit fics because who doesn't enjoy some sweaty military dudes...........for shame

the thing is i do like writing other pairings or just including them but the lads are the lads and the worms crave one meal above all 🤷‍♂️

[lunarw0rks]

hey girlie,

you're literally the best thing that happened to this fandom, ilysm, never stop writing, mwah

i had a headcanon idea/au idea from the op poster of fwb!ghost

so this is in the timeline of where you and simon have had this arrangement for a while and he's already fully aware he is down bad for you. i'm talking you're his everything, he won't love again, if not you then no one type of endgame. this means he is not seeing anyone else, everyone is turned down. you, unknowingly feel the same way but you're dealing with the exact opposite way. you're dating around, trying to find anyone who could mimic if not a sliver of what you're feeling for simon. you land on dating this dude who is... mediocre at best.

you break things off with simon, both of you leaving heartbroken but simon still remains your friend.

he's nice, but he isn't simon. he's good, but he isn't simon. you get him to meet the 141 who are possibly more surprised that you're dating anyone than you were. (what you don't know is that everyone knew you and simon were a 'thing' they were just waiting for the two of you to get your head out of your ass. price was the only one who knew because, for the first time, simon came heartbroken, searching for comfort from the only person he could think of. it was a rough night)

"this is james," you introduce him awkwardly and it doesn't get better from there. james isn't rude but he tries to match up to the guys which doesn't work. he brushes you off and simon keeps glaring at him like james was the sole reason for this evening being a shitshow (he is correct)

on your way to your apartment, james is standoffish and rude. he keeps mentioning the fact that you work with only guys, that he shouldn't allow that as a boyfriend, blahblah whatever. it turns into an argument and it doesn't get better.

to establish his masculinity (his words) he becomes rude and even misogynistic at times. he picks at your outfits, your cooking, baking, you name it he was an asshole about it. you complain to the guys and each time are met with a stern "leave him". which yes you should, but who would be left?

simon hates james with a burning passion. it wasn't even so much so that you were dating someone else, it was the fact that james treated you like trash when you were meant to be treated like gold, the finest treasures in the whole world. he scowled whenever he was mentioned and you two would often argue about your relationship. it goes as far as the two of you not talking to each other for over two weeks.

it isn't until you find out james is cheating that you break things off with him. he was going behind your back with multiple women and his flimsy excuse was that "you didn't have time for him and you cheated with the 141 anyway". you cried and threw him out, breaking up with him then and there. it was messy and bad, and you have never felt more awful. you and simon weren't even on speaking terms and yet you needed him.

you called him sobbing and you've never seen him come as fast as he did. you're pretty sure he broke speeding limits to get to you. you cried into his arms, telling him the whole story finishing it with the fact that you were never good enough. simon tries to tell you otherwise but through some miscommunication, you're arguing again and you're telling him you're unlovable until simon just shouts

"for fucks sake i love you, you idiot!"

silence. just pure silence until you throw yourself on him, kissing him deeply.

anyway, thank you for reading, hope it wasn't all that long, i just love ghost and angst a lot <3

🤍🩶🤍 *mwah smooch smooch* back to you. tysm for the love and support. that made my day, even though seeing “hey girlie” made me nervous at first LOL 🤍🩶🤍

we have a new character to the fwb!ghost timeline, and i hate him (in a good way). is it bad that i want ghost to beat him to a pulp in a back alley? just me? is this thing on?

you’re in simon’s bed that night, peacefully sleeping. all while he’s driving home with bruised knuckles. he gets home and climbs into bed with you, and you unintentionally wake up…

steamy things happen… and you notice his knuckles in the heat of the moment, but are quickly distracted by simon’s overwhelming intimacy; before you can connect the dots. he always has new bruises, new injuries — it comes with the job.

it’s sick of you to be even more aroused, watching those large, bruised hands squeezing and claiming your flesh.

and deep down, a part of you knows…

[pissmoon]

Men you had the worst hookup of your life with always act all cocky taking second time for granted and act like ur crazy if u say you dont want it

[nemo-me-impune]

Should I post another unfinished fic on ao3 or should I just let it languish on my hard drive for eternity

[rubberplane]

ive definitely talked about this story before but the one time i dated like just a regular cis girl i threw up on all three of our dates in a row. and then i broke up with her LOL OOPS SORRY

[cas-backwards-tie]

Oof. I know it’s gonna be awhile anyway bc of work but I’m still writing & always thinking, planning-

Recently I’ve been getting more into Johnny and John and Gaz and 😭 idk what turned me off of Keegan and maybe it’s the way everybody’s been hating König (or the fact that I fell in love with Vlad 🙊) but

Now I just keep thinking about changing the original plot of possibly taking it from (spoilers! kind of?) Solely having Simon and Reader be FWB, her falling, getting crushed, then the two of them distancing for awhile as she simultaneously falls for König who’s actually what she wants and is looking for, but Simon fell harder and now actually sees what he wants, which is her.

But then I also had Keegan too and that was a little side drama but I don’t think that needs to change. Can still happen.

But now I’m thinking of changing it and 😭 rip. I have too many ideas. Like because (this is actually spoilers but bc of setup) Soap would overhear regardless of changes or not Simon & Reader together. But what if he gets jealous and doesn’t just wanna be friends with reader? What if he wants some, too? What if he’s actually a better match with reader than König is? 😭 What if he screws up by trying to make the FWB he has with reader, (which she also has one with Simon too) more than it is, without talking about it and she runs to König. Maybe she thinks she wants König and he falls for her, but maybe… maybe it’s Johnny who actually makes her a better person. Maybe as much as he enrages her and makes her laugh, and cry, and swoon… maybe he’s the one she loves. Idk.

Now I’m so torn 😭 like fucking RIP. Because at this point and with the other ideas going off in my brain last night it was gonna be a whole COD universe fic bc 🤷‍♀️ wth. Like alright. Already was gonna be messy ash w just the triangle and tiny square going on but… a pentagon is… unfathomable. Ridiculous. Unacceptable. Unbelievable and ludicrous. Not happening. No way. No sir-ee. Not in my house. In my story. Like oof.

I really don’t know what way to take it and I just am dying and wish I had someone to bounce board the ideas off 😭❤️🥺