#ghost!y/n

[succubusvalentine]

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

Edit! ~ there's a part 2 you thirsty animals ⟢ right here! ❤︎

[mcntsee]

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

[itsoutrageouss]

It’s the first time Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley sees you cry that something in him changes profoundly. You had always had your different skill sets out on the field, it was what made you such a powerful duo for the task force. You were sly, agile, a killer in the dark and he was a brute show of force and strength, able to kill with his bare hands. You argued a lot, though. Your differences that made you work so well also made you clash time and time again. He found you annoying. You found him arrogant.

But after a mission, Ghost finds you collapsed on the floor in an empty building— Crying. He’d never seen you do that before, but he knew you were a softer more sensitive soul, you were just good at hiding it.

He was moving before he realised it, crouching down in front of you, eyes narrowed as he tried to find your gaze that was lost in a heap of warm tears. His hands got clammy and his throat dry because how could he make it stop? It was like the sight had reached in and seized a part of him long gone, maybe one he’d never found before now.

“Stop crying.” He said foolishly, but his tone had lost its usual edge, and the very rare lilt of pleading had laced into his voice. Why did he suddenly grab your shoulders and press your trembling body into his? He had no clue but he wanted to shield you from whatever had made you look so vulnerable before him.

A part of him didn’t like seeing this, didn’t recognise the garbled sound of soft sobs, the way your body’s strength seemed to evaporate into a fragile, soft one that he wanted to pick up and put back together. Another part of him was sucking in this moment, afraid it would get lost and maybe feeling a bit guilty about it. But this feeling of… was it protection? Protection, yes. He’d never had it like this before. Usually, protecting means killing and hurting. Right now it meant nurturing as your small hands reached around his neck and you curled into him. He reacted immediately, sitting down and scooping you into his lap.

He closed his eyes, his chin resting on your head with a sigh. He had no idea what came next. This had to change your dynamic in some way because he couldn’t ever look at you the same. He saw your softness and maybe he fell in love with it right there, and wanted to be the one you showed it to. Only him.

“Im sorry” You whispered into his chest. His hands flexed around you, fighting the urge to smother you even more against him.

“Dont say that. Just keep holding onto me.” His voice was more hoarse than usual as his fingers unconsciously combed through your hair.

Whatever had happened, he was sure you felt it too, or you would’ve never let him this close. And he wished for everything you would let him again one day.

series masterlist

[amaranthinespirit]

husband!simon riley follows you around like a lost dog 24/7.

whether it be in the comfort of your own home, or out in public, the man is basically your shadow. like a moth to a flame, he is the moth and you're his flame.

it doesn't matter where you saunter off to, chances are, he's stomping right after you. Around your house, he's following you to every room.

need the bathroom? keep the door open, he'll lean against it with his arms crossed over his chest, either watching you silently or tapping away on his phone.

cooking in the kitchen? he's hovering over your shoulder. you can't count the amount of times on one hand you bumped into his broad, brutish chest, stepped on his foot, or, definitely not on purpose, whacked his groin with a small pan. still, he never learns.

watching TV in the living room? you best bet he's going to sit his big ass right next to you. even if you're on the single person armchair, he'll squish you into the armrest if it meant being next to you.

showering? not without him because he'll join you, and find a way to release pent-up need at the same time, that is if you aren't already stressed that day, then he'll just wash your hair and run a relaxing bath for you to soak in peace afterwards.

In public, people give him weird side glances, numerous occasions where you've had concerned folks tap you on your shoulder and give a small point over your shoulder, to which you reply sweetly with the biggest smile on your face, "oh, that's just my husband!"

he keeps a thick finger hooked into the waistband of your pants, or shorts, or looped in one of your belt loops to keep you near him. since you're much smaller than him, it can be easy for you to get lost in big crowds, and this just assures simon that you're never out of reach.

it's a funny thing to watch for the guys to watch, observing their lieutenant follow you around aimlessly like a big puppy, eyes soft as he gazes down at you, sharpening when another person approaches or observing.

you think it comes from never being able to control his surroundings, his obsessive need to keep you safe, more so now that you have a wedding ring on your finger, forever tying you to him. not physically, but he wouldn't hesitate to if it meant keeping you safe.

[readwritealldayallnight]

“Simon.” You mumble against his muscular chest, face squished into the fabric of his shirt.

“Yes, love?”

“Is this attempted murder?”

“No, love.” He grumbles sleepily, his heavy weight only pressing further into where he has you pinned beneath him. “‘M just hugging’ ya…” his sentence ends in a yawn, covering up the sound of your groan in protest.

“Si, this hug feels like attempted murder.” You could attempt to wriggle out from underneath him, but that’s a lost cause and you know it.

Bending your knees, you slide your bare feet up the back of his calves.

“Fuck!” He shouts, finally fully waking up and rolling off you. He doesn’t go far though, landing next to you on the mattress and instantly pulling you into his embrace. “Fuckin’ toes are freezin’. You got any feeling left in those feet o’ yours?”

“None at all, actually. Glad you asked. You can massage them for me.”

“With pleasure. One o’ them happy endin’ massages, aye?”

[musouie]

sending simon a “care package” while he’s on deployment, but in lieu of non-perishable food and toiletries, you send him erotic photos and his favourite pair of your lace knickers.

he thanks you the following afternoon with a string of blurry videos of him jerking off in his bunk, muffled moans escaping clamped lips and a massive, veiny hand pumping his flushed cock.

when he comes, his meaty thighs tremble, as does the camera. you don’t see much, save for the splatter of white against his skin as he groans and sighs — a bestial thing ripped from his throat — and your knickers wrapped around him.

and when he returns from deployment, with pallor skin and sunken eyes, he leaves no room for you to question what could be wrong — because the second he enters your home, he’s forcing you against the wall and fucking your starved cunt for as long as he can manage, making up for all those precious months lost :(

masterlist <3 . . . newest feral!simon

[khioneee]

simon doesn't bother with warnings—he slips behind you, flips up your skirt, and moves your panties aside like it's second nature. the moment his cock sinks into you, there's no hesitation, no restraint—just relentless, pounding thrusts that leave you gasping, struggling to stay upright as your legs threaten to give out beneath you.

and when he spills inside, he doesn't stop— he keeps going, fucking you harder, using his cum as lube, each thrust drawing out another desperate moans. ‘i'm not done yet, love,’ he growls, his hands gripping your hips, holding you exactly where he wants you. ‘i'll leave you when i feel like it—and not a second sooner.’

by the time he's finished, you're a shaking, dripping mess—legs weak, panties soaked, and mind blissfully wrecked.

[luminni]

Simon has a favorite jumper. It's simple, black wool, fits him well, and he wears it all the time. Only problem is, he wears the thing all the time. He's had the thing for years and it's practically all he wears when he's on leave. By this point, the poor thing is threadbare, little holes around the armpits, the neckline, and the cuffs. It's pilling everywhere and it's covered with dog hair (from where, he has no clue).

You loved the jumper on him, he looked fantastic in it, but even you could see the thing was in a dire situation.

"Simon?" You questioned, holding up the jumper in your arms, folding it after its last round in the wash (which it mercifully survived).

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever...thought about getting this thing dry cleaners?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Don't trust 'em, they'll ruin it."

It was a simple answer, one that told you the subject wasn't up for debate. But just because he didn't trust the dry cleaners with his jumper didn't mean he wouldn't trust anyone with it. And there was no one he trusted more than you.

...

Simon came home from his last deployment late into the night, trudging through the front door and setting his bag down as gently as possible as to not wake you. Toeing his shoes off and finally being able to tug off his mask, he couldn't wait to get out of the rest of his gear.

Stepping lightly through the house, dodging the floor boards he knew were going to be squeaky on his journey to the bedroom. Ready to join you in bed the moment he got into a pair of sweat pants.

When he opened the bedroom door however, he did not find you tucked away in the covers. You were crouched on the floor, humming along to quiet music playing on a small speaker. And you were bowed over that black jumper of his.

"Love?"

"Oh! Simon you're home!" You squealed, jumping up and throwing yourself into his arms, snuggling your face into his chest and drinking in the scent you had been without for so long like you could get drunk off it, and in many ways you could.

"Hey there sweet'art" he cooed, practically purring it into your ear and enclosing you in a big bear hug. "What'er ya' up to?"

"Oh just..." you turned back around, anxiety lacing your voice, "doing a little repair work." You handed him his black jumper, folding it into his hands.

He could believe his eyes, it was smooth like it was new, no pills of fabric clinging to it. The tiny, threadbare areas and holes were patched up. Now, perfectly matched black wool was weaved in to fix it. He stared at you, wide eyed, in disbelief while you just grinned nervously. He brought it up to his face, no dog hair to be seen and it smelt like you had just picked it up off the shelves.

He kept on staring at you "how..?"

"I just," you turned back around, grabbing the sweater trimmer, the replacement wool, the sweater scent spray, and the lint roller, all in your hands. "Used a couple things" You grinned

Simon could have sworn he never felt this way before. There was this weird tightness in his chest, it felt like it was going to explode. He had owned that sweater when he Tommy was still alive, that sweater had seen the first pub crawl with the 141 boys, he wore it on your first date. The sweater was more than just something he wore often, it was his good memories wrapped up into one piece of soft and comfortable wool. His arms moved before he could stop them and he buried you in another hug, squeezing you (and his jumper) into him.

"Oh- Simon!" You giggled, dropping your supplies.

He buried his nose into you shoulder, lifting you up into him, off your feet.

"Thank you," he murmured, voice cracking a bit, "thank you."

[thebookbutterfly]

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

[manicrouge]

'I'm too old to do anythin' like that now,' Simon says, shaking his head.

'But daddy,' whines the little girl standing in front of him, her small hands tugging at his black t-shirt, 'mummy was telling me all about how you a- and my uncles used to save the world and I wanna learn cause I wanna be just like you!'

He lifts his head, spying you standing in the doorway with a bright grin on your face. 'What you tellin' her that for?'

'Because she wants to know how to beat the boys in the street when they're having water fights,' you say, 'thought your military experience would come in handy.'

'They're always laughin' at me,' she pouts, 'and sayin' I can't fight cause I'm a girl.'

There's a switch that is flipped at her confession and when he looks to her and then raises his head to look at you, you swear you're looking at the Lieutenant instead of your husband.

'Is that so?' he asks, to which your daughter nods her head quickly. He holds his hand out to her and she takes it happily. 'We'll teach them to mess with a Riley, ey sweet pea?'

[circe69]

young, tall, slender, and stupid-in-love simon riley, who’s first mission was to bring you back to the base like a fucking package. the task force had never negotiated with captives on the line, but there’s a first time for everything.

with a sack over your head and your hands tied behind your back, a gruff man yelled out in the rain pouring down above you.

“you’ve got such a perky set for someone so fucking whiny”

“fuck you” you spat, the man wasted no time to grab the sack by his closed fist and yank it clean off your head.

the masked man stared directly into your eyes, his were dark, lit by lust and pure fire. the rain pouring around you did nothing to put a stop to his stare, but as you stared back, his demeanor changed by a singular degree.

“you better watch your fucking mouth,” he grabbed you by the neck and squeezed, causing a raspy squeal to escape your lips, “or i might just have to leave your pretty ass here”

you squirmed underneath the weight of his hand, “be better then going with you.”

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you,” simon dragged you by the throat to the ajar car door like a kitten, “just get in the fucking car” he followed behind you, managed to sneak a squeeze from your ass as he hauled in.

simon riley, who makes himself comfortable with you perched on his lap for the duration of the long car ride. your rain-soaked shirt was torn off hours ago, and simon’s lips haven’t managed to get enough of your pretty nipples.

“mmph, such a pretty pup for letting me - fuckk - letting me taste you”

his hands grabbed and squeezed everywhere - your hips, your ass, that pretty belly of yours.

“too bad you’re such a brat”

you grind your hot cunt on his length in retaliation and moaned, “you like it”

simon’s lips crashed onto yours out in an instant, swallowing your breath and any further remarks. you fisted his mask and tore it off completely before threading your fingers through his dirty blonde hair and tugging.

“ungh, fuck you, takin’ off my mask like you own me.”

you snickered into the kiss as his hand snuck under the waistband of your pants.

“want you to own me, pretty.”

[succubusvalentine]

Simon Riley who never gets mad at his wife. No matter how angry he is. CW : None. Pure fluff

Simon was practically fuming. First he'd been ordered by Price to train a group of new recruits, then, the young recruits decided to be a colossal pain in the ass, and to top it off, he'd missed his lunch break where he would normally have some respite by calling you.

So now, he was shouting at the recruits. More than usual. The recruits all looked dead on their feet. But Simon didn't care, they decided to be annoying little pricks. They needed discipline or they'd never make it in the military.

"For fucks sake, you mongrel! Run ten laps!" Simon roared at a recruit, the others looking nervous. Not wanting to be the next one to face Simon.

"Uh, sir?" One of the recruits squeak.

"What?!" Simon roared, the recruit pointing behind Simon.

Simon turned with a low growl, clearly not in the mood for anymore antics, only for him to look down and see you. His wife, in a pretty little sundress and holding a Tupperware container full of something. It didn't matter what was inside, his stomach was growling at the thought of your cooking.

"Swee'heart" Simon sighed in relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing and his arms wrapping around your waist. He relished in the squeak that came from you as he lifted you up and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"You alright, big guy?" you giggle. Simon grumbling in agreement. Making you laugh again.

Simon set you down, barking at the recruits to find Price and that he'll be taking over the training, before walking behind you with his hands on your waist to guide you to his office.

"Si, if you're busy I can go" you offer, and Simon can barely handle how fucking sweet you are to him.

Simon shook his head, taking off his balaclava and sitting in his office chair. Pulling you to sit on his lap.

"Made you some cottage pie" you grin, opening the container in your hands and handing it to Simon. God it was still warm. "I thought you were gonna yell at me with how mad you were at the recruits"

"Would never yell at you, princess" Simon said, rubbing your hips as you fed him a forkful of the cottage pie. He groaned at the taste, making you giggle.

"good?"

"so fucking good, lovie. Needed your cooking after how shit today has been" Simon smiled, bringing your left hand to his lips and kissing your wedding ring gently.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

btw guys I pulled white lily cookie and dark cacao cookie while writing this :p

[mimisplayground]

Ghost who fucks NASTYYYY, he gets so sweaty and he’s licking the tears off your face, licks away sweat on your neck.

NASTY!! Has got you in a tight grip, one arm wrapped around your throat and the other wrapped tight around your waist to move your body against his as he thrusts harshly. Can barely moan because you feel like he’s stealing all the air from your lungs.

Licks your teeth until you open up and let him kiss you. Barely lets you breathe between kisses. When he gets close he just starts to thrust harder. Going as far as to get a foot on the ground for better leverage to pound into you.

Finally cums inside of you, rubbing you until you cum too. Loves the overstimulation of you squeezing around him after he’s painted your insides. Lets out the closest thing he could to a whine from the feeling, pressing his body as tightly against you as he can while he bites into your shoulder.

God he’s so gross and nasty i love him….

[konigbaby]

I'M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH | via vhenan_virabelasan on insta এ

[simonz-angel]

simon who gets off on your pretty face… literally

your eyes sparkle up at him, diamonds cutting through the pretty iris, your plush, swollen lips grinning up at him. it dimples your cheeks, swells the apples that flush in a sweet pink.

and his cock slaps, tapping at that pink and drags, dragging against your skin nice n hot. it was crude, letting him bathe you down with the flushed length of him, letting him drag and slide his cock over your pretty face.

“stop grinnin’, bun,” he chuckles, taking the pretty pearls of precum n dragging em cross your lips in a pasty lipgloss. “not fillin’ your mouth tonight.”

you pout, letting your tongue catch at the sensitive tip of his cock, sucking the sweetness off your lips with a soft moan. and it has simon sucking his teeth, eyes taking you in with some kind of supernova, your sweet impurity breaking him down.

and he pats at your face with his freehand, digging the ball of his hand up into your cheek with a sick satisfaction, watching your skin pull and face drag up with his touch.

“keep it closed, you hear me?” he snarks, grabbing you suddenly at the back of the neck and pressing himself further into your cheek lewdly. “always so fuckin’ greedy.”

[readwritealldayallnight]

‘Really really weird request, I know’

‘But could you please pick up a pregnancy test or two on your way home?’

‘I’ll explain when you’re here xx’

Gaz and Soap’s heads turn towards the sound of their Lieutenant dropping his phone to the floor.

“All good there, LT?” Gaz asks, watching as Ghost stands apparently stupefied to the spot where he stands, still staring at his empty hand where his phone had been.

“Look like you’ve seen a Ghost.” The Scot snickers to himself, earning an eye roll and a half-hearted swat to the chest from his fellow Sergeant.

Ghost finally snaps himself out of his shocked daze, grabbing his phone off the ground and silently sprinting out the door in the blink of an eye.

By the time he’s made it to his front door, a shopping bag carrying two of each brand of pregnancy test he could find at the closest shop dangling from his fist, Ghost is scrambling to get his key in the lock and find you wherever you are in the flat.

The normally ever so stoic man finds himself struggling with the mundane task, his mind in a frenzy over the idea of there being a baby inside you. A baby he put inside you.

It seems you’ve been just as eager for his return home, because you hear him at the door, unlocking and swinging it open for him.

“Oh thank god you’re here. She’s been a wreck all morning, hasn’t let me leave her to run to the shop myself.” You blabber, standing up on your tippy toes to quickly press a kiss to his still mask covered cheek, snatching the bag from his hand at the same time.

He is standing there stunned, when he spots who he recognizes as your best friend sitting on the couch in the living room, surrounded by wadded up tissues, obviously appearing as though she had just been crying.

“What-”

“She’s worried it’s her ex boyfriend. From before they had broken up.” You whisper quickly in his ear, thinking that you’re simply catching him up to speed as to why he had to go and fetch a test for your friend to use.

Unbeknownst to you, you’ve turned Simon’s world upside down for the second time today, all in less than a half hour.

As he watches you walk towards your friend with the dozens of tests in hand, he wonders if he can’t stash away a few for the two of you to put to use yourselves.