#simon riley x yn

[celestialprincesse]

I like to think that when Simon eventually settles down, he marries a slightly strange, mildly autistic super genius who's known for just sort of knowing everything. They're the one person forced to sit out in pub quizzes and asked how to word or spell things correctly when the guys are writing work emails. Their whole thing is knowing something about everything.

Or, most things, at least.

Simon soon learns, that whilst his spouse is killer at trivia and knowing stuff, that's about as good as it gets.

"How do I write a cheque?" Leaves him literally baffled, perhaps even more than the one time they'd revealed to him that they didn't know how online banking worked.

"It tells you - on the paper."

"Yeah but - I don't know my bank details." They respond to his incredulity like an adult not knowing their own bank details is the most natural thing in the world.

"What do - how do you get paid without knowing that?"

"My dad set it up for me - I just figured the money goes in every month."

The sudden realisation that his partner is deadly serious hits Simon like a truck. If they don't even know how to access their bank, how have they done taxes and paid off their credit cards?

"And when the money goes out - like, say, when you pay your taxes?" He questions with anxious patience, sitting opposite them at the kitchen table.

"I thought you paid our taxes."

"But I thought you paid them. That's been like your one job since we got married."

He signs them up for one of those old people online banking courses like a week later.

[irishghosts]

thinking abt a zombie au where simon meets nurse!reader who gets mad at the task force for killing infected. they all think she's fucking crazy but she's not only been locked up in a hospital with no living to talk to since the beginning but she's immune and doesn't know the bites turn people. she's been treating several infected like sick patients the whole time thinking they just need treatement

[i-am-just-a-slut-for-simon-riley]

Simon Riley Drabble 😭✨? Just some good old fashioned semi angst to fluff ✨

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! ──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! ──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! ──★

Simon Riley was an enigma—a ghost in every sense of the word. A man who existed in the spaces between shadows, carefully constructing an ironclad wall to keep the world out. His heart, locked in an icy prison, had long since forgotten the warmth of kindness, the softness of light.

And then there was you.

You, with your relentless optimism and that dazzling, sunlit smile. You, with your unshaken "Yes! Can do!" attitude that defied the weight of the world. Where Simon was steel and silence, you were warmth and laughter, a stark contrast to the battlefield that had shaped him.

And in his merciless world of black and white, you were all the colour he knew he didn’t deserve.

He knew from the moment he met you—knew it in the marrow of his bones, in the far and few places untouched by war and death—that you were different. Special. A flicker of something he hadn’t dared to believe in for a long time.

Then came a mission. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the regular routine of spinning up , being stranded in a dry deserted terrain in the middle of god know’s where, putting down targets. Just a very simple mission.

Expect it wasn’t.

Four months. Eight days. Three hours. That was how long he'd been gone. And when he finally returned, it was in body alone. His mind, his soul—whatever was left of them—remained trapped in the places he'd been, lost in the echoes of gunfire and the scent of blood.

Simon was no stranger to this feeling, this quiet unraveling. He could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, thick and suffocating. The violence, the screams, the viscous crimson-stained dirt—it all bled together after a while, until nothing felt real anymore.

That was the job. To sever himself from humanity so others didn’t have to. To fight in the dark so others could thrive in the light. And Simon had done it dutifully, without hesitation, without question.

But then there was you.

And suddenly, he wasn’t sure if he could keep paying the price.

One moment, you were at the door, bright-eyed and eager, your heart swelling with relief at the sight of him. He was home. Finally.

The next, you were caught in a storm you hadn’t seen coming—spiraling headfirst into an argument that ignited too fast, burned too hot. Words, sharp as knives, were hurled like weapons, slicing through the fragile space between you. Your first real fight, raw and unrelenting, laid bare in all its blazing, destructive glory.

Simon never raised his voice. He never had to.

The frost in his tone was enough. Each word, clipped and cold, carried the weight of a blade pressed against your skin, cutting deep, deeper than any shout ever could. It was the quiet, the carefully controlled edge of his words, that shattered something inside you. Because silence could wound just as deeply as rage. And no one wielded it as lethally as Simon did.

And then came the final nail in the coffin.

Months of absence had already carved deep fissures into the fragile foundation between you. Months without the solace of your touch, without the warmth of your body to sink into when the weight of the world became too much. Without your gentle hands coaxing him out of the frozen terror that gripped him in the middle of day. Without your voice—soft, steady, unwavering—pulling him back from the abyss of his nightmares.

It all came to a head in that moment, every unspoken thought, every doubt, every buried fear boiling over into one undeniable, blasphemous conclusion:

You deserved better.

Better than the ruin of a man who had forgotten how to be anything but a soldier. Better than the never ending bitterness and the drawn out silences, the bloodstains he could no longer wash away and the scent of death that clung to him like a second skin. Better than someone who knew how to fight ugly wars but not how to hold on to something as delicate as love.

And so, like the fool he was, he convinced himself that the kindest thing he could do was let you go.

"Just fuckin’ admit it!" he snarled, his voice raw, teetering on the edge of something far more dangerous than anger. "Just say you don’t want me! You know it’s true. Go on, then—walk out. You know you want to."

Caramel eyes, once rich with warmth, were nothing but black voids now—hollow, empty, a storm raging behind them. His body was wound tight, muscles coiled like a cornered animal, bracing for the inevitable blow.

So, of course, you walked.

Not because you wanted to, but because for the first time, he was daring you to. Because he had handed you the knife and all but begged you to use it.

And you did.

No screaming, no pleading—just the quiet sound of your footsteps as you stepped past the threshold, out into the cold. You had always held his heart in the palm of your hand, but that night, you let it slip through your fingers, let it fall and shatter at his feet like fragile glass.

He was a bloody wreck when you left.

Heart torn to ribbons, mind spiraling into the darkest parts of the hellscape that he often hid away in, reaching for the only solace he knew—the bottom of a whiskey bottle and the black ocean that had always welcomed him with open arms, pulling him down deeper.

Not even an hour later, you came back.

Struttin’ your ass through the door like you owned the place. Like you owned him. Like he hadn’t just tried to push you away, like he hadn’t torn himself open and laid his ugly, broken pieces at your feet. There was fire in your eyes, defiance in every step, and something else—something that made his breath catch in his throat.

It was only when you stopped in front of him, tilting your chin up in that way that made his chest tighten, that he saw it.

Ink. Fresh. Etched permanently into the flawless skin of your wrist.

His enlistment number.

Subtle. Clever. Just how he liked it.

The room spun. His pulse pounded. He could only stare, unable to comprehend the weight of what you’d done. Of what you were giving him.

You had branded yourself in his name. Not because he asked, not because he demanded it—but because you chose to. Despite his flaws, despite the wreckage of his past, despite all the reasons he thought you shouldn’t.

It was the most beautiful thing Simon had ever seen. The most beautiful thing he had ever been given.

"You absolute fucking idiot," you huffed, voice thick with something raw, something he couldn’t name. "You think you get to decide what I deserve? As if you have any right to tell me that?"

He opened his mouth—to argue, to deflect, to do what he always did—but you didn’t give him the chance.

"Since you love taking orders like a good little soldier—" you cooed, saccharine sweet, teasing.

Simon bristled, growling low in his throat, but any protest died the second you climbed into his lap, your body draping over his like he was your throne, your rightful seat. Your hands framed his face, thumbs brushing over the sharp angles of his jaw, grounding him, claiming him.

His world narrowed to just you.

"How about," you murmured, voice softer now, more certain, "you follow mine for once?"

His gaze flickered down—to the ink, still red and raw, permanent and his.

"Step up. Do your part." Your fingers ghosted over his lips, tracing, memorizing. "Be a good boyfriend and never—never—try to tell me I deserve better again."

Simon swallowed hard, every ounce of fight bleeding out of him, replaced by something else. Something deeper.

"Because if I ever did," you whispered, "it’d be from you. Only from you."

And just like that, Simon Riley—a hardened soldier, a cold blooded killer, a ghost haunting the earth, a broken fragment of a man—surrendered.

From that moment on, all he’s ever done is try.

Try to be the man worthy of the ink carved into your skin—the mark that tethered you to him, that branded you as his. Try to be something more than just a broken soldier with too much blood on his hands and not enough softness left in his soul.

Try to be worthy of being called yours.

.✦ ──────── .✦

Okay so … I do not know what I am doing.. this is like my second time posting here and I decided to do a (✨not so✨) tiny drabble in between because uni is killing me and I don’t have the time to do more than this (Procrastination and writers’ block goes brrrr -✨💅🏻) … but Yehh- please go easy on me chat ✨🥹

[dixonsgirl93]

Ghost: Wait. You have an OnlyFans?

Y/N: Y…yeah…

Ghost: *gets up and just walks away*

Y/N: *visibly hurt*

Ghost: *comes striding back and sits back down next to you*

Y/N: Wh…?

Ghost: I was getting my phone. What’s the link?

Y/N: *smirking and blushing*

[yourmessagehasbeendenied]

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ɴᴏɴᴇ

​🇲​​🇩​​🇳​​🇮​, ​🇹​​🇼​​🇸​⨾ ​🇮​​🇳​​🇫​​🇮​​🇩​​🇪​​🇱​​🇮​​🇹​​🇾​ (​🇫​​🇷​​🇴​​🇲​ ​🇵​​🇦​​🇷​​🇹​​🇳​​🇪​​🇷​), POTENTIONAL ​🇳​​🇸​​🇫​​🇼​.​ 🇩​​🇦​​🇩​​🇩​​🇾​ ​🇮​​🇸​​🇸​​🇺​​🇪​​🇸​ chubby!reader / plussize!reader (female), insecurity. This is my first story ever posted and I'm still working on things. Possible part two, there is supposed to be, but if this doesn't really reach as high as I want it to be, I doubt it.

Always making harsh decisions, no thoughts in mind. The feeling of loneliness can reduce a person to such desperation where they cannot decide if it really is love, or just the human taste for sex. When you two started dating, you were convinced you were in complete and absolute love with him. Why? There was no one else that listened the way he did, cared the way he did. At the time, it seemed like it, at last. You thought nothing of it. He started leaving more and more, he started going out and leaving you out of things, said it was "Just him, with his boys out, needing some space from always hanging out with his girlfriend." Everyone does, right? You started going off on your own. Hanging out more with your friends and friend group, and convincing yourself this is normal, the space was normal.

It wasn't. Days get dull when you are unemployed, still in-between jobs. You felt pathetic. You felt worthless. Especially since both your brothers have made themselves successful, your mother was proud of both of them. While you.. Turned out, to whatever you are, right now. When you found your current boyfriend, you had a route. kiss, fuck, get married, have kids, live a happy life and the end with a sad story and a bunch of flowers at your grave from your grandchildren. At least, that was what you expected. With your boyfriend leaving more often than not, you found yourself going outside and seeking friends more than ever, even going as far as to get out of your comfort zone and go places you would never go, with you being shy.

You did get occasional looks from people but you passed it off as people looking at you for being chubby, for having a belly or for being ugly. Your loneliness lead you to start drinking, developing an alcohol problem.

Your friends couldn't be around you every day, like old times. One night, it happened. You couldn't take it anymore. You were at a sort of bar, not really the type people go to hook up to, just to drink. You sat outside, downing your third shot of vodka, and suddenly.. The tears started coming. They stormed down your puffy cheeks as you held your head and sobbed. That's when he found you. His dark brown eyes stared like cold and warmth at the same time. Like watching a winter storm from the inside of your house, next to your fireplace, and his blonde hair flew in the midnight wind. He sat down, and didn't say anything as you sobbed. You thought, "Why is he here? Is he gonna do anything? Say anything?" But he didn't. He sat there, in the dark, in silence. No words were said that night, as you sobbed your heart out in front of a complete stranger. Just the sound of the wind, of your sobbing, and a silent confirmation of something deep within you. You aren't alone. ---- ---- ----

You kept coming back to that bar, every Saturday, it became a routine. You cried, he sat there and watched. People would think you two are great friends at least, or maybe a couple, but you were two complete strangers. 4 weeks after this little routine started, the big boom happened, the one that broke you badly enough that you didn't go out at all for one week. You found out your boyfriend has cheated on you and didn't talk to you because he felt guilty, because he didn't love you anymore. You didn't go out that week, not even on Saturday. The next week, you pulled yourself together, and went out. You thought he wouldn't show up again, because you didn't show up last time, but to your surprise, there he was, and he sat down. He looked at you in the eye, and for the first time ever, he spoke. "You didn't show last time." His voice was deep, raspy like he's been smoking since he was 6. But for some odd reason, it was calming. It was soothing, like how you wanted your father to speak to you. You swallowed and wiped your tears. You sobbed out. "My boyfriend cheated on-" but he cut you off. "No. No excuses. None of that here. I wasn't demanding an answer to why, I was making a statement. You come here when you need to unwind. I come here to not be alone." And for some odd reason, that supposedly rude answer, made you calm. You didn't owe anything to him. Not your name, not your age, not your number, not your body. And so, for the first time, he saw you wipe your tears fully. Your puffy eyes were bloodshot, and your now red lips slowly curled up into a smile. For the first time, he saw you smile, through the tears. And his heart beat a plus one in that moment, and then slowed down. Time slowed down. The surroundings faded. It was just you, and the big man in front of you. And for a second there, he felt you, and you felt him. He saw you, and you saw him. He heard you, and you heard him. And for some odd reason, Saturday suddenly became his favorite day.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dating Yandere Simon 'Ghost' Riley Would Include:

Ghost is fixated on his love interest, constantly stalking and watching you, wanting you all to himself. He's got a possessive and controlling streak, always wanting to know where you are, what you're doing, and who you're with. He can be intense and unpredictable, with violent tendencies, though he can be fiercely protective of you as well. He's also somewhat paranoid and has a dark sense of humor.

He'll do anything to keep you by his side, whether it's by force, manipulation, or anything in between. He can be jealous and possessive, not wanting anyone else to have you or even be close to you. He may even go to extreme lengths to ensure that you're his and his alone.

If you were to try to leave or betray him, he would likely become extremely aggressive and violent, possibly even resorting to kidnapping or harming those he perceives as threats to his relationship. He may also use emotional manipulation, guilt, and threats to keep you under his control.

On the other hand, Ghost can also be affectionate and tender, showing moments of genuine care and love towards you. He may shower you with gifts and attention, wanting to make you happy and spend time with you. He also has a dark sense of humor and sarcastic wit, being surprisingly charming at times.

He may have a tough exterior, but deep down, he's actually quite sensitive and insecure, and he relies heavily on his connection with you for emotional support and validation. He's not good at expressing his feelings openly, so he may show his affection through subtle gestures and actions rather than words.

Overall, Ghost is a complex and conflicted character, torn between his obsessive love and protective instincts towards you, and his own inner demons and insecurities. He can be both dangerous and endearing, with a twisted sense of devotion and loyalty.

Ghost is a master of disguise, and in front of others, he presents a cool, calm, and collected demeanor. He's often stoic and silent, rarely showing any emotion. He may be polite and professional when needed, but he's also quite mysterious and elusive.

He's a loner, and he tends to keep to himself, not sharing much about his personal life. He may even come across as distant and detached, as he's wary of getting too close to others.

Despite his tough exterior, Ghost can be reassuring and protective towards you in his own way. He might not say much, but he'll be there for you, watching over you, and making sure you're safe. He also gives you subtle gestures like a nod, a pat on the shoulder, or a slight smile, letting you know that he's there and he cares.

He also is surprisingly considerate in his own way, like making sure you have food, water, or any other necessities, or even standing guard outside your room to keep you safe while you sleep.

He uses his own twisted sense of logic to reward you in his own way, like giving you a new weapon or piece of equipment, or even a rare or valuable item. He may also show his appreciation by doing small favors for you, or even just giving you some much-needed space and freedom. He may also give you pats on the head, ruffles to the hair, and side hugs.

When it comes to doling out punishments, Ghost isn't one to hold back. If you disobey him or do something he deems unacceptable, he resorts to physical violence, intimidation, or even psychological punishment. He also uses threats, isolation, or even physical pain to drive his point home. He may also use his status as a skilled special forces operator to exert his dominance and control over you. However, he does also uses psychological and emotional manipulation to make you feel guilty and remorseful for your actions, as a different form of punishment.

Others, such as members of Task Force 141, and even enemies, may be a bit wary and intimidated by Ghost's intense and possessive behavior towards you. They may see him as a dangerous and unpredictable character, but also respect him for his skills and loyalty. Some may be uncomfortable with his possessive and controlling tendencies, but they likely keep their opinions to themselves, knowing the consequences of crossing him. In general, they may see him as a man with intense loyalty and devotion, but also a bit unhinged and dangerous.

Like any relationship, Ghost and you may have disagreements or fights. However, with his possessive and controlling tendencies, it's safe to say that he's not one to back down easily. He tries to manipulate you into giving in, or even resort to intimidation, force, or even violence if necessary. He also uses his skills as a special forces operator to overpower you, or even use his knowledge of your weaknesses against you. It's likely that he fights dirty and may even get physical.

Despite his possessive and controlling nature, Ghost can be surprisingly tender and affectionate towards you at times. He shows his affection through small gestures like running his fingers through your hair, giving you a tight hug, or even just being physically close to you.

He gives you small gifts or tokens of his affection, like a necklace or a bracelet, and he may even go out of his way to do something special for you.

He's more likely to take you on a "date" consisting of him showing off his skills and abilities, like taking you on a high-speed car ride or taking you on a difficult hike through rough terrain. He might even take you on a dangerous mission or a gun training session as a "date."

Given Ghost's possessive and controlling tendencies, he may not be one to wait and go through the formalities of marriage. He may instead just decide that you are his and that's it, not really caring about traditional societal norms. However, if you press him on it, he may go along with a small, private ceremony, perhaps out in a remote location where it's just the two of you and a few close allies. He likely doesn't want any distractions or outside influences on your relationship.

Ghost's controlling and possessive nature may extend to his desire to have children with you as well. He tries to rush or force the issue, perhaps seeing having kids as a way to further bind you to him and make it harder for you to leave. He does not consider your feelings or opinions on the matter, and may even pressure and guilt trip you into having children with him.

Ghost likely wouldn't take no for an answer, and is likely to resort to even more extreme measures to get what he wants. He tries to manipulate or guilt trip you into changing your mind, or even forcefully impregnate you. He also is violent and aggressive, trying to physically force you to do what he wants. He doesn't care about your feelings or autonomy on the matter, and will stop at nothing to have the children he desires.

"You're mine and mine alone. Nobody else will ever touch you, nobody else will ever have you. You belong to me, and I'll do anything to keep you by my side. I'll protect you, I'll take care of you, and I'll make sure no one else ever gets close to you. I'll make sure you're mine, no matter what it takes."

Knife play - Using knives or other sharp objects to cut or pierce the skin, adding an element of danger and edge to the lovemaking.

Hypnosis - Utilizing hypnotic techniques to induce trance-like states, allowing for exploration of altered consciousness and heightened suggestibility to be done to you more easily.

Sensory deprivation - Removing one or more senses, such as sight or hearing, to enhance the remaining ones and create a heightened sense of awareness and vulnerability.

Choking and breathplay - Restricting airflow to induce fear and euphoria, pushing you to the brink of unconsciousness as a symbol of his power over life and death.

Gunplay - Incorporating firearms into the activities, either as a means of control like pointing the weapon at you, a source of excitement playing with unloaded guns, or even using it like a toy on you.

[doebunniie]

coming soon ♡ ask is open for fic requests and prompts! i'm new here but please don't shy away ૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა

[katsudoodles]

I love that people on TikTok now make headcanons that portray Ghost in a more realistic way and how all his torture and SA affected him.

We also know that Ghost is most likely absolutely scared of snakes because of his father 🐍

Now imagine this:

You have been on a mission with Ghost in some tropical country where you often stumble upon those creatures. It's hot and humid, you feel like your clothes are drenched with sweat, you assume that Ghost is irritated because of this, he snaps at you more frequent than usual. You grit your teeth and continue the mission, as usual. You have known him long enough to learn that under his rough exterior he cares and sometimes you'd even crack some jokes. However now he seems to be constantly on the edge and you can feel the tension that lingers around him. You wonder why since the mission wasn't particulary hard and you have been on your best behavior. You have no idea so you just sigh and follow him.

You weren't scared of snakes as one of your friends is a serpent lover and has dozen of them. They have really impressive knowledge, as a consequence you have spent many hours listening countless lectures featuring snakes and how to deal with them, thanks to them you knew how to handle aggressive ones too. Twice you helped you friend to catch some runaway snakes.

At some point you had to stop and take a break. You stand between tall trees when sun is burning your skin, you squint your eyes. As Ghost chugs down his water you notice reptile hanging down on the branch, ready to attack him. Your reaction is instant and you catch the offender before it has a chance to sink it's teeth in Simon's neck, holding it by the head as it wraps rest of it's body around your arm. You quickly pull out your knife and plunge it through the beasts skull and throw the lifeless body away with silent motherfucker under your breath. You wipe your hand along with the knife and look at Ghost who stands there bewildered. "You good there, LT?" You ask when he stays silent, for a little too long to your taste, watching you intenly. Your voice brings him back to reality. "Yeah." He grumbles but his eyes go softer when looking at you. "Be careful next time." You smile hearing this and explain to him that you're not scared of snakes thanks to your friend. You both move further through the forest you as you recall how you helped your friend to catch a snake that run from its terrarium. He listens you attentively, every word. You can't see it, because of his balaclava, but he smiles. He thanks heavens for your presence like you were an angel that has been sent for him, you did put him at ease so maybe he will be able to sleep this night in the tent. You notice that he seems more relaxed and stays closer to you when you move further. You smile to yourself as your heart beats a little bit faster in your chest.

***

What has this fandom done to me, I haven't written shit since I was 14 😀 and I'm 28 now

[celestialprincesse]

🎀💕🌺💐

"C'mon, open up, baby. Be a good girl for daddy." Simon's gruff voice echoes through the kitchen of your shared apartment, sending shivers down your spine as you cock your head inquisitively to the side.

"Promise it won't hurt, and afterwards I'll get yo a real big treat, hm? How's that sound my pretty girl?"

What the fuck? Who the fuck is he talking to?

It's not you, that's for sure.

Silently, you make your way to just outside the kitchen door, pushing it open with a wince at the slight squeak. You remind yourself to whip out the WD-40 later.

"Oh, thank God you're here." Simon sighs, having obviously noted your presence. It's unfair, really, that you can't sneak up on your own husband in your own. home.

Making you feel even sillier still, is the fact that said husband is currently hunched over the wriggling form of your dog, flea prevention treatment in one hand and a bag of treats in the other.

"Gis' a hand. She won't take her fuckin' pills."

🎀💕🌺💐

Hi hello I thought of this last night after having writers block for weeks

[irishghosts]

simon having a blast when he introduces deaf!reader to the rest of 141 cos not only do they get on great with price & gaz, they cannot for the life of them read soap's lips bc of his accent and soap's pouting the whole time abt it

[reina-writes]

Simon "Ghost" Riley being your bodyguard would include [part 1]

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!reader

Warnings: mention of kidnapping, mention of arms dealing.

A/N: This is headcanon "Simon Riley being your bodyguard would include", part 1/3: How Simon Riley got recruited to be your bodyguard.

What do you think, should I turn this into full fic?

Captain Price standing by the large map of the world, studying various markers and intel reports. Simon entering the room, his posture disciplined as he salutes the captain.

"Simon, good that you're here. I've got a new assignment for you."

Price telling about the mission briefly: the L/N family is under threat as their only child has become the target of some dangerous individuals. They're already attempted to kidnap you once and it's no doubt they will try again.

It turns out that during one of Task Force 141's previous missions, they had encountered a high-ranking member of the illegal arms trade network that now threatens the L/N family. This mission involved disrupting a major arms deal orchestrated by the network.

In the aftermath of that mission, Task Force 141 obtained valuable intel that revealed the existence of a larger, more dangerous network. However, the intel wasn't complete and they needed more information to fully dismantle the operation.

It's during their ongoing investigation that they discover the connection between the L/N family and the arms trade network.

During that ongoing investigation happened the first attempt of kidnapping.

The first kidnapping attempt further solidified the need for your protection and Task Force 141 realized just how grave the situation had become. The perpetrators were not just ordinary criminals; they were part of a well-connected and dangerous network with access to advanced weaponry and resources.

This is why Price invited Simon into his office.

Simon's eyes narrowing slighty, registering the seriousness of the situation. "What my job would be, sir?"

Captain Price looks at Simon, his expression unwavering. He knows the man and he also knows that Simon Riley is the best man for this mission.

"Your job, Simon, is to be Y/N's shadow. You're their bodyguard. You'll be with them at all times, ensuring their safety and acting as their first line of defense."

Simon's jaw clenching as he takes in the responsibility. He can't shake the image of you being a typical party person, who is born into wealth and privilege, seemingly clueless about the dangers of lurking in the shadows.

"Sir, I understand the importance of this mission. But I'm not a bodyguard, I'm a soldier. I'm trained to fight, not to hold someone's hand. If you want someone to babysit them, you're looking at the wrong guy."

Price raising an eyebrow and being seemingly amused by Simon's resistance.

"You might be a soldier, but you're also one of the best, Simon. I handpicked you for this mission because I trust your instincts, your combat skills, and your ability to adapt to any situation."

Simon sighing as he feels the weight of captain's trust on his shoulders.

"With all due respect, sir, this feels like a waste of my skills. Protecting a pampered heir doesn't exactly scream 'special forces.'"

Captain Price's expression softens slightly, understanding Simon's frustration. "I know it's not your usual mission, but I need you to put aside your preconceptions about Y/N L/N. They are not what they appear to be on the surface."

Simon's curiosity was piqued, but he remains skeptical. "What do you mean, sir?"

Captain Price leaning in, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"You'll see."

The smirk on Price's face as Simon blinks in surprise.

Simon knows he doesn't have any options but to give in. It's a sense of duty and responsibility.

"I won't let you down, sir. I'll protect them with everything I've got."

After this Simon joined the rest of the team in the briefing room, where Captain Price goes over the details of the mission, laying out their plan to protect you and gather more intel on the arms trade network.

Simon couldn't help but feel a mix of determination and unease. He knew that this mission was not going to be a walk in the park. Your life depended on their success and he had to set aside his reservations and focus on the task at hand.

The team would work in shifts to ensure round-the-clock surveillance on you, setting up secure communication channels and keeping you safe.

It was clear that this job would require Simon's attention 24/7 and he would be the one responsible of your safety. Where you would go, he'ld go. And for what Simon understood, your social calendar was full of events and parties.

After the briefing Soap gave Simon a knowing look.

"Looks like you've got yourself a little spark to protect, Ghost."

[kxsskvy]

Simon being the helpful Lt he is 💀👍🏻

Lazy doodle of OC/reader.

[dilfsnatcher101]

24-Hour S.R.

Warnings: cursing

Anon: This is just gonna be a little series atp

Summary: After going ghost for a week the silent man himself takes it upon himself to confront you.

pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Working at a 24-hour café sounded like a good idea once. In reality? It's 12:03 AM, I’m dead on my feet, and the only thing keeping me from collapsing onto the pastry counter is a lukewarm cinnamon roll and spite. This is how it’s been all week. Night shifts, no time to cook, no time to grocery shop. Not that I’ve been home enough to miss a meal anyway. Still… maybe I need to go back to the market because of other reasons.

Ghost… still wondering what his real name is. But seriously I still need my tupperwear back so I have to go see him- I mean get it. 

The record player lets out a soft screech as the needle runs out. I scramble over to change it, swapping in something jazzier, something that doesn’t sound like heartbreak and rain.

The bell above the door rings.

“One second, just fixing the tunes,” I call, slipping the new vinyl onto the deck.

A pause.

Then a voice low and gruff, dipped in something warm and dangerous.

“Where have you been?” I turn around quickly at the voice knowing exactly who it belongs to. 

“Ghost hey- wait how do you know where I work” I say making my way behind the counter as if he’d order. 

I doubt it he looks like he doesn’t drink coffee.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, stepping closer to the counter. “Wanted tea.”

I raise a brow, hand on my hip. “You want tea?”

“I said what I said.” He sits down on one of the stools. “Please.”

I smirk. “That’s what I thought. Now answer my question.”

He groans, running a hand down his mask. My eyes trace the lines of his knuckles as they scrape along his jaw. “Do you always ask so many damn questions?”

“I work night shifts. I live on questions and coffee.”

“Christ,” he mutters. “Fine. I asked around. There’s like a hundred fucking coffee shops in this city. I found yours.” He crosses his arms making eye contact with the steam coming from the pot instead of me which was the first.

I blink. “Wow. Ghost I don’t even know your last name but you hunted me down. That Alfredo must’ve been better than I thought.”

He grunts as a response “You didn’t answer my question.”  he murmured nodding his head as a thank you for the tea. I groan shortly using my arms to show the place off.

“Ive been working these shifts every night, that’s why im not out during the day, im sleeping” I yawn dreaming about resting. 

He hums into the steam curling from his cup. “Thought maybe I scared you off. Didn’t come get your bowl back.” There’s a shift in his tone, barely there. But it’s disappointment, or something that smells like it. 

I soften, letting the sass melt just a little. “Nice try. You’re not as scary as you think you are.” He looks up sharply, like I slapped him with a compliment. Or a challenge.

“I’ve been thinking about stopping by all week,” I add, voice gentler now. “To get the bowl. Obviously.”

I turn to clean a mug before he can catch the lie in my eyes. He leans forward, elbows on the counter. “Well. Was boring without ya. Should’ve come by.” 

That almost makes me freeze

Not the words, but the way he says it. Flat, but loaded. My heart stutters, then speeds up. “You want my number?”

He blinks. “What?”

I grin. “So next time I ghost, you can complain directly.” I hold my hand out for his phone.

He hesitates, then slowly pulls it from his pocket and drops it into my palm. “You’re pushy.”

“You’re welcome,” I say sweetly, texting myself from his phone and saving his number before setting it on the counter. He’s quiet while I do it, eyes drifting toward the window. Street lights flicker outside. The road is empty and quiet, too quiet. “It’s not safe for you to work nights,” he mutters.

I raise a brow. “Excuse me?”

“No protection. No backup. You close up alone?”

I cross my arms, half off the offense, half flattered. “What makes you think I don’t carry protection?”

He looks back at me. Doesn’t answer. Just stares. And it’s a look that says he’s not asking permission. It says he’s already decided. “I’ll walk you home.” I laugh, thinking it’s a joke.

He doesn’t laugh.

“What’s funny?” he asks, deadpan.

“You don’t have to do that. It’s late, I’ve still got like forty-five minutes.”

“And I’ll wait.”

“Seriously?” I blink.

He leans back on the stool, sipping his tea like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Yeah. Not negotiable.” I just stare at him, this man who found me through a city full of cafés, who remembered my damn Tupperware, who sits in the quiet just to be near me. Something warm settles in my chest.

“Well, I guess you can be nice.”

He doesn’t smile.

But he doesn’t deny it either.

p4

[dawnwriterimagines]

Traitors Among Us

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

PART 2

Part Three: The Guilty Plea

Part Four: The Verdict Due

Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.

Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.

---

Drip.

Drip..

Drip...

Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.

Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...

Drip...

Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.

You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.

The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...

Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.

Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.

"Please..." you shivered, miserably.

"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.

"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."

The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"

You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.

It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...

Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.

In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.

Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...

It must've been too much to ask.

It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.

That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.

You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.

It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.

You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.

But it's been a few hours since then...

Maybe even a few days...

It could even have been a week.

You weren't too sure.

Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.

As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."

Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.

He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...

"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.

"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."

He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.

When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" you spat at him. You'd given him everything, every part of yourself, nearly given him your life in the battlefield, and yet...it wasn't enough. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.

"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."

Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."

Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.

Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.

His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"

"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.

"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."

As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."

And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.

If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.

You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.

Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.

He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.

The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.

They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.

To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?

It was too late anyway.

They'd broken you days ago.

---

The truth had come out, two days later.

"Oh god..."

"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.

Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.

He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.

"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.

You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.

"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.

As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."

Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.

Part 2

and if you'd like to support a fanfic hoe in need...would you Buy me a Coffee?

[gulnarsultan]

❣

Dating Yandere Simon 'Ghost' Riley Would Include:

Ghost is fixated on his love interest, constantly stalking and watching you, wanting you all to himself. He's got a possessive and controlling streak, always wanting to know where you are, what you're doing, and who you're with. He can be intense and unpredictable, with violent tendencies, though he can be fiercely protective of you as well. He's also somewhat paranoid and has a dark sense of humor.

He'll do anything to keep you by his side, whether it's by force, manipulation, or anything in between. He can be jealous and possessive, not wanting anyone else to have you or even be close to you. He may even go to extreme lengths to ensure that you're his and his alone.

If you were to try to leave or betray him, he would likely become extremely aggressive and violent, possibly even resorting to kidnapping or harming those he perceives as threats to his relationship. He may also use emotional manipulation, guilt, and threats to keep you under his control.

On the other hand, Ghost can also be affectionate and tender, showing moments of genuine care and love towards you. He may shower you with gifts and attention, wanting to make you happy and spend time with you. He also has a dark sense of humor and sarcastic wit, being surprisingly charming at times.

He may have a tough exterior, but deep down, he's actually quite sensitive and insecure, and he relies heavily on his connection with you for emotional support and validation. He's not good at expressing his feelings openly, so he may show his affection through subtle gestures and actions rather than words.

Overall, Ghost is a complex and conflicted character, torn between his obsessive love and protective instincts towards you, and his own inner demons and insecurities. He can be both dangerous and endearing, with a twisted sense of devotion and loyalty.

Ghost is a master of disguise, and in front of others, he presents a cool, calm, and collected demeanor. He's often stoic and silent, rarely showing any emotion. He may be polite and professional when needed, but he's also quite mysterious and elusive.

He's a loner, and he tends to keep to himself, not sharing much about his personal life. He may even come across as distant and detached, as he's wary of getting too close to others.

Despite his tough exterior, Ghost can be reassuring and protective towards you in his own way. He might not say much, but he'll be there for you, watching over you, and making sure you're safe. He also gives you subtle gestures like a nod, a pat on the shoulder, or a slight smile, letting you know that he's there and he cares.

He also is surprisingly considerate in his own way, like making sure you have food, water, or any other necessities, or even standing guard outside your room to keep you safe while you sleep.

He uses his own twisted sense of logic to reward you in his own way, like giving you a new weapon or piece of equipment, or even a rare or valuable item. He may also show his appreciation by doing small favors for you, or even just giving you some much-needed space and freedom. He may also give you pats on the head, ruffles to the hair, and side hugs.

When it comes to doling out punishments, Ghost isn't one to hold back. If you disobey him or do something he deems unacceptable, he resorts to physical violence, intimidation, or even psychological punishment. He also uses threats, isolation, or even physical pain to drive his point home. He may also use his status as a skilled special forces operator to exert his dominance and control over you. However, he does also uses psychological and emotional manipulation to make you feel guilty and remorseful for your actions, as a different form of punishment.

Others, such as members of Task Force 141, and even enemies, may be a bit wary and intimidated by Ghost's intense and possessive behavior towards you. They may see him as a dangerous and unpredictable character, but also respect him for his skills and loyalty. Some may be uncomfortable with his possessive and controlling tendencies, but they likely keep their opinions to themselves, knowing the consequences of crossing him. In general, they may see him as a man with intense loyalty and devotion, but also a bit unhinged and dangerous.

Like any relationship, Ghost and you may have disagreements or fights. However, with his possessive and controlling tendencies, it's safe to say that he's not one to back down easily. He tries to manipulate you into giving in, or even resort to intimidation, force, or even violence if necessary. He also uses his skills as a special forces operator to overpower you, or even use his knowledge of your weaknesses against you. It's likely that he fights dirty and may even get physical.

Despite his possessive and controlling nature, Ghost can be surprisingly tender and affectionate towards you at times. He shows his affection through small gestures like running his fingers through your hair, giving you a tight hug, or even just being physically close to you.

He gives you small gifts or tokens of his affection, like a necklace or a bracelet, and he may even go out of his way to do something special for you.

He's more likely to take you on a "date" consisting of him showing off his skills and abilities, like taking you on a high-speed car ride or taking you on a difficult hike through rough terrain. He might even take you on a dangerous mission or a gun training session as a "date."

Given Ghost's possessive and controlling tendencies, he may not be one to wait and go through the formalities of marriage. He may instead just decide that you are his and that's it, not really caring about traditional societal norms. However, if you press him on it, he may go along with a small, private ceremony, perhaps out in a remote location where it's just the two of you and a few close allies. He likely doesn't want any distractions or outside influences on your relationship.

Ghost's controlling and possessive nature may extend to his desire to have children with you as well. He tries to rush or force the issue, perhaps seeing having kids as a way to further bind you to him and make it harder for you to leave. He does not consider your feelings or opinions on the matter, and may even pressure and guilt trip you into having children with him.

Ghost likely wouldn't take no for an answer, and is likely to resort to even more extreme measures to get what he wants. He tries to manipulate or guilt trip you into changing your mind, or even forcefully impregnate you. He also is violent and aggressive, trying to physically force you to do what he wants. He doesn't care about your feelings or autonomy on the matter, and will stop at nothing to have the children he desires.

"You're mine and mine alone. Nobody else will ever touch you, nobody else will ever have you. You belong to me, and I'll do anything to keep you by my side. I'll protect you, I'll take care of you, and I'll make sure no one else ever gets close to you. I'll make sure you're mine, no matter what it takes."

Knife play - Using knives or other sharp objects to cut or pierce the skin, adding an element of danger and edge to the lovemaking.

Hypnosis - Utilizing hypnotic techniques to induce trance-like states, allowing for exploration of altered consciousness and heightened suggestibility to be done to you more easily.

Sensory deprivation - Removing one or more senses, such as sight or hearing, to enhance the remaining ones and create a heightened sense of awareness and vulnerability.

Choking and breathplay - Restricting airflow to induce fear and euphoria, pushing you to the brink of unconsciousness as a symbol of his power over life and death.

Gunplay - Incorporating firearms into the activities, either as a means of control like pointing the weapon at you, a source of excitement playing with unloaded guns, or even using it like a toy on you.

[doebunniie]

⪩ · · · author's note : indulgent as hell. not proofread. practice fic, i guess? (helpful criticism are appreciated). scent kink and taste kink ／ (lil) oral fixation. i wrote this in class, i feel a little shy doing that. nsfw nsfw nsfw, you have been warned enough.

smth smth abt the permanence of smelling like acrid gun power, cheap cigarettes, aged liquid spirits that had dribbled down ghost's chin to collarbone, the grimiest element of scorched earth on his leather, war – marred complexion — combined with the thickest masks of layered testosterones, unrelenting yields of musk which were long liberated since the second he stepped afoot into warzones; there is only so much power in the threats of his virility that he is yet to violate upon you.

and yet, on the contrary, you have no idea why but such an odor evokes an emotion so motherly yet so submissively towards the soldier ／ it feel likes like suffocation of excess praises · yearning — desire — · worship · fidelity that you think he is worth the merit of. just from the fragrance of war — to others, it is repulsive; it is a horror no civilian couldn't fathom to keep on walking on two sturdy war - marbled legs.

but you? you've wept on his skin, the nakedness of your mouth had tasted the rust of ironclad horror he was made to shoulder — it was unpleasant, it was angry, it was tar ... your tongue has stroked places where death almost marked him for the taking; it cared for him in abundance, the kind of sympathy that is natural baptism — yet it never washes away his sins, his sorrows, his sorrows, his hells . . . | but, in your own way, devours it with the feathery softness, tenderness ghost couldn't bear to seek from another soul; his odor embedded in your memory alongside torrid tang that burns your tongue, turns your throat into a greedy furnace.

you are the kind of greed ghost cannot believe that exist in the form of the babiest motherly girl. insatiable, if not just your drive for procreation running amok in the forefront of your mind.