#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.

[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*

[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

[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.

[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.

If you liked this would you Buy my a Coffee?

---

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

[avaleigh16]

Y/n: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

Gaz: Several traffic violations.

Ghost: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Soap: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Price: Also, that’s not our car.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Y/n: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends.

Ghost: ... Your what?

Y/n: My friends.

Soap: Are they saying “friends”?

Price: I think they're being sarcastic.

Gaz: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Y/n! All of your friends are in this room.

Y/n: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Y/n: This food is too hot... I cant eat it.

Ghost: You’re very hot, and I still eat you.

Everyone at the table: *silence*

Gaz: YOU GUYS ARE DISGUSTING!

Price: One dinner... I just want ONE DINNER!

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Y/n: If you want my advice-

Gaz: No offense but you’re the last person I want relationship advice from. You tried to kill Ghost. Multiple times.

Y/n: First off, that was before we started dating. Secondly, he also tried to kill me.

Ghost: It’s true. It was mutually attempted murder.

[eatingtheworldsoffanfiction]

NOOOOOOOOOO BROOOO 😭

Say You'll Haunt Me | Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Can I request “I thought I’d fucking lost you for good for a moment” with Ghost please? Thanks

summary: he's gone, he's gone for good... or at least, that's what everyone tells you.

tws: swearing, smoking, graphic depictions and descriptions of severe injuries, blood, death

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

All of the lights were off, they had been all day as you no longer had the energy to do much anymore; the lights were off, all the doors were locked, and aside from the quiet television playing old reruns of some stupid adult animation that you didn't even look at, all was silent within the house.

The bedsheets smelled like fresh washing powder, and the blanket was still warm from the tumble dryer; the curtains had not been opened in weeks, and did well to keep the light from the street lamps out properly.

Old clothes were packed into boxes, ready to go into the attic where they would stay; they didn't smell like the bedsheets. Dishes were still piled in the sink, ready to be washed after hours of supposedly soaking; the bins were nearly full, had been for days, and were almost ready to be taken out.

But none of that really mattered, there were bigger things on your mind; sleeping alone should have come naturally, you did it often enough before you had met the love of your life, but it never really did.

Late and long nights were more than regular. The king sized bed just never seemed the same without your lover there.

You sniffled, putting the phone down as you ignored the texts from your friends; you knew that they were only trying to be kind, to help you along, but you couldn't bear the thought of speaking to anyone.

Gaz called two, three times a day. Soap called, texted, sent you voice messages. Laswell texted throughout the day. Price did his best. You didn't want to speak to them, you couldn't.

You sighed, frowning as you dragged yourself to the kitchen; you made yourself a cup of coffee, justifying it by knowing that you wouldn't sleep anyway. You lit a cigarette, knowing it might help. It was better than nothing, at least.

It was better than spending another night in a house that just wasn't a home anymore, a house that was just an open, gaping, sore wound.

It started to feel different, though, you felt like you were being watched when you turned your back; you tensed up, swallowing thickly as your heart began to thud in your chest. You could have sworn that you locked the doors, you were sure of it.

But still, something was there with you, and when you heard the harsh and heavy footsteps, you could hardly move; you just about managed to back yourself against the counter, holding onto it tightly as you listened closely.

They were getting closer, and closer, and closer until-

"Don't turn the lights on."

You knew that voice, and relaxed when you realised, even daring to smile as you laughed softly, shaking your head. "Simon, you dick! You scared me."

"Sorry…" he was just a shadow when he stepped forward, entering from the hallway as he held his hands up. "Just… don't turn the lights on."

You nodded, taking a swig from your coffee as you hummed. "What happened? They told me… Price said you'd been… y'know."

Ghost's shadowy figure shrugged, and he sighed heavily. "Doesn't matter."

You figured that he probably just didn't want to talk about it, so you shrugged as you finished your cigarette and dared to sit up on the counter. "Well, I'm glad you're home. I thought I'd fucking lost you for good for a moment."

He nodded, but didn't make his usual move to stand between your legs like he usually did when he first came home. "I missed you. I'm sorry I never said goodbye."

You furrowed your brows, tilting your head to the side. "But… you did - at, at the airport."

He shook his head. "No, I mean… forget it."

You were worried, pouting as you frowned and cleared your throat. "Simon, what's going on?"

He swallowed audibly, but when he spoke, his voice was starting to sound more and more like radio static; crackled and buzzing, broken and bumbling. "Don't worry, I just… I only came to say that I'm sorry."

"Simon," you whispered. "Please, talk to me."

He couldn't stop you when you reached for the light, and nor could he stop you when you gasped and shuddered as you looked at him; half of his jaw was missing, the exposed flesh burnt and dripping with blood and pus. His stomach had a clear hole through it, exposing his bottom two ribs and how they were cracked, how his entrails had been split and were dripping all over the floors. His eyes were white and had thick yellowish crust growing over the lids.

You trembled, taking a step back. "Si- Simon?"

"I told you not to turn the lights on," he wheezed.

You shook your head, looking at how the muscle and fat of his left arm was exposed and weeping. "Simon?"

"You shouldn't have turned the light on," he was becoming more and more unintelligible. "I have something to tell you, one last time."

You were speechless, bottom lip trembling as everything started to become a multi-coloured blur; something warm and wet was on your cheeks, but his static laced, buzzing voice was all that you could hear.

"Before I go," he hissed. "I loved you."

You wanted to scream at him, to demand an explanation for what was going on, to beg and plead for him to just tell you what the fuck had happened and why he looked like that, but by the time that you had wiped your eyes and nose, he was gone; all that was left, on the countertop next to where he had been standing, was his identification discs.

When you held them, they felt hot and nearly burned your hands; they were dented, the shape clearly that of a bullet, and your heart sank. Price had told you that they couldn't find Ghost's discs, but now you had them in your hands, and you understood what had happened, why Ghost had come back but hadn't stayed.

"Simon," you whispered, swallowing thickly. "Please haunt me again."

[thephantomsdream]

[Y/N and Roach about to enter 141, having an introduction session with Price and Ghost in Price's office]

Roach: (being stupid)

Y/N: (side-eyeing him and whispering) Dude, you're making me look bad in front of the Grim Reaper and one of America's first colonizers.

[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

[kaybug88]

Simon “Ghost”  Riley x Wife!Reader

December 15th: “Mom! Dad! I know what I want for Christmas. . . A sibling!”

Note: You and Simon have a six year old daughter named Bellatrix; nickname Trixy

TW: suggestive towards end WC: 692

Requested: Nope!

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

“No.”

Simon says as Bellatrix suggests that she wants a pony for Christmas. A pony, really?! Neither of you are made of money, let alone have the money to buy land for said pony, the pony itself, nor the necessities! 

You stifle a laugh as Trixy stomps her little foot as she angrily crosses messy writing off her Santa list.

“Maybe Santa will get it for you.”

You suggest, trying to lighten the mood of your angry daughter. She shakes her head as she scans through her list. Her deep chocolate brown eyes going up and down her paper before her eyes sparkle and widen. 

“Mom! Dad! I want a sibling for Christmas!”

Bellatrix exclaims excitedly, proudly showing you her list with the word ‘sibling’ in all caps with bolded letters. Jeez, she must really want a sibling.

Simon snorts before biting back a smile. 

“Bloody hell. . . You want a sibling?”

Simon asks, kneeling down to be eye level with your excited daughter. She eagerly nods, shoving the paper into her dad’s hands which he takes, clearing his throat; preparing to read off every item.

“Let's see. Pony; not happening. Bluey car; might happen. Oranges? Why in the world do you want oranges?”

He lists off with a laugh upon reading ‘oranges’. Bellatrix has always liked oranges, and gets one in every lunch she takes to school. 

“I like oranges.”

Is all she says with her six-year old sass before Simon continues down the list with you peeking over his shoulder.

“Sibling, now that, that I can make that happen, but you'll have to talk to mom ‘bout that one.”

You feel your face heat up upon seeing him look up at you with a wolfish grin and wink. You shake your head before putting in your own input.

“Trixy, that's not quite how that works.”

You chuckle as you get down to her eye level with Simon, who's clearly biting back laughter.

“Why not?”

Your daughter asks, clearly confused on why you can't just get her a sibling. Seriously, don't they just kinda’. . . Appear? That's how it works to a six year old mind at least.

“Well. . . Think of It like making cookies. You have to make the dough, form the cookie dough, bake them, and then you have to wait for them to cool off.”

Bellatrix seems to understand that you can't just get a child from the multiple emotions running over her face. Then once you and Simon stand back up, Trixy speaks up.

“So how do we make one?”

She asks excitedly, earning a laugh from your husband who's laughing so hard he's got tears lining his eyes. You can't help but chuckle to yourself and rub the bridge of your nose. Simon walks away, little chuckles pushing past his lips.

“How about you think really hard about what you want, and we can come back to this later. Alright?”

You suggest with a smile as you guide her back to the table to write what she wants for Christmas, leaving the Amazon catalog you get each year next to her. 

You walk away and to your bedroom, chucking to yourself at the face Beatrix made when you and Simon laughed at question.

“How do we make one. . .”

You giggle to yourself as you walk inside your room, Simon sitting on your bed, scrolling on his phone.

“I can answer that, and I'd be more than happy to show you.”

Simon says from his spot on the bed, which you quickly shut down.

“You sure you don't wanna’ make Trixy a big sister?”

He asks after tackling, leaving you a giggling mess as you try to get him off. Eventually, Simon flips the two of you over, him laying on his back with his large calloused hands surprisingly gentle as they hold you in place. You're straddling him now with your softer hands pressed onto his sculpted chest.

“Would you look at that? We're already halfway there. Would be a shame if we wasted such an opportunity, no?”

He chuckles deeply as he massages your sides.

“I guess it would.”

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

A/N: so, I'm taking a shot at shorter fics and not forcing myself to make fics longer 🥲

Anyway, would You guys want a part 2 to this? Because I'd be more than happy to write one!

[bartyssimp-riley-16]

Y/n x task 141

Y/n: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends.

Soap: ... Your what?

Y/n: My friends.

Gaz: Are they saying “friends”?

Soap: I think they're being sarcastic.

Ghost: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Y/n! All of your friends are in this room.

Y/n: I have other friends! Price asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks

[sweet-as-an-angel]

I just got this idea and I trust your writing the most, I was wondering if you could write ,unless you already wrote this, where the reader steals König or ghost masks or anyone else and their reaction (nsfw or sfw is fine), thank you have a great day :))

König & Ghost's Reaction to their S/O Stealing their Mask

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Dominant Ghost, Dominant König, Territorial Military Men <3, Minor Spoilers of Ghost's Past, Mention of a Size Kink, Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader except 'You.

König

Since he's absolutely massive, the ends of his sniper veil literally reach the bottom of your ribcage.

So when König sees you wear it for the first time, he's absolutely F L O O R E D

We don't call him Size Kink König for no reason.

Goes absolutely feral when he sees you draped in his veil.

Can barely keep his hands off you.

"Maus," he husks, fingers twitching as he reaches for you slowly, cautiously, offering you the chance to go with him willingly.

"You don't know what you're doing to me."

Even without the veil, his eyes are dark, a blackness settling over them that, somewhere in your mind, your intuition, has you seeing red.

Regardless of how innocent your intent when acquiring the mask, none of that matters now.

All that does is the growing bulge in König's pants, the shortness of his breath, and his shadow settling over you as he advances on your path.

"You'll be needing that mask more than I will after I'm done with you."

And when you dare to ask "Why ?" now entrapped – eclipsed – by his frame, he just smiles, thin and sharp. Cruel.

He takes you in his arms, pulling you to him, your face almost crushed into his chest.

He laughs. A low rumble – the promise of a natural disaster.

His nose is to yours covered by the veil, a condescending gesture of his prowess and your submission. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"Because everyone will get a free show to the fallout of an evening you’ve roped yourself into."

As if to prove his point, his hands are at your wrists before you even notice the pressure he's applying there, binding you, pulling you ever closer to him. And in that second, you know you're not leaving your little stunt – the night – unscathed.

Ghost

Hoo boy.

Okay, it's no secret to anyone who knows Ghost – really knows him – that he's suffered a lot of hardship throughout his life, hencewhy he is the way he is.

Which others may construe as cold, heartless – even soulless.

But that's only because Simon has lost so much.

So when he comes home to find you in one of his masks, smiling up at him (he can tell by the way your eyes crinkle), he's immediately whipped.

And I mean W H I P P E D.

To see the one person he can truly call his own wearing his gear is something he didn't know he needed until now.

Sure, he's seen you in his shirts, but this felt different. More intimate.

Your face was where his usually was, his spectral imprint practically morphed with the contours of your face.

Though it needn't be mentioned, he has a hard time... containing himself.

"Fuuuck me, Darlin'," he rasps, on you like a sickness as he sits on top of you, pinning you to the sofa by your waist.

"Y'look better in that than I do."

And you smile. Something intentional hidden within.

"Hmm... I doubt that." You can feel Simon's body heat rocketing beneath his clothes.

"You know I can't resist you when you wear it."

And that's all it takes to send him over the edge.

You hear his breath shake as he rolls into you ever so slightly, still restraining his whole weight to keep you intact. Something began to prod your abdomen.

"Oh, you're in for it now," he tells you. There is not a single hint of fallacy to his claim or his expression – one of barely stoic restraint.

"You won't be able to do much of anything by the time I'm through with you."

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[springtyme]

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 ♡

I just want to steal this man's clothes. I just know he has the warmest, softest jumpers.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader || Masterlist || Ghost playlist

summary: Simon comes home to you wearing his jumper.

word count: 820

note: This is pretty self-indulgent, but since it's just a drabble I let myself have it. No gendering terms are used for the reader, but I would say that they are somewhat fem coded. The reader is wearing Simon's jumper which is described as being oversized on them, and Simon picks up and carries the reader.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you enter the living room of your and Simon’s flat, the cool air nipping at your skin. As you shuffle around the room, your eyes fall upon one of Simon’s jumpers hanging on the back of a chair. It’s soft and cosy, just the thing you need to ward off the cold. Without a second thought, you pick it up from the chair before slipping it on, relishing in the way it engulfs your frame.  

The jumper is much too big for you, the sleeves extending far past your fingertips and the hem grazing your mid-thigh. But you love it. You love how it makes you feel small and protected, cocooned in Simon’s embrace even when he’s not around. It is as if you are wearing a piece of him, and it brings a smile to your face.

Inhaling deeply, you catch a whiff of his cologne clinging to the fabric. It’s a comforting scent, fresh and earthy, one that instantly transports you back to the moments you’ve spent wrapped in his strong arms. It lingers around you, comforting and familiar, as you settle down on the sofa.

You sink into the soft cushions, your body relaxing against the plush fabric. The jumper’s oversized nature envelopes you, making you feel safe and secure. The warmth seeps into your bones, and you can’t help but let out a tired, content sigh as you close your eyes, surrendering to the cosiness, and soon you drift into a peaceful slumber. 

· · · · · 

As Simon opens the door to the flat, a familiar sense of comfort washes over him. As he toes off his boots, the scent of home greets him, a familiar blend of your favourite scented candle and the fresh flowers you always insist on having. The sweet aroma filling the air, instantly putting him at ease. 

The familiar creak of the wooden floorboards under his feet echoes through the hallway, a sound that signifies he is truly home as he makes his way towards the living room. His heart swells with affection as he sees you lying there, fast asleep, wearing his jumper.

He can’t help but smile at the sight. You look so peaceful, curled up on the cushion, radiating warmth and comfort. The jumper, far too big on you, engulfing your figure, making you look even more adorable.

Simon’s steps are careful as he approaches, not wanting to disturb your peaceful rest. He crouches down beside the sofa, his eyes tracing the contours of your face.

Admiring the way you look in his jumper, Simon feels a surge of love and affection. It’s in these simple moments that he realises how lucky he is to have you in his life. You bring him a sense of comfort and joy that he never thought possible.

As you stir in your sleep, Simon leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead. You smile, sensing his presence, even in your dreams. With a content sigh, you snuggle deeper into the jumper, feeling the warmth and love it represents.

Simon’s heart swells with tenderness as he watches you sleep peacefully. The sight of you curled up, vulnerable and content, fills him with a deep sense of affection. Gently, he scoops you up in his strong arms, careful not to disturb your slumber as he carries you towards the bedroom. 

With each step, he feels a surge of protectiveness, a desire to keep you safe and secure. The softness of your skin against his arms, the warmth emanating from your body, it all fuels his determination to care for you.

As he enters the bedroom, he lays you gently on the soft bed, tucking you in with the utmost care. He adjusts the covers, making sure you’re snug and comfortable. 

He takes a moment to admire you, his heart overflowing with love. He still can’t believe how lucky he is to have you in his life. The way you trust him, the way you bring him peace and happiness, it’s a gift he cherishes every day.

Simon leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He whispers words of affection, knowing you won’t hear them but wanting to express his love nonetheless. 

Simon knows that this is a moment he will remember, one he’ll think back on fondly when he’s on deployment and misses you. The image of you curled up in his jumper, etched into his mind. He knows that no matter where life takes you, these small moments of care and tenderness will always be the foundation of your love.

In the quiet of the night, Simon finds solace in knowing that he can be there for you, just as you have always been there for him. And as he lays next to you, drifting off to sleep, he dreams of a future filled with more stolen moments, shared laughter, and the warmth of your love.

[avaleigh16]

Ghost: Hi, sorry I’m late. I was doing a couple of things and got distracted.

Y/n: I’m “a couple of things”.

Soap: I’m “got distracted”.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Gaz: Y/n, you do remember when we agreed we were better off as friends, right?

Y/n, naked in Gaz's bed: No, I absolutely do not.

Gaz, already taking off their clothes: Fuck... Me neither.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Soap: Y/n! I can't do this stupid math!

Y/n: What’s the math problem?

Soap: Well, we have to add the bed, subtract the clothes divide the legs, and hope we don’t multiply.

Price, covering Gaz's ears, while Y/n smacks Soap upside the head: Not going to lie that was hella smooth.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Gaz: There are 20 letters in the alphabet, right?

Y/n: Nope, there's 26.

Gaz: Ah, I must have forgotten U, R, A, Q, T.

Y/n: Aww, that's cute, but you're still missing one.

Gaz: You'll get the D later ;).

[lightwing-s]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x reader

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

It was like the entire room shook with every step he took, his combat boots sending tremors through the floor. A proper man-made earthquake. With his stature, he towered over everybody. His presence was intense, and you could feel him coming even before hearing or seeing him, your head snapping to the entrance of the room to watch the scene attentively.

Wearing his skull balaclava, the Lieutenant returned from his practice alongside Sargeant MacTavish. You watched his chest shaking as he walked, the muscle jumping up and down like a juicy pornstar’s boobs would do, highlighted by the compression shirt he wore sticking to his skin. His sweat left it soaked, making the fabric slightly see through and his nipples easily visible. 

Swallowing deep, you felt your mouth go dry as his intoxicating smell of sweat, smoke and gunpowder filled the air. You were certain you must have looked dumb in front of all the other soldiers, eyeing your Lieutenant up and down. A tingling sensation growing on your cunt as he side-eyed you when he passed your smaller frame.

Fuck me, you wished, watching on as he started to disappear into another room. You were a sinner, of that you were sure, because nothing else could justify such a harsh punishment. Seeing Lt. Ghost Riley in person every single fucking day and all you could ever do was stare. You felt like Dionysius without his wine, or Snoop without his weed. Deprived, dismantled, deranged.

And he wore spandex today. Fucking spandex. Molding his ass and his muscular thighs perfectly, not to mention how much it emphasized the bulge on his groin, as if he knew very well the effect his choice of clothing had on you.

Fuck you, Simon. Fuck you. Fuck me.

Taking a deep breath, you turned around and returned, or attempted to at least, to your exercise. Every movement filled with days of build up frustration. Your arousal, hopefully not evident through your leggings, made its way to your nose, and you rolled your eyes out, exasperated to leave the training room.

Turning a corner, deep into whatever side of the base you stood, you found a darkened alley leading to a dead end. It was quiet, far for anyone. Resting against the wall, you let your mind wonder, thoughts of your Lieutenant crowding your head.

Your breathing was uneven, rushed, but your walk over there wasn’t what caused it. Your core ached, burned, begged for attention. Peeking briefly at your sides, you did something unthinkable, something your shame shouldn’t have allowed you to do. Putting a hand inside your leggings, you touched your aching clit, circular movements dragging soft moans out of your pursed lips.

Enjoying the sensation, the quick relief brought to you by your own fingers, you increased their speed, wanting to reach that so desirable end, the increased sensation making it harder to hold your moans down as you desperately bit your lips to stop them from coming out. 

Your mind darkened as the pleasure spread to different parts of your body, almost making you melt down the wall you were laid on. In your mind, the picture of your Lieutenant and what he could’ve been doing to you instead, crowded your mind. 

You pictured his hands all over your body, leaving purple bruises on your skin. His face buried deep into your cunt, licking your sweetness off of you. You picture his hoarse voice calling your name, but did not picture it dragging you out of your daydreams. Nor did you imagine the door closing right in front of you, revealing to you your own dreams in flesh and bone.

“Yn,” he called and you swiftly removed your hands from your pants, shame burning red up your neck. “I hope you’re aware this is a very unacceptable behavior.” 

The raspiness of his voice would have sent you on overdrive, but now it frightened you to no end. Taking slow but steady steps in your direction, Ghost had his eyes locked on you, drowsy and darkened, as yours, instead, filled with tears. Fear of what was about to come next filling you up. “Especially when your Lieutenant is right here.”

Staring down at you, he tugged at the hem of your legging, pulling it away from your skin and peeking into it, spotting the red underwear you were now thankful for selecting. He slid a hand you didn’t notice was ungloved down your pants, inside your panties, feeling his way down through your trimmed hairs and soaked folds. When he reached the spot your own hands had just been playing at, his cold fingers caused you to jolt, unused to the strange sensation.

“These naughty new recruits, always causing me some trouble,” he stated, sight still locked into your eyes.

Starting to move, his movements were much rasher than yours, rubbing at your clit ferociously from the start, dragging out moans muffled by your pursed lips out of you. Not long later, just as your vision was starting to spot, you felt him park his hand at your entrance. You had to hold his arm for support once you felt him entering your pussy, his palm fractioning against your already sensitive clit as he pushed his fingers in and out of your leaking core.

With speed, you let out moan after moan. Your legs started to tremble, as you felt your release knocking, begging to come out, and you barely held yourself up before his low raspy voice guided your eyes up to his. “With only one finger?” he stared you down, voice too close mocking for your liking.

“That was only one finger?” you cried out, a bit louder than you’d expected.

“Now it’s two.”

He resumed his movements, the new girth tearing you apart, the pain mixing with the pleasure making you wetter by the second. Noticing your weakling legs, with his free hand he pinched your ass, sliding his hand to just below it to pull you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

The wet noises his fingers were making echoed through the empty corridors, and you prayed no one else was hidden somewhere, watching you reduced to a fucked up mess on your superior’s fingers. With his finger thrusts, he stared down at you, golden lashes a majestic sight, as if you were a mere toy in his hands. A puppet he could play around with all night long.

His eyes bore deep into yours, making you feel small, diminished. Since your mouth hung open, silent moans escaping from it almost rhythmically, he held your throat and, playing first with your bottom lip, forced his thumb inside your mouth. You sucked on it like a hungry baby, and you swore you heard a chuckle come out of him.

Soon, you could feel your orgasm coming through. Your wall sucked his fingers in, needing to be filled with so much more. Your high grew, your legs suddenly light like a feather, your vision spotted, almost blacking out, and your mind blank of any proper or coherent thought. Just as you were about to come, a loud moan left your mouth, instantly to be covered by the Lieutenants free hand, making your skin burn from the accidental slapping, but only adding to your aroused sensation.

Ghost shook his head at you, removing his fingers from inside you just as quickly as the moan came out. He left you empty, hollow, as he still looked at you with a disappointed shadow in his brown eyes. 

“Pathetic behavior,” he whispered, stepping away from you. Your legs dropped to the ground, and you had to hold yourself up so as not to fall to the floor. Turning on his heels, ass shaking deliciously as he walked away, he didn’t even care to look back at you as he gave you one last warning. “Present yourself to my office, Yn. We have to think of what punishment I’ll be giving you.”