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#ghost x reader
dante-mightdie · 3 days
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thinking about you and simon being the fresh start for the riley bloodline. years of abuse throufhout his childhood left simon with a bitter taste in his mouth towards parenthood. never had any desire to start a family and was perfectly content with letting the riley name die with him
until, of course, the idiot went and fell in love. married in your early twenties and a brood of kids before you even hit 30. your children raised in a home built on trust and respect, their parents the picture of example of true love
and by the time you’re in your late fifties, you’ve got grandkids on your hands. the house had felt lonely when all your children fled the nest but now you get to enjoy retirement with your husband and have your home full of babies again on the weekends when you’re children need a break
it never stopped being surreal for simon, even when you’re both in your seventies. still living in the home you built together when you first married. the idea that simon riley, a man legally dead to the world, had a family. and not just a family, a big one. who he loves and cherishes. who love and cherish him back
a man who had spent many holidays alone, drinking himself into a stupor, is now a happy old man with a full house every holiday. the family home filled with children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, cousins and in-laws. the riley family reborn from the love you share with your husband
forever in love with you until he takes his last breath, and then he’ll spend eternity searching for you in his next life
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starsofang · 3 days
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simon riley x deaf!reader
tw: none, literally just pure fluff
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“It’s just one date. I promise.”
You didn’t know how your friend had convinced you to go on a blind double date in the first place. In fact, you weren’t even the first choice, but when your friend came by to ask you to fill in for another girl who had bailed out last minute, you pity-agreed to help her out.
You weren’t sure if you were making the right choice. Dating wasn’t your thing, and you avoided it like it was the scum of the earth. Not to say you had bad experiences, per se, but you also didn’t have the best choice of men. None of them understood your situation to its fullest, but that was okay! You didn’t need their validation, and you were perfectly content with the way things were.
There was no harm in going on a fun date and having a few drinks and good food, you thought. One night, and you’d never have to see your blind date again.
Besides, your friend seemed to really be into her date from the way she’d gush about him after they met online (not your favorite choice, but you’d support her anyway), and you didn’t want to ruin that for her.
That’s what led you to be here, shoulder to shoulder with your friend as she rambled on about how excited she was with speedy hand gestures, how grateful she was that you came, that she’ll make sure your dinner and drinks are paid for. You weren’t exactly sure where the two of you were going, but judging from what she forced you to wear, it had to be a bit fancy and lavish.
You didn’t have the heart to tell her that was also not your favorite choice.
She guided you inside of the building, which was a preview of what was to come — high ceilings, ravishing decor, and low lighting that made everything much more romantic. You took in the fluorescent scenery as she spoke with the hostess. You didn’t know what they were saying, but as the waitress gestured with a hand for the two of you to follow, you assumed the two men were already there.
Your arm was looped loosely with your friend’s as the two of you walked after the hostess. When you approached a table, you took in the sight of one man that looked familiar — your friend’s date, a man with smooth, tanned skin and a smile that could cure sickness. The other man was new to you, and compared to your friend’s date — Kyle? — he was much more phlegmatic.
Kyle gave a polite nod towards you with a blinding smile, and you have one back, bowing your head in greeting. You sat next to your friend, watching as Kyle pulled out the chair for her, to which your date definitely didn’t do the same.
That was alright. You weren’t planning on making it past the first date anyway.
Your friend began to chatter with Kyle while you and your mystery date sat in silence. Your hands remained in your lap as your eyes scanned the menu that sat on the table.
Focused on appearing as busy as possible, you were unfortunately snapped out of it before it could last long when your friend nudged your shoulder with hers. When you looked up at her, she was smiling, and she lifted her hand to signal the man in front of you.
Blinking at him, you realized he was possibly trying to talk to you, and you shifted awkwardly. He probably thought you were rude.
“Sorry, Simon. I forgot to mention she’s deaf, so she didn’t know you were introducing yourself,” your friend apologized, and you watched as he stared at her before nodding in acknowledgment. “It won’t change anything, yeah?”
You sat in tense silence as you averted your eyes back to the menu. Your date had eyes that could pierce right through you if they wanted to, and you weren’t quite sure you wanted to be their next victim, date or not.
A phone screen was slid across the table from where you were studying the menu, and your eyes flickered to see a string of words typed out in the notes app.
“Sorry if that came off as rude. I’m Simon.”
Glancing up at him, you flashed him a smile that was relieved. He gave you an awkward one back, and you thought maybe he didn’t do it much.
You picked up his phone from where it sat in front of you and began typing out your response before slipping it back to him. You watched as he read it, a look of amusement in his eyes as he did so.
“Not rude at all. Sorry she didn’t tell you. You can back out if you’d like, I won’t take offense.”
Kyle and your friend were conversed in conversation with one another while Simon and you had your own back and forth.
“Why would I do that?” his next note read, and you tilted your head at him. He offered you a shrug, and your fingers tapped along his screen in return.
“Most men wouldn’t like being blindsided by not knowing their date is deaf.”
You saw his mouth part open when he read it, and you wondered if he was chuckling to himself. You wished you could hear it.
Was it deep? What if it was one of those contagious laughs that sounded like the literal gates of heaven opening up, and you wouldn’t ever have the chance of hearing it?
You didn’t have time to think about it when he placed the phone back in front of you, and when you glanced down, you couldn’t help but smile bashfully to yourself.
“A pretty girl’s a pretty girl. I’d be an idiot for backing out on the prettiest one I’ve had the gall to see over something like that.”
Fuck.
You weren’t supposed to like your date, much less so quickly. You only came for the food and for the sake of your friend’s happiness, but here you were, cheesing to yourself like a stupid teenager with a new crush.
But as the date continued, with the both of you eating alongside Kyle and your friend, shamelessly passing his phone back and forth and filling his notes app with evidence of your growing infatuation, you knew it wasn’t only for the food anymore.
He was sweet. Sure, it was all on paper (well, screen), and you told yourself to always be cautious with men.
But when he asked you out on a second date, then a third, you allowed your concrete walls to crumble.
And when he showed you the new signs he’d been working on so he could communicate with you on the fourth date, spelling out your name with cautious, slow fingers, eyes searching for your approval? You could’ve already married him then and there.
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bi-writes · 2 days
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mmm. being the final girl in ghost's slasher movie (dark!ghost x curvy!fem!reader, 18+)
his laughter shakes you to your core. you're cornered, in the very back bedroom under the bed, staring at the dull gaze of your roommate as she bleeds out on the floor.
she's gurgling. she coughs up mouthfuls of blood, and they trail down her neck like a spider web until it pools underneath her head, making the strands of her hair red and sticky. the slit across her throat sputters, and you watch as the white painted bones on the back of his gloves drips with the pretty crimson color. if it wasn't so cruel, if it wasn't blood, it might be artistic.
he takes a thumb and smears the blood over her skin. he draws shapes into her forehead and then both of her cheeks, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to stop from crying as she gasps, reaching up with a shaky hand, halfheartedly trying to push him off, but she's too weak.
he hums when he finishes, and your eyes well up with tears when he knocks her head to the side so she's facing you. he's written three words on her face, one word on her forehead, and then the rest on her cheeks, in her own blood.
I SEE YOU
you scream when he shifts, grabbing onto your ankles and yanking. you claw at the hardwood floor, trying desperately to get away from him, but it's no use. he has you, he found you.
no matter where you go, you've never been able to hide. no matter how far away you think you've gone, it never matters. no matter how long you go without hearing from him, it isn't a comfort, because that usually means the inevitable is coming.
he will never leave you alone. you will never get away. he will find you, he will have you, and every time you escape, it is always just him giving you the illusion of freedom, when in reality, he can have you as easily as he did before.
"givin' me a right headache, luvvie," he murmurs, flipping you over with not so much as a grunt and sitting on your hips. you squirm under him, but this behemoth of a man isn't something you can just push off of you. he's big and heavy, and with all his gear on, he must be thirty pounds heavier. you eye the gun strapped to his chest, but even at this distance, you know it won't matter.
ghost cannot die. that's how he got his fucking name. you've sunk a knife into his stomach before, you've shot him once, you've pushed him off of cliffs and down elevator shafts and watched him sink to the bottom of the fucking ocean, but he cannot die, he won't die, he will never leave me.
"fuck you," you spit, and he chuckles, pulling one of his throwing knives out of his boot and using it to pop the first button off the front of your shirt. it clatters somewhere in the bedroom, and ghost snarls when he sees the lace of your bra.
"expectin' someone?" he growls. "oi! look at me."
you glare up at him, tears sliding down your cheeks, and he uses the sharp edge to pop the rest of the buttons off, your shirt in tatters as it lays loose around your arms. he grunts as he sneaks it under where the cups meet, pulling upwards until he cuts the lace in half. you mewl when your tits bounce, falling free, and his pupils dilate.
"mmmm..." he pushes his mask up, leaning down, and you arch your back when he wraps his lips around one nipple and suckles. you reach up without thinking, your hands finding the back of his head and cradling it as he practically feeds on the fat of your breasts. "know how much you like tha'..."
you whine, and he lets go, pushing the front of his mask into your cheek, licking the skin. you scrunch your face, dirty fucking animal, and he mouths at your jaw.
"'f y'were just a good girl, wouldn't hafta do this," he taunts. you squirm when he lowers himself again, paying attention to the other breast and sucking it into his mouth. "y'make me do it, swee'eart. make me hurt sorry muppets...they're keepin' y'from me. and y'know tha' isn't allowed."
you cry out when he flips you over under him. he shoves your face into the floor, tangling his hand into your hair and yanking on it so that you're looking at your dead roommate, her eyes dull and lifeless as she lays there turning cold.
"look wot y'did," he growls. "look wot y'made me do."
she looks sort of pretty. she did annoy the shit out of you, you won't lie. she looks happier this way. quiet, relaxed, still. it's cathartic, to know that maybe this is what she was meant for. to die, that was her purpose. it makes a little sense.
"'m sorry," you whisper, and ghost loosens his grip on your hair. "'m sorry..."
he kisses the side of your neck, laughing a little.
"now y'r sorry," he says, amused. "y'r mine. when are y'going to learn tha'?"
you put your palms onto the floor, trying to turn over. he eases his weight up to let you, leaning down and putting both hands on either side of your head as he looks down at you. you meet his eyes, sniffling, and you shake your head.
"w-was scared."
"scared?" he tilts his head to the side, licking over his teeth. "scared of wot? would do anythin' for ya."
"i-i know," you sniffle. "just...n-never had anyone that...that would. i-i...i've never had anyone s-so good to me."
he grins, and you shiver a little, but not from fear.
"awww," he shakes his head. "y'r a bad liar, luv."
"i'm not lying--!"
he leans down, licking over your bottom lip, and you whimper.
"prove it," ghost rasps, and you blink up at him, swallowing hard. you push on his chest a little so he eases off of you, and you hook your thumbs into your jeans and shimmy them off. ghost watches carefully, his eyes flickering when you lay bare underneath him, and you bring your knees up before letting them fall. he licks his lips, his grin widening, and he meets your eyes when he sees what he likes. "bloody hell, y'r soaking the fuckin' floor, swee'eart."
you bite your lip, a little shy, and he grips your throat firmly before tugging you up to meet him. he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, stroking your sweaty hair and humming low.
"y'r gonna run again, aren't ya, baby?"
you nod, closing your eyes, and you let a soft moan slip out when he settles between your spread legs, pressing his pelvis to yours. you feel that familiar hardness, digging into your sex, and you can't help the grind of your hips, wanting to get closer, needing to have more of him. he might be the craziest motherfucker you have ever known, and it's a shame he fucks like a pornstar.
you open your eyes, reaching down, and he smiles wickedly when you unzip his pants, shoving them low until his cock is free. like he knew this would happen, he's been leaking into his boxers, and when you pull him out, the tip is red and wet.
you squeeze your thighs around his waist when he sinks into you, grunting when his thighs press to yours, burying himself deep. you cry, your back bowing sharply, and he smooths his gloved hand down your bare stomach, licking his lips when he trails streaks of blood down your soft skin.
"'s olright," ghost mutters, "quite like chasin' ya. makes y'r cunny taste better. makes y'so fuckin' tight, too, fuck--"
"yeah--" you gasp, and he smiles again, disgusting, filthy, murderous, terrifying.
"say it. say it, and maybe i'll forgive this lil' stunt, and maybe i'll let y'cum." your eyes roll back, and he grips your face tight. "oi! say it!"
"i'm yours! fuck--yes! i'm yours..."
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Ways I think Simon “Ghost” Riley asks for consent without explicitly asking.
MDNI, This Blog & Post Aren’t For Minors!! This gets sexual real quickly, but Reader's pronouns aren’t specified.
His thumb brushes across your bottom lip when he wants to kiss you, waiting to see if you lean into the touch.
His fingers gently grip the hem of your shirt or the waistband of your pants, silently asking you if he can undress you. He does this with each and every article he wants to undress.
He’ll give you a very heated once-over when you’re both laying in bed, showing off the bulge in his pants/boxers so you know how horny he is.
Trails his fingers up your thigh (clothed or unclothed) and stops just short of where your sex is, his head in your neck so he can listen to if your breath hitches in arousal at his touching.
Spreads his legs open and pats his waiting thigh when sitting on the couch. It’s similar to the bed one, since his bulge is prominent.
Settles himself between your legs, putting his beefy hands on the insides of your thighs. Leaves the decision up to you, you can choose to beg for more or just be content with him between your thighs.
If you have hickeys from previous sexual encounters with him, he’ll trace them to tell you that he’s thinking of giving you more.
Leaves your towel on the bed when you come home and he’s showering, the towel a form of invitation to join him.
If you’re already naked and done with one round (or several), he squeezes your hips twice to signal he's ready for another round if you are.
He rubs his noses against yours before parting his lips slightly, mouthing motions made when kissing.
His eyes have trouble straying from your lips, trying hard to look you in the eyes only for his attention to dart back to your lips. He might even lick his own lips, if you're both alone and he doesn't have his mask or balaclava on.
Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)
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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 2 days
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[I almost killed your boss with my grilled cheese sandwich]- Mafia!TF141*F!Reader
Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)
Mafia!TF141*F!Reader
Chapter 1
After the unexpected encounter with Soap and Ghost, your shop finally owns the vibes of peace.
The customers become so ‘normal’, almost feels like you aren’t in the same area as before – if you ignore the blood on their shirts or recall the memory of seeing them punching someone across the street. You assume the men must tell them to behave in your shop, but you must say the minions become a bit overreacting. They call you ma'am, chat as quietly as possible, and one of them even apologizes when he accidentally touches your finger as if you will chop off his pinky. You start doubting if they view you as a secret henchman of 141.
It’s morning now, the shop usually has more people at this time, but you haven’t had a single customer since you opened it 30 minutes ago, they just vanished without any hint, hence you start testing out new recipes for your bread.
Lilting the song that’s fully out of tune, you slice the bread you just baked into pieces, and throw one into your mouth. Perfectly crunchy outside, fluffy like clouds inside. Oh my, you’re such a genius.
You’re totally unaware of your visitor until he stirs the air with a cough and his voice.
“Pardon me?” He calls you again, but you’re left in a trance when you land your eyes on him.
Damn, he looks just like your imagination of the man in the Dilf next door fic you just read yesterday on co5. Your eyes travel from his well-trim beard, south to his belted waist. Why does a man with a toned body – which his khaki coat can’t even hide –  have such a tiny waist? Your mouth's agape at the sight as you’re about to respond.
“mmsadjsmm” The man raises his eyebrow in confusion, and you hear your voice not forming a proper sentence too. Ah, you forgot the bread’s still stuffed in your mouth.
“ehemm, Sorry Sir, I mean what would you like to have?” Quickly swallow the bread and try to pretend you didn’t just dumbfounded in front of him, you speak again.
“English breakfast, please.” He croons with an infatuating smile as he saunters to take a seat. 
His voice is quite soothing, you admit in your mind as you start brewing said man’s tea, just like you presumed the Dilf in the fic… okay, you really should clear those nasty brainrots during work.
The tea is nicely served in the tea cup and brought to the man shortly after.
You can’t help the smile crawling onto your face when you see him grin at you after a sip. You love watching your customer enjoy your tea, and he obviously relaxes with it have you bask in your achievements.
“Don’t finish your breakfast?”
“Just trying a new recipe. I want to add it to my menu.” you reply with a shake of your head, and after a brief halt, you add a question “ Have you eaten breakfast yet, Sir”
“Call me John, love.” The man – John sets his cup on the table before continuing “And no, I haven’t”
“Then… would you like to have a grilled cheese sandwich? I can’t finish the bread myself, it would be great if someone could help me with it... Of course, it isn’t a must!" You hurriedly complement when John widens his eyes slightly at your suggestion, but he meets your eyes with interest within.
”I would love to.”
You beam up as you get the affirmation, and walk behind your counter again.
Slices of bread are already prepared. The pro tip for a delicious grilled cheese sandwich is giving the bread some nice seasoning first, so you pick up your black pepper jar before inquiring about John’s preference.
“How much pepper would you like, John?”
“Would be great if it’s more.”
“Alright.”
You turn back to season the bread, but when you pick up the pepper jar and about to shake it, a question slips into your brain making you pause.
How much is “more”?
The man doesn't have time to sit here and wait for you to contemplate the philosophy of seasoning, so after biting your bottom lip and thinking for 30 seconds, you shake the jar. More is better, you recall what John told you as your hand keeps moving.
You shake it 10 times, since more is better.
Apart from the bread, you hold full confidence in your grilled cheese sandwich. Placing generous amounts of cheese in between, the coveted smell flooded your little shop as you plate the well-toasted sandwich.
“It surely smells great.” John praises before diving in.
You hang a big expecting grin until John takes a bite and starts coughing like you will put him into the ER with a sandwich.
“It’s– it’s okay…love…” He tries to comfort you when you apologize abundantly and rush back to your counter to fill him a cup of water. Holy, isn’t more pepper better? Now you're going to send the man to heaven with a grilled cheese sandwich.
“Here’s water!” You go back to John as fast as you can with the cold water in your hand, you’re busy checking out John, who stops coughing madly but cheeks pink with the spices, and you don’t see the leg of the chair sticking out of its usual place.
A pair of arms catch you from slamming onto the floor, but the cup isn’t that lucky as it flies with Newton’s help and clatters on the floor.
“Shit! I’m so sorry!” You stabilize yourself in John’s support. But wow,  now the man not only just recovered from a fatal attack to his throat, but also has a wet spot spreading along the chest part of his shirt.
“No worries, love. It’s just a shirt.”
Even though John attempts to calm you, you still can’t help the sheepishness creep to your cheeks and stain it with the same pink as John’s, or stop thinking about if the balance in your bank account is able to buy the man a new shirt. You remember you wanted to get some cash out of the cashpoint but it shoved an ‘insufficient funds :(‘ into your face.
You really don’t want any customers to come in right now, even if it means your little tea shop will close down because you only have one from the start of today, but fate always gifts you things you crave when you don’t need them.
“Sorry boss, I’m late.”
You look at the tan-skinned man standing like a model just escaped from his manager, staring at you shoving a towel on John’s chest and both of your cheeks smeared with suspicious red.
“What happened?”
I almost murdered your boss with my grilled cheese sandwich. Apparently, you can’t answer with this, so you face John for help.
and he’s looking at you too, with a sly smirk awaiting your explanation.
You wonder if you can just make two sandwiches to shut these men up, with one more for yourself to end this predicament now.
a/n: ty for reading :D have a nice day/night!
No John Price is harmed in this chapter.
tag list :D - @blackhawkfanatic @nexthyperfix @danielle143
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ghouljams · 22 hours
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Some Ghost!Ghost that I wrote in a blind panic at midnight last night before collapsing back asleep. Minors DNI (cw: dubcon, somno)
Your cunt stretches around his cock, clenches around him like you can't get enough. Your body trying to keep him locked in place even in your sleep. he can see the soft pink walls of your pussy, the translucent cock that spears you open also giving your ghostly top an clear view of your insides. Your hips shift at the pressure of being filled, your knee moving from where you lay on your side to try and get comfortable. Look at you, so cute drooling against the pillow, arms wrapped around another as your silly little brain keeps you under the throws of sleep. Poor thing. It's a good thing Ghost is around to keep you safe when you're such a sound sleeper.
The burn of being stretched around his cock makes you whimper, the soft sound breathes out of you as Ghost fucks your pliant body. You're getting better about sleeping through his visits. Must be getting used to him, used to being filled by him. He wonders what you're dreaming about, if you're dreaming at all. Your soft lips part around delicate moans, hardly anything worth waking up over. It has to be him doesn't it? Perverse thing that you are, so willing to take his cock in the daylight even when you can't see him, do you dream about him too?
Some sick part of him purrs, pleased to know you're so easily trained, that your body welcomes him so nicely. But the part that's still human twists. He knows he shouldn't take advantage of your kindness like this. If he was a better man...
Well, if he was a better man he wouldn't be stuck in this terrible limbo in the first place. He wouldn't still have blood spilling from his slit throat. He wouldn't be fucking the sweet thing that's trying so hard to accommodate him in a house that's no longer his own.
Still, he thinks, better than the men that you've brought into the house. He's protecting you, really, by chasing them off. He's keeping you safe from their lecherous hands, their perverse glances and impure thoughts. He's keeping you satisfied so you don't try to seek satisfaction elsewhere. It's just the two of you here, no one else. He won't allow anyone else to know you like he does, to enjoy your kindness, your understanding, your body.
"There you go baby, big stretch," He murmurs, speaks in a voice he knows you'll never hear, when your brows scrunch the tiniest bit as he draws his cock out of your tight hole and presses it back into you, "you can take it, know you can." The warm clutch of your body is too much to resist, even when your skin seems to lose its heat wherever he touches you. He can't stop touching you, passing through your clothes to grope at your chest during the day, ghosting his fingers over your hips when you lay tile, his lips against your neck when you reach for something off a high shelf, his cock fucking you over the kitchen counter like the little trespassing whore you are.
You take it all so eagerly. Leave offerings for him, take his opinion, do you even know the strength you give him, the power. He wouldn't have been able to do this months ago, wouldn't have been able to sink into your slick cunt and hold himself up with a hand on your hip. Fuck you look so good when he spreads you open, tugs your folds out of the way with his thumb to watch the way you swallow him.
There is, he supposes, one nice thing about being dead: when you wake up in the morning with your pussy aching and sticky, you assume it must be from the wet dream you had last night.
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cntloup · 3 days
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husband!simon x wife!reader
i know im on a break but here's a lil smth hehe🤭🩷💫🌸
"get out through the backdoor!" Simon utters hurriedly, "and take this... just in case." he hands you the gun which he keeps under his pillow.
"i'm not gonna leave you!" you blurt out as you feel the tingle of tears behind your eyes, fearing the worst possible outcome.
"you have to! please just go! i'll take care of them!" he says in a hushed tone in order not to alert the intruders.
he reaches in his nightstand and grabs an envelope and hands it to you.
"here's all the information you need in case i'm gone." he says in a monotone manner, masking how he truly feels inside.
he's never put much value on his life, always focused to get the job done no matter the cost. until you appeared and swept him off his feet.
now he senses a churn in his stomach, utter fear gnawing at his heart, not for himself, but you. what would happen to you when he's gone?
you take the envelope with shaky hands, "simon, you mean...?" you ask, frightened out of your mind.
"yes. if i die, you'll know what to do." he responds, "please don't say that!" you plead, averting your gaze from him to hide your tears.
he embraces you tightly and kisses the crown of your head, "go!" he says and ushers you out of the bedroom, making sure the path is clear for you to head out back.
moments later, after throwing punches and slashing through flesh with sharply honed knives and bullets flying around, simon finds himself among five dead bodies and a pool of blood on the carpet.
just as he shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, he hears the sound of a gunshot.
he's startled and filled with anxiety as he steps outside to see what happened, finding himself praying for the first time in his life that it's not you.
only then, he meets your terrified figure, shaking and eyes widened in sheer shock.
his eyes land on the blood splattered all over your shirt and you notice his anxious eyes, "it's not mine!" you say breathily, chest heaving as adrenaline courses heavily through your body.
in an instant, he runs towards you and engulfs you in his strong arms while letting out a sigh of relief, "i thought i lost you!" he murmurs in your hair, "can't get rid of me that easily, babe!" you say back with a low chuckle, though still trembling.
"i'll call price to help with the mess." he says, guiding you inside the house with an arm draped over your shoulders as you're still stuck in a state of lingering shock.
-----
"you looked so fuckin' sexy in that moment with the gun in your hand and blood all over you!" he says with a smirk as you cuddle on the couch days after the incident.
"yeah? you liked that?" you ask with a playful smile as your glinting eyes meet his.
"i'm proud of you! my wife is such a badass!" he says, a soft smile adorning his scarred lips and pure adoration dancing in his eyes as he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.
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celestialprincesse · 2 days
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If you’re still taking fluffy Simon requests… I cannot stop imagining Simon who is your biggest protector. As someone who gets stressed and anxious easily, and the thought of being able to let your guard down around him makes my heart flutter 💕 also, telling him this while you’re wrapped in his strong arms would definitely make him blush.
He's definitely so so happy if his partner feels safe to just shut their brain off around him🤭 Makes him feel like he's done something right💕
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The moment you and Simon are at home with one another, you're able to check out into that quiet, peaceful, fuzzy spot in the back of your mind where everything is gentle and easy. You know he'll be there to look after you. A hand on the corner of the table when you drop something to make sure you don't hit your head, your phone put on charge when you drift off, a gentle hand guiding you through crowds.
"Still with me, hm?" You're snapped from your daze with a gentle hand brushing an errant strand of hair behind your ear.
The minute you shimmy over to sit beside him, Simon opens his arms to bundle you into his strong side, nestling your head under his chin. Calloused fingers card absently through your hair, slowing to match the pace of your breathing, the rise and fall of your chest against his.
Whatever plays on the TV, some documentary, is completely forgotten as you sit blanketed by his ever comforting presence and the soft haze that fills your brain. He's perfectly happy to let you check out, dropping the occasional kiss to the crown of your head, reminding you he's there, fingers drawing patterns up and down your spine as he watches his show.
If you could spend every evening like this, you'd be happy. Happy to sit in the peace and quiet that only comes from being surrounded by love and safety. Happy to get lost in your thoughts alongside someone ready to pull you back if you ever drift too far. Happy to just be, without any pretences or awkward small talk. Happy to have found someone who lets you have that.
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Date
"The giant man is staring at you again," murmurs your co-worker, looking a bit worried.
You grin to yourself. "I know," you tell her. "He's always staring at me." Turning back to your work, you start stocking the shelf again, taking occasional glances over to where the man is leaning against the wall trying to pretend that he isn't watching you. Feeling confident today, when you finally catch his eye, you wink and smile flirtatiously. His own eyes widen in shock and he turns away slightly, staring at the floor. The next time you look up, he isn't there and you sigh, deciding that you must have pushed him away by being too forward.
Turning back to your shelf again, you yelp and stumble back, seeing nothing but a man's chest in front of you. When you look up, hand pressed to your pounding heart, you see the giant man looking down at you apologetically, practically ready to flee. "No, wait," you say, holding up your hand. "Sorry, I was just surprised." He hesitates, hands fidgeting as he seems to be trying to think of what to say. Before he can do much more than open his mouth, you speak up again. "Would you like to go on a date tomorrow night? Six o'clock?"
He stares at you for the longest time before nodding. "Yes, six o'clock," he says quietly before striding off, leaving you wondering how he will know where to pick you up. But really, you shouldn't worry. He's been following you home for months, after all.
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dante-mightdie · 3 days
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Viking simon genuineoy getting annoyed by the healer constantly seeking his attention when he just wants his kids hanhing off his arms and his silly ggoose of a wife scratching his hair that he literally pushes the healer to viking gaz
he just goes "hes a good man and a great provider bother him instead"
viking!simon my love <3
c/w: fluff, children, simon loves being a dad
shes really just not getting the hint, is she? night after night following your husband around like about puppy when he’s simply just trying to spend time with you and his children. it doesn’t matter how many times he attempts to tell her that he’s too busy for this, she tells him she doesn’t mind
“I mind.” simon grunts out, turning his attention back toddler squirming in his lap as they desperately try and escape his hold so they can run around the feast and cause mayhem
meanwhile, you sit right by his side with your little one tucked into your chest and nursing happily. your husbands cloak draped over your shoulders to give you some privacy. smiling as you listen to simon shut down her attempts at bothering him
he stands up, hoisting the toddler so they’re snug on his hip and grabbing her wrist before stomping off over to where kyle was sat. he pushes her into the seat next to him, ignoring gaz’s look of confusion
“kyle is need of a wife. I am not. he’s a good man, he’ll take care of you.” simon says, ignoring his toddlers grabby hands when they reach up to tug and yank on his hair, chewing on the ends of his braids. he doesn’t give either of them a chance to respond before he’s stomping back over to where you’re sat
plants his toddler back in his lap, securing them with a burly arm wrapped around them. you smile when you hear simon let out an exaggerated groan of pain, looking over to see your child gnawing on his forearm. their little teeth doing nothing to hurt their warrior of a father
“I’ll bite you back, you know?” simon grunts, a playful tone hidden in the words. and when your child doesn’t stop, he lifts their hand up to his mouth and ever so gently chomps down on their little fist. his teeth barely even grazing the skin whilst your toddler giggles and squeals at the playful growls your husband lets out like a lion playing with their cubs
you watch with a small smile, internally grateful to the gods for gifting you a good man
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monstersflashlight · 3 days
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Ghost boyfriend who pushes his fingers inside your pussy as you watch TV with your friends. You try to hide it and excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. He pushes his dick inside of your dripping pussy as soon as you close the door, making you bite down on your panties, licking your own juices. He comes inside of you and puts your panties back on, completely ruined. You have to spend the rest of the night with filthy panties and his cum slowly dripping out. Face red, pussy wet.
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scribbledghost · 22 hours
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Give me Simon with a reader who's not codependent and submissive. who knows how to get shit done and does it accordingly instead of waiting around for him to do it. who goes toe-to-toe with him and will not stand for him treating you as anything other than his equal in this relationship.
Who tells him when he comes over one day to fix the leaky kitchen faucet that it's already done. And no, you didn't pay someone else to fix it, you just did it yourself because he was deployed and you didn't feel like waiting six weeks for it to get fixed. YouTube and a Can-Do Attitude are a helluva combination.
Who gives him a look of "I KNOW you did not just speak to me that way" after he tries to order you around like you're one of the recruits he trains. And he shrinks. All it takes is one look from you and he's awkwardly clearing his throat and mumbling "sorry, love".
Who lets him give you his credit card, but also lets that card sit and collect dust because you have your own funds from your own job, dammit. You worked hard for that money, and by god you're going to spend it yourself.
Who doesn't own any makeup, let alone wear any, because it takes up too much time and by god sometimes you need to blow your nose or rub your eyelid and you can't be bothered to worry about whether or not your face will come off if you do those things.
Who can (and will) bare your teeth just as well as Simon can. And you make it very clear very early on in your relationship: "Treat me like a dog and I'll bite you like one".
Give me a reader who knows your worth. And give me Simon who wouldn't have you any other way.
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dmitriene · 2 days
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you were simon's collar, leash of which was in your hands, and you didn't even have to wrap it around your fist and tug, because simon was so devoted to you that being always near and in your sight was something that was in him from the beginning.
simon always defaults to reporting if he goes somewhere, as if asking for permission, despite the fact that he really rarely went to pubs with his teammates from the task force, there always was a mute, hoarse question in the air — “can i go? won' to com' with me, luv?„
his whole appearance shows that he's yours, the way he holds your neat hand tightly in his calloused and wide one, the way he sits you on his broad lap in the middle of the pub at a table, the way he nuzzles into your shoulder or the curve of your neck
the way he's flashing scarlet buds of hickeys left by you on his thick throat or neck, wearing a shirt with short collar.
simon is not afraid to kiss you in public, letting his tongue intertwine with yours in front of other people's eyes extremely greedily, allowing you to tease him with promises of what awaits him at home, while the thick bulge in his pants only grows bigger.
no other girl has time to try to get to know him or his number, catching the moment when you leave to the pub counter, cause simon immediately interrupts any loose attempts with a deep, smoky voice of — “no' a chanc', i'm on a leash her', you sei„
as his dark eyes crinkle and thin lips stretch into a wide, toothy grin, pointing his thumb behind his back, at you, standing and chatting obliviously with the bartender.
✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.
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suguann · 3 days
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an. a little 'and-they-were-roommates' drabble series to get me back into writing because it's been an age. | masterlist | part two
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It starts as a situation built off convenience: he needed someone to take care of his place while he was gone, and you needed a place to stay. 
Simon never thought he’d get anything out of it other than coming home to a house that feels lived-in and the entryway clear of envelopes from months of neglecting his mail—another voice throughout the day besides the intrusive ones in his head that spun like a carousel with the word work etched on top. 
It’s not until you show up on his doorstep, three boxes and a measly duffel bag crowding your arms, that he thinks he really should’ve thought this through better. He’ll only realize this after the fact—weeks late, sleepless nights filled with images of daisy-shaped buttons down the front of a summer dress and a smile that nearly knocks him flat off his feet.
As it is, he’ll blame it on the handful of sleepless hours from tiny airplane seats and energy drinks sleuthing through his system that clouded his judgment, then admit it’s nice coming home to a woman who looks pretty reading a book on his living room couch.
Only his soap-slick fist in his bathroom late at night will know the honest-to-God truth. That is if there was ever a god he believed in. 
He never claimed to be a good man. 
(Can anyone claim to be good in his line of work?)
Just an honest one.
So it goes something like this: he tries not to come off as an obsessed, lonely fuck (the jury is out on either) by just existing in the same space as you whenever the opportunity arises—reading the paper while you make breakfast on the stove he hasn’t touched in too long to remember when, flipping through a book Simon didn’t even know he owned while you water plants you picked up on your way from work, watching whatever you have on the telly before you both go to bed—then he’s on a plane, being shipped out to who knows where with a gun holstered to his hip.
Rinse and repeat. 
The fourth time he comes home after an assignment keeps him away longer than expected, he finds you in the kitchen, covered in flour, a cute, frilly apron tied around your waist that he’s never seen you wear before. A smile curls the edges of your mouth as you look over at him, everything in your face soft and attentive—a vision suddenly takes shape.
You with a ring on your finger, Simon calling you his little wife, getting to hold your hand whenever he feels like it, and not because yours accidentally brushed up against his. His hand fisting in your hair, bending you over the counter, your cheek covered in powdery confectionery, fingers rucking up your skirt and apron because he can.
He blinks once, twice, and the little fantasy falls apart. 
Except you’re still in his kitchen, smiling prettily and happy to see him of all things. Imagine that.
Your lashes flutter, making crescent shadows across your cheeks. “How was your trip?” you ask. “You look more tired than you usually do.”
A shrug, a dismissal. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? I have some tea that might help.”
“Tea.” He repeats to fill the quiet if only to stand there a little longer, his bag still slung over his shoulder and his clothes smelling like recycled air. 
“Yeah, I got it from a friend a few weeks ago when I caught this cold that was going around the office.” Sometimes, you ramble, and he can do nothing more than let you get it out of your system—not that he minds. “I swear it’s nothing janky or anything. Just try it; it might help.”
You’re so damn earnest about it that he can’t bring himself to say no.
“Sure,” he says and watches a wide, satisfied smile stretch across your face.
It’d be easier if you weren’t so sweet and gave a sincere fuck about the comings and goings of his life. If the smell of your perfume wasn’t following Simon everywhere—sugary vanilla faintly clinging to his balaclava even after he’s washed it—as a reminder of what’s just out of his reach.
(A mindfuck is what it is.)
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ghostsgrl666 · 11 hours
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roommate!ghost who's waiting for you when you get home in the middle of the night after going out with your friends. Sitting on the couch in those fucking grey sweatpants when you stumble through the door and drop your keys. Has to stare at the crack on the ceiling when you get down on your hands and knees to find them, pretend for his own sanity that he hasn't seen the tiny excuse for underwear you've got on under that little black dress.
Like clockwork, he's got you sitting on the icy bathroom counter as you giggle, telling him all about your night. He's got cotton pads and makeup remover in one hand and the other holding onto your thigh because you started unconsciously squeezing his broad frame when he stepped in between your open legs. He gently wipes away all the traces of the night, carefully mapping out the contours of your face like your a masterpiece he's carved from some precious stone. Until he gets to your lips. The shiny, fucking sparkly gloss is all thats left on your skin but his hand freezes as he studies the crease in your bottom lip. You catch up two seconds later in your dreamy, relaxed haze, and without even thinking about it you close the gap, softly pressing your lips to the one's silently hovering over yours.
His breath catches and his grip on your thigh becomes molten hot as you just as quickly pull away. Innocently you smile at him, like you hadn't just killed him, like you hadn't just made him start planning your wedding down to the way your eyes would shine as you walked down the aisle, all for him.
Your laugh is the only thing that can pull him out of his stupor, "you have no idea how long i've wanted to do that." 
But he does, he really, really does.
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konigsblog · 2 days
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not sure about you guys, but this screams rapist-simon riley to me.
tw/cw; rape, non-con/dub-con, kidnapping, bondage, afab!f!reader, intoxication, dark fiction. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. MDNI 18+
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simon riley refuses any form of help or medication for his worsening mental health. he deals with his anger and aggression in unhealthy ways and doesn't see any issue with it. he takes what he believes belongs to him, and to simon, you were in serious need for a lesson.
you shouldn't have been walking around drunk and all alone after your friends had abandoned you. it's quiet aside from the heavy rain and whistling wind, with raindrops splashing against the cold and dirty concrete. simon believes that it's your own fault for walking around in such a short dress while being drunk and alone, in the middle of october in manchester. you look freezing, goosebumps spreading across your skin and your eyes widening with horror as simon towers above you intimidatingly.
you don't speak much now that you're locked away and in simon's apartment, it's not as if you could if you wanted to, with a piece of duct tape silencing your cries for mercy and restricting your movements. simon believes that all women have a purpose, and that purpose is to serve men. he bounces his broad and muscular hips, forcing you to slide up and down on his weeping, lengthy cock. his stiff dick aches inside of your swollen folds, leaking his shaft coated in a mix of your blood and arousal. deep down, you want nothing, but your body doesn't do a good job at portraying the emotions you're currently feeling right now.
simon will hiss at you, beat you for talking back. you can't be so loud, not when he lives in an apartment where his next-door neighbours could easily overhear the corrupted and sadistic things happening in the other room.
don't blame simon, it's not his fault. boys will be boys, lovie, and you'll just have to deal with it.
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