kooolgirl

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗ a/n: here's my masterlist!! i hope ya'll enjoy!! (p.s. requests are open!)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ john price

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 simon "ghost" riley

pairing: neighbor!simon “ghost” riley x neighbor!reader

summary: your neighbor helps you overcome your fear of dogs

masterlist!

you were walking down the sidewalk in your neighborhood, trying to reach your daily steps. you leaned your head back, wanting to feel the warm sunshine on your features. there was a light breeze in your hair, your mind in euphoria, the music playing through your headphones only enhancing your bliss.

unfortunately, every ounce of your bliss washed away when you saw it, bringing your head down, eyes widening with fear at the sight of the large animal-like being at the end of the street.

a small gasp escaped your mouth as it started running towards you. pivoting on your heel, you started running from the beast, cursing yourself for having your volume all the way up. you probably could’ve heard the animal before getting too close to it, but now the predator’s chasing you and you’re probably gonna die! “help me! someone! please help!”

you were screaming bloody murder running through your neighborhood, surprised none of your neighbor’s have come out. it sounded like you were dying. can anyone hear you being chased by the monster? why is no one helping?

tears started leaving your eyes when you made the mistake of looking behind you, seeing the creature closing the distance between itself and its prey.

yeah, this was it. this was where you were going to die.

by some miracle, your prayers were answered. you saw your neighbor, who was relatively new to the street, remembering when you witnessed him unloading a truck around six months ago. it was hard not to notice the man! he was a giant with muscles the size of pumpkins! admittedly, he intimidated you. he even wore a balaclava with a skull. who does that!

despite the man’s daunting aura, you’ve talked to him a handful of times, his gruff, british accent jarring you. learning he goes by “ghost” startling you even more! the man was so intriguing, but so freaky!

but, he was your best bet.

so you ran to him, “sir! please!” you took in a breath, pushing your legs to continue moving, “ghost!”

you’d been running for a while now, tiredness slowly seeping through the veins in your limbs, but you knew you couldn’t stop, couldn’t let the thing reach you. “it’s trying to get me!”

the mysterious ghost turned to you, alerted promptly at your call to him. the brute thought he heard someone yelling from inside, his military training making him step outside to help any potential victims in danger. even retired, the man can’t stay away from the action.

he’s running in your direction instantly, big boots hammering against the gravel. ghost’s footsteps were more like stomps that sounded like bombs going off.

his strong arms pull you behind him, the critter hot on your tail, “riley! sit, now!” he roared out. you didn’t even have time to turn down your music, and you still heard the command, almost sitting down yourself. pulling your headphones around your neck, still clinging to the back of your neighbor’s shirt, you watched in silence. “yer scarin’ tha’ lass, riley!”

you observed the animal’s reactions to the brit, hearing “riley” whimper as he laid his head down.

“stay,” he huffed out, turning to you next. when you lost the first grip you had on his shirt, you quickly clinged to the front, “t-thank you, sir,” you were still crying, still scared for your fucking life. “ghost, was it?” you asked, knowing that was his name.

he nodded, eyes looking into your own, “tha’s’ right, lass. m’ rememba’ yer’s s’ y/n,” he’s moving his hand to your face now, a finger wiping the tears that streamed down your puffy cheeks.

your lower lipped wobbled next, the man choosing to graze his finger across it. a frown hid behind his balaclava, hating seeing his pretty neighbor so scared of his dog. you’d always been so sweet to the brute in the few interactions you’ve had together. riley didn’t mean any harm, he just wanted to play with you!

“m’ sorry m’ dog frightened ya. he don’ mean to be scary, he jus’ gets excited and don’ know how big he s’,” he uses his massive hand to push your hair behind your ear.

he’s trying his best to provide you with as much comfort as possible, being as gentle as possible, knowing he himself probably scares you to an extent too. he doesn’t miss the way you move your gaze to the ground when he catches you staring at him on your walks, hurriedly shuffling away to your house.

“t-that’s your dog?” you emphasized the words, eyes widening again. you surely thought the pet was a mutated predator out for your blood. how could a dog be so big? and how haven’t you noticed?

he smiles, stopping himself from laughing at your reaction. he didn’t want to make you more upset, but you were just so cute.

“yes, y/n,” he’s nodding his head, gesturing to his dog, “riley’s a great dane, they get real big.” “i don’t know much about dogs. i’m a little scared of them,” you confess, hands fiddling with your shirt now.

he pulls you into a hug, the warmth of your neighbor making you feel a lot more calmer than you thought it would. “m’ so sorry, sweets,” he’s rubbing the top of your head now, his hand swallowing your scalp, “must’ve been so scary havin’ such a big dog after ya? riley’s sorry, hon’,” he consoles, somehow bringing you closer when he hears you crying again.

you cried more when you heard riley’s whimpering increase, “quiet!” angrily leaving ghost. you felt bad for riley, your heart hurting at his cries. regardless of your fears, you didn’t want riley to get in trouble with ghost, especially knowing now he was just happy to see someone. “damn it, he jumped ova’ m’ fence again. needa’ build it higha’,” he grumbles out.

your crying soothes after a couple minutes, pulling away from your neighbor, “c-can i meet riley, sir?” you ask. “yer sure yer up for tha’, lass?”

with a final confirmation nod from you, he snapped his fingers to his dog, “riley, come.”

when riley is beside his owner, he looks to him, waiting for his following command. “sit.”

you admired the bond your neighbor shared with his pet, seeing he respected riley just as much as riley respected him. maybe dogs weren’t that bad.

ghost grabs your hand, “let em’ sniff ya first. introduce ya self’s to each otha’.” waiting for you to lead, he brings your hand to the tip of his dog’s nose, a cold, almost wet sensation brushing against your knuckles, making a soft giggle leave you.

“his sniffin’ tickle, sweetheart?” ghost couldn’t stop all the nicknames, everything about you was sweet! the brit wished he could talk with you more.

additional giggles departed your mouth when riley started licking your hand, “riley! ew,” ghost joining your laughing when he saw you shake your hand in disgust.

“see, y/n,” the man pets his dog’s back, “m’ riley ain’ so horrifiyin’.” you started petting the top of his head, scratching around to the underside of his mouth, “he isn’t!” you agreed, preciously watching the dog, “he’s just a big baby,” you cooed next, your face moving to riley’s.

the dog stole a lick across your face, “oh my goodness! riley!”

hopefully ghost will continue putting off building that fence, maybe you can start seeing riley and ghost more during your walks.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ husband!john price x wife!reader

pairing husband!john price x wife!reader

summary: we all know husband!john price would fuck wife!reader in her childhood bedroom, but what about in her childhood classroom?

masterlist!

you never decided to move away from your small hometown, choosing to live your adult life where you grew up. all the things you have ever needed were right here, in your little city, the man you would grow to love sharing these same feelings.

you met your husband during a visit to the local grocery store, the 6ft man helping you retrieve a cereal box he saw you struggling to reach. the older man thought you were just the cutest thing! little legs working with your tip toes to stretch your frame, frustrated pout overtaken your features when your attempts failed. price knew he needed to make you his.

the breakfast item was pushed to the very back of the top row, just your luck. “here ya go, lass. saw ya strugglin’ to get it,” said the bearded man, handing you the cereal. turning to face the deep voice, your eyes were met with a chest, coy smile spreading across your face when you looked up, “thank you, mister!” sweetly exiting.

john got your phone number, taking you on a multitude of dates before making you his, only taking a year of dating you for the man to propose. the captain knew what he wanted!

when he met your parents for the first time— over dinner at their house, shaking your father’s hand, kissing your mother’s cheek, being on his best behavior, assuring your folks approved of him. sipping on a beer with your father, cheering when the famous home team scored. you conversed with your mother in the kitchen, four hands operating to clean the room, the house in perfect tandem.

wishing your parents a good night’s sleep, holding your husband’s hand, leading him up the stairs to your childhood bedroom. a large fist pulling your hair, back arched in doggy style while your husband pounds your tight cunt, tits sliding against your naive, teddy bear sheets. the man presses his weight against your back, slithering a hairy arm around your neck, sheathing the increasing moans departing your pretty mouth, “ya must wan’ yer folks to hear ya moaning on m’ cock, hmm, slut? gettin’ split open by yer old man?”

you were an elementary school teacher, employed at the same elementary school you once attended since it was one of the only three in your town. you even taught in the same classroom your younger self once learned in, what a full circle moment!

your husband picked you up from the school when he could, keeping you company in your classroom while you finished up miscellaneous tasks from the chaotic school day with a bunch of grade kids. he would help you scrub the colored marker stains from your students’ desks, groaning while bending down to pick up the crayons they missed during clean up, “m’ gettin’ too old for this,” his gruff voice making you giggle.

one day, he secretly locked the door behind him when he entered, confirming the janitor wouldn’t accidentally walk in on the two of you. no chance of ruining the captain’s plans! the man making heavy strides to get to you, “been cravin’ ya all day, sweet pea,” twirling your body around from your desk, your students’ half graded-assignments abandoned. bringing your lips to his in a passionate kiss, he wasn’t lying, your bristly husband was really craving you, the way he was devouring you? your knees went weak.

he leaned down, massive hands clutching your plump ass, flesh squeezing between his pistol-calloused palm and fingers. he lifts you, placing you on top of your desk, your “world’s greatest teacher” mug a student gifted tottering side to side.

he kissed your cheek next, working his way down your neck to his favorite spot on your collar bone, the spot that made you yelp for him! “m-mister price!” you gasp, eyes closing, “we’re in m-my classroom,” you nervously resumed, despite your pitiful bucking into your husband’s groin.

his affection to your neck persists, one large hand moving to clench your boob next, “seems like she wan’s m’,” he teases, other hand moving to cup your pussy. he smirked at the wetness he felt, “oh yeah, she definitely wan’s m’ touchin’,” he grunts, observing you.

you were such a beautiful sight. your dress had ridden up your thick thighs when he sat you down, putting your panties on display for the brit, the man now flicking at your clit through the damp fabric. feeble, lewd moans left you, “oh!”

“look how fuckin’ wet ya are,” he pulls back, now sliding your panties to the side, your sticky folds glistening in the light. your husband sticks a finger in you, drunk on the squelching sounds that immediately emit.

he thrust his finger in and out, agonizingly slow pace, loving the way your tight cunt clenched around his knuckles. “so tight too,” more thrusting, “‘specially for a little girl so worried ‘bout feelin’ good in her classroom,” he calls you out.

mhmm, he hums, pulling his thick digit out, “no! p-price!” you whine, thighs clamping together. a staring contest takes place between yourself and your husband, your heavy breathing filling the air, flushed cheeks all puffy.

“shhh,” his rough hands are sliding your panties down your legs, a sharp inhale expanding your lungs when you feel your bare ass make contact with your cold, metal desk. “sweet pea, don’ worry,” a kiss, “m’ not gonna stop yer pleasure,” another kiss.

suddenly, you hear his belt unbuckle, followed by a thud, assuming your husband just pulled down his bottoms. your suspicions were confirmed correct, looking down, seeing your husband’s huge cock freely swinging in the air. “yes, mister price! wan’ your cock,” you beg, tiny hands reaching around your husband’s neck, pulling your body closer to his larger, hairy one.

you didn’t have to tell the man twice, price wasting no time stuffing his girthy cock inside your pussy, your precious cunt swallowing all of him. he didn’t give you anytime to adjust, his tip hammering against your cervix.

he relished in your loud moaning, enamored by the ring of cream forming around his cock at your cunt’s entrance. his little wife always got so fucking wet for him! such a good fucking girl.

“this feel nice, baby?” he speaks over your deafening moaning, “it makin’ ya wetter? bein’ in yer old childhood classroom? gettin’ fucked on yer childhood bed first, then here next? ya must’ve been plannin’ tis’ all along.” he was taking it there.

your husband’s dirty talk was so stimulating and exhilarating to hear, your toes clenching, “oh! y-yes, ah! yes, mister price!” the way his grizzy hands swallowed your back, thrusting into you with madness, like his life depended on it.

he knew you were going to cum soon, the sexy look on your face when your eyebrows scrunched together giving you away. “wan’ ya to cum on m’ cock, sweet pea,” he whispers in your ear, “needa’ feel yer satisfaction.” he’s kissing your cheek again.

you’re cuming in no time, the hold your giant, powerful husband had on you sending you over the edge. john was cuming next, releasing his entire load in you. leaning both your bodies down on your desk, his arms in between your back and the steel.

both of your breathing was heavy, the cum and sweat creating friction between your bodies still connected together. you didn’t want your husband to leave!

he slowly thrust a few more times, small whimpers leaving you when he did. you both were just so sensitive!

his hand swallows the top of your head, another final kiss to your forehead, “needa’ finish up here now, baby,” he pulls his large cock out of you, the veiny member already hard again.

pairing: owner!simon “ghost” riley x pet!reader

summary: your boyfriend thinks it’s time to claim you

masterlist!

you don’t know how your relationship with your boyfriend became this, not being able to pinpoint the exact switch, but you’re not complaining!

simon noticed your submissive tendencies in his first conversation with you, the way you couldn’t hold eye contact, stuttered over your words when he placed a big hand over your thigh, calling him “sir” when answering his questions. oh, you were just perfect for the brit.

so it came as no surprise to the man when you started exhibiting signs.

you’d greet your boyfriend at the front door every time he’d come home, feet shuffling down the hallway when you heard his key twisting the lock. some days, your excitement for your boyfriend’s return overrides every neural pathway in your brain, you opting into napping in front of the front door while waiting for simon, tiny body curled up for warmth. “m’ sweetheart waitin’ for m’, hmm? she miss m’?” he’d coo, bending down to your spot on the floor, caressing your precious head.

he’s sitting at his desk at home, desperately trying to catch up on his paperwork from his last mission, when he sees your tiny body appear in the doorway. simon, dropping everything he was doing, “ya need somethin’, luvie’?” accent gruff. you walk over to him, “can i just sit with you, sir?” barely above a whisper. wanting to see where you were going with this, your boyfriend nods his head, rolling his chair back. he watches you step towards him, reaching his arms out to hold you when you drop to the floor, the brute’s confused features dissolving when he realizes what you’re doing. crawling underneath his desk, perching yourself in between his massive legs, head quiescent on his size 13 boot. this ultimately became the new norm in simon’s home office, your boyfriend surprising you with a fluffy pink rug to settle on. he hated the thought of you lying for hours on his hard, cold floor while he worked, making a change when he recognized your continuous behavior. a satisfied purr leaving you as you scurried to your new mat, “thank you so much, sir!”

the brute took it a step further, waiting a few weeks to observe the way you interacted with your first present, before he decided it was time to move forward, to advance you.

you’re laying on your rug, feet on top of your boyfriend’s, when you feel him move backwards, “m’ have somethin’ for ya,” his eyes roam across your body, “c’mere’,” he motions his fingers towards his sweet girlfriend. you’re on your hands and knees without delay, crawling to simon’s side, sitting on your shins when you’re freed from the desk. he reaches his arm to you, large hand swallowing your cheek, “such a good girl,” swiping his thumb over your lip, “so obedient.” a whimper leaves you, the brit tsking, turning away. he smirks when he feels you squirming for more of his attention, grabbing two bowls from his desk, a pink, heart-shaped one and a yellow, star-shaped one, your eyes lighting up at the gifts. “sometimes we can be in here for a long time, can’t we, baby?” he’s talking to you again, gaze peering down at you through his mask. he waits for you to nod your head, “love feedin’ ya snacks, givin’ ya water on those days. makes m’ heart happy, takin’ care of yer pretty self,” your heart melts, the man ruffling your hair. “tha’s why m’ got ya these,” your boyfriend hands the bowls to you, “think it’ll be easier to snack with.” what a great decision, you now having a nest man cave in your favorite place! simon loved this too, admiring the curvature of your round ass when you arched your back for snack time, the bowls teetering when your head hit the sides. why didn’t he think to get you these bowls sooner!

then the nickname slipped, a silent pause taking place between the two lovers. your boyfriend’s massive body sat on the couch, your back laid across his meaty thighs. the man was rubbing your stomach, low purrs escaping you, heavenly sounds healing each crack in simon’s soul when he said it, “oh, little pup like tha’?” the two of you may as well have been in a staring contest, both parties unsure of what to say, how to fill in the awkward gaps. then you took a leap of faith, “yes, sir,” another purr departing your chest as you nuzzled your stomach into his hand, “wan’ more, sir.” and who was simon to resist his sweet, little pup?

it took simon a few more weeks to wager the correct time to present his next gifts to you, the man wanting to be wholeheartedly confident in his suspicions of you. he didn’t want to scare you, run his beautiful girlfriend off. the bloke couldn’t be separated from you, knowing you were it for him. it would shatter him knowing he was the reason you left, but, simon would always bet on himself.

“sit, little pup,” you heard your boyfriend command, seeing him point to the spot beside him. you’re over to him instantly, knees supporting your weight as your doe eyes look up to his. he kneels down, his giant stature still hovering over your smaller form, “ya been a real good, little pup. so, so good,” he’s petting your head, smiling at your energetic bouncing, you loved when he praised you! “needed to get ya somethin’. show ya how proud m’ am of ya.” it comes into view, your boyfriend’s gripping a pink, sparkly collar, along with a pink leash to match, “m’ little pup, ya wan’ to be claim by m’?” eager nods took place, your boyfriend stumbling back when you threw yourself into his arms, little body wrapping around his as he catches his balance. “i would love to, sir! i wanna’ be your pup,” you couldn’t stop your nudging against simon, the brit returning the affection, rubbing his girlfriend’s back.

you wear the pretty collar everywhere, only choosing to take it off when you had to shower. you loved being owned by your compassionate boyfriend, not caring what people in public thought about your new necklace. your owner was the only person that mattered! and he told you you looked beautiful in it! he wouldn’t lie to you, besides, people wouldn’t stare at you for too long, eventually seeing the hand that was holding your leash, and fuck, was your boyfriend a terrifying sight? the deadly glares he would send the blokes? you wouldn’t try him either. i mean, the man was an ex-trained military lieutenant who used to kill people, come on!

and the sex he would have with his little pup? pulling on your leash, the pretty collar choking you as he thrusted into your tight cunt. tears escaping your eyes as you tried to catch your breath, face turning red from the lack of air. “pathetic little, bitch,” your boyfriend grunts, loving the way your eyes rolled to the back of your skull. releasing the collar, he kisses your cheek, intoxicated on the critical sounds of air making its way to your lungs.

or when he’d be standing in front of his body mirror, hand clinging your leash as your sat in front of him. “go ahead, pup,” his free hand waves to your reflection, “get to work.” your grinding your pussy against his boot, moans splitting from you when you feel your clit brush against the tip. “tha’s right,” you quicken your pace, hands moving to the floor to steady yourself, “watch ya fuck yerself on m’ dirty shoe,” he pulls the leash up, collar making your head raise to see yourself better in the mirror.

pairing: husband!simon “ghost” riley x wife!reader

summary: your husband is obsessed with getting tattoos inspired by you

masterlist!

your husband felt so fucking lucky to have a wife like you, a precious bonnie who took care of him in every aspect of his life. you always made sure he had a fresh, home-cooked meal to come home to, stirring up his favorites during his most draining days at work, greeting him with kisses at the front door, adorable, “hi, si!” leaving your mouth. tiny hands neatly folding up his laundry on sundays, the declared, “laundry day” in your household, placing them on his side of the bed so he could put the fabric away. taking the time to organize his size 13 shoes, scrubbing both pairs of his muddy work boots he rotated wearing. he absolutely adored you, would do anything for you.

the first tattoo was something small, your initials, inked in tiny cursive on his ring finger, small enough for his wedding band to conceal it. “always wan’ ya with m’, sweetheart,” his accent’s thick as he shows you the green inscribe. clutching his knuckles into your hand, you kissed the new tattoo, doe eyes peering into his gaze, “i love you so much, simon.” your husband’s heart melted at the sight, intoxicated on the feeling of you kissing his wounded flesh, kissing your marking on him.

simon knew he had to get more tattoos inspired by you, desperately searching for opportunity anywhere. then it clicked. the little notes you always wrote for him! the ones you threw into his lunchbox when you packed his midday meal for work. have a great day, si xo, or i’m so proud of my precious husband, i love you, and always taking care of me! have a surprise for you at home ;), some of the things you’d scribble. he always kept them, fingering one from his collection, bringing it to the tattoo shop. you recognized his new tattoo immediately, the man nearly ripping his shirt off to show you. he was eager to see your reaction! your fingertips traced the outline, all your attention on his sensitive skin. your husband got your lips tattooed across his v line, using one of your hundreds of lipstick kisses you left on his notes. guess all the lipsticks you went through was worth it! “needed more of m’ sweet wife,” he smirks, satisfied with your speechless face.

“gotta’ notha’ tattoo appointment, hon’, s’ later today,” your husbands starts, coming up behind you, “need ya to come with m’,” he places his hand on the small of your back. you face him, confused expression littered across your features, “why do you need me to go, si?” your head tilts. he kisses your forehead, palm sliding to grab your ass, “wan’ it to be a surprise for m’ pretty baby.”

your tiny hand was wrapped around your husband’s bicep as he led you both to the tattoo parlor, “i can’t wait to see your surprise,” you say, simon opening the door for you. “m’ hope ya like it, fawn.”

pairing: bodyguard!simon “ghost” riley x singer!reader

summary: you ask your bodyguard to co-star in your music video for your new hit song

masterlist!

it was filming day! finally time for you to record the music video for a song you wrote a few months ago, only finalizing it with your producer a few weeks ago. your label urgently wanted to release the song after hearing the finished product, another hit on their your hands, scheduling a director to film a video to accompany it.

your bodyguard sat next to you, a makeup artist fluttering a brush across his forehead. you smiled, looking at him in the mirror. you can’t believe the brit actually agreed to do this. your bodyguard? simon? the man that always wears a mask to hide himself wants to star alongside you, a global pop star, in her music video as her main love interest? for a song that would surely go number one?

“sooo, si,” you dragged out, leaning your head up to look into your bodyguard’s eyes. you were both sat on your couch, watching some random cartoon on your tv. simon had both his arms wrapped around you, the brute choosing to keep them there when he pulled you onto his lap. “you know how i just finished that new song? the one the label loves?”

a low, mhmm, vibrates from him as he turns his full attention to you, “yes, sweets, m’ know. tha’ new love one?” he emphasizes that word. a small smile creeps its way to your face, “maybe that’s the one i’m talking about,” you sheepishly push your hair behind your ear. “whatta’ bout’ it?”

“w-well, i’ve been emailing with my creative team about filming the music video. we all think i should have a love interest in it,” you started, your eyes moving to your fiddling fingers, nerves suddenly reaching you. feeling his giant hand stroke your back, “go on,” he encourages, letting you take your time. “and i might’ve brought your name up?” it sounded more like a question, “and they might’ve thought you’d be perfect for it?” you continued, wincing.

a pause, brown eyes sealed behind his mask, fixated on nothing but you. your shoulders tensed at the absence of sound, thinking it was occurring for longer than it needed to.

“o-of course i wanted to ask you first! and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to! oh my gosh,” you ramble, hands moving to clutch his trap muscles, “i’m sorry, si. uh!” a hand slaps your forehead. “i shouldn’t have said anything to them before at least mentioning it to you first,” you hastily add. you were assuming things, jumping straight to conclusions.

he grabs your tiny wrist, hand fully wrapping around it, “don’ smack ya self, fawn,” he lectures, “yes sir!” penetrating his ear drums. he moves to kiss your forehead, the sensation of his balaclava brushing against your skin, the one you were all too well aquatinted with.

“ya maunderin’, sweetheart. gettin ahead of ya self,” he slows you down, “don’ needa’ stress yer pretty head,” he consoles. “m’ would love to do it for ya.”

you squeal, “oh, si! are you serious?” you clap. “would be m’ pleasure. m’ honored ya wan’ m’.” who else could play the character better than the person the song is actually about?

you dramatically fall backwards on your couch, back arching over your bodyguard’s arm wrapped around you. he joins your laughing, fingers going to massage your feet.

it was wholesome, seeing your bodyguard get his “makeup” done, him changing into different outfits between takes, a pampering taking place. your costume designer had different balaclavas and masks for simon to wear in each scene, him looking impossibly hotter in the next one he tried on. everyone on set ogled over your bodyguard. the man was so fucking attractive.

yeah, simon was definitely a great choice for your love interest, your creative team eternally indebted to you. they were supposed to be the one’s to come up with the good ideas!

behind the scenes photos were taken of you and your bodyguard, the beefy man choosing to lift you in one pose, your stomach rested on his bare shoulder, caused by the worn down wife beater he was wearing, your ass perched to the camera. he used his large hand holding you to cover you, blocking the camera from seeing up your mini skirt, flexing his free arm, his bicep protruding.

the next bts photo was your shirtless bodyguard, laid against a bed’s headrest, the curvature of his massive muscles raised above his head. fuzzy, pink handcuffs that matched the pink, flower sheets, chaining his wrists to the headboard. you were on your hands and knees in front of him, sexily crawling to him, crawling on top of him, your doe eyes peering into his. you were wearing a sheer babydoll dress, provocative lingerie trapped underneath. simon felt his dick rising at the sight of you, thankful his lower half was under the blankets. his very defined abs and v line were satisfactory enough! he craves the day this wouldn’t be an act.

the next photo, a simple selfie, your bodyguard holding the phone, staring deadly, scarily into the camera through his mask. you stood behind him, encircling a small arm around his neck, bright, pearly smile on your face as you brought your head next to his, ears brushing together. you may have made this one your lock screen.

don’t feel too guilty! this last photo, this one simon needed framed. it was the last scene that needed to be filmed before you all were done for the day. going outside to a small, daisy field, the director had simon sat in a chair, the man looking too colossal for it, a hunting rifle prop planted next to him.

“alright, ghost. just lean back and manspread those meaty thighs-” the director spoke through the megaphone, “oh, yep. that’s perfect! now, just grab the rifle and polish it up. try to make the veins in your arms and hands extra… visible,” he added. ghost followed his orders, the military man being brought back to his war days. he didn’t miss the way you were staring at his hands going to work, lower lip pulled between your teeth. “and, y/n,” you bring your attention to the director, “it doesn’t really matter how you move, just make sure you’re on stage left.” you nodded, “i can do that for you.”

you’re wearing frilly, knee high socks, the bottoms staining green from your lack of shoes, matched with a little dress, a ribbon tying half of your hair back. you started dancing next to simon, throwing your arms up, occasional spins taking place. he watched you as he continued pretending to polish the gun, a small smirk hidden under his balaclava.

“wait. stop. no, cut!” the director shouts, waving his hand, “something’s missing.” he moves a hand to hold his chin, staring between you and your bodyguard. it clicks, “i know! ghost, let her wear your dog tags, please. that would be the perfect touch.” he didn’t need to be told twice, arms moving to remove the necklace. the brute walks over to you, slipping his tags over your head, “the lad s’ right, this s’ a good touch,” he whispers.

he goes back to the little chair, grabbing the hunting rifle again. you start dancing, his dog tags now flying through the air every time you twirled. god, you were such a beautiful sight. your bodyguard wasn’t going to ask for his tags back anytime soon, you looked so much better in them than he ever did. “alright… and that’s a wrap everyone!”

your team posted these photos a day before the music video was scheduled to premiere, it quickly becoming your most liked post on any social media app. the comments were going crazy when they saw the hunk of a man featured as your love interest, “who the fuck is this guy?!”

the comments went even crazier when your fans finally realized the man was none other than your bodyguard. they didn’t recognize him without his signature skull balaclava, but a post went viral of someone comparing the post you made (your pictures of the man’s toned body), to other paparazzi pictures previously taken of you and simon, no one could deny the two strong builds matching one another. your costume designer did an amazing job at creating those new face coverings.

your fandom felt like they were being teased by you, shipping you for years with your bodyguard, basically ever since you hired the man to watch over you. the sneak peak you uploaded to promote your new song and video, these sexy individuals in these sexy poses, the world was tuned in, invested.

were you and your bodyguard finally together? did you share a kiss in the video? was your new song about your bodyguard? so many questions commented under the post.

when the song dropped the next day, along with the music video, it rose to number one on the trending board. many individuals streamed the fuck out of your song, rewatching the music video hundreds of times, enchanted by the chemistry you shared with your bodyguard.

your fans pulled several clips from the music video, choosing to edit the snippets with other random recordings of you and your bodyguard out and about, captions like, need mom and dad to admit they’re together already! or don’t know who i want more :(

there were a lot of thirst edits made, lol. you and simon both may have saved your favorites of each other to your own private, respective folders you made for one another, your collections increasing day by day.

your fans even started a tik tok trend with your new song in the back ground, thousands of users posting videos of them dancing along to it.

your song and music video eventually got nominated for several awards, you winning multiple of them.

pairing: divorced husband!simon “ghost” riley x divorced wife!reader

summary: you and simon have a final conversation

part 4! final part!

part 1, demonization of his sweet nickname

part 2, another broken promise

part 3, surprise! actually fucking helpful!

masterlist!

simon sat in the same old booth he always did when he came to LAVA BONES, the familiar scent of cigarette smoke flowing through the air. he was on his fifth beer now, the four year long t-break he had causing his tolerance to lower. the man was drunk, his thoughts jumbling in his head.

his sweet fawn had healed from his poisonous love. fuck, seeing you stand there, new wedding pieces on your finger, belly all round and pregnant, cooing your daughter when she whined for you. simon was distraught. he felt himself going crazy again, relapsing into old habits.

and don’t get the bloke started on seeing the way his captain, your new husband, held your waist, kissed your lips, listened to his version of sweet nicknames for you. he wanted to kill price for taking what was his.

despite john not knowing of the past you and simon shared, you choosing not to mention your divorce with your ex husband, the man couldn’t help but to think his captain was flaunting you on purpose, reminding him of what he lost. simon knew this was irrational in the back of his mind, knowing he never introduce you to john either, so how could he possibly put two and two together? but the brit let his absurdity win, misconstrued beliefs further fueling his madness.

he finished drinking the beer, tossing the empty bottle into a nearby trash can, going to buy another when he saw you.

you were standing here, real, in front of him for the first time in over half a decade after no contact. simon’s prayers for this to all be a nightmare unanswered when his eyes traveled down, your small hand rested on your expecting belly, rings glistening in the light. were you mocking the man? doing this on purpose? still chasing your revenge after all these years?

uncomfortable silence passed, music from the jukebox and echos from the other people in LAVA BONES filling the gaps. “ya shouldn’ be in here. not good for ya, smellin’ tha’ smoke an all,” his gruff voice comes out.

you squinted your eyes at the man, “my husband,” you dragged the word out, “said the same thing. he’s always so worried about me, takes such good care of me.” you were definitely rubbing it in, simon wincing at your words. he deserved to be reminded of his actions. “besides, don’t act like you give a fuck about me. you let me leave with nothing, simon,” you laughed out. the audacity this motherfucker had.

“i really, really didn’t want to do this, and john made sure i knew that i didn’t have to,” you spat at the larger man, hatred spilling from your tounge, “but all of your mates were worried about you when you stormed out. you’re too fucking old to be acting like a damn baby,” you brutally continued.

simon was speechless hearing your words, he’s never heard you sound so snarky. “you have no god damn right, simon. no. god. damn. right,” each word came out hauntingly. “outside. now,” you huffed out, walking away. you didn’t bother checking to see if he followed, knowing he was going to obey you. fucking manchild.

“m’ sorry, y/n-” “shut the fuck up! i don’t want to hear any of that,” you growl, cutting him off.

“you,” an accusing finger points to simon’s chest, “were the one that ended things with me, i just finished it. you don’t get to be all grumpy and depressed about anything, simon. i gave you what the fuck you wanted, to be away from me!” you were shouting now, hands shoving at his chest. simon didn’t budge, didn’t stumble one bit. “you were fucking horrible to me, simon. i only ever gave you my love and respect, a-and you-”

tears started escaping you, you cursing your pregnancy hormones, “you broke me. y-you put your hands on me.” you didn’t want to show any weakness in front of your ex, he wasn’t entitled to seeing you like that anymore. besides, your husband healed all the parts of you that simon broke. you were a new, strong woman, who wouldn’t let any man walk over her ever again, but sometimes being strong meant showing your tears.

simon’s drunken mind told him to pull you into a hug, told him to console his sweet fawn when fat tears were rolling down her pretty, puffy cheeks, but he stopped himself, knowing you definitely wouldn’t want any measure of his comfort, you had your husband for that.

“know ya’ didn’t deserve any of tha’, fawn,” he steps to you. you looked up at the nickname, the one you hadn’t heard in forever, the one that still caused a couple of butterflies to roam around in your stomach, flying freely. he reached down the collar of his shirt, your rings clinking against his dog tags, “m’ always kept em’ with m’,” he presents the jewelry. you shook your head, “no,” he took another step closer, “si, don’t do that.”

he reaches you, a soft hand moving to your cheek, “can believe m’ acted like tha’ towards ya. put m’ sweet wife through hell, didn’t i?” he rubs his large thumb under your eye, wiping more tears away. deja vu from when you served him the divorce papers, the last time you called him your husband.

your lower lip wobbled, you subconsciously leaning into his hand, “si,” barely above a whisper. god, you hated how you missed his warmth, feeling guilty for craving more of it.

with everything in you, you stepped away, simon letting you go once more. “i-i need to get back to my husband and daughter,” you wiped your face, moving to push your hair behind your ear next, “i encourage you to apologize to everyone for missing out on lunch when you get sober.” he remained silent.

“goodbye, simon,” your turned on your heels, walking towards what the man recognized to be john’s car. he had no doubt his captain had eyes on you at all times, remembering how overprotective he himself formerly was of you, hell, he still was.

a hand swiped over his face, mask moving as he watched price pull off with you. yeah, he was blacking out tonight. he didn’t need to remember any of this.

pairing(s): divorced husband!simon “ghost” riley x divorced wife!reader, husband!john price x pregnant wife!reader

summary: your ex husband realizes what he could’ve had with you, jealous of the life you have with your new husband

part 3!

part 1, demonization of his sweet nickname

part 2, another broken promise

part 4, final part, made sure i knew that i didn’t have to

masterlist!

it’s been a little over six years since you left simon, the large brute reliving his last moments with you every day since. this was his punishment for his disgusting behavior towards you, a degrading sentence for a damned man, and simon felt every. bit. of. it. his heart in agonizing pain ever since he sobered up, he felt it when he was drunk too, it was just easier to ignore.

he finally decided to stop his drinking, around two and a half years after you left, along with the help of johnny. simon’s drinking got really bad one night, soap witnessing the events unfold.

“fuck, she still hasn’ come back yet!” simon shouted, throwing another bottle of beer, smash, not caring where it landed. the massive man was pacing, johnny trying to calm him down, his hands thrown in the air, “tis’ ain’ gonna’ help ya either. look around here, ghost, yer destroyin’ tha’ place.”

another bottle thrown, smash, followed by another, smash. he had a table full of them, choosing to shove his arms across it, knocking all of them to the ground. shatter.

simon shattered in front of johnny, the man dropping to his knees, “god, she hasn’t called or nothin’, soap. m’ don’ know where she s’, if she s’ okay,” his hand moved to his dog tags, feeling two circular objects.

the man slipped both your engagement ring and wedding band on his dog tags a few days after you left, him missing you more than he thought he would. he found himself grabbing the jewelry when he felt himself breaking, like he was doing now. it helped him calm down, the last pieces he had of you.

“miss ha’ so much,” his accent was thick, tears starting in the man’s eyes. johnny’s eyes widen, he didn’t know what to do. didn’t know how to help. he’s never seen his lieutenant so distraught. never seen him cry.

with the help of soap, the man got a therapist, going to meetings once every two weeks.

the brute was resistant hesitant at first, deciding to be stubborn and mock the prompts. simon didn’t need some psychoanalysis done on him. he’s handled his emotions alone all his life, and he’s been just fine.

when he actually gave therapy a chance, after the scottish man reminded him you would want him to do this, he found it, surprise! actually fucking helpful! he also discovered he’s been doing a shit job at handling his emotions. he can’t believe it took therapy for him to realize he was the fucking problem, his nasty treatment towards you in the last couple months of your marriage, it made him want to die. his wife, his love, his little fawn, you didn’t deserve anything he said or did.

he wanted to apologize to you, get you back, but he didn’t know where you were. you cut all contact with him when you left, not even returning to grab a single thing from the house. you left it all behind.

he had no clue where you went that night, regretting how he flicked the angel telling him to chase after you off his right shoulder, drinking with the devil on his left.

he regrets it every fucking day.

“how ya doin’, mate?” a scottish accent was heard, the masked man pulled from his thoughts. he stood up from the table he was sat at, seeing johnny approach him with his wife.

he was meeting the rest of the task force 141 for lunch, everyone on the team deciding it was time to mingle their families together. of course simon already knew johnny’s wife, you accompanying simon on double dates with the scottish couple. soap was the only one who ever knew about you, same as ghost being the only one to know about his wife, and they both liked to keep it that way. at least he could pretend he’s always been single when the rest show up.

gaz arrived next with his wife and toddler, everyone greeting the family. simon smiled under his mask seeing the reserved man so full of energy around the people he would do anything for. he could feel the love radiating from kyle when he saw the way his child crawled into his lap, “m’ love ya daddy!” leaving him. that familiar pang hitting ghost’s stomach. why did he think he could do this? surround himself with his mates and their happy families? it just reminded him of you, what he could’ve had with you.

the group talked amongst each other, simon’s dog tags, along with your jewelry shining in the light. his fingers fiddled with the rings, unfocused on the conversation in front of him. all he could think about was you.

finally the captain approached, toddler in the hairy man’s arms, “hey everyone. sorry we’re late, little one got rowdy, didn’t she?” he coos to his daughter, fingers rubbing her belly. “the lass is comin’, she hadda’ stop by tha’ bathroom-” price started saying when he turned around, feeling a tiny hand grab his bicep. “i’m back now!”

“hi, hon’,” your husband turns his full attention to you, his back now turned to the group. john only cared about two things, you and your children. he didn’t care if he came off rude, you would always have his focus. he kisses your forehead, moving to your lips next, not caring about the pda, free hand wrapping around your waist, “was jus’ tellin’ em’ bout’ ya, sweet pea.”

your hand moves to your pregnant belly next, john grabbing your other one to pull you towards the group, “speakin’ of tha’ pretty lass.” you wave towards the task force 141, their wives and children waving back. you were excited to finally meet the men your husband fights with!

your eyes scanned each person, eventually landing on a familiar stature, the curve of the man’s muscles you traced and memorized so long ago fully present in front of you. you could never forget the brute, the brown eyes you once loved staring back at you through his skull mask. your first love, your only love other than john.

there was no way your si was on the same team with john, going on month long missions for years together, saving the world. your breath caught in your throat, hand on your womb moving to cover your mouth. “everythin’ alright’, hon’?,” your husband asks you, oblivious to the situation at hand.

you didn’t respond, still staring into your ex husband’s eyes, your toddler crying for you, “mama! m’ wan’ mama, dada!” your toddler’s words break you free from his hypnotizing stare, grabbing your daughter from your husband’s arms, “uhm, p-please, e-excuse me. i’m sorry,” you walked away with your daughter before you heard a response, cooing her.

simon was dumbfounded, soap and his wife sharing knowing glances towards one another, then one at the blonde brit. “m’ be back. please, order without us, needa’ make sure they’re alright,” captain price says, everyone looking to him. “do what you need to do, captain,” kyle replies.

ghost started feeling sick, like he saw a ghost. seeing the only woman he’s ever loved, the only woman he will ever love, start a new life, away from him. and worse, it was with his captain.

simon felt his heart breaking all over again. a new engagement ring and wedding band encased your tiny finger, a beautiful daughter that has the perfect mix of your features and a man that wasn’t him. your pregnant belly looking plump, your poor feet swollen from how much you had to waddle around. you were supposed to be experiencing all this with him! not with fucking price! the man could feel himself seething with anger, fists balling.

he couldn’t believe after all these years, you just moved on with your life, committing the ultimate sinful act. he felt like he was gonna vomit, his heart palpitating in his ear drums. “ghost-” johnny begins, knowing, but he was too late, a loud slam on the table from simon hitting it, causing other people in the restaurant to turn towards them. “needa’ fuckin’ go,” he grunts out, the doors swinging open from his sheer force.

he knew he shouldn’t be mad, you had every right to continue your life, finding someone who could give you what he couldn’t, but it still infuriated your ex husband. you were meant to be his, you were meant to have his children, grow old with him. this wasn’t right. you being with his captain wasn’t right!

he got in his truck, tears leaving his eyes as images of you holding your toddler, pregnant with your next little one that wasn’t his flashing through his mind. he drove to the only place he thought could heal his hurt, his sanctuary, the bar.

it’s been a little under three years since he’s had his last sip of alcohol, so he knew he could handle one fucking bottle. he deserved it after witnessing whatever the fuck that was.

pairing: husband!simon “ghost” riley x wife!reader

summary: you serve your husband divorce papers

part 2!

part 1, demonization of his sweet nickname

part 3, surprise! actually fucking helpful!

part 4, final part, made sure i knew that i didn’t have to

masterlist!

“okay, you can do this,” you whispered to yourself, trying to muster up any ounce of courage you had left. you were about to serve simon the divorce papers, packet in one hand, engagement ring and wedding band, one that matched simon’s, in the other hand.

it took you a few weeks after arguing with your husband to finalize your decision of divorcing him, having to do immense research on how to even start the process of a divorce, something you never imagined you’d be doing. you wagered the pros and cons of the situation, heart sinking at the realization of the cons outweighing the pros.

simon was supposed to be yours forever. he vowed to never leave your side, as you vowed to never leave his. you were expecting to have children with your husband, finally starting the family you two always dreamed and talked about having together, “promise we will when tha’ time’s right, fawn,” he would tell you. you pushed the memory to the back of your mind, it just another broken promise now.

you saw simon sat at your kitchen table, feeling your anxiety flood your veins all over again. he was reading a newspaper, cigarette hanging from his mouth. at least he didn’t seem drunk right now. you took a deep breath, “now or never, y/n,” you reminded yourself, clutching the items in your hands as you walked into his view.

you cleared your throat, “we need to talk.” the larger man didn’t bother acknowledging you, silently flipping the page, ashing his cigarette.

his lack of response angered you, “i said we need to fucking talk!” furiously exiting your mouth as you slammed the divorce papers in front of him. you tossed the rings next, the jewelry rolling like a pair of dice across the table. you were so fucking done with his bullshit.

“i want a god damn divorce, simon. i’m not happy anymore. i haven’t been happy in a long time,” you started, the brute finally looking to you. “a-and after what you did the other night-” your voice cracked, “it’s completely unacceptable.”

a beat of silence passed, the weight of simon’s eye contact unbearable. he sat there, watching you unravel in front of his eyes again. no matter how much you prepared yourself, how many times you gave yourself a pep talk, you knew you were still going to break in front of him. this man was your first experience of real love. you were doing the unthinkable right now.

“are you going to say anything, simon?” tears were rolling down your cheeks. you were begging the man at this point, pleading with him to try something to make it right between you both. was he really going to throw everything you built together away? was he really going to throw you away?

he takes a long drag from his cigarette, putting it out in the ash tray beside him. he blew the smoke in the air, it wafting over to your face, your eyes burning from the sting.

another beat of silence, “yer not serious now, are ya?” he asks you as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his large knees, “ya don’ seriously think ya can last without m’, right?” he smirks. what is he talking about? “e-excuse me-”

“oh, don’ play fuckin’ dumb,” he cuts you off, voice raising, causing you to jump. “ya got no job, no money of yer own,” he stands now, looming over you. you could feel yourself shrinking under his gaze, more tears rolling down your face. “where ya even gonna go, huh? ya got fuckin’ nothin’,” he menacingly spats.

you had considered this when thinking about divorcing simon. he was right, you didn’t have much, your husband being the sole provider for both of you, but you didn’t fucking care. you would rather live on the streets than put up with his attitude any longer. he had fallen out of love with you and it was time you did the same.

“that’s none of your concern, simon,” you were barely able to say, your crying intensifying, “just sign the papers! fuck!” you were shouting now, quickly wiping the stray tears. you just wanted to get away from the man. you were tired.

you flinched as he reaches his hand to you, his large thumb wiping another tear that rolled down your face. you noticed his wedding band still on his ring finger. for a second you relaxed in his touch, his hand lingering on your cheek for a millisecond longer than it should when he finally pulled away.

“gladly, y/n,” he quietly says, spinning to pull the paper out the packet, signing it. “m’ so happy to finally get ya the fuck outta m’ life,” he grumbled, handing you back the papers with his signature, just like you asked.

your heart shattered more, this was officially the end of you and simon. “w-what happened to us, si?” you said his nickname before you could stop yourself, “i t-thought we were gonna be together forever,” you were sobbing now.

“god, look at ya,” he tsks, “this,” he motions between you both, “is what happened to us. yer so irritating, always wanting somethin’ else from me. m’ work m’ ass off every. damn. day. tryin’ to provide for ya and it’s never fuckin’ enough.”

“that’s not true, si-” “like hell it’s not. ya got fuckin’ divorce papers, y/n!” you push against his chest when he cuts you off again, him not moving an inch from the impact. “stop interrupting me!”

“you’re never home anymore, simon! i nag because you get drunk off your ass every day after work. you never spend time with me anymore and i don’t deserve to be with someone like that,” you told the man, not breaking eye contact once. he was going to listen to what the fuck you had to say.

“ya got what ya wanted. get the fuck out,” he leans down to you.

you stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, almost challenging one another. simon eventually broke you, standing up straight with his arms crossed as he watched you grab your purse, leaving out the door of your shared house, the divorce packet in hand.

he glanced down at the abandoned wedding pieces, a part of him wondering where you were going, thinking about running after you, worried about the very true fact that you really didn’t have anywhere else to go. but he found the other part of himself not caring, finally free from your overbearing shackles. that part was a lot stronger.

he moved to crack open a beer.

pairing: husband!simon “ghost” riley x wife!reader

summary: your argument got a little too heated with your husband

part 1!

part 2, another broken promise

part 3, surprise! actually fucking helpful!

part 4, final part, made sure i knew that i didn’t have to

masterlist!

“oh, what the fuck,” you mumbled under your breath, hands grabbing your poor hair. you were so stressed, in the middle of the worst argument you’ve ever had with simon.

you were upset you haven’t been seeing him lately. don’t get it wrong, you appreciated your husband working hard, doing everything in his power to provide for you and your future children, but he was spending every day at some random bar or club, staying late into the early morning hours. you felt like your husband was avoiding you, choosing to spend his free time getting drunk, away from his wife. was he mad at you for something? what did you do? how could you fix it? you were driving yourself crazy with these thoughts.

when he tried to sneak in at 4:17 am, you decided to call him out for his recent behaviors, leading to your current predicament. “need ya to get tha’ fuck off m’ back,” he slurs out, taking a step towards you.

you started feeling intimated by the larger man, not sure what to say. he’s been cussing you out, all the courage you built up crumbling beneath your husband’s drunken words. you didn’t recognize the man in front of you. where was your si?

“s-si, i’m just worried about you!” you stuttered out, taking a step back every time he took a step forward. your back eventually hit a wall, “don’ give me tha’ shit,” he was closing the space between you, “why ya actin’ all scared of m’? little fawn finally realized she’s shit outta’ luck against me? hmm?” he grabs your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. your heart broke at his usage of his sweet nickname for you, his demonization of his sweet nickname for you. “little fawn finally realized m’ could do whateva’ tha’ fuck m’ feel like with her when m’ wan’?” he continues, his accent scarily sharp.

the water works were starting now, and you couldn’t stop them. fat tears rolled down your puffy cheeks onto your husband’s thick fingers. your cheeks were definitely going to have marks from his tight grip. you felt so pathetic in his hold. you’ve never seen this side of simon, your husband’s never remotely acted this way before. you were starting to feel scared.

“and now she’s fuckin’ cryin’,” he rolls his eyes behind his mask, somehow lifting your chin even higher, you raising to your tip toes. he leans closer to your face, his breath hitting the tip of your nose, “ya wanna’ hear tha’ truth? tha’ real reason m’ stayin’ away from yer ass?” a whimper left you.

“yer so god damn annoyin’, so needy all the time,” he squeezes your cheeks harder, small ow’s leaving you. “need breaks from yer ass,” he spits out, releasing you.

he didn’t even try to catch you when you stumbled, the back of your head hitting the wall you were previously against really hard. your hand immediately reached to the injured spot, another ow departing your mouth as you rubbed your head.

you couldn’t believe what your husband just did, your other hand covering your mouth to silent your sobs. you just slid down the wall, moving to cry into your knees.

what happened to your marriage? simon was used to be head over heels for you. anyone who witnessed your relationship with him could protest to his love and admiration for you. why was he treating you this way? the man you married would’ve never said those disgusting words to you.

he sneers at your position on the ground, “for fuck’s sake,” turning away from you to exit the room. of course he decided you weren’t worth anymore of his time. you laid defeated, more sobs leaving you. you were grieving the man you once loved.

you spent the rest of the night there, uncomfortably sleeping on the hard floor, which would surely hurt your back in the morning. your husband never came in to check on you, never even threw a blanket over your shivering body.

you don’t want to leave simon, heart breaking at the idea of abandoning the future you dreamed with him, but you knew you deserved better than this.

pairing: husband!simon “ghost” riley x wife!reader

summary: your husband catches you dancing in the rain with your kids

masterlist!

simon was driving his truck, tapping along to the beat of the music on his steering wheel. rain was splashing against his windshield, wipers working quick to clear his view. he couldn’t wait to get back home, where he knew you, his sweet wife, and his beautiful sons would be waiting. he had a draining day at work, and wanted to do nothing more than eat dinner with his family, spend quality time with them.

he turns the corner, eyes squinting at the three figures on his front lawn, wonder wha’s’ in m’ yard? he presses on the gas pedal, worried it could be a threat to his household.

a smile spreads across his face when he recognizes his little family in the yard. you had your youngest in your arms, his body koala wrapped around yours, while your oldest was standing beside you, hand in your free one. your husband noticed all of you had your rain jackets and boots on, his heart swelling at the sight.

your oldest son excitedly drops his hands when he recognizes his dad’s car pull into the drive way, “daddy! daddy!” leaving him as he waved in the car’s direction, you waving with him. “daddy is home, baby. wait for him to get out first, then you can go to him,” you told him, hand pulling his jacket hood back over his head. your little one started kicking his feet, “wan’ see dada too, mama.” you kissed his forehead following your oldest to your husband’s side.

“daddy!” both your babies scream, simon bending down to grab his oldest when he ran over. “hi boys,” he kissed his son’s forehead, “ya missed me?” he started tickling his stomach, the sweet sounds of your son’s haha’s feeling the air, mixing with the patter of the rain.

when you reached your husband, he grabbed his other son from your hands, holding both his children in each arm, “and what about ya? huh,” he kisses his youngest’s forehead, “ya missed me too?” both your sons laughing more.

“we all missed daddy,” you said, smiling at your boys in front of you. you loved your family you created with simon, you would do anything for these boys.

“m’ bet ya did,” simon responds, moving to kiss your forehead next. can’t leave out mommy! “you guys wanna’ tell daddy what we were doing outside?” you happily ask your sons.

“was dancin’ in tha’ rain! mommy let us jump in tha’ puddles and everything!” your oldest excitedly squealed, simon moving to set him down. before simon could respond, your oldest ran off, jumping in another puddle.

your youngest kissed his daddy’s cheek before saying, “wan’ jump too.” simon returned his son’s kiss, placing him on the ground next, watching him follow his brother. “c’mere, luv’,” he reaches his arms out to you when he sees his sons playing together.

“m’ love you all so much, sweets. so happy this is m’ life. so lucky to come home to ya and our boys everyday,” he holds you, rubbing his arm up and down your back. “i love you so much too, si! so happy you’re my husband. so perfect to me. such a perfect dad to our sons,” you’re looking into his eyes now.

“now, go put on your rain boots and come jump in the puddles with us!” you smack his ass, sliding from his grip, running over to your boys.

pairing: husband!simon “ghost” riley x wife!reader

summary: you and your husband cook dinner for your kids

masterlist!

you were humming softly to your music playlist, hair pulled back as you filled the cooking pot with water. you turned off the faucet, walking over to the stove, the eye already heated. you placed the pot down, wanting the water to come to a complete boil before you started cooking anything else. you also wanted to wait as long as possible so your husband could join you before you started cooking anything else. your children begged their dad to ask you to make spaghetti for dinner tonight when he picked them up from practice, and who were you to say no?

“alright, luv’. got em’ both in tha’ showa’,” your husband tells you as he descends down the stairs. he steps over to you, a hand reaching your waist as he kisses your forehead. a smile crosses your face, looking up to your husband, “we should get to work then, big guy. i want dinner to be ready for them when they’re done,” you pat his chest, “just got the water to a boil,” you pointed to the pot. with a final kiss from your husband, his large hand squeezing your ass, you both started cooking.

you and simon have been together for a little over two decades now, resulting in the both of you knowing everything about one another. you could finish each other’s sentences, pick up on where the other left off. you became one unit with your husband. you completed each other.

the two of you moved swiftly around the kitchen, simon washing his hands as you grabbed the spaghetti noodles, pouring them into the pot. your husband grabbed the skillet next, placing it on the eye that you had previously turned on. he threw the grounded meat onto the skillet, using the spatula to mix the several seasonings you sprinkled on.

he proceeded to stir the meat, flipping it around when it darkened in color. you started washing your vegetables next, wanting to add mushrooms and green peppers to the sauce. you wanted to make sure all your boys got all their protein. you diced the produce, shaking salt and pepper over them afterwards. lifting the cutting board, you brought it to your husband, placing it on the counter next to the jar of tomato basil sauce beside him. you wrapped your arms around his waist, head rested on his back, “prepared the veggies for the sauce, si,” you peered around his large stature, “the meat’s looking so good, baby,” you kissed his bicep. your husband felt his heart melt at your praise, still after all these years you make him fold. “thank ya, hon’. wan’ it to be good for all of ya,” he turns to you as you come beside him.

ding. the oven goes off, “perfect! the oven’s done preheating,” you clapped. “whatcha’ got planned?” simon asks you, eyeing the curve of your ass as he watched you bend over, grabbing an oven tray. “funny enough, i actually bought some frozen garlic bread a week ago, thought the kids might like it. good thing they want spaghetti,” you giggle.

simon grabbed the diced mushroom and peppers, sliding them into the pan, pouring the sauce in next, some splattering on the stove top. he let it sit for a second, going to stir the pasta noodles.

after you finished spreading the cooking oil, you placed each piece of garlic bread on the tray. simon opened the oven door, grabbing the tray from your hand, “thank ya, luvie’,” setting it onto the rack. your husband always dealt with the heat when he cooked with you. he knows you cook alone most of the time, having to nurture him when he burns himself more often than he has to nurture you, but whenever he had the time to actually cook with you, he always wanted to deal with the most dangerous activities. he vowed to protect you for the rest of your lives.

you grabbed a sauce pan next, using the can opener to free your green beans, adding a second and third can. your boys were growing, taking after their dad. you can never have too many veggies! dropping the green beans in, you handed the saucepan to simon, him placing it on the back eye, twisting the knob on. he stirred the spaghetti noodles more, scattering salt into the water when a little boiled over. he stirred the sauce again, the mixed aroma of the vegetables and seasoned meat feeling your nostrils, a satisfied mhmm leaving your lips.

“it smell good, sweetheart?” your husband smirks, spinning to you. his large arms encapsulate your small waist, your body pulled closer to his. your knees felt weak, god you loved this man so fucking much. he began kissing you anywhere he could reach. a kiss on your forehead, cheek, nose, lips, he was craving you, more satisfied mhmm’s leaving you, this time sounding a little lewd. “si, what if the kids hear?” you whisper to your husband, eyes closing from him sucking on your collarbone, using his large finger to move your shirt and bra strap for better access.

“we both know they play their games before comin’ down. hell, we both know the lads avoid us until we call em’ for dinner,” he responds, you giggling. your husband wasn’t wrong. your two sons were teenagers, the last thing they wanted to do was hangout with their mom and dad.

your arms wrapped around his neck, simon pulling away from yours, looking into your eyes, “god, m’ so lucky to have ya,” he’s reaching down now, arms hooking under your thighs, lifting you up. he guided your legs to wrap around his waist, your heights equal now. “si!” you squeal, “the food! it’s gonna burn!”

“m’ sweet wife,” he ignores you, kissing your neck again. “s-si,” you gasped out. the feeling of his large hands roaming across your back as he held you, occasionally bear hugging you, pulling you closer, you were starting to shake in his arms. “oh, m’ sweet, sweet wife. does she like that?” he coos.

your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, “yes, husband-” you started saying when you felt your feet hit the floor, “w-what?” you question, eyes opening.

“gotta’ finish cookin’ dinner, sweetheart. ya reminded m’ bout’ tha food burnin’,” he teases, knowing he turned all the knobs down, the food being done a few minutes ago. he still had the garlic bread in the oven, but he could use the couple of minutes it had left to tease you. “bu-but, si-” “somethin’ wrong, hon’?” he cuts you off, and you didn’t miss that stupid smirk on his face.

suddenly you heard rapid footsteps coming down the stairs, “is the food almost ready yet?” entering the room. the one time they didn’t play their game. “draining the noodles now!” your husband calls back, walking towards the sink, the cooking pot looking tiny in his hands. when he returned to the stove, he took the garlic bread out the oven, turning the oven off, along with all the stove knobs.

“sons, can ya two please help ya motha’ set tha’ table. she needs a moment to clean up,” he calls out to them, his eye contact never leaving yours. he noticed how your tiny fists were balled, shoulders slightly tensed, cheeks flushed as a cute pout made its way to your features. “i hate you,” you whispered out, walking towards the bathroom before your children could come in. you heard your husband’s mocking laughter following you as you exited.

pairing: bodyguard!simon “ghost” riley x singer!reader

summary: you sit court side with your bodyguard at a men’s nba game

masterlist!

you absolutely loved going to the men’s nba basketball games whenever you got a chance, always so fascinated with how fast the professional players could run, dribbling the ball up and down the court, jumping higher than the net. when your bodyguard surprised you with tickets to see your favorite team in the playoffs, you were ecstatic, hands rapidly clapping together, “i can’t believe you got this for us, si! they’re my favorite team!” you say, jumping excitedly, simon holding a hand on your lower back to ground you. “ya always talk about em’ and knew ya were happy about em’ makin’ it to playoffs this year. wanted ya to have tha’ chance to see em’ compete,” he tells you, accent thick.

that’s how you ended up wearing matching jerseys in support of the team with your bodyguard, him holding your hand, assisting you to your seats as you walked down the steep bleachers. when simon presented you with the tickets, he kept your court side seats a secret, wanting it to be a surprise for when you both arrived. “no fucking way, si, you didn’t?” you hurriedly asked as he walked you along the court’s floor. “only tha best for m’ sweet fawn,” he waits for you to sit first, joining you afterwards. you were in disbelief. this man got a court side seat for you and himself during playoffs, and it was to watch your favorite team compete. no one’s ever really done anything like this for you.

you and simon cheered with the rest of the bustling crowd everytime your team scored, often turning to high five each other, along with other fans surrounding you. definitely a “saturday’s are for the boys” type of vibe. you and simon even did a belly bump when a player on your team did a slam dunk, going crazy with the rest of the crowd, your bodyguard quickly reaching his arms out to catch you when you landed further away than he intended. didn’t even feel like m’ used tha’ much force, he scratches his head, watching you laugh in his hold.

you were three beers deep by half time, your bodyguard getting another one for you when you asked, catching the next server that walked by you two. simon just took a sip of his first beer, knowing it wouldn’t have any effect on him, he more so wanted it with his food (which he also ordered for both of you with the server.) he never drunk when he was watching you anyways, always wanting to be fully present. if he did drink while watching you, he would limit himself to one or two drinks, like he’s doing now. he’s a big guy so he can handle it!

simon would reach his beefy arm across your chair’s back when nothing thrilling was happening, you leaning into his side, your hand moving on top of his massive thigh. rumors constantly went viral that you and your bodyguard were dating, your current state definitely not helping, but you both didn’t care right now. you were having a good time in each other’s company, feeling like you were the only two in the room, in the world.

eventually the arena’s press crew approached you, asking if they could shout you out on the jumbotron. of course you obliged, your bodyguard leaning slightly away so he wouldn’t be in frame. “do i need to do anything?” you asked sitting up straight, fixing your hair. the crew smiled at you, “nothing extravagant! all you need to do is wave? smile? blow a kiss? whatever’s comfortable for you. we’ll do it on the next timeout.”

in no time you were on the large screen, your name and career typed out underneath the live feed of you. you waved at the camera, large, pearly smile on your face as you grabbed your jersey next. roars erupted from the crowd, you being caught off guard, which clearly showed on the jumbotron, your hand moving to your flustered face. before you thought about what you were doing, you grabbed your new, freshly poured beer, beginning to chug it for the crowd. you finished the beer in less than ten seconds, crushing the cup against your forehead afterwards, sticking your tongue out to the camera. this even caused applause from your bodyguard, his gruff clapping echoing beside you. “that was great, y/n! thank you so much for letting us put you up!” the crew thanks you, walking away. your head embarrassingly found its way into simon’s side when you sat back down, giggles leaving both of you, “oh, don’ get all shy now, sweets. tha’ was fuckin’ awesome,” he leans closer to your ear, “yer so damn hot, fawn.” your thighs clenched.

the game ended with your team barely winning, one of the players scoring when the final buzzer went off. the arena went crazy, screams, stomps, claps, any form of noise going off. your favorite team was advancing to the championship! you and simon jumped from your seats when the ball went through the net, screaming leaving both of you, the beer you consumed increasing your volume. you turned towards each other as the players on the bench and people in the crowd swarmed the court, simon bending down to grab you by your waist, picking you up. he jumped with you in his grip, your hands wrapping around his neck.

so many videos and pictures of you at the nba game went viral, your jumbotron video reaching tens of millions of views in less than twenty four hours. people didn’t know you were such a “party animal,” seeing how quickly you chugged your beer. there were also pictures and videos filmed of you and simon by other people in the crowd, some zoomed in from the complete opposite side of the arena. it surprised your fans how much you were into basketball, your aggressive cheering with your bodyguard proving this unknown fact.

pairing: bodyguard!simon “ghost” riley x singer!reader

summary: your bodyguard spends the next couple of weeks with you at your home after you felt too paranoid to stay alone

part 2!

part 1, different, it felt negative

masterlist!

your paranoia’s getting the best of you again. when that para social fan stalked you a couple of weeks ago, it mortified you. you didn’t realize a stranger could grow such intense feelings for you, telling you he loves you when he doesn’t even know you! and the fact he was a fan for years, letting his obsession grow made you feel sick. you hadn’t left your home since the exchange, scared the crazy fan was waiting for you to leave. fuck, you were scared he was going to break in to your home.

this is why your bodyguard’s been staying with you, his belongings scattered throughout your place in the two weeks he’s “lived” here. he found himself losing his things, his belongings finding homes in random corners. it’s like he’s always been here.

your team knew about your bodyguard staying at your residence, advising him to “stay for as long as you needed,” everyone just wanted to make sure you were okay.

your bodyguard took your phone the day of the incident, deleting every social media app from it. he knew articles were already being published about this, videos from other customers present probably going viral. he didn’t need you seeing any of that, so he was going to prevent it from making its way to you.

simon’s tried his best to keep you company, giving you space when he knew you needed it. his heart ached seeing his sweet girl so out of it. your eyes were empty, facial expressions permanently numb, he can’t remember the last time he’s seen your beautiful smile. he wanted to know what you were thinking, aware of the fact that you were trapped in your mind, a victim to the traumatic memories. he wishes he could take every ounce of your pain away. he would endure all of it for you if he could.

his large body was laid across your couch, you lying on top of him, head rested against his chest. you were listening to his breathing, focusing on the rise and fall of his sternum. he had his arms wrapped around your body, holding you tightly against him. you could feel yourself dozing off to sleep, relaxing for the first time in weeks in simon’s arms.

whenever you didn’t need space from your bodyguard, you were practically attached to his hip, basically becoming the man’s shadow. you made sure to have some sort of contact with him when he was around, tiny hands holding one of his larger ones, or finding their familiar spot around his tatted bicep. you would even attach your pinky to his pinky when he would get too far.

you were scared of being alone for even a second. what if that guy was already in your abode? what if he was just waiting for the right moment to attack you? obviously he would need to do it when your bodyguard wasn’t around! you wouldn’t take your chances.

simon would pick you up too, your arms hooking around his neck, legs encasing his torso. you loved when he did this, letting you wrap your body around his, feeling so securely safe in his hold, opting into grinding your hips when you got a little heated. his dick twitched when this happened, trying his best to be good, but damn were you just so needy next to him, small body shaking in his grip. he would grope your ass a couple of times when he held you too, your sweet moans echoing in his ear.

you would cook food for one another, choosing to learn new dishes when you cooked together. he was happy he was able to eat every meal with you, making sure you got all your protein.

your bodyguard tried to remain still, concentrating on the movie playing, not wanting to wake you up. he’s been staying up with you throughout the nights when you were too anxious to sleep. during the rare couple of nights where you could fall asleep, you would eventually jolt awake, breaking out in sweats, simon trying to calm you down. he always reassured you he could handle it, his years of active duty preparing him for these moments. you really did have the best bodyguard.

soft snoring left you, simon rubbing a soothing hand across your head. you had a small smile on your face, your bodyguard cooing. you looked so peaceful laying on him, like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. he wasn’t gonna let you slip through his fingers.

when he had his private report with your team’s security head, his former and current boss, john price, simon informing him of the situation, price had to do everything in his power to stop your bodyguard from hunting down the bloke and killing him.

“lieutenant, tha’s an order!” he says, making the bigger man stop in his tracks. the captain was here now and he was talking to ghost, not caring that they were both retired. ghost only grunted, taking a seat. “see ya been gettin’ crazy ova’ ms. y/n, hmm? ya been doin’ good watchin’ her. the lass brags about ya all the time,” price says leaning down to ghost, a hand moving to his shoulder, “but ya know it’s nothin’ more than tha? ya rememba’ what ya signed?” he raises an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. “yes, captain,” ghost responds.

that’s when simon realized he needed to be more careful with how he acted towards you in public. he didn’t want to hide his affection for you from the world, but he didn’t have a choice. he wanted to continue being your bodyguard, so he vowed to keep his fondness of you strictly in private. he felt so complete feeling your warm touch on his ice skin.

he explained his meeting with price to you, more tears falling from your eyes. you didn’t want him to be fired and you also didn’t want him to stop what you two had going on. why couldn’t you just have both? you could shred that stupid contract! write up a new one. “m’ not goin’ anywhere, fawn. can promise ya that’,” he tells you.

he didn’t mind staying with you, lying to his captain about his advances towards you, lying to his captain about stopping his advances towards you. he swears you were both made for each other, you were already convinced yourself of the same fate.

pairing: bodyguard!simon “ghost” riley x singer!reader

summary: your bodyguard has to stop a para social fan that’s been following you all day from getting too close to you

part 1!

part 2, so out of it

masterlist!

you were currently sat on your couch, your guitar on your lap, strumming some chord progression. you had your journal opened next to you, writing lyrics for a new song. you wanted to kill some time before your bodyguard arrived to pick you up, and what better way to do that than to write new music!

be there in 5, fawn. - simon

you smiled at the text message from your bodyguard, eagerly typing a response.

sounds good, si! i’m ready now, so we can leave asap. can’t wait to spend the day with you! - you

cringing when you sent the message, seeing as you spend nearly every day with simon, you got up to slide on your shoes, placing your guitar on its stand. am i being too overbearing? you question yourself. you didn’t really know where you stood with your bodyguard after the events at the met gala, but you knew you were both interested.

m’ excited to spend tha’ day with ya too, sweetheart. m’ gonna knock on ya door when m’ arrive. - simon

your bodyguard was coming to pick you up to escort you on your errands for today, you both deciding he should drive instead of getting a driver, another way to avoid someone catching you two.

you had to keep whatever you two had going on a secret. your bodyguard was actively breaking his contract, and you didn’t want him to get fired if you were caught. simon was the best bodyguard anyone could ever ask for!

you wanted to go shopping, needing groceries for the week, and maybe spoil yourself with some new clothes. you also wanted to go to the gym later. when you told simon all this yesterday, he prepared his bag, packing his gym stuff, along with an extra water bottle for you, knowing you sometimes forget yours.

as you were zipping up your duffle bag, a couple knocks could be heard from your front door, “coming!” leaving your mouth as you walked over, bag now thrown over your shoulder.

your bodyguard’s muscular frame blocked the world from your view when you opened the door, his stature providing a shield from the blazing sun, stopping it from shining in your face.

“hi, si!” you excitedly say, wrapping your free arm around his neck, making him lean down towards you. simon responds, wrapping both his arms around your waist, standing up straight when he had a firm grip, causing your feet to be lifted off the ground.

he walks you both through your door, closing it behind him. he didn’t want to risk anyone seeing you like this! “how ya doin’, sweets?” he starts kissing your cheek through his balaclava.

giggles escape you, “i’m good! been writing music while waiting for you.” “happy to hear ya been creatin’,” he says as you return the cheek kisses.

he sets you down, grabbing your bag from your shoulder, “let m’ get this for ya.” “thank you.”

he uses his other hand, reaching it out to caress your face, “ya look so beautiful.”

your body was short circuiting, still not believing the man you’ve been crushing on for over two years has been feeling the same way. you lean into his hand, loving the euphoria his physical touches were giving you.

“m’ little fawn like being rubbed? hmm?” he teases, watching how you nuzzled into him. nodding your head, a small smile making its way to your face, “mhmm, yes, sir. feels nice.”

he moves to kiss your forehead, hand simultaneously wrapping around your waist, “hate to stop ya bliss, but we got a busy day, yeah? should get to movin’,” his accent was thick, “besides, tha’ fasta’ we get done with errands, tha’ fasta’ we can get back to here.”

he didn’t have to tell you twice. after hearing that, you grabbed his hand, pulling him out your door, not worried about locking it. your bodyguard had to use his strength to stop you in your tracks so he could lock your door with his spare key, so eager for touchin’, he smirks to himself.

he opens his truck door for you, helping you get inside like he always does. you’ve been in simon’s truck a handful of times, but it’s been a few months since you were last in it. having a driver was nice because you could sit beside him without an annoying console between you. you did enjoy when he drove you though, thinking he looks very hot while doing so.

once you were comfortably seated, he reached over you, grabbing your seatbelt. he buckles you in, making sure you’re tightly secured, another thing he’s always done, then squeezes your thigh, “been a minute since ya been in m’ truck, huh?” your hand moves on top of his, “i was just thinking the same thing, si. i wanna drive around with you more!”

“can definitely work somethin’ out. miss seein’ ya look all pretty in tha’ passenger seat,” he’s kneeding your thigh now, goosebumps traveling around your body.

with a final squeeze he closes your door, opening the door to the backseat, placing your duffle bag beside his. while he makes his way over to the driver’s door, you lean over the console, reaching to open the door for him. your bodyguard opened every single door you’ve ever encountered, literally, and you wanted to return the favor!

he grabs the door, stepping in, “oh sweetheart, thank ya so much, but ya don’ needa worry bout’ doin’ tha’,” he responded, but inside, it made his heart melt. shit, you were so fucking sweet. simon’s never met anyone like you. you were just so caring towards the man.

you answer, “i like helping you, si,” as you watch him shut the door, turning on the ignition next, “i want to help you like you help me.”

he puts the truck in reverse, placing his hand on your headrest as he turned to look out the back window, his bicep bulging out his shirt. he knew exactly what he was doing, your mouth salivating at the sight.

“thank ya, fawn. what’d i do to meet an angel like ya?” he starts driving the truck, large hand rested on your thigh now, leaving your headrest.

you smiled to yourself, leaning against his arm as he drove you to the grocery store.

your bodyguard was pushing the cart for you as you dropped another item into it, marking it off your grocery list. a lousy hoodie and shades covered your features, trying to mask your identity.

as you were going to reach for simon’s arm so he could lead you to the next section, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

you turned around, seeing a man smiling widely at you, “you’re y/n, aren’t ya!” he starts, “i’m your biggest fan! been keeping up with you for years!” his volume was starting to increase, you awkwardly smiling, i hope he doesn’t attract anyone else over.

“yep, haha, that’s me. it’s nice to meet you,” you reply. “my name’s matt! can i have a photo with you?” he asks, already holding his phone up. “yes, of course,” you say, putting one arm around his shoulders, the other hand holding up a piece sign. you mentally sighed seeing it was a video instead of a photo, he was probably recording the entire interaction.

after a few seconds, you pull your arm back, “i have to get back to shopping now,” he lowers the phone, “but, i really appreciate you, matt.”

with a final wave you turned back to your bodyguard, him leading you towards the frozen aisle.

while you were checking out your groceries, simon watching over you, you couldn’t help but to feel like someone, besides simon, was watching you. being you’re a famous pop star, you felt like this often, but something about this feeling was different, it felt negative.

after you paid, your bodyguard grabbed every single bag for you, walking behind you as you pushed the cart back to the rack. “stay in front of me, fawn,” he tells you, following you to his truck.

you opened the back door so he could set all the groceries inside. he got you in next, repeating his seatbelt routine.

when he got in, he quickly turned on the truck, driving away. once you were out the parking lot he told you, “tha’ dumb fuck was followin’ ya all around tha’ store. was takin’ videos of ya and all,” his accent was sharp, voice deep.

you turn to him, letting him finish, “wanted to smack tha’ phone right out his hand when i saw him recordin’ ya at checkout.” so your feeling was right. “hell, m’ wanted to kill him,” his fists were gripping the wheel now, knuckles turning white. you sometimes forget the man was an ex-trained lieutenant who was sent on missions to kill people before being your bodyguard.

“know it’s betta’ to not cause a scene though, fawn. m’ sorry. tha’s’ why m’ kept ya in front of me when leavin’. didn’ wan’ the bloke to get anything else of ya,” he tells you, trying to calm down, “sorry for not tellin’ ya sooner. wanted to get ya somewhere safe and didn’ wan’ to freak ya out.”

he was so damn pissed at the fucker. it’s one thing to take a photo or two, but to follow you around the store? especially after telling him you needed to get back to your shopping, he was fuming. you weren’t a zoo animal living for other people’s entertainment.

“you did nothing wrong, si,” you start, hand moving to his arm, “really appreciate you protecting me. honestly, i had a weird hunch someone was watching me, so i’m happy you blocked me from his view. no need to apologize,” you were rubbing soothing circles on his tatted bicep. “always, sweets.”

your bodyguard was holding both your duffle bags in his hand while his other was on your waist, short conversation happening between the two of you while he leads you towards the gym. you weren’t really in the mood for splurge shopping anymore, so you decided to drop your groceries off at your home, then head to the gym.

once he’s checked you both in, you make your way to the locker rooms, changing into your workout clothes. he finishes before you, waiting for you outside the women’s locker room.

you smile at him when you walk out, spinning around to show him your new gear. “tha’ color looks amazing on ya,” he compliments.

you’re running on the treadmill while your bodyguard is at the weights, bench pressing god knows how much weight, when you notice someone stepping on the treadmill beside you. you mind your business, focusing on the music in your headphones, trying to finish your last mile.

you looked over at the person when your cool down started, seeing they were already looking at you. something about their presence felt familiar.

the awkward eye contact forced you to turn away, stopping your cool down early. you turned off the machine, scurrying over to your bodyguard, thinking, that was a little creepy, haha.

“finish ya miles?” he asked when he saw you arrive out the corner of his eye, laying down while doing his reps. “yeah i did. i’m ready to go when you’re finished with your workout,” you say, choosing not to mention the strange interaction you had. you were probably just scaring yourself, but the man seemed so familiar.

you sat down, chugging the water that simon, thankfully, brought for you. you always forget yours!

he places the weight bar on the rack, “jus’ finished now,” he sits up. you don’t know how it’s possible for someone to lift so much weight. you both rack the weights, going to change back into your regular clothes in the locker rooms, leaving the gym afterwards.

your bodyguard’s driving you to dinner now, knowing you both need to eat after working out.

you found a place on your phone while waiting in traffic, showing simon the menu whenever the car stopped.

he asked the hostess for a booth in the back corner, the usual, so he could watch the area, you already knowing to slide into the seat facing the wall, so he could have the side facing the restaurant. you wanted to sit next to him, but knew it was too risky.

dinner was great, laughs being heard from your table. for people who were trying to keep attention off of them, you were being quite loud, onlookers often turning to look in your direction.

just after the server returned the paid bill, your bodyguard leaving a 50% tip, signing the check, someone approached the booth. looking up, you gasped, realizing it was the man from the treadmill at the gym earlier, no fucking way.

“how can you not remember me?!” the man starts, your eyes widening. “e-excuse me?” you reply, caught off guard.

“i’m matt from earlier! you said it was nice to meet me! you said you appreciated me!” you didn’t know what to say, the man continuing his rambling, “i-i love you, y/n!” he slams his hand on the table, causing you to jump.

your bodyguard hurries out his seat, immediately pushing the crazy fan back, standing in front of you, “tha’s’ enough. stay tha fuck back.” matt stumbled a little trying to keep himself from falling, catching himself on another customer’s table.

“what the fuck, man? she’s the bitch for forgetting about me. i’ve spent years of my life following her, loving her. all for-,” he’s yelling now, “all for this bullshit treatment from her,” he frustratedly throws his hands up.

you could only cover your mouth, not knowing what to say. you’ve never dealt with someone this para social with you, let alone heard someone say anything remotely like this to you. this was a stranger! you couldn’t even remember his name. you didn’t owe him anything.

you reached for your bodyguard’s hand, him helping you slide out the seat, keeping you behind him. your bodyguards growls out, “another fuckin’ word and m’ beatin’ the shit outta’ ya. yer lucky she wouldn’t wan’ me to do that though, so we’re leavin’.”

before you could walk away with simon, he squeezed your hand reassuringly before dropping it, walking over to the para social fuck. you watched as your bodyguard grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt, leaning into his ear, “if m’ eva’ see ya again, it’s not gonna’ be too pretty. consider this ya first and only warning. don’ come around us anyfuckin’more,” with that he dropped the man’s collar, making him stumble again.

he stared down at the man, making sure his dominance was asserted, before turning his back to him, walking back over to you.

he noticed the tears starting in your eyes, quickly walking you out the restaurant back to his truck, his hand going up to shield your face. he knew people were filming the dramatic interaction, not wanting them to also record your tears.

“fawn, m’ so sorry,” he’s letting you sob into his arms while you both sat in the front seat of his truck, “know that was a lot to deal with. he’s a weirdo, hon’. ya don’ owe him anythin’.”

“s-si! it was so scary! i saw him a-at the gym earlier too, but didn’t recognize him,” you cried out. “you saw him at the gym?” simon questions, rubbing your back. he feels you nod your head, his anger only rising. yeah, he should’ve fucking killed him in the restaurant.

“didn’t say anything to you because i didn’t know it was the same person from the store! i’m sorry, si!” he stops you, “none of this is yer fault, sweetheart. don’ ever apologize for anything like this. blokes like him deserve to be in jail for stalkin’ ya. watchin’ ya like yer some kinda tourist attraction.” you only cried more.

once he got you calmed down, he drove you back home, seeing it was already getting late.

he carried your bag inside for you, seeing how you were still upset from the para social interaction. he knows this really shook you up.

“si?” you call for him, “you can say no if you don’t want to, but could you please stay with me tonight?” you were fiddling with your hoodie, “that guy really, really scared me.” you were avoiding any eye contact, “m’ scared he followed us to my home.”

he frowned, reaching for you, “of course, hon.’ was gonna’ ask ya if ya wanted me to stay,” he confessed. he hated how you always had to deal with weird, shitty people, hating how you always blamed yourself for it even more. just because you chose a public career, it doesn’t mean your life gets to be public too, and he’ll remind you that every time you seem to forget.

Would you consider writing about Bodyguard Simon x Singer reader at The Met Gala?

Thanks. Love you 😘💛

a/n: hi gorgeous!! would love to write this for you!! i hope you enjoy!! love you so much!!

continue your reign

pairing: bodyguard!simon “ghost” riley x singer!reader

summary: your bodyguard assists you at the met gala

masterlist!

today has been nothing but hectic. tonight was the met gala, the theme, ‘costume art’, with a ‘fashion is art’ dress code.

this was your 5th time attending the met gala, but you still had crazy nerves, just like you did every time.

you were always named one of the “best dressed” every time you attended the met gala, so the pressure was on this year. you, admittedly, wanted to continue your reign.

you had met with your fashion designer for months before the met gala, trying different pieces, wanting to have the perfect look. it took you a long time to decide what you wanted to wear, coming across pieces that were unforgettable. of course your bodyguard attended every fitting with you.

you valued his opinion, asking him what he thought about every piece you tried on. you wanted to know if he thought you looked good.

simon has never been one for fashion, confused on why you kept asking him for fashion advice, but he always obliged, telling you another interation of, “ya look beautiful,” which wasn’t a lie. every piece you tried on took simon’s breath away. whichever one you decided to wear, he knew you would make people drop dead. he felt lucky he was one of the only two people to see you in every outfit, knowing the rest of the world would only see you in one. he wishes he could have photo copies of you in all the pieces.

you had ultimately decided on a piece that represented salvador dali’s famous art work, ‘the persistence of memory’. it was absolutely beautiful and it fit you amazingly. you knew people would be able to get the reference, smiling happily to your fashion designer, “i think this is perfect for the theme. i would love to wear this one!”

you knew you had to wear this piece, especially after catching your bodyguard’s reaction when you stepped from behind the curtain, not missing the way his eyes widened and his stance straightened. he quietly coughed, a hand moving over his masked-mouth, “ya look absolutely stunnin’, hon’.”

a blush crept across your cheeks, your fashion designer smiling to himself while he adjusted the outfit, “i agree, y/n. you look gorgeous,” your fashion designer added.

you already had the outfit on, sitting in the makeup chair while your hair dresser styled your hair. she added melted clock barrettes to your finished hair due, wanting to emphasize dali’s artwork more.

after she finished your hair, your makeup artist came in, beginning your makeover.

you both decided, along with your fashion designer, to paint a melted clock over one of your eyes. your makeup artist made sure to use vibrant colors, adding her own twist of dali’s signature surrealism style.

once you saw the completed look in the mirror, you couldn’t stop the excited gasp that left your mouth. you jumping up and down, the sound of clicks leaving your melted clock heels every time you landed.

your team took photos of you, waiting to post them until after you crossed the met gala red carpet. your team would make sure to tag your fashion designer, hair stylist, and makeup artist in it.

once simon saw your finished look, his crossed arms dropped from his chest, one landing on each of his sides. he was dumbfounded. for the first time in simon’s life, he was speechless, unsure of what to say.

you looked so fucking good. so fucking hot.

you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t think simon also looked good, really fucking good.

he wore an all black suit, a black tie to match. of course he would wear all black, he needed something to match his skull balaclava!

“everything alright, si?” you quietly asked your bodyguard, feeling nervous from his staring and lack of words, does he not like the way i look? you asked yourself, fiddling with your fingers. you were starting to feel self-conscious, second guessing everything you were wearing.

a beat of silence passed for a moment, it feeling threatening. “sorry, fawn,” the man started, stepping closer to you. “ya made me lose m’ train of thought. ya lookin’ like such a pretty bonny,” his accent was thick. he couldn’t stop the sweet nicknames he usually kept in private between you two from escaping his mouth.

his hands eventually found your fiddling ones, eyes looking into your soft ones, “yer gonna be the show stoppa’ tonight, yeah? don’ overthink nothin’,” he leaned down to your height, making sure you could hear his words.

god, simon always made your stomach drop. “t-thanks, si,” you couldn’t cover your stutter, your bodyguard moving to reach a hand across your waist. “ya ready to leave, fawn?” he asked.

with a nod of your head, he reached to his ear piece, alerting the rest of your team, “y/n ready to leave. transporting to the car now.”

simon used his hold on your waist to guide you from the hotel into the car, your team waiting at the entrance, holding towels to help shield your look from the crowd of fans and paparazzi. you didn’t want to spoil your look before you got to the carpet!

you kept tripping over the fabric of your outfit while walking to the car, simon quickly bending down to grab it with his other hand, helping you walk easier, “i gotcha, sweetheart.”

your bodyguard helped you inside the car, making sure every inch of the extravagant outfit was inside too. he got in after you, shutting the door behind him.

“thanks for your help, si,” you told the man, hand moving to reach for his bicep, “i feel so nervous,” you confessed to him, lightly squeezing his muscle.

you realized having physical contact with your bodyguard helped calm your nerves, something simon noticed too. you both didn’t mind though, liking the feeling of each other’s skin.

he moved his large hand to rest on your knee, turning to look into your eyes.

“promise ya look so lovely. m’ wouldn’ lie to ya, fawn,” he tells you. your heart drops, mouth going dry. you didn’t know how to react from all of the compliments from your bodyguard.

it certainly didn’t help your little crush on the man.

you eventually arrived to the met, a wave of confidence rushing over you.

you still had a hold on simon’s bicep when the car came to a stop, you noticing his hand had made its way to your thigh, “ya ready to kill this, hon’?” he questions, kneeding your thigh now. you couldn’t stop your legs from squeezing together, simon noticing too, but choosing not to mention it.

“i’m ready, si. you helped me feel more confident going in,” a smile overtook your features. “happy i could help ya,” he responded, and with a final pat on your thigh, he reached to his earpiece again, voice low, “y/n ready to walk the carpet now.”

as soon as you took your first step on the carpet, flashes went off. your team didn’t even have time to drop the fabric of your outfit. the entire room lit up from how fast the flashes were going off, all the paparazzi scrambling to get pictures of you.

you could hear the crowd of people across the street screaming their heads off when you came into view, you turning to them smiling. you couldn’t stop your waving, grateful for the love they were showing you.

your team was behind you, fluffing your outfit when you progressed up the stairs, your bodyguard keeping an eye on you at all times.

he basked in your happiness, delighted with your confidence. you just looked so perfect.

you reached the top of the stairs, your team with you, still fluffing and adjusting your outfit when it fell out of place. you felt bad for how much they had to run back and forth to fix your outfit as you walked up the stairs.

your bodyguard walked over to you a quick, “they’re ready to interview ya wheneva’ yer ready” reaching your ear.

he watched you as you waited your turn, your makeup artist touching up your makeup.

you walked up to the interviewer, “now we got y/n in the house,” she says to the livestream as she handed you a microphone.

she asked you about your look, wanting to know what you were going for. you explained how you took inspiration from salvador dali, thinking his pioneering of surrealism was a great addition to art.

you wrapped up your interview, moving down the line to the next one. multiple clips from your interviews went viral, people talking about how, “you had a great appreciation for art,” and how, “you ate the theme up, once again.” photos of you walking up the stairs in your outfit went viral as well, articles naming you as one of the “best dressed”, once again. everyone praised you for excellently matching the theme. your reign continues.

you were eventually ready to enter the gala, your team checking you over for the last time of the night. it would just be you and your bodyguard once you entered.

“hope you enjoy yourself, y/n!” “so proud of you!” “good luck in there,” you heard from your team as you waved to them.

you walked to your bodyguard, telling him, “we can go inside, si.” he didn’t wait any longer to grab your waist, walking you through the entrance.

he led you to your assigned seats in the front of the room, you excited for the fashion show and music performances that were taking place.

you always adored watching fashion shows, appreciating how the designer’s express themselves through clothes. you were a creative too, so you habitually looked forward to seeing other creative forms.

your bodyguard pulled out your chair, pushing you in when you were seated. he took his seat beside you afterwards, his large hand going to reach for your chair.

next thing you know, you felt yourself moving backwards, the chair, thankfully, silently screeching against the floor. simon just pulled your chair closer to his and you simultaneously felt your core throb, and he did it with only one hand. what is this man doing to me?

“betta for ya to be as close as possible in case m’ needa’ protect ya,” he leans down, whispering in your ear, “don’ ya think so too, fawn? hmm? ya agree?” his hand moved to your thigh.

paparazzi weren’t allowed pass the steps, your bodyguard knowing this fact, so you both weren’t worried about pictures leaking.

you bit your lip, doe eyes helplessly looking into his, “yes, sir,” departing from your mouth, sounding more like a whimper. you’ve never called simon “sir” before.

his fingertips were rubbing your thigh now, “hmm, tha’s’ right, sweets. tha’s’ very good,” he replies, feeling his dick harden. fuck, you looking at him like this got him all worked up.

your bodyguard kept his hand rested on your thigh for the rest of the night. he chose to caress you throughout all the performances and the fashion show, not missing every time your face winced.

you swear you felt his fingertips graze your pussy a couple of times too, you choosing to buck your hips into his hand when he did.

you couldn’t control yourself anymore, and apparently your bodyguard couldn’t either. it’s been over two years of your attraction towards one another building up and you were both starting to act on it tonight.

simon tsked each time he felt you buck into him, surprised with how needy you were being in a public place. he didn’t take you for the type and thought you would be embarrassed by his touching, but he relished in it nonetheless. this sweet girl is reciprocating his feelings of attraction, and since it was in such a public place, simon couldn’t help but to think you’ve been wanting him to do this for a while, just like he’s been wanting to.

the gala finally ended, everyone getting up from their assigned seats to mingle. it took you a second to socialize, wanting to calm down from simon’s intoxicating touching.

you talked with your peers, catching up with people you haven’t seen in months due to your busy schedules. your bodyguard stood behind you, watching for anything out of place in the background.

you all eventually decided to take a photo together in the bathroom, it later going viral on everything. the met gala mirror pictures were always so iconic!

you stayed for an hour longer, wanting to have enough time to change for the met gala after party. “can you call for the car, si?” you asked your bodyguard, “as much as i love my outfit, it’s getting constricting. i want to get ready for tonight.” he nodded talking into his earpiece.

after a few minutes passed, he walked up to you letting you know the car arrived. you said your goodbyes to everyone, looking forward to continuing the party later in the night.

your bodyguard walked you to the car, stopping and watching you as you stopped to sign some fans’ vinyls and posters. you also took pictures with some of them. they waited hours to see you, so the least you could do was this.

“i love you all so much!” you waved to them as your bodyguard helped you into the car, making sure to cover you with his large stature as you stepped in. when you were situated he stepped in too, closing the door.

you glanced at the privacy screen, relieved that the driver already had it down, the crowd’s silhouette barely visible through the tinted windows.

you were moving before your brain knew what you were doing. you grabbed the man’s hand, moving it to your clothed pussy. you grinded into the man, moving your lips to his ear, “s-si! please! m’ need more.”

you were already whimpering for the man, causing him to move without thinking.

he grabbed your waist, pulling you onto his lap, your legs straddling the large man. he guided your waist, rubbing your pussy against his large cock. your tiny hands found a place on his shoulders, you clenching his muscles for stability. “been wantin’ to do this for so long, fawn. fuck, so happy ya want it too,” he says lowly in your ear. he hated how quiet you two had to be, he deserved to hear every single, heavenly sound that left your pretty mouth, but the driver couldn’t hear you both! this couldn’t be reported!

you started kissing the man’s face, his skull balaclava blocking your lips from actually touching his skin, but you didn’t care. you wanted to show simon affection. you’ve wanted to show him affection for a long time now.

“feels so good, sweetheart. needed ya smoochin’ for a while now. been cravin’ ya, luv’,” he tells you, luxuriating in the feeling of you.

your bodies molded into one another perfectly, like you were the last pieces to each other’s jigsaw puzzle. every curve of you fit into every nook of simon.

“mhmm, y-yes, si,” quiet moans left you as you shook on top of the man. you hadn’t been touched in so long, and now this hot fucking beefy man had a hold on you with his massive hands, telling you how he’s been wanting you. you were fucking doomed.

“yeah, m’ know fawn, m’ know,” he coos, wrapping his arms around your waist. he has you in a bear hug hold now, pulling your bodies closer together. now that he had you, he was never fucking letting go of you.

the feeling of him wrapping himself around your torso, looking up at you like you were an angel that fell from heaven, made your orgasm quickly approach.

“oh, yes, sir. r-right there. oh!” fleeing moans fell from your mouth, simon moving his hand to cover your mouth, it swallowing your face. he moved his hand on your face to make you look into his eyes, loving the way your eyes had to roll from the back of your head to look at him.

“know m’ making ya feel real good, hon’, but m’ need ya to keep it quiet, yeah. y’know we can’t get caught, ya understand?” he tsks, moving back to his bear hold. “s-sorry, sir! m’ understand,” you say into his ear, speeding the movement of your hips.

you were so fucking close to cuming, knowing you’d be embarrassed from orgasming from the dry humping, but it just felt so damn good, when the car came to a halt, you both stopping your movements.

a knock was met on the privacy screen, “we’ve arrived back to the hotel,” echoing through it.

no. no. no. no, you thought to yourself, starting your humping on the man’s clothed cock again. you wanted to fucking cum! “one moment!” your bodyguard growls back to the screen.

simon was also in denial, cursing to himself when he felt your movements again, using his strong hold to stop you, “fawn, we gotta stop,” he kisses your cheek now through his balaclava, “promise we’ll finish later,” another kiss, “jus’ need to get to our rooms, yeah?” he kissed you for a final time, holding in his laugh when he saw your sexually frustrated pout. you were so cute, your arms crossed over your chest, “b-but i have to get ready for the after party, sir!” you frustratedly say.

he grabs your chin, his fingers toying with your pouted lip, “don’ act out too much now, fawn. like m’ said, we’ll finish this later,” his voice was deep, dominating. every instinct you had told you to submit to the man, “yes, sir. m’ sorry,” barely above a whisper.

he helps you off his lap, giving you a second to readjust your outfit, which had ridden up. your makeup was smeared now, strands of your hair falling in front of your face, your bodyguard trying his best to push the stray pieces behind your ears, “don’t needa’ apologize for anything, luv’.”

when you both were ready, your bodyguard got out the car, helping you next. since your team blocked you from the crowd’s view earlier, you saw all the fans and paparazzi now.

of course the flashes started, you not caring about how disheveled you looked after the car ride with simon as you signed more of the fans’ belongings, taking pictures with them.