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His Secret Dime .ᐟ.ᐟ
Simon Ghost Riley X Wife!Reader
The whole squad did not expect a young woman to walk in,sure they weren’t expecting anyone new—but what stopped them was that,the woman asked for ghost,and not with just that name,she asked for Simon. And the rest was comical.
“Did I hear that right ey’?” Johnny murmured to Kyle as he nudged his shoulder,mirroring his shocked face
“I think we did..”
“Lieutenant having a missus?”
“No way,you’re imaginin-“
“Si!” Your excited tone interrupting their gossip time while you walked over to Simon,who was now already guiding you away to his office.
“What yer brought me birdie?” Simon questioned as he opened his office door,standing aside to let you in first and closing the door after.
“You forgot your lunch at home,and i was on the way to get some toys for nessa—so i figured i would give this to you myself” You explained and giggled when he pulled you into his lap.
“Missed m’wife,too much.”
“You saw me not even 4 hours ago—“
“Don’t care.”
“Wife?!who’s nessa?” Outside whisper yelled Soap as he nudged towards the locked door closer.
“Probably their dog,you twat” Kyle interjected with a scowl and continued listening.
Suddenly the door opened as they stumbled into the room,only to be met with Simon’s unbothered but facepalmed expression.
“What are yer idiots doing down ‘ere?”
“We—“
“You hid your wife from us?!” They both exclaimed as they stood up,now peeking inside Simon’s office.
“I didn’t hide anything,noone ever asked.”
“I should get going sweetie”you walked to the door with a smile,giving the others a little wave and a nod—“or nessa’s going to have a fit,’s almost her bed time”
“I’ll see you both at home,yeah?” He murmured and caressed your back with his hand.
“We’ll bake you something hm?”you replied with a glint in your eye as you two started walking.
Simon’s expression softened and nodded behind his balaclava,moving aside to walk with you again,but not before giving the guys a little look,and based on their bewildered expressions,that made his day.
Okay maybe he should have just told them he had a wife and a kid,but this moment right here?was priceless to him,besides—she was his lucky charm,tucked away just for him,in their own world.
© snoozbun Est.2025; Please don’t copy my work.
Bubu’s notes: Thank you for reading!please show love by liking and reblogging<3!
꣑୧ i have a crush on you ─ simon riley
gosh, he was beautiful. simons eyes sparkled in the sun as he fed your baby some watermelon.
time on the beach was your favorite. simon would pack all kinds of snacks and make sure the baby had all the necessities.
he became soft when it was just you three. it was like the hard, cold lieutenant wasnt even there.
but as you watched him feed your baby watermelon, new feelings arose in your chest. you had felt them before, when you first noticed simon.
the skip of your heart and the flutter of butterflies in your stomach.
you had a crush on simon. the biggest one.
Satoru x fem! reader
crack,
Suguru knew it´d be a long evening for him, as Satoru stormed into his dorm crying out his name in distress.
He set his book down with a sigh. "what´d you do to piss her off this time?" Satoru flopped down on his bed dramatically, burying his face in one of Suguru´s pillows. "okay, first of all, dont assume things, how would you know i pissed her off, secondly," Satoru lifted is head and revealed his squinted eyes and pout. "stop being right all the damn time." he muttered, before flopping back down into the cushion.
"Whatever you did i´m sure it´s not that bad." Sugugru reassued his friend. You were one of Satoru´s first serious relationships, Suguru knew that since the day Satoru skipped over to him and told him with that ownright idiotic smirk of his. So, natrually, for Satoru it as always the end of the world when you got mad at him about anything.
and guess who Satoru came to anytime that happened?
"But it isss!" Satoru cried into the pillow, his voice was muffled through the fabric. "She hates me now Suguru! She even called me an Idiot! that basically means she´s done with me now..." He whined.
"I and almost everyone else alls you an idiot all the time."
"THAT´S NOT THE SAME!" Satru snapped his head up.
"what did you do that made her so mad huh? last time you cried your eyes out here was because you knocked her Coffee over." Suguru aised an expecting brow.
"Uuh- well.." Satoru glanced off to the side as he had to bite back a sheepish smile crawling on his face.
"That tells me everything. Get out and apologize." Suguru deadpanned. "WHAT?! Yo u didn´t even hear me out yet!" Satoru whined. "If you start like that you did something more than just knock over her coffee, Satoru. Just spill it."
"well, she might or might no have caught me jerking off with her underwear earlier" Satoru mumbled, almost under his breath. "Oh my lord." Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are such a pervert , Satoru."
"I know" His head fell into the pillow. "she called me that too.." He mumbled. "And now she´s so grossed out by me and probably thinks I´m some kind of creep that steals panties and she´ll never talk to me again because why would a sweet saint like her talk to a pantie stealing idiot pervert and she´ll go on to another man who´s probably named Gavin that has a receeding hairline and love him insteatd and he´ll get her that Hamster that she wanted and she´ll have her happily ever after with someone else and thier Hamster! without mee." He sniffled. "I´ll just have to become a cat-lady and find love in felines and then die alone."
"I think you might be Mildly overreacting." Just as Suguru inished his sentence his door swung open again. "hey Sugugru, is Satoru here-" You came in, hardly finishing your sentence before Satoru warped himself into your arms, clinging to you and criying into your neck.
"I´m sorry my love! please don´t leave me!" He looked up at your stunned form. "what are you talking about?"
"Don´t leave me for Gavin and his Hamster, please! what would I do without you?"
"Satoru, I swear to god." you took a breath. "I´m not gonna leave you because of.. earlier." Your ears burned a little. "But you can´t just run out on me after i find you like that. I worry about your dumb ass you know that?"
"so..you won´t leave me then?" Satoru peeled himself from you only as much as necesary. You couldn´t help but smile at you idiot boyfriend. "No, I won´t."
"Promise?"
You rolled your eyes a little, but the smile didn´t waver .
"Promise."
━━━━ ━━━━━ ━━━━━ ━━━━━ ━━━━━ ━━━━
i didn´t plan my first post to be this short, but I promise longer pieces will come in the future
all the other women in your gardening club were so incredibly jealous of you.
it had started off when you were showing them a photo of some fresh strawberries that you grew. the photo was of around 16 perfect looking, freshly washed strawberries placed on top of a cloth inside a basket... and the basket was being held by your husband, satoru.
it was a simple photo, satoru had a cute face, not looking at the camera but instead, was looking down at the fresh fruit, impatiently waiting to eat them.
your fellow club members gawked and smiled widely at your photo.
"wowh! what a beauty!"
"how perfect!"
you smiled in pride as your club members complimented the photo of your stawberries, unaware that they were staring only at satoru and his annoyingly handsome face.
the next instance was when you had shown them photos of your perfect, weedless garden.
"wowh! what weed killer do you use?" one of the older women exclaimed in shock.
"ohh ahah!" you smiled "i don't use any weed killers, we have a dog in the house and i'm afraid he might sniff the toxins, so i pick out the small ones by myself, and i ask my husband to get the bigger ones for me"
"ah... you're so lucky, [name].. my husband is far too lazy to pick out the large weeds when i ask..."
"your husband listens to you, just like that? i wish my husband would do that.. if i ever asked, he'd complain and whine like a baby"
the last was when your car broke down and had to stay in maintenance for a few days. satoru dropped you off to your gardening club that saturday.
when you walked in, all the ladies' heads snapped over to see satoru.
".. he's even more handsome in person.."
"he's sooo dreamy.."
"look at his biceps..."
you turned around, going on your tiptoes to kiss him goodbye. satoru placed his hand on your waist, leaning in to pull you into his hungry mouth. you pulled away, much to his dismay, satoru tried to pepper more kisses on your face, but you quietly told him to stop, causing him to pout.
"... and he's so inlove with her too..."
"what a loving man.."
"... i hope [name] knows how lucky she is."
those other ladies whispered among themselves before you gave satoru another kiss farewell before turning around and greeting your club members. satoru lingered around the doorway for another minute, watching you with a gentle smile before forcing himself to turn around and leave.
that alone made the ladies expel any thoughts of seducing him to cheat on you... it was too late. He was too deeply in love, and much to their dismay, they understood clearly why he was so obsessed with you.
— likes and reblogs are appreciated!!
im 12 years old sitting on my bed reading it’s midnight it’s summer my window is open the crickets are very loud but very soothing my room smells dusty and warm and no one else exists. im 12 years old. the feeling never goes away.
Satoru doesn’t let you watch sad shows like Squid Games anymore. Not after the incident. Not after you curled up in his lap halfway through the season finale, sobbing into his chest, asking if he’d ever betray you in a death game.
Excuse you??
He had just blinked at you, mouth parting around a dumb little “huh?” while your tears soaked right through his wrinkled shirt. His hands hovered like he wasn’t sure whether to rub your back or cup your cheeks to stop your tears.
“If we were in the games,” you sniffled, voice all wobbly and wet, “you wouldn’t turn out bad, right? You wouldn’t hurt me or other people?”
He choked.
“W-What?! No! Baby, what the hell?!” He’s already rocking you back and forth like that’ll do anything, his big hands spread wide against your back, thumbs dragging comfortingly along your spine. “I’d die for you! Like, immediately! Well maybe not immediately but I'd make sure you lived instead of me!”
And when that somehow makes you cry harder, he goes full spiral. His pretty lips parting in horror, eyes wide, trying to control the situation.
“Okay okay okay, no more sad shows,” he babbles, grabbing the remote with one hand while still cradling your head to his chest with the other. “We’re watching something happy, something safe - what about Bluey? They have dogs and no one dies, right?”
His heart is pounding, poor thing. You’ve got snot on his chest and he doesn’t even care. He’s kissing your hairline and making distressed little cooing sounds as he scrolls through the menu.
“You’re too soft for stuff like that, baby,” he whispers, planting obsessive little kisses on your forehead. “Can’t handle my girl sobbing into my chest like that again. Not with your pretty cry face, god, you’re gonna ruin me.”
You finally calm down with Bluey until the camping episode comes on.
satoru. g | jealous of a kitten
“You love him more than me.”
You glance up from the bed, blinking at Satoru, who’s standing in the doorway with his arms crossed like he’s confronting a cheating spouse. On your chest, Satoru Jr. purrs contentedly, a little white marshmallow curled against your heart. His little tail flicks once, all too smug for that tiny body.
“You're the one who literally bought him for me.” You remind him.
“Yeah, well. I thought he’d be cute. I didn’t think he’d replace me.”
You stifle a laugh as Jr. nuzzles under your chin, warm and weightless. His purring gets louder. You coo and scratch behind his ears.
Satoru storms over like a man scorned, dramatic steps heavy with betrayal. He flops down beside you with a huff, then leans in close. “Hey,” he says, voice low and enticing. “Wanna pet something tall and handsome instead?”
You don’t even look at him. “Shh, you’ll wake him.”
He stares at you. Stares at the kitten. Back to you. The audacity.
“I’m the original.” He utters, nose wrinkling in offence. “He’s just some cheap knockoff with zero rizz.”
You glance at him, finally amused. “You named him after yourself, so you can't call him a knockoff now.”
“That was before I knew he’d seduce you with his baby meows and his fluffy paws.” He sulks, visibly offended as Jr. starts licking your finger. “Look at him. He’s flaunting it.”
You giggle. And that’s when Satoru goes deadpan, eyes locked on you. He clears his throat-
“Meow.”
You blink. The kitten blinks. Satoru leans in closer, louder this time.
“Meow. Pet me.”
You burst into laughter, almost dislodging Jr, who gives a sleepy chirp in protest.
“Oh my god.” You wheeze. “You’re jealous of a literal kitten.”
“I’m jealous for your attention.” He pouts, resting his head on your shoulder with a theatrical sigh. “You never scratch my chin and call me a sweet baby angel.”
Jr. lets out a soft little mrrrp, annoyed, and bats at Satoru’s face with one paw.
Satoru recoils like he’s been slapped. “He has no respect for his elders.”
you condition your roommate, Gojo Satoru, into expecting a forehead kiss every time he leaves for work.
Notes: gender neutral reader
main masterlist
It all started on a Monday morning.
You had read about classical conditioning the night before- when a stimulus is linked to an action that is done routinely. You were feeling cheeky so you decided to test it out on your roommate who you knew had been trying to ask you out for the longest time.
I’m unsure if you’re taking requests right now but if you are can you write about simon being jealous??
I was actually thinking about writing jealous Simon. And now it’s time ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ (Thank you for request!!)
Jealous Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley. Fw: violence
The restaurant is warm. Candlelight flickers across polished wood and velvet chairs. A jazz trio hums soft in the background, barely louder than the slow clink of wine glasses.
He’s quiet tonight. Not cold, but calm. The calm that comes after chaos. After weeks of blood and gunpowder, your bodies sore and bruised, your minds aching from constant alertness, the quiet hum of the restaurant was almost unreal. You sat across from Simon, candlelight dancing in the hollow of his cheekbone. His mask was gone for once just black shirt and black pants, a clean shave, and those piercing eyes softened in the warm light. He watches you across the table with a softness that surprises even him. You make him feel too much. That’s what scares him most.
“Need the loo,” you murmur, giving him a soft smile. He nods, not speaking, but his eyes follow you until you disappear down the corridor.
You’re halfway to the bathroom when you hear it.
Chptr 1: A Sweet Beginning
The village of Eldermoor was a quaint, cobblestoned haven nestled between rolling hills and whispering pines. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the air carried the scent of hay and fresh earth. You, (Y/N), had arrived only a few months ago, your bakery a modest stone building with ivy creeping up its walls and planters of fresh flowers growing along the windowsills. Already the talk of the village. Your sweets, from honey-drizzled pastries to warm, crusty loaves, had won hearts faster than you’d expected. But two hearts seemed to linger longer at your counter: Simon “Ghost” Riley, the stoic butcher with a shadowed past, and John “Soap” MacTavish, his charming apprentice with his iconic mohawk and a grin that could melt the winter frost.
It was a crisp morning when you pushed open your bakery’s wooden door to start your day, the bell jingling. The scent of cinnamon rolls wafted out, still lingering from the previous day, drawing curious glances from passersby.
nothing just thinking about big, scary men who bend to the will of their wife without a second thought.
he's a cop, a marine, a badass military man, and yet the second he gets home, he's just "baby, honey, sweetheart," and his favorite, "big strong man."
if you ask him to stand, he'll stand. sit? he's down on the couch with his legs spread open and his head thrown back. ask him to massage you as you two watch television best believe his big hands are sliding all over your brown skin.
it's not because he's afraid of you or intimidated, either. well, except for a few specific times and looks on your face. but besides that, he knows you're his mostly harmless sweet wife who just knows what she wants and how to get it. which is easy since he's wrapped around your finger tight.
he does whatever you ask, no matter how strenuous. "it's no big deal, sweetheart." "let me help with that, doll." "you've got enough on your plate, sugar." he's incredibly eager for a task, you're barely on your feet when he's home.
You’re just trying to walk past the bar crowd, hand in your boyfriend’s and a smile on your lips — until it happens. Some guy. Too drunk.
His hand touches your ass, it wasn't some accidental touch, he full on grabbed it.
And it’s not even subtle. Meaning your boyfriend clearly saw it happen as well. You freeze.
Your smile drops. You don’t even get the chance to react because the second it happens, your boyfriend stops cold. Turns around. Lets go of your hand.
The air changes. It’s like the fucking world pauses — because when he turns around, there’s murder in his eyes.
“Hey,” he says. Voice calm. Controlled. Deadly.
The guy stumbles a little, laughs. “It was a touch, relax—”
Crack.
One punch. Right to the jaw. No hesitation.
The guy goes down instantly, knocked straight into the dirty club floor, clutching his face. Blood already pouring from his nose. People around you gasp. Someone yells. You’re still in shock.
But your boyfriend? He just stands there. Breathing hard. Shoulders tight. Fists clenched like he hasn’t had enough. “You think it’s funny?” he says. Steps forward. “Touching someone who didn’t fucking ask for it?”
The guy groans. Doesn’t answer.
“Get the fuck up.” He doesn’t. Your boyfriend lowers his voice. “I said—get the fuck up.”
You grab his arm. “Babe, stop. It’s fine—”
He turns to you fast, still fuming. “No. It’s not fine. he touched you.” pause "i should cut his hands off for that"
He looks down at you like you’re the only real thing in the world.
“You flinched,” he says again, quieter now. “He made you uncomfortable.” You nod slowly, swallowing, fingers wrapped around his wrist now, grounding him.
His eyes are still wild. He’s still breathing like he might kill someone. But he lets you pull him back. Only after he spits at the guy’s feet.
“Touch her again,” he mutters, voice low and venomous. “And I swear I’ll put you in the fucking ground.” Then he turns. Wraps his arm around your waist.
And as you walk away, tucked under his arm, he doesn’t say a word. He’s still angry. Still ready to snap. But when you look up at him? He’s already looking at you.
Checking your face. Your breathing. Your comfort. “I’m okay,” you whisper. He exhales. Softens just slightly. But not much. Because in his head? He’s still thinking about dragging that guy outside and making sure he never touches another person again.
𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐕𝐘𝐍 | Don't try to be me, you can't.
Dating with Ghost is like:
⋆˚࿔ He has a tiny camera, he found it on the edge of the pavement. You scolded him, but he didn't care much. He pocketed the camera and had it for about a year. His friends mocked with him about it. Even you thought he’ll get bored of it sometime. But it never happened. He adored taking pictures of you with that camera. Whenever you were asleep, or while decorating the Xmas tree and more… He always print them and hang them on wall of his apartment or hang them on edge of his office computer. He don’t want anyone to look at you, so he keeps you all to himself.
⋆˚࿔ He loves- no he’s addicted to physical contact. He can’t keep his hands to himself. He needs to touch you. He needs to feel you are here. You are with him. At home he’s cuddling you, outside he’s holding your hand, in car his hand on your tight etc. he can’t get enough of you. That boy is really addicted to you.
⋆˚࿔ Matching outfits. If you had told him that someday he would wander around in matching outfits or matching colors, he would’ve laughed in your face. Surprisingly, it was him who came up with the idea.
One ordinary afternoon, while you were both lying on the couch, half-watching a silly movie, he leaned closer and asked, “Wanna match outfits when we go shopping tomorrow?” You laughed at first, thinking he was joking but his eyes sparkled with that soft mischief you knew so well. The next day, you did it. You wore similar colors, maybe not perfectly matching, but close enough for strangers to notice. And from that day on, it became your little thing. Color-coordinated hoodies, matching sneakers, beanies in the same shade small, sweet signs that you belonged together. He enjoyed it the most. He’d catch your reflection in shop windows and grin like a kid. Sometimes, he’d pull you aside just to say, “Look at us,” as if seeing the two of you together like that made his whole day. And when people complimented your outfits, he’d pretend to act cool but you knew he loved every second of it.
⋆˚࿔ He doesn’t say I love you often. But he shows it in ways no one else ever did. It’s in the way he listens like your voice matters in a world where noise is constant and compassion is rare. It’s in the way he always walks on the traffic side, switches seats in the restaurant to watch the door, waits until you’ve locked the door before he walks away. It’s in the hand on your lower back when crowds get too loud. It’s in the way he kisses your forehead before missions, thinking you’re asleep. He may not say the words, but you hear them every day.
⋆˚࿔ You’re running late. You barely manage to pull your coat on when you realize: crap. No time for coffee. Again. But when you get to your bag, there it is your thermos, warm to the touch. You unscrew it and your favorite flavor fills the air. He doesn’t say anything about it when you thank him later. Just gives a shrug like, ”‘Course I did.” But later, when you’re curled up on the couch, he murmurs, “You always forget when you’re in a rush.” You glance up. His eyes are on the TV, but he’s smiling. Barely. Softly.
⋆˚࿔ His hoodie is massive on you sleeves swallowing your hands, the fabric holding the scent of gunpowder and sandalwood. You catch him staring. Not the usual observant, tactical kind of stare. This one lingers. “Too big for you,” he mutters, voice low and rasped. You smirk. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He doesn’t reply. Just crosses his arms, but the corner of his mouth twitches a crack in the mask. Later that night, you find another hoodie left folded on your side of the bed. It’s even softer.
⋆˚࿔ You wake up to the smell of tea. Strong, perfectly brewed, just the way you like it. On the nightstand, a steaming mug and a crumpled post-it note sit quietly. “Didn’t want to wake you. Stay warm. -G.” It’s scribbled in his rigid handwriting, slightly smudged from the way he folded it one too many times before leaving. You know he probably stood at the door for a full minute, watching you breathe, making sure you were safe before stepping into a world that never feels as quiet as your shared bed.
⋆˚࿔ His version of jealousy isn’t loud. It’s lethal. Later that night, you’re in his shirt, sitting on the kitchen counter. He’s leaning on the opposite wall, arms crossed, still clearly not over it. “You know I only laughed to be polite, right?” He nods slowly. But you can tell he’s been stewing on it all evening. He finally walks over, pulls you between his legs, fingers sliding under the hem of his shirt on you. “Next time he talks to you like that, I’ll be less polite.” You kiss his cheek and whisper, “Your jealous face is hot.” He chuckles. “My jealous face can break jaws.”
𓂃۶ৎ I’m in love.
⸻ romcom girls 💐⋆˚࿔
