#ghost fluff

[yousummonedme]

Imagine soft bf/husband Simon

(slight smut, mostly fluff. MDNI)

People wonder how someone like you— no offense— could stand someone like Simon. He’s too intimidating— too tall, too broody. He’s covered in scars, both from his dad and from his black ops. The man is built like a mountain, and towering over people in that skull mask of his doesn’t help his case. He’s a Ghost. No one knows who he is or anything about him. Those who get close enough usually wind up dead because lord knows the most socialization Ghost does at his job is killing some terrorist. Even his own teammates haven’t seen his face.

Little do they know Simon is a completely different person outside work. He never touches his mask unless you ask him to fuck you in it, so he’s free for you to caress and touch any time you damn please. His hair is fluffy! It’s so soft and fuzzy you could spend hours combing your fingers through it. Around you, his face is always covered in smiles; you also pepper it in kisses a dozen times a day.

He wear normal, civilian clothes: hoodies that you borrow because they smell like him, soft pjs that are so comfy to cuddle against, sweatpants that have you shamelessly ogling his bits, sometimes going shirtless in only a towel that leads you to pull it down and suck him off…

He’s got favorite hangouts, hobbies that he enjoys, friends he could spend hours with. He likes taking you on dates on his motorcycle. He loves the way the wind blows against him when he’s not stuffed in gear. He loves your arms wrapping around his waist and your head resting against his shoulder. Sometimes, he’ll take you on picnics so he can lay his head on your lap and gaze up at the clouds or skies. He likes when you spoon him and sing him to sleep.

Oh, and he’s a chatterbox. He could talk your ears off. All day, he yaps about anything and everything. Doesn’t matter so long as he has a thought about something and you’re around to hear it. You’re half tempted to bug the place because you could swear he talks to himself when you’re away.

He’s a golden retriever basically. He’s capable of being a normal person. All he wants to do is be happy. He’ll follow you around like a puppy, pawing at you for affection and trying to get as much of you as he can. With the height difference, it’s almost comical how he’ll almost double over to snuggle his head into the crook of your neck or beg for a kiss. It’s a wonder he doesn’t tire of you, but he never will. He likes this piece of heaven he’s found. There’s a ring on your finger to remind you of that.

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

Y'know what? I need me some fluff, a little pallet cleanser if you will. How about the Papas with S/O who's just the embodiment of Sloth? Like they are always sleepy and can sleep anywhere at any time, like standing, while eating, on the floor, tucked away in a storage closet while avoiding chores. (I-it's me, I sleep everywhere if I close my eyes for long enough)

As a fellow nap enthusiast, I love this! I’m also needing a good palette cleanser, so I hope you love this as much as I needed this!

I accidentally tripped and wrote it where the reader is actually Sloth aligned in a power sense soooooooooo

Papas with a Sloth Aligned S/O That Naps EVERYWHERE

Papa Nihil: No matter when you both get together (Old Nihil or Young), Nihil always wants to join you! He can’t help himself; you just look so cozy! Nihil will crack jokes about where he’s found you. But genuinely, he thinks it’s nice. There is usually so much chaotic stuff going on in the clergy that it’s hard to rest. One conflict you both have over your sleeping is how many times he will wake you up to have you ‘move over’ so he can join you. Nihil is a clingy type of partner, so he always wants to join you. A running joke between you both is you telling him to “find his own spot.” The rest of the clergy finds you a very bad influence on the Grand Papa. Because now he sleeps so much more like you do!

Papa I: Despite how humorous it is, Papa is oddly supportive of you. You found this strange at first. Why would he be so supportive of something as silly as you sleeping? Turns out, Papa is VERY invested in your “devotion to sloth”. Truthfully, you didn’t know you even HAD some sort of alignment with the sin of Sloth until Papa told you. As it turns out, you are ‘a chosen vessel’ by the sin. You weren’t sure how to feel about it. Especially with your sin manifesting so literally. Papa has nurtured your understanding of what it means to be a chosen vessel. Though not much has changed with your devotion… or your sleeping habits. Except, of course, Papa assisting you. Papa has gone out of his way to make you comfortable little nooks for you to cozy into. Often chasing away those who want to make you. More than once you’ve woken up to find the first Emeritus has covered you with a quilt.

Papa II: Not out of disrespect, but Papa II will just leave you wherever you are. Unless you have something incredibly important to be doing, you’re often left to your own devices. He doesn’t want to wake you and often can’t be bothered anyway. Typically, he’s just impressed that you sleep through almost anything! He will find you in the weirdest circumstance, give a small ‘huh’, and go about his business. Papa will never admit how much he smiles when he finds you. He accepts that this is a part of your Sloth aligned nature. No need to bother you. However, if he DOES need you, he will literally snap you out of it. Snapping his fingers in front of your nose quickly until you rouse. If you need to be moved for whatever reason, he or a ghoul will carry you to bed. As long as you don’t drool on his furniture, Papa remains amused but indifferent.

Papa III: Your need to snooze is so charming to Papa. Utterly adorable, in fact! Papa is a nap connoisseur himself. Despite being known as a frivolous prince of the Papacy, Papa works hard like the rest of the family. He cherishes any chance he can have a quick power nap, or a lazy afternoon. The man needs his beauty sleep! Like you, he’s also like a cat who will just sleep wherever he can get comfortable. Since you came into his life, this tends to be wherever you’ve holed yourself up to get a couple of winks! You’ve woken up so many times to Papa holding you like a teddy bear while you sleep. The man usually spooning you as you both crowd on his velvet lounge chair. Or on the nearest office couch. Or, Hell, even under a tree when you both separately snuck out into the gardens! You’re also privy to his choice nap spots.

Papa IV/Cardi/Frater: Copia never knows whether to be impressed, annoyed, or find you cute when he catches you napping. Impressed because you’ve fallen asleep in some VERY bizarre spots or positions. Annoyed because you sometimes fall asleep sitting upright or standing, and he carries on a whole conversation with you before he realizes you are conked out. And finding you cute because… well… it’s adorable how you sleep sometimes! He likes you after all. Copia has a few pictures of your coziest moments… and a few of your weirdest. There’s been a few times he’s chased his ghouls away from you because they think it’s hilarious. A few of them usually want pictures (which he denies, despite taking one himself). Copia is most likely to gently wake you up and offer to take you to your bed. He loves your sleepy protests. The only other time he becomes irritated with you is if you commandeer his office chair. Or accidentally trip him from being in the worst spots (yes, this has happened a few times.)

Papa V: Perpetua thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world! Unfortunately for you, this makes you the target of his mischievous nature. Perpetua has a running list AND picture collection of places he’s found you sleeping. At this point, he has over fifty pictures in his phone! There is a running rank of his favorites. Latest top three being: The time you fell asleep mid paperwork with your head on the filing cabinet, standing in the middle of the kitchen with your head lulled back and holding breakfast, and being curled under a table with a plant on it. The youngest Papa also has a horrid propensity to play pranks on you. Really harmless ones, mind you, to see WHAT you will sleep through. Worst of all, you’ve NEVER woken up during them! There exists of you a photo of you napping on the couch while having almost a full box of cheerios stacked and balanced on you.

[secretlysimpash]

Crow Hybrid! Reader bringing the shiniest things to Wolf Hybrid! Ghost... He's a lil confused, but appreciates all of the new rings, necklaces, and watches

Wolf Hybrid! Ghost rubbing his scent on Crow Hybrid! Reader at evert chance he gets... They're a lil confused, but figures that the LT does this to all of his teammates

Neither one seems to realize that they're both courting each other in their own way, and the rest of the team just watches as heat/rut season gets closer

[jumbledletters]

simon “ghost” riley x reader, drabble, @fluffuary day 15: caught in the rain

“How can anyone hate the rain?” you laughed, spinning in the pouring rain with your head tilted back.

You’d been returning from the range with Simon when the heavy clouds finally broke.

But when you turned, Simon stood behind you, looking like a wet dog.

“Oh, come on,” you teased. “Cheer up a bit!”

“My mask is waterboarding me,” Simon instead informed you.

With a laugh, you pulled his mask over his lips. “Can’t have that, can we?”

His eyes softened as he shook his head. “No, ma’am.” He leaned in for a soft, wet kiss, smiling despite the rain.

[ladykelsi]

husband!Simon loves one thing about being married;

he loves being your dress-up doll.

it’s a crazy thought that he keeps to himself every time he looks at his civilian clothing. most of them were picked out by you because you have better taste in fashion than he does.

(not to mention you decorated the home you and him live him but that’s a whole different topic for another day).

the only reason he has more clothes than Gaz is because you go out of your way to buy them for him. and Simon doesn't necessarily like some of the styles of the garments you pick out for him but he cannot deny that you know what looks good on him and what doesn't.

Soap, Gaz and Price always wonder why his office desk has fashion magazines littered all over it but it’s because he knows you would love to take inspiration from them, so he sends you pictures almost every day for you to figure out what you’re both going to wear for dates and outings when he comes back home.

he loves it when you test out colours, patterns and textures on him. he loves standing still while watching you ponder over which shirt would look better with which pair of pants and shoes. he especially loves it when you match outfits with him. you look so gleeful when you make him wear something that compliments your outfit a small joke between you and him is that he's your own personal human sized accessory. which is only exacerbated by when people taking one good long look at him and going “yep. his wife dressed him up.”

Simon gladly lets you take his credit card to splurge on outfits to keep this shit up if it means he's seen as someone (or thing) that belongs to you.

it gets worse during the holidays. especially with this one coming up. now red might not be his favourite colour but it’s damn sure starting to be when you welcome him home in nothing but a red skirt with white fluffy frills and a hat to match.

“there’s my big, bad ken doll.” you tease, smiling. you hold up a glittery paper bag. “i got something for you.”

he can’t restrain his eyes from dropping to your exposed breasts as he takes the gift you offered to him. “bit light.”

upon seeing what it is, he lets out a chuckle. a pair of store-bought raindeer antlers.

your smile brightens. “wanna go for a ride?”

if there ever comes a day when he says no to that, you reserve the right to shoot him in the head.

[rs-hawk]

Ghost (Simon Riley) being a werewolf and Reader’s mate. Something super angsty like he’s Reader’s CO and Reader gets sent on a mission and thinks they’re going to die so Reader call him to say good-bye and that Reader loves him even though he’s always said once Reader is “stronger” (a human so he automatically thinks Reader is weak) he’s going to reject them. Maybe he finds Reader or maybe he doesn’t and has to live with the guilt (but if he finds them please please please smut please)

I hurt my own feelings with this, so you're welcome!

Everything I knew about Ghost was against my will before this ask bc I somehow got onto Simon Riley and COD smut Tumblr, but, I did do a little research for this ask. Just like I said with the Fallout ask, I don’t play video games so hopefully my Sparknotesed information will make this good enjoy for fans

The first time you saw your Lieutenant, your entire body felt like it was on fire in the best possible way. He was tall, strong, and despite the mask covering his face, his dark eyes proved just how attractive you knew he was under it. You were the first human in the 141, and that made everyone a little suspicious of you, though Price did his best to remind everyone you had went through the same training as them. Seen so many of the same things as them.

"How'd ya even get this gig?" Ghost huffed one day as you brought paperwork into his office.

"My blood is naturally poisonous to vampires," you said, hands quickly tucked firmly behind your back as you stared down at him while he flipped through the papers.

He scoffed, but didn't respond. Finally he said, like he always did when you were alone together, "ya know, when yer strong enough, I'm gon' reject you. I don't need some human as my mate."

A smile cracked the corner of your face. He had been saying this for months, but he never did it. Always found some kind of excuse to not do it. There was a mission coming up. Price had just reprimanded you. Now, the excuse he had been using for the past month, was that, after he had seen how sick you got, was that you were frail. A fragile human that would die if he rejected you.

"I'm heading out on the scouting mission tonight, sir," you said instead of responding to his empty threat.

He grunted, sliding his hand up his mask to itch the side of his neck. A nervous habit you learned he had when he had something he wanted to say, but was refusing to. "Dismissed, then. Get ready to head out."

You saluted him with a slight grin that always made him roll his eyes, but you were certain that he was grinning too. His eyes crinkled ever so slightly at the corners.

Ghost was in his office when you called him. He rolled his eyes, picking up his phone when your name flashed across it. "What is it? I'm busy," he snapped, his voice gruff.

There was the sound of gun shots and shouting, and his blood ran cold.

"I do love you, you know," your voice was slightly warbling, and it sounded like you were breathing harder than normal. "I know I've never said it out loud, but I wanted to tell you before it was too late."

"Too late? Sergeant, where are you?" he demanded as he jumped out, his chair crashing to the ground as he himself crashed out of his office.

"I'll send you the quadrants," your quickly weakening voice said as you struggled to draw in a breath. "But I don't think I'll make it, sir."

"You can call me Si, this once," he whispered, his own blood running cold.

"Si, it's been a pleasure serving with-," but your voice was cut off by a barrage of gunshots. An automatic. Then the line went dead.

"Sergeant? Sergeant? Y/N!" Ghost screamed into the phone.

Price heard the shout and came to find out what was going on. The words came pouring from Ghost. It only took them a few minutes for Price to gather the rest of the squad to head out. It didn't take long for them to get to the spot where you and the others should have been.

The smell of your blood was everywhere.

You smelled different, being human, and then that strangely, overly sweet smell that had something to do with how your blood was poisonous to vampires. They found Garrick easily, slumped against a tree, pressing a cloth to the side of his neck.

"Roach's over there," he muttered to Ghost, shakily inclining his head. It was clear from the smear that Kyle had tried to drag himself to Gary, but the blood loss was too much and he'd had to stop.

Price went to Gary, checking his pulse. He seemed the better off of the two. Just knocked unconscious. Minimal blood loss.

Ghost's mask was ill fitting now, stretching awkwardly as panic had made him start to shift. Kyle gave him a weak smile and fished out a silver bracelet from his pocket.

" 'ere. My Ma gave me this. Should help to keep you in check," he said, his trembling fingers holding it out to Simon.

Simon's fingers curled around it, and he could feel his features recede slowly. He didn't have time for this. He had to find you. Price looked over at him and nodded. Ghost took off, tracking your scent.

He found you further off than everyone else- trees surrounding you like they were shielding you. You were the worst off, that much was certain. Not only had you been shot more than once, it was obvious a vampire tired to feed from you. Two thin twin lines scratched down the side of your neck, like the thing had drank then struggled to pull away as it fell. The crumpled heap of its body was only a few yards away.

But you, you were barely breathing.

Even the silver burning his hand couldn't stop the panic from making his fingers shift to claws.

"Y/N, Y/N, please," he whispered, gingerly checking your wounds. All you replied with was a raspy breath.

It was a struggle for him to wrap your leg wound, but at least it was a clean shot and he didn't have to worry about digging the bullet out. By the time Price had gotten the other two men into the Jeep, and got to the two of you, he could see it on Ghost's face. You were barely there, if you were at all.

"Wake up, ya damn brat," he rasped as he and Price carried you back, taking care not to be too rough.

Price didn't have the heart to tell him that he had already heard yours stop beating.

Should I do a part two? Comment to be tagged if I do

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[peppermint-toads]

simon riley but he’s a cook at a winter camp and you’re a counselor

it’s an old, dreary camp in the middle of basically nowhere. it’s also one of the few places parents could send their unwanted kids during the winter recess.

it’s nestled deep in the woods of some midwestern state. the scenery is about what you’d expect, and it doesn’t disappoint. looming, snow covered mountains crowd around the rows of dilapidated cabins, a frozen lake nestled somewhere amidst it all.

smoke is furling from the stone chimney of one of the larger buildings—the mess hall, and subsequently, the kitchen.

it’s not unheard of for a camp to operate during the off season, but it does have its risks. winding mountain roads slick with ice, gummed up radio signals, power outages, the list continues.

counselors arrive a day or so early, the ones lucky enough to make the journey safely up the mountain, that is. so, that’s you, your acquaintance and cabin mate julia, this guy called brian and some of his mates, too.

not many, a smaller turnout than the year previous. it’ll be an understaffed season, undoubtedly. oh, you forgot to mention the new cook. simon, you think? big fellow who hasn’t muttered a word since being introduced to the staff.

buddy, the usual chef, wasn’t a super talkative one either. must come with the job, you think. and the food isn’t bad, so you can’t really complain quite yet.

the first night goes like this: dinner at the mess, then a bonfire by the lake with s’mores, if marshmallows made it in the budget that year.

when plates are cleared, everybody heads towards the lake to get the “party” started, except you. never a big fan of gatherings.

you stay back to stack up plates, not many dishes considering the sparse crew. you carry the stack to the industrial sinks in the kitchen when—

“steaming jesus!”

the entire pile of plates crashes to the ground, silverware clattering in every direction.

“scare you, love?”

“no! well—yes, i just. jesus christ.” your right hand clutches your chest as you try and catch your breath. “i thought you’d gone with the others to the…” you limply and vaguely point in the direction of the lake.

he just shrugs at you. staring, big and imposing as the mountains outside.

your breathing is more stable now, and you feel like he’s watching as any evidence of fear sheds from your demeanor, like he’s studying you.

“yeah, not my thing, either.”

he grunts, folding over to pick up stray forks and spoons, dropping them in the sink. the water sprayer is already on, tiny droplets pelting his face and starting to soak his white t-shirt.

you sweep while he washes in a comfortable silence.

a sliver of porcelain peeks out from beneath a shelf, and you lower to your hands and knees to try and fish it out.

your soft straining pulls his attention away from the dishes. then, you wince, quickly retreating your hand and pulling it close to your chest.

“ow, fuck!”

simon’s boots are by your side in an instant, diagnosing the severity of your injury. and soon, you’re hoisted onto a steel counter while he tends to your cut.

“it’ll sting.” he murmurs, still a man of few words.

“you have an accent.” you think aloud, seeing if he’ll engage.

“so do you.”

technically to him, you guess, you do have one.

“touché.”

he smiles just a little bit, or maybe it was a trick of the light. either way, his focus on wrapping your hand never falters. such grave attention to detail. you never would’ve guessed based on his cooking.

“keep it clean.” he says, starting to clear up.

you get the chance to look up at him, finally, really see his face. a bit cut up and crooked, but something about it makes your stomach flip.

voices seep in through the thin walls, and suddenly it isn’t just you and simon any longer. bedtime, you reckon. means they probably ran out of liquor.

“night, simon.”

[peppermint-toads]

sturdy kind that doesn’t mind the snow!

“love, i’m sorry. i just don’t think i can get through the snow.”

simon’s staring out his front windshield, a slurry of ice and snow clogging the up his view. the streetlights and stoplights look hazy, spiking out in streaks of light making him squint.

he’s a soldier for chrissake and can’t face a bit of snow. a bit of snow—okay, a small blizzard. he’s downplaying it to himself when actually, he’s one of the only ones crazy enough to be out in this storm.

but anything is worth it to get to you, where he knows you’re waiting for him with a warm meal and warm bed that he’d share with you.

“simon, honey, it’s okay. just turn around and try to make it back to yours. you’re closer to there, yeah?”

and he is closer to his own flat, but he’d rather brave the elements than spend the night there, cold and alone, when the comfort of you is an option.

simon curses under his breath when his tires lose traction, over correcting his wheel the other way.

“simon? what was that?”

there you are, nagging at him to be careful. he smiles a bit as the snow picks up.

“just—i’ll be there soon, love.”

he hangs up before you can even argue. but he really, really can’t see the road in front of him now. and god forbid he hit a pedestrian, or worse, a cat.

he pulls over as close to where he thinks the sidewalk begins. it’s only a few blocks to yours. he’s a soldier, remember.

his coat is wrapped tightly around him, hands covered in wool cashmere gloves you gifted him last year around this time, matching scarf was looped once around his neck, too. he’d insisted they were “too nice for a bloke like him.”

the sleet and freezing wind fight against him as he trudges through piles snow. almost there, he can see your building from where he stands.

he’s never looked so small in his life, he thinks. his hands tucked under his armpits on either side and chin tucked as close to his chest as he can manage.

of course you’re furious with him when he knocks on your door dripping snow and shivering like mad. a cup of tea is shoved into his hands, stinging the white blotches of skin that he can’t exactly feel at the moment.

dinner is put on hold because you’re starting a nice steaming shower for him, and it’s not optional. simon doesn’t care, his stomach could growl for all of eternity as long as you were there throwing a stern look in his direction.

“happy christmas, simon.” you mumble into his chest as you grow comfortable under the stream of hot water.