rhiaghostriley

[rhiaghostriley]

⋆ ｡⋆ any pov (petnames 'sweetheart/love') ୨୧˚ warning: nsfw {mdni} ↣ {wc: 465}

P★rnstar!Simon who was ready to leave the industry until Johnny showed him a video of yours one night.

Maybe one more video wouldn’t hurt.

P★rnstar!Simon who’s on the phone the next morning telling his manager to get something booked. He doesn’t listen when Price rambles on about how you have completely different audiences so it might not work.

“All due respect, I don’t care. Either way if I’m in a video, people will click regardless and by the looks of it the same goes for them and their viewers.”

P★rnstar!Simon who insists the two of you get to know one another before filming because if you want an intimate shoot, he’ll give you exactly that. What better way than to become familiar with each other? You know, just to double check the chemistry will be convincing. And who are you to turn down a free lunch date with an attractive man?

“No no, don’t worry about the bill, it’s on me.”

P★rnstar!Simon who brings you your favourite tea on the day of filming and thoroughly listens to you over everyone else on how you want it to be carried out. His usual genre isn’t so tame but he finds himself looking forward to this scene with you more than anything he’s ever done in his career.

P★rnstar!Simon whose touch is so gentle and caring whilst filming. He takes his time, making sure everything he does is the way you want it. He keeps an eye on your every reaction, every sound he brings out of you. The scene is raw, natural and he forgets for a moment that the cameras are on the two of you. Has to stop himself from getting carried away, reminding himself that it’s all fake, even when it feels truly genuine.

“God, you feel so good wrapped around my cock, love.”

P★rnstar!Simon who has tons of videos published, and not a single one of them has him kissing his scene partner. Yet he just can’t stop his lips from connecting with yours as he shoots his cum deep inside you, hands intertwined.

P★rnstar!Simon who checks on you as soon as the cameras are off, making sure that you’re alright and everything's good.

“Y’alright sweetheart? Can I get you anything?”

P★rnstar!Simon who manages to get your number but is too scared to contact you after that day in case he screws up and says something that comes across as weird. It takes a lot of convincing from Johnny before he finally calls you one night. 

P★rnstar!Simon who smiles to himself when you pick up. The two of you talking on the phone for hours about the most random things in the world until you both fall soundly asleep, phones still in hand.

༄ cod m.list ༄ reblogs are appreciated if you like it

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 ���𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[rhiaghostriley]

MDNI - Ghost x reader - Age gap

            “I am way too old for you, princess.”

This damn sentence, uttered with a scoff and a roll of his eyes, you heard it a thousand times. Every time you sat next to him at the bar, your hand lingering on his arm while you looked at him batting your eyelashes, every night when you left the common room, looking at him insistently, asking him silently to join you to your room, to no avail. And now, while you are both alone in the shooting range and you asked for his help, pressing your ass against his cock as he stands behind you to correct your stance, he whispered the same fucking sentence in your ear, making you shiver.

Simon is turning forty in a few weeks, and for him you’re nothing more than a baby bird, needing to learn life before you can think you play in the same league. He told you to date guys your age, but for you it means dating boys, and you want to date a man. One who can handle himself, manhandle you, and he is perfectly what you’re looking for. But Simon Riley is stubborn and nothing would make him change his mind. No means no…

That was a few days ago. Now ? Now, you’re replaying the scene in your head, looking at him with a smirk while he fucks you senseless in one of the stall of the bar’s bathroom. Not the perfect settlement but that’ll do. Because it’s Simon Fucking Riley, you’d take him anywhere he wants to. And damn, he doesn’t disappoint. Making you moan and smirk a bit more every time he hits your G-spot, mumbling words like “so fucking tight” and “you take it so well”. Holding you against the wall, his arms hooked under your thighs as you hold on to him for dear life, legs shaking because you already came twice. The look in your eyes is cocky, saying “Do you still think I am too young ?” - when your eyes are not rolling in the back of your head.

Too old for you, my ass. Not a single guy under thirty on this fucking planet made you see stars the way you do right now. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Not when Simon is buried so deep inside you that you can feel his balls slap your ass. Not when his cock is wearing the pretty red necklace your lipstick left on it. Not when your pussy has been dripping with his cum for the last thirty minutes.

Because you know you’ll have him again. The way he is growling in your ear, the way you clench around him, keeping him deep every time you come, the way you fit together like two fucking pieces of the most obscene puzzle, it’s intoxicating. Addictive. And it’s fine by you. As far as you’re concerned he can fuck you in all the stalls of all the bathrooms of all the bars.

It’s Simon Fucking Riley.

[rhiaghostriley]

You've been trawling through the contents of a mole's USB stick for days now. Dropped upon your desk one Tuesday night, passed down from Laswell, Price, and now, to you. Hours have been spent and wasted on trying to unravel ones and zeroes into something even remotely coherent. Not that you've had any great success.

Simon isn't an idiot, either. He's seen the bags beneath your eyes and the empty packet of painkillers on your desk and the way you feebly attempt to rub migraines away through your temples.

"You need to leave it." Simon's gravelly voice is nothing but background noise against the clatter of your keys as you take out your increasing frustration on your keyboard. Noting the way you don't turn at the sound of his voice, he obnoxiously clears his throat, watching the way your spine jolts ramrod straight, wincing at the way you twist to face his sudden presence.

"What?"

"You've been staring at that for days. Nothing's changed, nothing's going to change. Give it a rest."

Maybe it's the sleep deprivation, but his words have you snorting out an amused, somewhat unnervingly animal sound, head falling into your palms as you rub the gunk from your eyes - which you're convinced must be square right about now.

"It's uh - I don't know. I can't help but think that the minute I leave it alone, something will give."

"Mm." He hums with a knowing nod, spinning the seat at the other side of your desk to sit on it backwards, resting his elbows on the worn wood, leaning over to face you. "No use to any of us if you're barely awake enough to sit upright."

You give another noncommittal huff as you begin the process of turning off your laptop, practically a fortress with how many failsafes you've installed.

" -And," he continues when you finally provide him with all the attention you can in your tired state.

"I don't like seeing you like this." Simon admits, a little sheepish, as though confessing some great adoration you'd been entirely unaware of.

"And, on that note, let's get you home, yeah? Can't have my tech wiz burning out on me."

I'm baaaack! kind of! Have this lil bit of vague reader burnout fluff because I've been watching Slow Horses and obsessing over reader being in intelligence 🫠

[rhiaghostriley]

Ghost x reader - impossible relationship

It was all consuming. The way you needed this man, looking for him everywhere you looked at, was eating at your brain, shredding little by little your last pieces of sanity, to leave only him in your mind, from his scent in your nostrils, to his picture engraved on your eyelids.

Thankfully, you were a kind person. Soft, precious, a little bratty on the edge, but that was part of your charm. Still, you knew your obsession was gnawing at your soul. Was it love, was it just an unhealthy fixation for your superior, or something even darker, you couldn’t say, but the result was the same. Day after day, he became the first thing you thought about when you woke up, the only thing you wanted to look at during the day, the last image in your head before you fell asleep. Everything he did, every word he said, everywhere his hand landed, you wanted it. Needed it. Like he was some sort of god you would dedicate your life to, if Ghost was involved, it was a good thing.

Of course, everyone admired him. After all, he was the mysterious, cold, untouchable Lieutenant of Task Force 141. The one people wanted to know more about without daring approach him. He was intimidating, keeping people at arm’s length. But that was part of his charm.

From day one, he intrigued you. The way silence was made when he entered the room where all the new recruits were gathered, his mere presence enforcing compliance, was intoxicating. You were the kind of people who struggled to be heard, so it was naturally overwhelming to see someone capable of indulging so much respect by a simple look. And when that look landed on you…

It was as if a jolt of electricity ran through you, from the roots of your hair to the tip of your toes. That man was not looking at you, he was looking right into your soul. Observance wasn’t strong enough to describe the way he was able to read people. Like a silent sentinel always ready to pounce at the slightest threat, he was seeing everything.

So obviously, he saw the way you were looking at him, the way you were following him, keeping your distance but still keeping him in your sight. Everywhere he was, you were too. To the point that everyone on base knew that you were into him. But he never told you a word about it. Never told you a word at all. And it was painful.

So you started to try things to catch his attention. Flirting with soldiers to see if he was jealous, insistent gaze to see if he came to you, short dresses to see if he looked at you. But nothing seemed to work, and you grew more frustrated, and more hurt. But in the end, it wasn’t surprising. No one was interested in you, and he was interested in no one, so why would it have been any different with you, right ? Little did you know…

The day started like any other day. You sat at your usual spot in the mess hall, alone, drinking your coffee, looking at his every move as he was drinking his tea a few tables away, while pretending to be lost in thought. It was useless, though, his eyes never met yours. Then you heard her.

“Look at her, staring at the love of her life, waiting desperately for him to notice her, so pathetic.” A bitchy giggle.

You sighed. You would have thought that the military life would have been so different than high school. No more bullying, no more making fun of people, no more Queen Bees. You were wrong.

The girl got up and walked toward you, standing in front of you, blocking you from Ghost’s sight. “When will you understand that he will never be interested in you ? You’re not pretty, not smart, you’re not even funny. If he has to hit on one of us, it would be me.”

You closed your eyes without lifting your head, your jaw clenching. It stung, how true she was. She has everything. The silky hair, the smooth skin, the bright eyes, the ass and tits. And you had… none of it.

She laughed. “See ? Not even able to talk back. How could he be interested in you when you are no more interesting than a spot on the wall ?”

Feeling your eyes fill with tears, you were about to get up and leave, but you didn’t have time. Two gloved hands landed on the back of your chair, a big shadow casting on both of you, as a deep voice growled. “You have two seconds to apologize or I can tell you that during the next training you will hope you were never born.”

The girl’s eyes widened. Yours too. Your heart was hammering in your chest, loud in your ears, as you were staring at the girl who stuttered “I-I am… I am sorry.”

He growled. “Good. Now leave.”

The girl was out before he had finished his sentence. And you were still frozen on your chair. Slowly, quietly, he rounded the table, and stopped in front of you, right where the girl was standing seconds ago. Your eyes still wide, your hands gripping your cup of coffee tight to hide their shaking, you started “thank you, I-“.

He cut you off. “My office. 9am. We need to talk.”

Your eyes widened even more if it was physically possible, but before you had time to answer he was gone. You didn’t have the right to say no, anyway.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, and looked at your shaking hands as a sense of dread was slowly creeping in your mind. This was it. The moment your Lieutenant would tell you to stop being delusional and hoping anything from him was coming. And even if you already knew that, you also knew that hearing it from him would break you.

8:55am. You were in front of Ghost’s office. Your heart was in your throat, your chest tightening, your eyes bright with tears. You took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

God, the voice alone was sending chills down your spine. You opened the door, and took a few steps in, standing in the middle of the room, hands clasped in your back. “You wanted to see me, Lieutenant ?”

He answered without lifting his nose from his paperwork. “Close the door.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you complied. You closed the door and took your place back, fighting the urge of closing your eyes, of crying, of running away.

After a few seconds of silence, he got up, rounded the desk, and leaned back against it, right in front of you. His eyes locked to yours, making your heartbeat skyrocket.

“You know why I wanted to see you ?”

“No” you lied. Well, not really a lie. You thought you knew. And you hoped you were wrong.

The balaclava shifted slightly as he raised his eyebrows and sighed. “Yes, you know. You’re scared, but you know.”

Your heart stopped, more tears coming in your eyes as you looked down, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “Lieutenant, I can explain. It’s not what you think, I-“

Then the whole world stopped. You stopped in your tracks, feeling two gloved fingers pressing under your chin, tilting your head back until your eyes meet his again. “Shhh. It’s okay. I am not going to yell, I am not going to laugh. I am just going to tell you… that it can’t happen.”

You stared in his eyes, waiting for the moment he would scold you, looking for something, anything in his eyes that would tell you he was making fun of you. But all you saw was softness, and a hint of sadness. And you couldn’t process it. “I… I know, I am not your type. I am short, and I-“

Again, he cut you off. His gaze hardened, his grip on your chin tightened. “Don’t.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes darting from his to the side and back, as you said with a strangled voice “What ?”

His look softened again, and his fingers moved from your chin to your cheek. He took a deep breath and exhale sharply. “I see you, you know ? I really see you.”

Your heart couldn’t take it anymore. His touch, his eyes, his cryptic words, his voice laced with kindness and understanding. It was all too much. Your heart was beating so fast that you thought he could hear it. Your stomach was churning. You were a mess. “I don’t understand.”

He bent forward, looking right into your soul. “You. Are. Good. Enough.” He paused, his eyes roaming your face, studying every inch of it like to commit it to memory. His thumb wiped away the tear you haven’t noticed on your cheek. “You think I don’t see but I do. The way you always treat other people with kindness. The way your face brights up when something makes you laugh. The way you always torture yourself trying to solve their problem for them. You are a good person. You are good enough. Maybe even too good.”

The way he was talking about you made you feel like the most precious thing in the world. You couldn’t believe it. You were probably dreaming. You frowned in confusion, trying to read between the lines, but afraid to make things up. “I-… You-… What are you saying ?”

With the balaclava you couldn’t see the expression on his face. Still, the corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled lightly – a rare thing coming from him. His other hand reached for your cheek as he grabbed your face gently, making your heart stop. “You really are going to make me spell it out, aren’t you ?”

He looked away for a few seconds, his eyes darting all around the room as if he was looking for something, for the right words. Then he looked back at you. “I am your superior. I can’t give special treatment to some recruits, I can’t get closer to one of them.” He paused, brushing his fingers on your cheek. Then he added “It doesn’t mean that I don’t want to.”

Your eyes widened, an overwhelming flow of emotion coursing through your brain and your heart as you started to process the underlying meaning of his words. Hope, confusion, joy, and sadness. He wanted you. But he couldn’t. “So what you’re saying is…”

He sighed, one of his hands moving from your cheek to your waist, pulling you closer. “What I am saying is… if I wasn’t who I am, I would have made everything for you to be mine. But…”

You looked at him, and this one syllable word broke your heart. But. “But you are who you are, so it can’t happen.”

He nodded slowly, his grip on you tightening. “Trust me, I would love things to be different.”

You felt your heart beat faster and harder, as you were seeing all hope of being with him crumbling down in front of your eyes. In your obsession, you never thought for a single second that he could want you but couldn’t be with you. And it was even worse than thinking he just didn’t want you.

He saw in your eyes that you were starting to understand. He pulled you even closer to him, and pressed his face on the side of yours. Your eyes fluttered shut. You took a deep breath, taking in his scent as he was doing the same thing. It was a dream becoming true, but one which would soon enough turn into a nightmare, at the very second you would get out of his office.

His hand on your waist moved to the small of your back, his hand on your cheek stroking your hair gently as he whispered in your ears. “Give me just one minute. One minute when I am not your Lieutenant. One minute when nothing keeps us from being together. One minute when I can tell you… That I love you.”

You let out a small sob. Your eyes filled with tears again, and he hugged you tight, his face buried in your neck. He kept whispering. “Every time. Every time you will feel like you’re not good enough. Every time you will feel lonely. Every time you will feel unworthy. Remember it. Remember that I am always somewhere, thinking of you.”

You shift your face to the side to face him, your lips parted as you gasped slightly from his closeness, his breath hitting your nose through the balaclava. His eyes locked to yours, his lips hovering over yours as he brushed his nose along yours, his hand gripping your shirt in your back tight with the effort of holding back. You swallowed hard, tears dangling from the corner of your eyes.

He chuckled, brushing his fingers on your cheek. “You’re so beautiful, even when you cry. So beautiful. But don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s hard, I know, but it’s for the best.”

You closed your eyes, freeing your tears and letting them roll down your cheeks. “How can it be for the best to love each other and not be able to be together ?” You managed to say, your voice choked with tears.

He sighed again, his hands moving to the back of your head, cradling it. “I know you don’t see it now. But I am not good enough for you. You deserve a happy life, with kids, a dog and a white fence. I can’t give you that.”

You shook your head aggressively. “I don’t want all of this. I want you.”

He chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re young. Naive. So, so precious. You will forget me.”

He pressed his lips against your forehead, his fingertips grazing your skin in the nape of your neck. After a deep, shaky breath, he added “And if you don’t… Then maybe one day, when things will be different… But until then, I want you to promise me something.”

You looked at him, your heart in your throat, ready to promise anything, in the name of the love you shared but couldn’t enjoy. So you nodded.

He brought your face closer to his, his lips brushing yours, enjoying the shape of your mouth fitting so well with his, even through the fabric of his mask, even if just for a few seconds. “Promise me that you will try. Even if it hurts, even if you don’t want to, try to be happy. Don’t shut yourself out. You shine too brightly to let me tarnish it.”

You frowned. It was the most heartbreaking things you had to promise. But for his sake you agreed. You would try. To forget him, to love someone else, even if you knew you would never feel for anyone else what you felt for him. It would be less powerful, less consuming, less devouring, but you would try. And you would pray it won’t work. Pray for fate to reunite you, one day, when things will be different.

[rhiaghostriley]

Hey, you've been asking for requests, so here's what I'm craving to read and perhaps you like it :)

I'm so tired of stories where reader is super young (like, 20?) and Ghost is doing everything for her, to the point where she's barely allowed to even pay her own bills or leave the house on her own or whatever. And of course she's absolutely submissive in bed too.

Nothing wrong with that, but I'm a grown ass woman in my 30's who proudly handles her own shit, so I can't really relate. Where are the stories with an independent af reader who can be strong for Simon if necessary? Who is close to his age, with her own life experiences and the baggage that comes with it and who wants a relationship on eye level with him, who can take the lead if he struggles to adapt to civilian life when he's on leave and so on. You catch my drift ;)

I gotcha ;) I hope I understood what you wanted and that you like it.

A bit of slice of life, no drama for once, just love <3

Simon is the impersonation of strength. Independance. Invulnerability. This man needs no one's help, not a weak spot in his 6'3 ft and 220 pounds of muscle persona. Always mumbling something along the lines of "Got it covered" when someone offers to do something for him. Little did they know...

So obviously, when Simon ended injured after a mission, right arm and left leg broken - who would have thought that jumping out of a second floor window could be dangerous ? Not Simon - the whole team showed up at the hospital, ready to put some sense into his thick skull and explain him that no, he can't just refuse any help when he can barely go piss alone.

That's how you found yourself in Simon's hospital room, standing in front of three military men - probably his team, you never meet them before - eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Walking toward the guy in the middle - a mohawk and arms like your thighs, must be Soap - you smile widely and hold your hand out.

"Hi, Simon told me you would probably come. Johnny, I presume ?"

Simon's gruff voice can be heard in the background, even more slurred than usual due to the painkillers. "Told ya got it all covered..."

The first one to regain his composure is Price, taking your hand in his and shaking it gently. "Hello ma'am, I am Captain Price. You can call me John." Then Gaz chimes in, shaking your hand too, and nudging Soap's shoulder to bring him back to life.

With a polite smile, you ackowledge the three men and get back to Simon's side.

"I'm going to go to your place, Riley needs to be fed and taken out. Your landlord called me this morning about the renovations, but I told him it would have to wait. And I picked up the mail, a few things that need to be handled, but nothing you have to worry about. Bills mostly." You stop, just to put a kiss on his forehead, and wink at him with a smile. "I got it covered, yeah ?" He smiles back - a small one but rare enough so you know it means a lot - and nod. "Yeah, as usual."

You nod back, and wave everyone goodbye before you leave. It only takes a few seconds after you left for you to finally hear Soap's voice as he shouts "What in the actual fuck ?!" eliciting barks of laughters among his teammates.

Yes, little did they know. Little did they know that Simon has never been alone. That you were always here for him, making sure that his place is clean and he has something to eat without having to cook when he comes back from deployments. That Riley doesn't suffer his absence too much. That mundane things are handled. That he feels loved, supported. That he has a home and not just a house.

Little did they know that "I got it covered" in fact means "I have someone taking care of me". That refusing other people's help doesn't mean he is invulnerable, but just that he knows that if he needs something, you'll have his back, without him even having to ask. Because that's what a partner does, right ?

A little after you left, Price, Soap and Gaz are gently asked to get back to base and take care of what you can't do. Job related stuff. That's where they can help. And they'll happily oblige, even more so now that they are reassured, knowing that Simon is not alone. He can't cook, he can't walk, will need help showering for a few weeks, and someone to take care of Riley ?

You got it covered.

[rhiaghostriley]

Please send requests. I am dying to write something but somehow my brain doesn't brain. I NEED IDEAS 😭����😭

[rhiaghostriley]

Couples shit with Simon Riley, Newlywed Edition:

You and Simon got married, and Price was the Best Man. Kyle stood on your side, and Soap was the flower girl. He blew bubbles instead of throwing flower petals because you and Soap thought it would be funnier. There's a picture floating around somewhere of Simon staring rather concerningly at a particularly large bubble Soap blew, too.

You two swearing you're gonna fuck all night long on your wedding night... only to crash as soon as you hit the bed. You didn't even take your clothes off. The sexathon came later. You two just woke up, looked at each other, happy as a pair of clams, and bloody hell, you made an honest man out of Simon fuckin' Riley.

Getting each other gag gifts as a wedding present. You were serious about getting him that cockring weren't you, love? Well, he has all the time in the world to make use of it.❤️

Noticing how relaxed and settled Simon is after you two start your married lives. Well, as relaxed and settled as Simon could be, all things considered, but he's not as anxious. He's... content. Happy.

Simon still can't believe it though. He's married. He's bloody married. You married him. A right bastard like him, at that. Simon makes a promise to himself and you to never turn what you two have into the shit show that defined his parents' union, promises to never become the asshole his father was, and it gives him all the strength he needs to combat his demons. He'll fight them every day if means seeing your smiling face, luv.

Simon also using the fact that he's married for shock value for everyone other than 141. He doesn't really tell the others but also doesn't bother addressing the news when it gets out. He just lets it be. It's amusing, though, seeing the confusion and shock on the other soldiers' faces when they find out. "Wait, Lieutenant Riley's married? He has a missus?" Correction: "I'm the missus."

He also jokes with the rest of 141 on some, "Sorry, lads, 'm an honest bloke now," which makes the others snort. Will also use a variant for you, too. "No can do, lovie, you made an honest missus outta me." Pfft.

You've also taken to calling him the Hubster ("Pretty cute, eh, Si-bear?" ".........") and you're banned from saying it in public lmao.

Similarly, you use the shock value to troll your associates. Your coworkers were not expecting Simon of all people to be the one you married. You call HIM the Missus? ("Sure do.") The way they see it, you two are polar opposites. Well, they do say that opposites attract.

Simon buying a chain for his wedding band for when he deploys because even with the gloves on, he refuses to wear his ring near his gun. It's a symbol of you, one of the best fuckin' things to ever happen to him, and he'll be damned if he ever lets the two touch.

You jokingly suggest that because Simon has really taken to the missus thing and ran with it, he should get it tattooed on him. This being Simon bloody Riley, he goes and does exactly that. The shock on your face was worth it all. Cheers, darling.

You two holding hands if only to look at your wedding bands side by side and bloody fuckin' hell, you're falling in love with each other all over again.

[rhiaghostriley]

Okay, hear me out.

What if actually, Simon has only had a few girlfriends in his life, so caught up in his job he doesn't have time to hang out ?

What if Simon doesn't like one-night-stands, not comfortable enough to go to people he doesn't know ?

What if Simon is the man of one woman ? When he loves you, it's for life, through bad and ugly, because he is devoted and loyal. When he loves you, he only has eyes for you. Never would he look at another woman, because you fill his heart so completely that his brain is shut down and his eyes focused on your beauty. YOU are beautiful, YOU are the light of his life, it's YOUR smile that makes his breath catch and his heart skip a beat, so what's the matter of looking at what doesn't count ?

What if, despite all that, Simon is still emotionally immature, due to his lack of experience with relationships, but you teach him ?

You don't get mad or upset because you know he has the emotional baggage of a six years old, and in fact you love him for that. So you call him out, gently, when he overreacts, when he messes up.

What if actually, Simon is not a monster impossible to tame, but just a man love starved who needs to be guided, and as his lighthouse you and your love are the perfect tools for that ?

Even if people look at you, speechless and dumfounded, when they see you put your hands on his cheeks to catch his eyes, and Simon relax immediately to your touch, mumbling "Sorry, love" when he goes too far, but that's only because he loves you and wants the best for you.

Even if they don’t understand that what they see, the mask covering the face you love so much, the mountain of a man following you everywhere, hostile aura seeping through his eyes, when someone gets too close to you, but it's his way of loving you. Protecting you, making sure you're safe and sound at all times, because if you were not it would break him. He can't lose you, he told you, he'll love you forever.

What if Simon actually wore his heart on his sleeve, but just never learned how to love ?

[rhiaghostriley]

Un grand merci à tout le monde pour vos 1000 coups de cœur !

[rhiaghostriley]

MDNI - Ghost × reader - toxic relationship

The loud thud resonating in the mess hall draws all the attention on it, including yours. As you turn your head toward the noise to see what caused it, you freeze on the spot : Lieutenant Simon Riley, looking at you with furious eyes, his hand deeply buried in the plywood next to his head. Looking at you, and the guy you are openly flirting with.

Dammit.

Before you can even think about moving, he’s gone. But you know you will hear about him soon enough.

Fuck it, after all. You were doing nothing wrong. You were not together anymore. And it was his call, this time. This hundredth time… You don’t even remember how it started, to be honest. In the beginning, he was the stern, cold, forever masked Lieutenant of Task Force 141, and you were nothing more than one of the new recruits. But you made a joke during a meeting, and it made him smile, a rare occurrence for him. He got intrigued, wanted to know more about you. And from a few drinks at the nearest bar with the team, to asking him his opinion about the outfit you should wear, you’ve grown closer. And you’ve grown to know the man under the mask. With all his good and his bad sides. A lot of bad sides. But red flags are just flags when you look at it through pink glasses, right ? And you would have managed to stay away from him if the man wasn’t able to make you cum just by looking at you. But God, in his infinite cruelty, gave him the power over your body and your feelings. So here you are, wondering whether you should go after him or not, even when you know it will end badly. And remembering the first kiss…

“Ya gonna be late for meeting.” A husky voice behind you, one which can belong to only one person, especially with that thick British accent.

You smiled, blowing out some smoke from your cigarette. “Gonna report me, Lt ?”

“Don’t give a fucking shit.” He sat beside you on the bench. “Ya too young to smoke that much.”

You giggled, looking at the cigarette between your fingers, then held it out to him. “Just have to ask, if you want one.”

He chuckled, taking the cigarette from your hand. “Ya know me, I don’t ask. I take.”

“The only right way to live.” You chuckled back.

You stayed a few minutes silent, until his gravely voice speaks again. “Gonna tell me what’s wrong, or I’ll have to get it out of ya ?”

You sighed. No need to pretend, he knew. He always knew. You gave a sad smile, and trying to sound playful you said “Been dumped. Again.”

He chuckled. “Ya gonna have to stop dating boys, and try men, little one. Ya’re too much to handle for these kids. Ya need someone who can handle himself. And you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you chuckled. “Like you ?”

These two words. The words you should never have said. The words that made your life heaven on earth and a living hell at the same time. Because next thing you knew, you were sitting on his lap, kissing him ravenously, his lips demanding, his hands wandering, making your skin tingle and your insides clench. He was proving you that indeed, he was the kind of man taking without asking, and you let him.

From then, it all went spiraling. Addicted to his touch, repulsed by his toxic demeanor, when he was pulling, you were pushing. And when he was the one pushing, you were crawling back to him like a lost puppy. He hated that he needed you, loved that you needed him. You hated that he made you lose all common sense, and loved every second spent naked against him. The damn man did know how to get under your skin as much as under your sheets.

Without realizing, you are walking around base, trying to spot him everywhere you look. Not that you feel bad for what you did, but you’d rather find him than run into him at the least expected moment and let him have the upper hand. The hole in the wall of the mess hall was enough of a proof that he was pissed, and he was like a bottle of coke that you shook too much. You would never know when it would explode, but it would. But he was nowhere to be found, and as your steps start to lead you back to your quarters, you feel your eyes water in apprehension. First for you, and then for him. For all you know he could be either in his quarters, letting out some steam on video games, or in a bar, trying to put up a fight with any bloke who would look at him in a way he wouldn’t find acceptable.

But there is also sadness in your heart. Because as much as you want to keep him away from you, you can’t. And you dread the day your ways will split for good. But this day hasn’t come yet…

As you enter your room, slamming the door shut behind you, before you have time to turn the light switch on, you feel a hand wrap on your throat and pin you against the wall. In a matter of seconds you try to comprehend what is happening, and not to freak out. But then, things get crystal clear. From the gloved hand around your throat, to the smell of Bourbon and tobacco hitting your nostrils, now you know.

“Think ya can replace me so easily, little one ?” The grip on your throat is not tight, barely uncomfortable, just strong enough to keep you still. It’s not meant to hurt you, just to remind you who is in charge.

“Ghost, let me go.” Your breath is a little uneven, your voice trembling.

“Now why would I ?” He grunts. He is still angry. “We have a few things to talk about before. Who is he ?”

“No one.” You sigh. You know it won’t be enough. “Name’s James. I don’t know more about him. It was the first time we talked.”

His grip loosens a bit, but not completely. He presses his forehead against your temple and inhale deeply, taking in your scent. “Why would you talk to him ?”

Your breath shortens a bit, because you know that whatever your answer might be, it wouldn’t be good enough for him. And the worst part is that there was no answer, you were just making small talk while lining up at the mess hall for lunch. But still you have to answer something. “We are planned on a mission together next week. We were just trying to get to know each other better. That’s it.”

“That’s it ?” He growled, then chuckle. “That’s it.”

After a few more seconds he finally lets go of you, and turns around, walking toward the nightstand where a half-empty bottle of whiskey is waiting. He takes a long swig, then shakes his head. “It’s the first time I see you talking to another guy. I don’t like it.”

You stand against the wall, not wanting to come closer, your arms crossed over your chest. “Yeah, I got the hint when you punched the wall.”

He scowls. “Don’t go there. It was the wall or his face. Better the wall, right ?” He takes another swig.

You look away, shaking your head. “I don’t understand. You left. Why do you mind ?”

He chuckles bitterly and sit on the edge of the bed, taking a sip of whiskey again. “That’s a hell of a good question.” He rubs his face with one hand, the bottle dangling from his other hand as his elbow rests on his knee. “I have no fucking clue. Ya’re my fucking Kryptonite.”

You sigh, feeling your eyes well up. “No, not Kryptonite. You’re like heroin. You feel like heaven when you’re inside me, but when you’re not I miss you as much as I hate you.”

He growls. “Then find a damn cure. Your own version of methadone, I don’t give a fuck. Stay. Away. From me.”

You let out a bitter chuckle without looking at him. “I tried. You punched a wall, remember ?”

He scowls, his voice raising. “Not a cure that means making fun of me in front of the whole goddamn base !”

You raise your voice to match his. Not something you’re used to do, but today you’re too angry. Today, it reached a new level of toxicity. And you, as well, can play dirty. “Oh, so you’re okay with me being fucked, but not by another soldier ?”

He yells even louder. He needs to have the upper hand, to show that he is more, in every way. “Ya want to play the base’s slut ? Get laid by every fuckin’ soldier around ? Fine, be my guest ! I won’t stop ya ! But don’t come back crying like you always do !”

That stings. More than it should. Because that’s not what you want. But god are you able to, even if just to piss him off a little bit more. “And what, you’re going to punch another wall ? Plus, I wouldn’t come back if you were strong enough to say no, for once !”

You knew. You knew it wasn’t a good idea to use the words “not strong enough” when talking to him. And as the bottle of whiskey crashes on the wall right next to your head, you could only think that you should have known better…

You’re both frozen. Him in anger, you in shock. Your body starts to tremble as more tears runs down your cheeks, and you stare at him, through him, eyes wide and face strained.

He, on the other side, stares back at you, chest heaving with every ragged breath he takes, anger creeping in his mind like poison as he tries to convince himself that it is your fault and not his. As he tries to persuade his scarred mind that he is not a violent guy, that he is not like his father, that it was an accident.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, taking a shy step closer to you. Then another. Then a third one, closing the distance between you two. Slowly, like dealing with a scared animal, he raises a hand to your face, putting it on your cheek, tilting his head as he whispers “I am sorry.”

And as you burst into tears, his other hand reaches for your other cheek, cradling your head in his hands, burying your face in his chest. “Ya know I would never hurt ya.”

But the truth is that he does. Every goddamn day. When he looks at you, when he touches you, when he ignores you. It hurts. But the brain is a wicked machine, and you like it rough.

He presses his lips against your forehead, whispering sweet nothings as he tries to calm you down. How beautiful you are, how soft you feel against him, like a snake trying to convince you to bite the apple, he sneaks into your brain, telling you what you need to hear.

His lips leave a trail of soft kisses from your forehead to your temple, then down to your cheek. Your jaw clenches, knowing what comes next, trying to gather the strength to say no. Not because you don’t want to. Quite the opposite.

When his mouth finds yours, awaking the familiar warmth in your chest, you try. You really try. But it comes out barely above a whisper. “Ghost, no, don’t.”

But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t ask, he takes. He shuts you up with a kiss, his lips soft and tender at first, but quickly turning more demanding, more hungry. More desperate. And you can’t help but give it back.

With a sharp intake of breath, he buries his hands in your hair, grabbing a fistful of it to hold you still as his tongue presses against your lips, demanding entrance. Your lips part and your tongue reaches his, addicted to the bittersweet taste of bourbon and the lingering scent of smoke.

His body pins you against the wall, giving you no other choice than to put your hands on his waist, his chest pressed against yours, his hips pushing. You can feel how turned on he is, the bulge in his pants rubbing on your lower stomach, making you gasp. And he takes it as a green light.

His hands move from your hair to your chest, his touch rough when he grabs your breasts through the thin fabric of your top, eliciting a small whimper from you. It doesn’t stop him though. He knows you like it that way, despite you trying to pretend otherwise the first time. That is certainly why you and him were a match made in hell. You like when it hurts and he doesn’t know how to be soft.

Before you have time to say anything, his hands are under your top, tugging at your bra to try and move it down. His lips haven’t left yours still, his tongue fighting yours for dominance in your mouth, even if you know he will win.

His fingers find your nipples, pinching them hardly, sending a jolt from your breasts to your cunt. When you moan softly, you can’t feel him grin against your lips. “That’s it, baby girl. Let yourself go.”

As one of his hands keep working on your breast, the other moves down toward the buckle of your belt, calloused fingers grazing the soft skin of your belly, making you shiver. You know what comes next, and the heat between your thighs forbid you to act like you don’t want it.

He works fast on your belt and the buttons of your jeans, his hand already slipping in your panties, eager to touch you. He is neither slow, nor soft, but you don’t mind. All the pent-up tension from the last hours needs to be released, for you as much as for him.

When his fingers reach your pussy, tracing your slit to find your entrance, he stops kissing you, keeping his lips glued to yours, and groan. “Fuck, so fucking wet already. You like me angry, angel. Good to know.”

Inside, you want to scream, the wave of feelings coming at his words overwhelming. Anger. Pain. Self-loathing. Because he is right. He might be a walking red flag, but your red flag is that you like it. But as overwhelmed as you feel, it’s not enough to mutter the craving you feel for more of his touch. And all you can do in response is to let out a soft moan as he slides a finger into you, his thumb rubbing your already throbbing clit in expert circles.

His voice rings in your ear like poisoned honey, dripping from his lips right into your brain. “Come on little one, talk to me, use your words. Ya want more ?”

All you can do is nod, and whimper a small “yes”, because of course you want more.

He chuckles, nibbling at your earlobe as he slips a second finger into you, shutting your brain out. You find yourself grinding your pussy in his palm, feeling the too well known sensation of your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. Damn him for knowing so well how to play your body like a violin.

He is all over you. His lips kissing the supple skin of your neck where it meets your shoulder because he knows it is your favorite spot. His left hand still pinching and rolling your nipple because he knows it helps the tension building faster. And his right hand in your panties, fingers pulling in and out of your pussy at the rhythm of your moans flattering his ears. He loves it. He needs it. He picks up the pace of his fingers, going harder and deeper, with only purpose to make you cum. And it works.

You keep grinding against his palm, your moans getting louder by the second. “Fuck, Ghost… Don’t stop.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice as he whispers in your ear “I don’t intend to, baby girl. Do me a favor, make it loud.”

And you comply. Not that you could help it, anyway. When your pussy starts to clench around his fingers and you keep moaning his name louder, he moans as well, still rubbing his cock on your lower stomach, needing the friction to help him holding back. He revels in the feeling of making you break so easily, feels powerful when you moan his name without being able to stop, relishes knowing that you still want more. “That’s my good girl.”, he praises softly.

But the softness doesn’t last long, and before you have time to get back from your high, the hand that was delightfully torturing your nipples is now unbuckling his own belt and buttons, letting his jeans fall down to his ankles. He steps out of the pile of clothes, and the same treatment is given to yours. In one swift motion, he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, pinning you against the wall, rubbing his cock against your slit like his life depends on it. He doesn’t care that you just cummed and that your body is too sensitive still. He is starving. And you’re the only meal he wants.

With a growl coming from deep inside his chest, still carrying you, he takes a few steps back and sit on the edge of the bed with you still in his lap. His hands let go of you, just enough time to remove your top and his. He needs to feel your skin against his.

Without warning, he grips your hips and moves you down on him, just enough to let the first inches of his cock slide inside you. And you don’t even try to protest, because you want it too. You need him to fill you up, to stretch you out. You need him deep inside you so you can feel that for a few minutes you two make one.

When your eyes roll back in your head he lets out a groan. “Easy, little one. Ya’re going to take it all like the good fucking girl you are, but I don’t want to hurt ya. I told ya, I’d never.”

Still, he bites down on his lip, the effort of holding back from pounding into you already taking a lot from him. He starts to move slowly, giving you a few more inches of his dick with each thrust, letting you adjust and at the same time craving for more. His grip tight on your hips, dirty reminder of who is in control, he keeps moving, nice and slow, until he is buried into you to the hilt. “Fuck baby girl, you feel too good for my own sake.”

There it is, the hint of desperation in his voice, the only sign he would give you that he needs you as much as you need him. Only when he is deep inside you, body and soul.

When he feels you relax a little around him, his left hand wraps around your waist, his right hand reaches for your throat. Not too tight, just enough to control you. He uses it to settle the pace, his face buried in your hair as he takes in your scent. Your moans are like music to his ears, he is not far from cumming already. “Come on, little one. Ride me. Ride me hard.”

Your grip is tight on his shoulders, holding on for dear life as you move your hips up and down. Every move you make makes you whimper and moan, your eyes closed tight in pleasure, a thin veil of sweat covering your skin.

His grip on your throat tightens a little. “Look at me. Don’t you dare close your eyes. Look at me when I fuck you senseless.”

His grip not loosening, he uses it to make you move faster, making you take him deeper, seeking for both your and his release. He needs to make you cum again, it’s the proof that he has a total control over your body.

Your jaw hangs open in a silent gasp and you open your eyes to look at him, your moans turning into cries of pleasure as he keeps pounding into you faster. His gaze never wavers from yours when he starts to groan with each erratic breath he takes. “Come on, angel. Cum for me. I know your close. Cum for me again.”

And as if your body was listening to him more than to you, a second orgasm hits you like a freight train, making you squirm and writhe in his grip.

“That’s it, baby girl. Let it out, I want to hear ya fucking scream my name.” He keeps pounding, milking you out of your pleasure, and cumming right after you. “Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me, ya know that. I. Fucking. Hate ya.” That’s the last words you hear before he slams into you one last time with a loud groan, and stops moving.

His grip on your throat loosens, his hand moving to the back of your head, bringing you close to him and burying your face in his neck. He stays silent a few minutes, his hand stroking his hair. And your eyes fill with tears, knowing damn well what’s coming.

He has sobered up. Still stroking your hair, he whispers in your hear. “We have to stop it, love. We’re just hurting each other, and I hate hurting you.”

His body tenses as he feels your tears in his neck. He takes a deep, steadying breath. Not out of anger this time. Out of desperation and pain. He keeps whispering. “You deserve the world, and I leave nothing but chaos in my wake.”

He pulls you away, just enough to look into your eyes. He lays on the bed, keeping you in his lap, his arms around you like a vice as you rest your head on his chest. “You were right earlier. I am not strong enough to say no. You will have to be strong for us.”

He pauses as he feels his voice trembling. He hates being weak, but he knows that if there is one person in the world he can allow himself to be weak with, it’s you. “I hate that I have to ask you that, but you have to stay away from me. I love you too much to keep destroying you.”

And your grip on him tightens as tears keep straining your face. Because you know damn well that you will never be able to stop coming back.

[rhiaghostriley]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

When Simon had given you his work address, and the password for the door to get in, you’d scoffed at the thought of needing to use it. You’d grown comfortable in your quiet life, no longer plagued with the urge to run, with the fear of being caught up with. 

You and Charlotte. 

You’d never been able to picture your position now, shaking fingers prodding at the keypad, a crying Charlotte on your hip. So absorbed in your fear, which had struck you the moment you’d returned from Charlotte’s school pickup to see your apartment door open, that you don’t even see the bearded man opening up the door from the inside for you. 

“Everything alright, Miss?” He questions in clear concern, ushering you into the entry hall with blue eyes darting between yourself and your wailing daughter. 

“I’m here - Simon said i could find him here if I needed anything.” You hiccup, not even having noticed the tears ebbing down your cheeks, so consumed by the realisation that you need to get out. Find safety. Find Simon. Maybe even that other man you met once - Mac something.

Too distraught to protest, you allow yourself to be ushered into some sort of reception room, noting the way the older man looks behind you with a vigilant scan before shutting the door. "Is Simon Riley here?" You plead with him again, terrified at the thought of being unable to see your neighbour, having someone to soothe your wailing daughter whilst you yourself calm down.

Before the blue eyed man can get a word out, two other men are barrelling into the reception area, one of them, thankfully, being Simon. You can't help but choke out a relieved sob when he tentatively comes closer, allowing you the chance to deny his approach, which you don't.

"What happened? Can you take some deep breaths for me?"

The entire room seems to pick up into a flurry of activity the minute the other two men in the room, Simon's friend you'd met that one time, and the other man, seem to realise that not only do you and Simon know one another, but also that you and the little tot in your arms are important to him.

Simon quickly ushers you to one of the worn leather couches, although he never forces you to sit, seeing how high strung you are at the current moment, the way you clutch Charlotte to your chest like she'll be ripped from your grasp at any given moment. Meanwhile, MacTavish looks on in concern, checking the car park you'd just come in from, and the other man slowly guides a glass of water into your shaking hand.

"Door was open when I got home." You manage to choke, letting Simon ease your vice grip on your daughter, just enough to hoist her up on his hip, before pulling you into his chest.

"S' okay, yeah? Promise you're in good hands here." He soothes, rocking the three of you from side to side, taking the opportunity to share a look between Price, Soap and himself. "Listen, the boys will go and have a look, okay? Promise they won't touch anything or mess anything up, just make sure everything is okay."

You give a hesitant nod, sniffling into Simon's chest as another taller, leaner man walks into the room, his handsome features immediately twisting into concern at the odd sight.

Over the next few hours, you, Simon, Charlotte and the sweet man you'd come to know as Kyle wait out on base, nervously awaiting the return of Captain Price and Simon's closest friend Johnny.

Admittedly, your situation is terrifying, and you're still not quite sure where to go from here, but at least you're in good hands. Four pairs of them.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

[rhiaghostriley]

I just thought of something cute.

Also, friendly reminder that although this is a sfw drabble, my blog is 18+, Minors and Ageless blogs dni

.・。.・゜✭・🦷・✫・゜・。.

Y'know how Ghost pulls out some jokes here and there and is generally good at quips?

Imagine that the boys are out, just having a little get together at a bar after a successful mission and Simon pulls out one of his shit jokes.

You happen to sit nearby, your friend in the bathroom so you have nothing to do other than drink and listen to the environment around you.

"What's the difference between an oysterman and a prostitute with diarrhea?"

...

What?

Slowly, you set down your drink and listen carefully as a deeper, gruff voice behind you starts off a bit.

The Scotsman of the group groans audibly, "Steaming Jesus... What?"

"One shucks between fits, and the other fucks between shits."

Immediately, your forehead hits the counter as a fit of giggles bubble up and spill from your lips, uncontrollable, especially with how the joke, so fucking stupid, keeps replaying in your head. Your laughter is highly contagious as it seems, as the group of men behind you begin chuckling along.

"LT, ah think they liked yer joke."

Through little giggles, calming down from that little fit of yours, you throw a peek over your shoulder, catching onto the darkest yet equally shining pair of eyes, crinkling with a small grin as the large blond regards you with amusement and intrigue.

.・。.・゜✭・🦷・✫・゜・。.

Reblogs are highly appreciated :)

[rhiaghostriley]

”Observing“ (repost)

Reference: Cosplay by @/bat_ghost_ on Twitter

[rhiaghostriley]

I don't want to sound difficult but... seriously ? No way in hell, I will end up fucking my best friend. 😅

Thanks for the tag @greatstormcat

Friendly tagging @alessiaworld

Screenshot and reblog with who you got!

I got this idea from this post by @/shyeehaw

Who I got 👇

I mean... I think I'd change my best friend but I'm cool with this 😅

[rhiaghostriley]

Simon "Ghost" Riley

[rhiaghostriley]

Simon was about to make another cut on the man's already maimed face when the phone rang up.

" would you look at that ? " He smiled, his grin cocky as he flashed your caller Id, saved lovingly as Babe, a red heart too. The man in question had eyes puffed and bruised beyond vision and Ghost only relished in the torture.

" Now keep your pathetic excuse of a mouth shut while I talk to my sweet love." His words were dagger sharp, glaring as he wiped his hands, bloodied and bruised.

" Baby ! " You chirped on the phone, Ghost smiled, heart melting at your voice.

" Haven't you slept yet darling, come on, it's past your bedtime." He teased you, you whined, scoffing at bedtime.

" I can't sleep without you." You whispered softly in the phone, Simon cocked his head as the man, tied and on the edge to death whimpered, his expressions hardened and he brought a finger to his mouth, Simon shaked his head at the man, making a throat slashing sign, the man clamped his mouth shut, a sob dying in his beaten throat.

" I am coming home to my sweetheart, with icecream if you be a good girl." He added with soft chuckle, Simon bit his lips when he heard you giggle on the other side.

" Be quick, I am waiting." You purred, he was sure you pouted and he so, so wanted to kiss your lips, softly and delicately, like you were made to be cared for.

Simon reluctantly ended the call, kissing the screen as if it were your face, finally turning with devilish look in his eyes.

" Would you like mint chocolate or strawberry ? " He asked, flexing a gun in his slender hands, the man was shaking his head profusely, sobbing almost, trying to free himself.

" Didn't you hear bastard ? " Simon snarled, the man winced, " she can't sleep without me so you better be quick."

" Mi...mi...min..." He stumbled against his words, wincing at every second.

" Too bad." Simon said nonchalantly, pulling the trigger, " My sugar likes strawberry more."

Part 2

[rhiaghostriley]

Simon Riley discovers his partner up late one night.

The room is dark yet next to him, in the corner of his eye, your face is lit by a tiny screen and the sounds of crashing waves fill the bedroom. You had obtained their child’s switch, it seems. Blasphemy if the kid found out.

“It’s called Animal Crossing.”

“Why d’they sound like that?”

“Because they’re villagers!”

He grunts at that. Finds the garbled chatter of the “villagers” annoying as you play beside him in bed most nights.

Then, finds himself falling asleep to the soothing music and repetitive sounds erupting from the little console in your hands. The rapid tactile clicks as you try to hurry along the diagloue options. Your “methodical chaos” and your mini-you running through an island filled with trash, mismatched furniture, and way too many flowers, growing more and more by the day (much to your displeasure).

Then, he starts playing with you. Curiousity piqued as you two discover that splitting the red and blue controllers means you can both manage the chaos. Flowers trampled. Villagers whacked with nets until they stomp by you, furious due to some newcomer — Ghost, the resident imbecile with the skull face paint and a royal crown atop his head.

When he discovers that he can hit you with the net. It’s game over. You want to fish? Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack. You see a bug you haven’t donated yet? Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack. Oops. He caught it by mistake. Whack. Whack.

You’re whining for him to stop and he simply levels you a deadpan as his massive fingers engulf the tiny controller, his thumb resting on the input key-

Whack.

He’s trampling flowers. Shaking the money from your precious trees. Enraging villagers. Placing random objects down on the ground in a manner that’s worse than you somehow. (“we need a workout set” “next to the bakery?!” “especially there”)

Chaos.

Yet, somehow, Simon Riley manages to attain five stars on your little island first.