#mw2 headers

[broken-glass-puppet]

Gay cod? Yessir

Price x husband reader, where they have kinda a relationship like the Addams family, yk Morticia and Gomer (?) and the rest of the team just teasing price for being so smitten

I love that kind of relationship, I live for "I love my wife and I'm devoted to her" trope BUT MAKE IT GAY!

Devoted to him

You are taller than him so when the task meets you they are really surprised by you being taller than their captain, you are tall and elegant while your husband it's...it's him, he is so smitten and devoted to your beauty is adorable, he kisses your hand, and puts a hand around your waist

You are the one 'in charge' in the relationship, kind of, you are elegant, mysterious and handsome and he is in love with you

Once you touch him he leans into your touch, you cup his cheek? He leans and brushes his hand against your hand, your wedding rings brushing against each other, you kiss his lips? He follows your lips whimpering softly

definition of German shepherd x black cat

He will pull you closer by your wait after a particular rough mission

Now for the one shot!!

Price was married, that wasn't a secret amongst the task 141, he had his wedding ring all the time in his finger, it's true that when soap asked who was the lucky woman price chuckle and said in a soft voice "woman? I have a husband mate" so yeah now the entire task knows their captain is fruity but when you enter the military it's kind of hard not to find LGBTQ+ folks, so one time after a mission they all where in a pub,. celebrating and everything when price talked

"I hope y'all don't mind but I thought you would like to meet my husband" he said drinking his beer

"we don't mind at all captain, ya always talk about 'im like a teenage talking about their crush ey" soap teased while the rest chuckle a bit

Price smiled when the door opened, it was you, you where...tall...you walked to price and he walked and kissed your hand, specifically the finger where your ring was, you kissed his cheek softly, making his cheeks heat up

"y'all must be the task, is nice to meet you! I'm price husband" you presented yourself

"its nice to meet you too mr.price" said Gaz, you chuckle and maked a soft motion with your hand "oh drop the titles, you can call me [redacted]"

And after that meeting soap and Gaz couldn't stop teasing price, but you are ether new father figure for the rest of the 141, good job

[eowynstwin]

blackbird, fly - i.

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. . You stand alone on a train platform, whole life in your hands, ready to promise yourself to a man you’ve yet to meet. . ao3

You step off the train carrying every one of your earthly possessions clutched in both hands. In one a carpetbag, only half-full, and in the other, a stack of letters tied together with string. A paltry summary of a very small life, you thought months ago, but today you only see how much room is left over where happiness might take root.

It began with an ad in the paper—Widowed Ranch Owner Seeking Tender Companionship—and a mailing address to a livestock town out in the west. Hans König described himself as Austrian, unusually tall, and fair lonesome in a big ranch house with no woman to make it a home. He’d immigrated to the United States as a child, married very young, had no children, and was forced to watch his first wife perish to consumption.

After two years of mourning, he said in the paper, he finally accepted that she would not want him to live and die alone. And thus, if there were any kind-hearted lady willing to give an old widower a chance, he would promise to take very good care of her.

You’d replied as fast as you could get your hands on paper and pen. The fourth child and only daughter of a tobacco farmer, you hadn’t much else to occupy yourself with. And truly, you hadn’t expected anything to come of it. Proficient in the written word though you were, there was not much else to recommend you. You brought a tiny dowry, skill with a sewing needle, a general knowledge of plants, and mediocre cooking to the bargaining table; he was horse man tried and tested by the challenges of the frontier.

You were under no illusions that you were the most attractive candidate.

Still, you wrote your letter. Described yourself to him as honestly as you could—neither especially pretty nor particularly accomplished, but told by friends and family to be of gentle demeanor and useful intelligence. Forgave him preemptively if he never responded, and wished him the best of luck in his search for a wife.

You’d nearly fainted dead away when his response had arrived as immediately as the next mail wagon. Hans König had addressed you by name, as intimately as if he’d known you for years, and said,

I was very pleased to receive your letter, Miss, and am terribly excited to correspond with you in the future. Although you write that you cannot imagine yourself an appropriate wife for a man of my experience, I myself cannot imagine what more you must need to be such. While I will not do you the discourtesy of making any promises with only my first letter to you, I will tell you truly that I was glad of your introduction, and hope you will grant me the pleasure of knowing you further.

Your whole family had been so excited for his response that Pa had broken out his fiddle after dinner that night, rejoicing already that his little girl’s future was secure.

What followed was a whirlwind half year of romance over letters sent back and forth so fast that you kept running out of ink for your pen. When you’d related this problem to Hans, he’d sent not only an entire box of lampblack ink, but a new steel pen, blotter, and lap desk on which to write.

There is no greater misfortune I can imagine now than to lose the pleasure of your correspondence, he’d written.

Pa had cried that day. Your mother had drawn you close and kissed your hair, whispering a thankful prayer that her baby was going to be alright.

In every letter, Hans demonstrated himself to be a kind man, thoughtful and patient, and as the relationship between the two of you blossomed, you started to believe it yourself. You had long given up on the possibility of marriage, thinking yourself too old and plain by now to offer much to any man worth marrying.

Now you stand alone on a train platform, whole life in your hands, ready to promise yourself to a man you’ve yet to meet.

There are only a few people milling about the station for you to survey. The surest way to pick Hans out from a crowd, he’d written, was by height. He towered over most people, and expressed hope in an early letter that he would not dwarf you too much.

But as you look around, no one stands out above the rest. In fact, the people here aren’t much different than what you’re used to; their simple dress and slight grubbiness prove them to be working folk, the kind you’d expect in a town like this, stockyards visible from the station. Your kind of people—at least normally.

Anticipating this meeting, you’d put on the best dress you own, a light frock with little printed flowers all over it. Your hair is braided and pinned up as fashionably as you could manage early this morning, and you’d even dabbed a little rouge on your lips for the occasion. As far as you can tell you are the cleanest, best-dressed person in the vicinity, and you notice not a few people openly staring.

The thought would usually make you blanch, but right now you hope it will only help your would-be husband to catch sight of you. You still can’t find him—

“Mrs. König!”

You whip your head in the direction of the call. Relief trickles through you, soothing an anxiety you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge yet, and then you see that stepping onto the platform is the handsomest man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Dark skin, warm as a summer’s day. Lips soft and full like a peach fresh-picked from the tree. A serious brow over serious eyes.

Strong and lean in build, with a loose, confident swagger in his step. He approaches, his large, long-fingered hands coming to rest on the buckle of his belt as comes to stand before you.

Tall, to be sure.

But not unusually tall.

This cowboy—profession evidenced by the worn state of his attire—is not your intended husband.

Something in you falls at that.

Swiftly you berate yourself for the betrayal. Your Hans is gentle, generous, kind. So what if this man before you is attractive? Marriages must be built on more, and Hans has already given you more. His looks shouldn’t—don’t—matter to you at all.

“Not as of yet,”you reply to the cowboy, “but soon. May I help you, sir?”

He fixes you with an intense gaze. Up close, you see thick, dark lashes framing even darker eyes—the color of which, you realize, is as black as fresh-turned soil.

The smell of humus fills your memory, powerfully earthy and fresh, such that you could be on your hands and knees with your face to the ground right now. You feel the phantom of it between your fingers; rich and cool, like at the start of the planting season before the rains. So dark and fine as to live between the grooves of your fingertips for days.

“I’m Kyle Garrick,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m a wrangler for Hans König, miss. He sent me to meet you.”

You blink. The fantasy you’d dreamed up on the train ride—of seeing Hans across the platform, recognizing him instantly, and running into his arms—finally crumbles into dust.

“Oh,” you say.

Kyle Garrick frowns. “You’re disappointed.”

“No!” you exclaim immediately. “No, he must be such a busy man, I couldn’t expect him to drop everything for me.”

The cowboy sucks his lips between his teeth, studying you for a heartbeat, then—“He is busy. Mr. König is finishing preparations for your wedding this evening. That’s why he couldn’t come.”

What disappointment had begun to sprout in your stomach immediately strangles down to the root. Joy surges in your chest like birds taking flight.

“A wedding!”

You didn’t need a wedding, you’d written to him—you were so happy merely to marry him, you couldn’t possibly ask for more. All you needed, you told him, were his hands in yours, promising before God to be your husband for the rest of your lives. You’d meant it, too.

But an actual wedding!

“Biggest the town’s seen in years,” says Kyle Garrick. “Folks haven’t talked about anything else for weeks.”

“Oh!” Then suddenly you despair. “Oh, I’m not dressed at all for a wedding. If I’d known, I would’ve worked on this dress more, I would’ve put my hair up better!”

Kyle surprises you with sudden passion. “You look perfect. You’re the prettiest thing that’s ever come into this train station, miss. This town, even.”

“Oh,” you say again. You flush hot up into the roots of your hair. Embarrassed, you avert your gaze, looking down at his worn roper boots. “I’m not, really. But it’s kind of you to say.”

His hand touches yours, the one holding onto your carpetbag. When you look back up at him, his expression is gentler.

“Mr. König will agree with me,” he says, “I promise.” He eases the handle from your grasp. Up close, he has a comforting smell. Leather, and sweet hay, and campfire smoke.

“You think so?” you ask, tightening your grasp on the letters in your other hand.

He nods. “I do. Now come on—I brought a cart. Let me take you home.”

next

[bandagewastern]

- req by @phillygraves

- philip graves from cod discord layout

_ ꒰۪۪ ᩧ ͡ ͡ ◞𓈒 F2U with credit AND Reblogs ^o^𓂃◟ ͜ ᐩ ་།

[broken-glass-puppet]

Ok so can i request Cod men being down bad for The dilf male reader? I'm sure they all got daddy issues so- it's can be a full fic or just a headcanon I'm ok with anything

We all in this account have daddy issues, any ways (it's a bit SPICY soooooo)

Captain price

He's DOWN BAD like us

He's polite and a gentleman but seeing you with your kids/taking care of kids just makes his heart melt, he loves seeing you being like a father figure to children

You are taller than him and that TURNS HIM ON A LOT, look, my man is a pillow princess and no I don't care what everyone says, HE IS

will flirt with you just so hear you chuckle with that deep sexy voice of yours, call him "sweetheart" "babe" "big guy" and he is in love

Imagine if price flirted and you are just like "oh yeah? Wanna say that again big boy?" Getting really close to him

Simon 'ghost' Riley

At first he doesn't admit he is attracted to you BUT god damn you look good in a plain white t-shirt with shorts doing breakfast

If you are in the military he will stare at your butt, thighs and chest plus you are older than him and that is attractive to him

If you aren't in the military, you two probably meet at a cafe or pub, and when he discovers you have or take care of children he thinks it's adorable

His childhood was SHIT, so seeing you worrying about those kids, his heart started to feel warm

Hug him, press your chest against his face while you stroke his head while whispering "good boy Simon" or praise in general

Jhon 'soap' McTavish

Puppy, a total puppy

He's energetic but also serious and smart, and not many people give him credit by that so, after a mission you went and ruffled his hair and slid your hand to the back of his neck "good job out there McTavish, keep being a good boy ey?" You smiled softly

He falled right there, he nodded giving you puppy eyes

One time in particular he was like putting his harness in his thighs and he was having problem so you grabbed his waist and helped him "stay still" you finished and brushed his sides and smiled "good boy Jhonny"

PRAISE KINK

everytime you touch him, he melts

Gaz

He likes looking at you, he thinks your age your height and size is attractive, he is a big guy fan

In one of the missions he has a injured leg and you carried him to the HQ in BRIDE STYLE IN FRONT OF EVERYONE

And when you are patching his wounds and he whimpers from the pain "shhh you are doing so good gaz, such a good boy" and he almost fainted

He loves playing with your hands, they are bigger than his own and they are rough but gentle at the same time and he LOVES IT

He's in his middles 30's so you are older than him and he is so turned on when he sees you doing traditional dad things, you in an apron? Bedroom, you wearing a suit? Bedroom, you in a swimsuit? Y'all know what I mean

Alejandro Vargas

He thinks of you as a friend, even as a brother from another mother but when he sees you in your uniform, he had to control himself to not grabb your pecs and take you there in front of everyone

When he wants your attention will grab your belt and pull you closer, smirking at your flustered face

Once you too started, fooling around, he will grab your body, arm, waist, ass, pecs, everything

Once he sees you playing with kids or animals he almost grabbed you to take things to the couch wink wink

He's shorter than you and when he wants to look at you he grabs your collar and pulse your face closer

Rudy (MY MAN <3)

Flustered, blushed even

He likes you for you, your height, size and age its a plus but one things he loves even more than your personality is

Your arms

You are like a giant teddy bear, when no one is looking he will pull you for a hug, excuse it's he had a rough time in a mission

Nah

He wants to feel your GIANT ARMS AROUND HIM

You would break him like a twig and he will be thankful

"here's the reports for you [redacted]" You smiled and patted his head "thank you Rudy, you are so good" and he is so flustered

Thank y'all for the cod requests

Fell free to send more :D

[oldrainfall]

CW: Kissing/mentions of it— I suppose?

This isn’t a fic or anything, I just have to get it out of my brain so I can move on with my day.

Okay so, currently being not normal™️ about Ghost’s mask.

Look, I don’t have a big thing for masks or anything — If anything it’s one of the reasons why Ghost was the last member of the 141 to click with me (that’s a story for another day, moving on) — that being said, I love love love when Ghost’s mask is used as a narrative tool.

Like, as much as it’s to keep his identity hidden, it’s obviously a way he keeps people at arm’s length, right? How can they actually know him if they couldn’t even pick his face out of a crowd?

To me, that intentionally or not puts so much weight into how it’s handled the first time he kisses someone in a fic. (Doesn’t matter if it’s Soap, a reader/self-insert, Gaz, Price, ect.) As much as I love when whoever’s kissing him flips up his mask, or gently pushes his smoke/drink/whatever out of the way— I find it so much more impactful when they kiss him through his mask.

Bonus points if he had it flipped up for whatever reason, and they gently pull it back down first.

I just—

(Not my drawing)

Because to me it’s saying, ‘I know you have walls, and I don’t know everything, maybe I never will but I love every little bit of you that you let me see anyway,’

And then, then, when the kiss breaks, if Ghost pulls his mask back up over his nose, and kisses them again? Especially if it’s slow and soft?

I’m fucking dead.

Gone.

Deceased.

Because maybe they don’t know everything about him, maybe they never will, but he’s willing to try and trust them a little bit more time and time again and they’re willing to respect that, love that he’s trying for them, and are grateful for what he does let them see. And I just—

Uuggghhh.

It’s so good. Love it so much. Eat that shit up every time, inject it right into my grey matter.

Will I go and use this in my own fics with Ghost in it? Perchance. (I will. Probably too much. It will become a thing in my stories like me kidnapping characters, or lighting things on fire, or writing characters hanging out in bars. Do I care? No. Because it’s awesome and amazing and more of y’all should join me in being not normal ™️ about it.)

✨My Masterlist✨

[broken-glass-puppet]

Ok now write Cod men being jealous because dilf reader is pay all his attention on the new dog he got and almost forgot about cod men what will they do or say to get the dilf reader attention on them again??? (I know that i request one already but i can't help myself your writing is so Fun to read I'm sorry 😭)

You wish is my command also I LOVE THAT PICTURE, HOW DID YOU KNOW I LOVED SHARKS?!!

Captain price

At first he's jealous but then he starts to look at you like a husband looks at his spouse, and he is still jealous so he comes from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and started kissing your neck, trying to catch your attention, whispering things in your ear and one of them flustered you so much "I can be your pup if you want" he teased kissing your neck

Simon ghost Riley

Simon has a German shepherd so when he sees you playing with another pup he is a bit Jealous...just a bit...okay he is extremely jealous, he knows it isn't the dogs fault so he just simply gets closer to you and leans against you so he can get your attention and now he has your attention again

Jhon 'soap' McTavish

He is annoyed that you aren't giving him attention so he just goes up to you and kisses you softly, you are surprised by that so you look at him and smirk "where you Jealous because I was calling someone else my puppy huh? Do you want me to call you a good boy?" And he is so flustered by that

Gaz

Not that jealous actually he just goes up at you and starts playing with the dog too, so you can be close, he likes being around you and he isn't that jealous actually

König

He is a dog person so he could go so he can play with the puppy too, he scratch the puppy's ears and pets him, he is great with kids and also animals, but you of course can't stop calling him pet names like "good boy" or "sweet boy" he loves it, he likes Felling vulnerable and small

[last-starry-sky]

girl's night out - ch. 2 pt. 1

ghost x shy!goth!f!reader

MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 4.8k, not beta-read but edited by me until I wanted to claw my eyes out, self doubt and issues from reader, simon talks reader though it (nice, teasing, and dominant varieties), size difference 💀, fingering, unprotected piv, cumming on the outside (idk what kink this is help), praise/punishment kink if you squint.

[masterlist is HERE]

Repeating my warning from last time, I have committed the ultimate, unforgivable sin in this: Ghost is maskless. So if that ruins it for you, sit this one out.

friday

You’re running through the night then, hand in hand, laughing, breathless and cold - so eager now to get him home. A thought spikes though your mind: who are you? Who are you pretending to be? Changing the second some guy showed you some attention. You shiver, it’s just the wind nipping at your ears, you tell yourself. The leather of your jacket is quickly chilling your arms, barely keeping the cold from cutting through to your bare shoulders. Your only warmth is pooled in yours and Simon’s joined hands. Just feeling his hand holding yours, completely covering it, protecting it from the cold, it makes you forget how sore and numb your feet are. You hadn’t planned to be on your feet all night, let alone for all of this to happen. 

You’re lucky your place is only a few blocks away now. 

You squeezed his hand when you turned the corner and your building came into view. He’s always right behind you, silent, keeping watch. You looked up and down the street and then back at him. You’ve still got that same stupid smile plastered on your face from when he had slapped your butt. With a cant of your head, you pulled Simon across the intersection. You wished you could look at him, figure out what he was thinking, but his face is buried in the shadow of the street light behind him. His hair a halo, glowing bright and blond in the old yellow light. Somewhere in that shadow are his eyes, those beautiful dark eyes. You want to look at him and know he still wants this, but you’re denied.  

On the little concrete step outside the main door, you fished out your keys as Simon stood close, blocking the wind that howled down the street. You trembled, not from the cold, but at his hands as they slid protectively over your hips. You’re significantly warmer where his body and jacket covered you. It’s got to be a damn good jacket. Of course it is. A practical, military, guy like him wouldn’t be caught out in all sorts of weather in just any old flimsy jacket. As you unlocked the door, he rested his head on your shoulder. He breathed a warm breath down your neck, goosebumps following in its wake, and you felt all that warmth slide right between your thighs.   

You pushed the door open and it's a relief to finally be inside. It’s still cold in the hall, but there’s no wind and you can feel your body heat - and Simon’s, he’s still stuck to your side - able to warm you up again. Simon followed as you turn immediately to the first door on the left, to your apartment. You stopped to flip through your keys again, nerves setting in as you feel Simon just standing over you. 

“Ground floor?” he questioned. 

“Yeah,” you answered back, fitting your key in the lock. You don’t bother to turn your head to answer. You know you won’t be able to see him. “Rent is cheaper.”  

 It’s just as cold inside your apartment as it is in the hallway. With a silent dismay you realize that, once again, you’d left the curtains open. Light from the streetlights dimly shone in, casting the whole of your front room with a sickly yellow tint. It’s enough for you to see by, though, and Simon doesn’t say anything about you leaving the lights off. 

Walking in, you aren’t sure what you should do next. You back yourself quickly down your tiny entry, trying to leave enough room for Simon to maneuver. Shoes. Shoes should come off, you urge yourself. You kick off your boots, sending them clattering across the floor into the living room. Okay, now your jacket. With a shiver you unzip your jacket. The giant zipper on your vintage jacket is loud. Too loud. You realize that no, it’s just too quiet in here. 

You looked away from your hands clasped nervously at your zipper. Simon is leaned against the opposite wall, following your lead. All of his attention is focused on working his boot laces open. He lets it drop to the floor, the loud THUNK making you jump, before moving onto the next. It takes your alcohol soaked, lust-addled, numb from the cold, brain until he straightens up  and away from the wall to take off his jacket to realize you’ve just been standing there, watching him while doing nothing, this whole time. You finally let your jacket fall off your arms before tossing it behind you onto the couch.

The realization comes crushing down on you as you watch him roll his shoulders back to pull his jacket off. Well, two realizations. 

Firstly, holy fuck, were you really going to do this? You want this, you know that. Even your nerves can’t will away the want curling in your core now. This is all too crazy, though. How in the hell did you manage to trick this tall, handsome soldier into following you home? 

Secondly, goddamn, you can’t believe how massive he is. Now that you have your apartment as a frame of reference, it’s making your mouth run dry. Your mind is running wild over thinking again. Do you get into things right away? Should you initiate? Does he expect that?

Your train of thought comes to a sudden stop when you look up and he’s staring right at you with those dark, serious, eyes.  

He steps forward into your space, jacket in hand - actually two jackets, from what you briefly see, one inside the other - and throws it past you, adding it to yours on the couch. He’s right next to you. So close. Close enough to smell that heavenly, manly cocktail wafting off him. And then he leans in, close enough for you to hear him breathing. You look up, hoping you can shake something to say or do, but all words evaporate from your brain as you look in his eyes.

“Second thoughts?” he asked, scanning your face. 

His breath is warm and whiskey-sharp. Fuck, you’re staring at his lips now and It makes you bite your own. He bends down slightly to rub his hands against his jeans for warmth. 

You shook your head, your soft no trapped between your faces. His barely warmed fingers graze your cheek not a second later. You breathed a moan, silent and needy, across his hand. Staring into his eyes, the absurd thought floats across your mind of how you wished you hadn’t taken off your shoes. You felt too small as he leaned down to finally, finally, kiss you. 

His other hand stopped your head from crashing back against the wall, but you don’t think you would have noticed or cared. You didn’t care that your noses crushed a little too aggressively together before you could make yourself to tilt your head, or how neither of you wanted to let go to let the other breathe. You were instantly addicted to his heat, his breath, his mouth and the chaste kisses he’s pressing slowly across your lips, the way he gently holds your head. You grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him in. You needed him closer, and, with a groan, he gave it to you. You ran your hands up to his hair as he nipped your lip, pulling your mouth open with a moan. 

His hands released your face, drifting down to your waist to pull you off the wall and into his arms. He slowly smoothed up your ribs to your hips, warming your chilled body with his hands. You relaxed into this warm little bubble he created, opening up. All too quick though, he pulled away. As much as your hands would let him, that is. Your eyes fluttered back open as he breathed a whiskey-hot breath across your face and cleared his throat. 

“Anything you need to tell me about?” he asked, a new seriousness to his voice. 

You shook your head. He didn’t move. That answer apparently wasn’t to his satisfaction.

“No,” you answered. Then, after a pause, you asked “You?”

His thumb swiped at your bottom lip, pulling it open. His heavy eyes watched as you so sweetly allowed him to continue petting at your lip, deeper and deeper into your mouth, until his thumb met your tongue. 

“No” he answered, pressing his lips to yours. 

The kiss quickly turned deeper, messier, needier. From the first time his tongue ran over yours, you were lost. It was hard enough for you to remember to breathe, let alone give anything back as he did all the work of making out with you, but you didn’t care. You let him press you back against the wall and devour your mouth. Fuck, was all you could think. Fuck, you need this so bad. He was so warm, the sharp alcohol taste melting away until it was just him. You kept your hands in his hair, running your fingers through it and earning a groan against your mouth. He was running his hands, those huge hands of his, over your body, trying to figure out how to get you out of your clothes. One hand broke its way past the band of your leggings and the other sloped up your bare back under your lace and velvet. 

He pulled you apart, haggard breathing filling the room. 

“’s your room?” he slurred against your ear, voice deep and husky already. 

You nodded, eyes still shut and mouth open. You hopped he was talking about the door across the room, which was your bedroom, and not the one farther along that same wall, which lead to the bathroom. You didn’t have time to detangle your arms from Simon to do anything, let alone help, as he simply picked you up, earning a little squeal as he squeezed your ass, walking you quickly across the room.

Once inside, he set you down on your low bed. The platform kept your box spring and mattress technically off the floor, and that had been good enough for you at the time you moved in. Now, with all six feet whatever of Simon towering over it, it felt ridiculous. At least your mattress would be large enough for the two of you. Simon stood between your legs for a moment before kneeling down to your level. The light from your living room windows silhouetted him in the inky dark. If you had all of your brain functions, you would have been sad to lose the ability to see him. He pulled your face to his, your cold noses touching as he pulled your shirts over your head. 

“Won’t keep you in the cold for long, love,” he groaned, hands circling your rib cage. 

He pressed a kiss to your lips, then your throat, right above your necklace, clavicle, sternum, traveling down until he nestled his face in between your breasts. He stayed there, breathing in your skin and sighing as you ran your hands through his hair again. 

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he said pulling away with a kiss to each breast before popping open the closure on the front of your bra. 

You shivered at the sudden cold on your chest, letting your bra fall off your back. You reached up to unclasp your choker with shaking hands. You threw it softly into a pile of clothes at the foot of your bed. He allowed himself to cup one breast in his hand for a second, his rough palm sliding across the nipple, sending spines of need straight down to your cunt. Letting go reluctantly, he pulled your leggings down your hips. You hopped up so he could shuck them off completely, leaving you naked except for your panties. He didn’t take any time to touch you after he threw them to the floor. 

“Get under before y’ freeze,” he urged you. 

You didn’t wait for another command. You dove under your duvet, pulling it up to your nose, willing it to make you warm again. You had actually forgotten you were cold. You were finding It was frighteningly easy to forget things while he had his hands on you. Standing back up, Simon pulled his shirt off and threw it in front of him into the dark abyss of your bed. You watched his silhouette as he opened his jeans. The zipper far too loud and metallic for the little space. He hissed as he shuffled his pants down his thighs. You squinted into the darkness. You could just make him out holding his cock, still in his briefs, against his stomach.

“Still sure you want this?” he asked, voice thin and restrained, standing over you. 

You didn’t answer, but instead reached a hand out of your blanket cocoon toward him. He took it. You heard his jeans finish falling to the floor and then felt his knee push into the mattress. Your bed didn’t complain half as loud as you expected it to under his added weight. He pulled up the blankets around you, covering himself once he found you. 

He crowded into your space, legs and arms wrapping around you, tucking you under his chin and covering you with his body. He held you like this for a while, warming you until your shivers stopped. You sighed against his chest, running your hands up and down him, feeling his scars. God he had so many scars. What had happened to him? He held you tighter, hands resting on your shoulder and waist. His breath softened, coming less and less haggard as you continued to smooth your palms over his skin. You both could have fallen asleep like this. 

He lightly kissed your forehead, right at your hairline, and it felt . . . different. This didn’t feel like a random hookup anymore. Lust was bleeding into something more, something deeper. You knew that you didn’t take just any guy home. It took a lot for you to open up enough to even talk to a guy, let alone get this far. How and why this was happening so fast, you didn’t know. Maybe your body knew better than your brain and overrode your usual self tonight. Maybe it knew, or thought it knew, that he was different, special even. You closed your eyes. Or maybe you were just wishing it was so. 

Simon hitched your leg up over his hip. His hand trailed from your knee to your hip, tracing the lace of your underwear down to where you were pressed together, right to your naval. He stopped for a second, lingering before pressing his fingers against your sex, sliding down your clothed folds. You sighed a whine, breath bouncing against his chest and back to your face. He slowly drifted his hands up and down and you could feel your slick leaking though the cloth onto his fingers. Oh fuck. You let your head fall down onto his bicep where he curled his arm around you. You bucked your hips into his touch. God you wanted him. Needed him. Needed to go wherever this ended. Needed to feel wanted again.

He pulled his hand away and pushed you onto your back. Your vision filled with his darker form against the room before he crashed his lips down onto you. His fingers came back, circling your hole as you whined into his mouth. 

He cracked his mouth away. “D’ y’ like that, love? Want me to finger you?” 

You were nodding, begging him to continue without words before he finished his sentence. He was eager to slide his hand down your panties. His fingers met your clit and you keened against his mouth. He was hovering just far enough above you to drink in your whines and moans or to lean in for a kiss when he wanted. It had been too long since someone else had touched you, let alone well. He swore as he swiped down your clit, working your slick around the little nub. 

“Y’ fucking wet,” he groaned, sliding his fingers lower, dipping into your hole, probing and stretching your skin. Fuck, his fingers were thick. “So fucking wet.”

You crossed your arms closer behind his neck, forcing him down to you, as he pushed a finger in. The fullness, the rough drag of his skin inside you, against your softest parts, even the angle he was able to get, one that you were never able to reach, it was unraveling you. You were reminding yourself to breathe between moans as he fucked into you. Eventually, he decided that your panties were in his way, so he pulled away and shucked them off. He quickly covered you again, filling your mouth with his tongue and cunt with his finger. He propped himself off you to watch as you melted to the pump of his hand. 

His other hand wiped away the stray hairs from your forehead. “So pretty f’ me,” he sighed as he watched you. 

“Fuck. Si.” You cried into the cold air. You weakly tried to pull him back down. He was too far away. You needed him back, right next to you, breathing each other’s breaths. He groaned, leaning back down for another kiss. 

“Yeah? Close? Gonna cum for me?” He said teasing a second finger inside you, thumb working circles on your clit. 

You felt like you were going to die in the best way. Your hands fell off his shoulders to cover your face as your eyes screwed shut. You could get used to feeling his rough skin dragging inside you, making you feel so full as he stroked that spot inside you that made you clench embarrassingly hard and drool down his hand. You felt lightheaded. Stars were popping in front of your eyes, small and bright. 

His free hand shoved your wrists above your head so he could see you. You wouldn’t know. You couldn’t see anything. Even if the lights had been on, you don’t think you could make yourself think right now.  

“Hear me?” He growled in your ear, voice impossibly low, fingers not stopping. 

Your breath caught in your throat. Fuck. You didn’t know you wanted that. Your body went taught, clenching around his fingers. 

“Yes,” you squeaked, dissolving into a moan. 

You felt the hand containing your wrists come down to stroke at your cheek. His thumb pressed harder to your clit as a reward. 

“Please Si,” you cried, “please please please.”

It only took a few more circles of your clit before you were cuming, trembling and keening helplessly in his arms. He waited, head hanging to your chin, breathing haggardly across your chest, for you to come down before pulling his fingers out of you. He brought them to his mouth as he sat up, humming in satisfaction as he sucked off your wetness. He leaned down for a quick kiss, your taste lingering on your lips. 

“Done well, love,” he said pulling your legs farther apart so he could pull your bodies flush. 

His hard cock, still clothed, rubbed up your oversensitive pussy. Simon groaned at the same time you whined. Your head went swirling again. God, you needed him inside you. You didn’t care how. You would make it work. You used your knees on his hips to pull his briefs down. He read your obvious intentions and helped you finish pulling his underwear off, kicking them down into your bed. 

He pressed himself to you again, this time letting you feel his length bare as he slid across your folds. He cut off a loud groan in his throat, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder as he did it again. You threw your head back, eyes shut again as he nudged your clit with every thrust. Your moans were silent at this point, absolutely useless. 

“Si,” you cried bucking up into him, “Want you. Please.” 

He kissed your shoulder. “Yeah?” he asked in a husky whisper. “Want this?” he said grasping his cock at the base, pressing the weight of it into your stomach. “Think you can take all this in that little pussy of yours, love?” 

You clenched at the thought of it. Fuck yes you wanted it. You can take it. You nodded earnestly, hair fluttering against his face. He pulled himself up to lean on his forearm, the one with all of the tattoos, next to your head. His other hand guided his tip to rest at your entrance. Fuck. Even that felt huge. You bit your lip to suppress the wanton moans that just the thought of his cock pressing into you were pulling out of you. 

You felt his face over yours, lips almost touching. 

“Wanna hear you,” he whispered across your lips. 

You let go of your bottom lip. He kissed you for only a second before pulling back a breath and pushing an inch into your hot, wet cunt. 

You wailed. Actually wailed. He was big, really big. There was no getting around that. You hissed out a breath to steady yourself. He was definitely the biggest you’d ever had. No fucking doubt. You felt Simon sweetly press his forehead to yours. He waited for your breaths to even out before pulling out to the head and thrusting ever so slowly back in. 

“Doin’ good f’ me,” he said petting down your side, hand coming back to rest on your hips. 

He gave you another kiss, distracting you as he shallowly pulled out and fucked back in. You lay back and tried to relax as he set a slow rhythm, just barely pushing in a bit with every thrust. You must have lost your mind, because the stretch was addicting. It was nothing like your first time, or any other time after. Feeling his cock work inside you, filling you so wondrously full with just an edge of pain, you were in heaven. 

Until you weren’t. You hit your limit right in the middle of that fat fucking cock of his. The heavy thickness of it was testing the stretch limit of your hole and the head was poking painfully at your cervix. You pushed your hand against his shoulder. 

“That’s it. No more,” you said with a wince. 

He nodded, stopped and sat up. He pulled out a bit, relieving the uncomfortable pressure in your pussy, then set another slow pace. 

“Better?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” you said, melting back into the bed with his thrusts. 

You wished you could see yourself now, as you looked up at him. What had you done to deserve such a guy? You heard him lick his thumb, as if you needed it. He started to work circles around your clit again. He hummed as you arched into his touch. 

“Knew y’ couldn’t take it all,” he teased, laughing under his breath. 

He repositioned your legs, pressing them toward your chest so he could fuck right across your g-spot, thumb still pressed to your clit. Any comment you could have made at his words fucked instantly out of you as you saw stars. 

“Boys y’ fucked before never had that problem, eh?” The cocky bastard said with a smile. 

“Ah! Fuck! Si!” you cried with every thrust as he built you toward your second high. 

“Gonna cum again f’ me?” He asked, pace increasing. 

You heard your bed start to creak. You thanked God once again that you lived on the bottom floor. You couldn’t believe you were going to not only cum twice, but cum on his cock. Something you thought was impossible, at least for you. 

“Y’ ever cum more than once?” Simon hummed, smoothing his hand up your stomach and chest.

“No,” you whined, mind swimming deliriously numb with pleasure. 

“Cum f’ me then, love,” he said, voice dripping gravel in your ear as he tweaked your clit, sending you over the edge. 

Cumming before had felt amazing, but this - this - was untoppable. Your head was swimming with emotions. You felt like laughing, crying, screaming all at once. You settled for pulling his head into your shoulder. You cried as you clenched down around him, holding his cock hard enough to force him to stop moving. He held you through it again, waiting for you to come back to earth, still numb, fuzzy, and spinning. That was probably the best orgasm you’d had . . .  ever.  

You were still laying in your afterglow, breathing in gasps, when Simon pressed a kiss to your face. You felt his cool, wet lips against the hot blush of your cheeks. He must have been biting his lip, willing himself not to cum with you, or inside you. 

“Where you want it?” He whispered into your ear. 

“On me,” you answered. “Wanna see it.”

He groaned, allowing himself to thrust in again. Your pussy squelched obscenely around him. 

“. . . yeah?” He replied weakly, voice faltering. 

You must have hit on something he liked to so quickly drain all the bravado from him. He nestled his face close enough to touch noses with you. He held you as close as he could in his arms, letting you splay your legs against his back as he fucked into you, rocking forward and back in a slow slide. 

“Want me t’ make a mess of y’? That’s what y’ want?”

“Yes,” you breathed across his mouth. 

Then, all the chains came off. He dove into your mouth, sucking on your tongue and moaning like a man starved. He fucked you at a frantic pace, finally able to hit you deep again and again and again. All you could do was claw at his back and neck and hold on for dear life. 

Suddenly, he gasped into your mouth then pushed himself up. He let himself fuck one last thrust into your sinfully wet pussy before he pulled out and worked himself over your stomach. He whined as he came, falling forward onto his other hand, sending spurts of cum up your torso. He caught his breath for a few seconds before he pulled himself up onto his knees. He spent another minute admiring his work. 

“L’s g’d on y’,” he slurred, pulling at the skin on your belly where it was forming a pool. 

He slid out of bed, careful not to let the blankets fall onto you. He fished his briefs out and stepped into them with a wobble, eyes never leaving the silver shine across your torso.  

“Bathroom?” He asked pointing his thumb behind him to the only other door in your apartment. 

You nodded. 

“Lemme clean y’ up,” he said snapping the elastic up over his still-hard cock. 

He adjusted himself as he wandered out of your bedroom. You heard him bump against the door frame and then again on the bathroom door. You lay back with your hands over your face, trying not to laugh. You heard the top of your dirty clothes bin hit the wall as he flipped it open, then the soft shuffling of the towels and clothes inside. The lid was flipped back down with a soft thwack. The faucet turned on, ran for a second, then turned off.

Simon appeared back in your doorway a moment later, more stable on his feet now. He kneeled over you, cleaning you off with the hand towel. You hissed as he swiped the cold, wet cloth up your torso. 

“Okay?” he asked. His warm hand followed behind the towel, warming and drying you, finding any spatters he had missed as well. 

“Yeah,” you answered, soothed by his touch, by the amount of care and effort he was showing to you: a random hookup.

He tossed the towel behind him, adding to the jungle of clothes that scattered your floor. He rested his knee back on the bed, leaning down to clear a space in the bed with his arms, part of which you were occupying.

“Move on in then, love,” he softly commanded.

You reluctantly gave up your warm spot, inching over toward the wall. Once he had made space for his massive frame, he made himself comfortable by squishing the pillow into position and pulling your blankets up over his shoulder. You were about to do the same, try to get comfortable in the cold corner you had been exiled to in your own bed, when you felt his hands grab at your hips.

“Get over here. Warm y’ up,” he said.

You helped him pull your back against his chest. You relaxed, laying your head on his arm as he held you with the other. He even let you twine your fingers together. You felt his breath ruffle through your hair where his face was pressed. You closed your eyes and listened to the soft pound of his heart as you drifted off.

-

a/n: this is baby author's first (published) smut, so if it's horrible and unrealistic please let me know! girlie is doing her best! also my hands hurt so bad omg

[v1x3n]

pls helppppp!!! i need those nsfw anime banners/ headers for my text series and idk where to find them 🙁🙁

[sociablepossum]

Hello! So, like it says in the header I'm back here on Tumblr and Ao3, I've had several blogs off and on over the years and...reality sucks right now and fandom and writing is my escape and honestly…I miss writing. I'll be bringing back some of my fics but not all of them, as well as writing new fics. Please be respectful :)

My writing on Ao3

My orphaned fics on Ao3 HERE, and HERE

What to expect here:

Marvel, COD MW2, Suits, Being Human (UK), Supernatural, Titanfall, OUAT, Borderlands, Star Wars, Stranger Things, Black Dagger Brotherhood, SJTR

Fluff and mental health, trauma and recovery

Whump and hurt/comfort is my thing, so if you don't like violence, blood, medical stuff, or hurt/comfort, this isn't the place for you. (Don't worry, I'll always tag trigger warnings)

Varying degrees of spice (again, I'll tag the trigger warnings)

M/M as well as M/F pairings, mostly with established characters, some OC's. I won't be writing or re-uploading any xReader fics because that's really not my thing anymore, please respect this.

I update sporadically, but I'll try to let you know the status of fics if it's taking long.

[ghostofaman]

H͓̽𝑬𝑵𝑹𝒀 𝙻𝙾𝚁𝙲𝙰𝙽

ᴳᴴᴼˢᵀ

𝙆𝙀𝙀𝙋 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝙊𝘿 𝙄𝙉 𝙔𝙊𝙐.

𝙔𝙊𝙐’𝙇𝙇 𝙉𝙀𝙀𝘿 ᴇ͟ᴠ͟ᴇ͟ʀ͟ʏ͟ ͟ᴅ͟ʀ͟ᴏ͟ᴘ͟.

𝒎𝒅𝒏𝒊; adult writer.

canon/non-canon portrayal.

multiverse/crossover/oc friendly.

fake/parody.

deaddove.

#𝕊ℙ𝔸ℂ𝔼𝔹𝔸𝕄𝔹𝕝

the ghost ˙ ⊹

⠀⠀⠀⠀ this portrayal of ghost is twenty-nine years old, is a pansexual male, and goes by he/him pronouns. he is six foot tall and of muscular build. his real name is henry lorcán and he is originally from ireland. after growing up on dangerous, crime-filled streets, he decided to join the military and eventually climbed the ranks with his skilful gunmanship, marksmanship, high intelligence, and expertise (amongst other things) to become a lieutenant.

the lieutenant ˙ ⊹

⠀⠀⠀⠀ mun goes by the tag spacebambi, is twenty-seven years old, and goes by she/her pronouns. mun is new to character, but has played COD: MW2 and COD: Ghosts.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ detailed and descriptive replies of varied writing lengths. the use of fonts will be present at times too. if this is an issue for you, please flag it up with mun privately so fonts can be avoided when writing together.

credits ˙ ⊹

⠀⠀⠀⠀ credits for this account’s layout (header and profile picture) go to SPACEBAMBI from ONWITHTHESH0W ⌖ filter is ‘after the storm.’ by bobbisbird ⌖

[shinmiyovvi]

Hello hello! Poppin in to see how you're doing!

I've been a bit absent so I've come to wrack your brain, any new updates or projects you'd want to share about??

I hope you're doing well Shin!

Hello, Spengs, hope you're doing well too 💖 This is gonna be a long read so buckle up

I did some think thonkin for a while even if my brain was already wracked when school started last week (Senior year was now being an ass on me for a freshman as myself) but anyways, enough of that. Let's jump in to what I have in mind for my projects and updates

Update: Barely hanging while trying to run this abomination of a blog with changing the blog's color, header, and tumblr website's theme while dealing with school and trying to brace myself this Saturday for my birthday as I try to accept that I am now getting older 🫠 (Also forgive me for throwing a bunch of MW content if you ever come acrossed with it)

Art Projects: Now, I am atleast trying my hardest to bring myself to draw my Cod MW oc Noemi in which I haven't quite made a proper reference sheet for her. Now that MW3 2023 was announced and will be releasing on November(?), I need to work on her new design for the sequel. I have made her MW2 2022 design and not with her MW1 2019 which is I am planning to do. Her info was still on a wip and the shipping was somehow changed? To tell you what, Noemi is turning into an oc/self insert and I am not complaining about it. Going to CoD Zombies, you thought those reference sheets of my ocs are final? No, and I hate it 🙃. There is just so many ideas of changing their outfits and I rarely even draw the Ultimis versions of them and also my other oc crew Salvatorix. I even have a lot of changes for my self insert design as well and need to work on it as soon as Christmas break comes or in Summer. I also need to add some casual outfits for my ocs for easy drawing cause I know sometimes whenever we had an art trade together, I feel like the designs are getting the best of us so I am hoping to draw their casuals to give ourselves a slack. But if you're still fine with their usual outfits then that's fine by me 💖. I'm still working on with my ocs' infos and also the Ultimis voice claims so stay tuned if I ever find a gap to my time to work on it. I will also make some references for the fic I am working on which is an oc x canon one. Lastly, I need to draw my SoE oc cause I haven't even talked or posted something about her for months now.

Fanfiction Projects: I still have 3 fics that are discontinued or still ongoing but ran out of ideas.And now we have 2 new additional fics. I've answered this from an ask from a friend of mine but I'll tell you as well. Under the Red Moon and Echoes of a Certain Past are two fics that I've planned. Under the Red Moon is an old au concept for the Primis crew but I changed the idea and use it for the lore change of the Vampire Knight and Noble Prince Au from before. Basically the story will be an oc x canon one since it focuses on Primis Nikolai and Primis Val. Echoes of a Certain Past is a fic that will be containing the past of my ocs, from Primis to Ultimis as the story will be divided into two parts, separating the two from each other. In the story, the story will be divided into four parts for each oc, starting from Val to Dragomir. If you want to know where to read them, these two stories will be posted here, Ao3, and in Wattpad but I'm still undecided to post in Wattpad since I've already made their cover pages of the two stories but let's see how these two will unfold. I may be a bit rusty when it comes to writing but I will try my best to make you all entertain as I will also try to research more and more about my ocs so atleast I could add up the historical vibes of it even if there will be also inaccuracies so please bear with me on this.

[vekreng]

last updated: apr 11, 2025

divider credits: enchanthings-a and enchanthings

header/pfp credits: me :]

users: snipetooth -> vekreng

posts come out on fridays! (when i have something to post)

i primarily write xReader right now, but i’m willing to try some ships if i like them for CoD

current list of fandoms and the characters i’ll write for:

Star Wars: The Bad Batch [Hunter; Crosshair; Echo; Tech; Wrecker]

BBC Sherlock [Sherlock Holmes; John Watson]

COD: MW2 Remaster [Soap; Ghost; Price; Gaz; Alejandro; Rodolfo; Valeria]

Novocaine [Nathan Caine]

requests are: OPEN

current requests: 0

i write: headcanons / “drabbles” (very short stories) / one-shots

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

Crosshair - SFW Alphabet

Hunter - SFW Alphabet

Tech - Totally Not Crushing

BBC Sherlock

nothing here yet!

COD: MW2 Remaster

nothing here yet!

The Expendables

Lee Christmas - I'm Glad You're Home

The Meg

Jonas Taylor - Do Orcas is Whales? More at 11

Jaxx - SFW Alphabet

Novocaine

nothing here yet!

my tags

#x reader: catchall tag to make it easier to filter my posts for others

#sighted: original writing by me

#sniped: original posts by me (such as this, responses to asks, etc)

#word games: prompt lists!

#credits: anything that i use, used, or might use (like banners, pfps, dividers, etc.)! currently my dividers are made by me!

#not writing: anything that isn't a hc/drabble/one-shot

WILL: romantic/platonic/familial relationship; poly (canon x reader x canon, for example); some mental illnesses/disorders (ask!); some mental/physical disabilities (ask!); violence/gore (may not be the greatest but i’ll give it a go!); death of the reader/character/third party; suggestive; kids (being adopted by/raising kids with/what they're like with kids); younger reader/older canon (21 is the youngest i'll go if romantic)

WON’T: pregnancy/miscarriage; smut; yandere; extreme gore/torture (i'm just not good at it); a/b/o; i may come up with others as i write

if you aren’t sure about whether i’ll something or not, please do ask!

[daniel-bruehl]

requested by anonymous: SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY GIF HEADERS • 640px : 360px tumblr headers in normal coloring and b/w version • no credit needed, put please consider to like/reblog if you use/save :)

[mxiaogod]

— 15. [FANTOMĂ] GHOST / SIMON RILEY  X FEM! AFAB READER

WARNING : MANHANDLING, DEGRADATION, PRAISE, FEAR PLAY, DOUBLE PENETRATION, KNIFE PLAY, BONDAGE, SPIT PLAY, MASK KINK, IMPACT PLAY, OVERSTIMULATION, BLOOD, PRIMAL PLAY, SIZE KINK, DARK CONTENT! NSFW, (DNI IF YOU AREN’T 18+)

A/N : The story will be substantially altered, and certain portions may not be linked to the original lore of COD. I do not play the game, nor am I educated in the military field; this is simply self indulgent. ALL OF THIS ARE A WORK OF FICTION AND IS LABELED AS DARK CONTENT, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

And a big thank you for 342 followers.💐

— Ghosts are a tale, a haunting narrative; some may find them symbolic, but they are essentially a mental construct; some may believe in them, while others do not. They are terrifying, instilling fear in the hearts of those who cross them.

Your trembling fingers grasp the firm soil beneath you, gripping it with might. The thumping of your heart synchronizes with the heaves of your chest, under your nails are caked with dirt, twigs and dead leaves entangling with your hair. You’ve been running for what felt like hours now, you’ve fallen and got back on the soles of your bare feet more times than you can count, your frail fingers grazing the tender bruises trailing down your thighs as you  try to ignore the constant throbbing in your skull.

A twig snapping causes your head to snap up, wintry wands, waved by nature's hand, take on a bold black silhouette in silvery air; a sob caught in your throat. You get up by the palms of your hands, sliding your back up against the tree as you run, tears blurring your vision by the sheer fear that has its grip in your heart. Multiple debris has dug into your foot but you paid no attention. Through the dance of fog, the  twirl of mist, a small, cozy cabin sits atop of firm land, big enough to play cat and mouse with whoever is running after you. You immediately seek shelter, your frail body slamming the aging, oak door. You slam it shut, pushing an old book case to block the door with whatever strength you had left.

You grab ahold of the ends of your dress, wet from the rain and caked with mud, wringing it with your hands. You start to look around, a measly wooden chair and table sits on the corner, spotlighted by the moonlight, book shelves after book shelves that are littered with rubbish. Your feet thud against the wooden floor as you near the lone desk. A wall of newspapers, pages torn from magazines and books are slacked onto the peeling walls. You grab one that piqued your interest, ripping it off the wall and reading it with trembling fingers.

As you take in the information, a prickling sensation by your nape alerts your senses, tears brimming your eyes as your gut drops. The paper crinkled in your hand as you fell to your knees. “No, no, no!” 

“Found you.” Strong arms held you by your armpits, lifting you into the air. A scream tore from your throat, pain spiraling up to your spine by being slammed onto a shelf. “Fuck! What do you want from me, please let me go!-” You were interrupted by a pointer finger touching your cold lips, “Shh” he said. You finally had the courage to open your eyes, widening as you were faced with a man bigger than you, his face concealed in a skull mask, eyes blown with primality. Your mind, hazed from previous events, is confused by the calmness emanating from him, but the danger was overpowering.

Your whimpers subside as tears lick the flesh of your cheeks. He brings you into the bathroom, tying your arms to the shower head with a crimson rope he picked up on the way.

He steps back and admires his work as your chest heaves from the intakes of air, nervousness and fear wrapping it hands and gripping your throat, along with your heart.

"What did I say, hm?" He inquires gently, his deep voice rumbling deep within his chest. He's so large that you had to bend your head back to face him. As a display of defiance, you shake your head and purse your lips.

“I asked you a question, love.” He repeats, “To- To stop roaming these forests.” you respond, voice steadying. “Right, and you didn’t listen.” you can’t help but feel ashamed for defying him at his disappointed tone. “You said I can’t be here because there are dangerous people around, but you’re lying, I haven’t seen anyone around, except you.” 

“Exactly.” His tone is gruff as he tears your dress off down the middle, ridding you of clothes except your underwear. You gasp and cross your leg, tugging your arms down in an attempt to cover yourself.

“You look so beautiful like this, all filthy and afraid.” As his fingers caress the apple of your cheeks. You flinch from his touch, turning your face to the side. “You scared of me love?” he says, almost humorously. “Isn’t that the reason you come here, everynight? To come see me? Because you know you’ll only get that fear you crave from me.” 

“Does it make you wet, knowing that people fear me? Knowing that you’re the only one who has gotten close enough?” He chastises, “Your curiosity will get you in danger, my love.” Your stomach caves, thighs pressing together as you try to resist the nature of your very being. You tried, tried to resist the chase, the thrill, the fear that this man has brought to you, but it had gotten so addicting, so inhabitable to the point you live and breath for it.

You tell yourself that it’s wrong, so wrong to be living like this, living with threats behind, chasing after you but you couldn’t resist the temptation, couldn’t stay away from him, so raw and untouched. 

His face had gotten closer, you could feel his hot breath on your cheek through his balaclava, your lips part open as you welcome all the ugly parts of him, all the sick and twisted elements that you’re willing to take from him, and he knows that with how you bare yourself to him, like an offering to a god. “Please.” One word was enough for him to kiss your lips through his mask, your hips immediately rutting against his thigh. “I’m going to fuck you til’ sunrise.”

His big hands grip the plush of your hips, helping you to tilt your hips back and forth in his thick thighs until he sees you forming a wet spot on his combat pants. “Look at that, grinding on my thigh like a little slut. My little slut.” He moves high thigh away, and you give him a desperate whine in return. 

A sharp, glinting metal trails from your sternum, to your hips, a sharp cry escaping from your lips as it digs through skin, just light enough to leave a scar. The knife moves to the side of your hips, tearing through the thin fabric of your underwear, baring your swollen cunt to him. 

He circles your clit with the rubber handle of his knife, spelling his name, you couldn't decipher it with your hazy mind, pleasure rolling off in waves. He trails it back up your torso, your slick sticking to your skin. “Spit on it.” He instructs and you do, sticking out your tongue and letting your saliva drip into the handle while maintaining eye contact. Your arousal and your saliva mix together as he inserts the handle into your cunt, your legs automatically widening to welcome his assault. “Feel so good” you moan through heaving breaths, he smiles under his skull mask, kneeling down on his knees as he lifts half of his mask, exposing his red lips, parted open and wet with his saliva as he sucks your clit into his hot mouth. You throw your head back, hips gyrating on his face as the knife pumps in and out of you, his hands that grips the sharp end of the knife, digging into it, his crimson blood trailing down his forearm dripping down his elbow onto the bathroom floor. Your eyebrows knit and your eyes close in pleasure, your hips shaking from the stimulation. He spits into your clit as he rubs it with his other hand, his eye trained on your face, there’s nothing he loves more than seeing your face contort with pleasure.

“Look down so you can see how I’m on my knees for you, bleeding and desperate to taste you, look and cum for me.” He stated firmly, you trail your eyes down and meet him and it was a sight you’ll never forget, pleasure climbs up your spine, coursing through your veins, consuming you whole.

“That’s it, scream for me, sounds so beautiful.” You come down from your high, head lolling to the side. He nips and sucks you clean until he’s satisfied, “That’s my good pussy, yes it is.” He coos. . 

He stands back up, throwing his knife to the side as he turns you around, the rope twisting harder into your wrist as you wail in pain. His combat boots kick your left feet to the side, widening your legs for him. He grabs ahold of your waist, his other hand pressing down your lower back, arching you beautifully.

He presses his hips into your bare ass, humping and thrusting as he releases groans beside your ear, you bite your lips as you thrust back, his movements getting harsher and harsher until you hear him zip his pants down, hurriedly taking his cock out.

You look back at him, stroking his cock, standing tall with his tip swollen and dripping with pre cum, veins bulging as he grabs himself at the base, his hips rutting into his palm. “Please- want it so bad.” You plead, throwing your ass back onto his hips as he catches it with his palm, steadying you as he guides the head in. “Fuck-”

“Does that feel good?” He asks as he pulls out, and thrust back in. “Oh I bet it does.” He pants as he thrusts his hips, making you take the entirety of his length. A beaded chain, wraps around your thighs, his hand curling against it as you feel it embed into your skin, the chain dangles as he fucks into you, his dog tag.

“Fuck, it’s too much, can’t anymore-” as your hands push his pelvic back.  

Smack!

“You’ll take it because I said so.” He said, thrusting harder, tilting his hips as he repeatedly hits your g-spot. “This is for doing a good job.” He whispers, wet lips ghosting the shell of your ear. You feel him spit into his hands, his thumb circling your puckered hole as he inserts it inch by inch, “And this is for being a good girl.”

“Gonna cum, gonna cum-” You warn as your head falls back onto his shoulder, he lifts both your legs up, lifting you as he continues to chase his high, his cock bulging out your stomach.

“So good love, so good, fuck, cum with me- now.” His ragged moan beside your ear pushed you to the edge, pussy clenching on his girthy length. His hot cum fills your pussy, your eyes rolling back, saliva dripping into the side of your mouth from the immense pleasure.

You feel your arms loosen, as he unties the rope that binds your hand. 

“Care for a bath?” He whispers, rubbing his warm hands on your lower back as he carries you bridal style.

“What’s your name, Ghost? Will you tell me?” You ask, doe eyes pleading.

Your eyes snaps open, jaw trembling from the cry forming inside your throat. You feel your hips itch as you scratch, your scar making an appearance.

S.R

Etched into the skin of your hips, your hair sticking to your neck from the sweat. You dreamt of him again.

But that’s all he ever was, a figment of your imagination, haunting your dreams, instilling fear into your heart.

A ghost, Fantomă.

[inurspiderwebs]

simon ghost riley layouts if possible please? ^___^

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[nit0filia]

𝐂𝐨𝐃 𝐌𝐖𝟐(𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐) ⸻ Soαp & Ghost 「Iᥴoᥒs/Hᥱᥲdᥱrs」