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preferably naked and tied up

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Ugh! Sol get out of my head!!!!!

Anyway I can't sleep so I'm gonna spew some things I'd do to sol.

I'd lay on his chest. One leg off to the side and the other over his lap as I absently chew on his necklace. His free hand running through my hair while we do our own things on our phones.

Randomly biting him just to feel his flesh between my teeth, wanting to draw blood but knowing it's too dangerous even though he'd probably let me.

Wear his t-shirts to walk around the apartment, just his t-shirt no trousers so I can see his flustered face before revealing I had shorts on underneath but you couldn't see them because of how long his shirts are on me(Icr how tall he is but he's like around 6' right? I'm 5'3)

Have him climb through my window like a teen sneaking their bf into the house and watching shitty romcoms/horror movies.

Cuddle up next to him while I sleep(not that I sleep) and wake up to find out I drooled on his shirt.

Have him carry me over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

Sit on his face 😈

Consentional somno! Consent is key!

Make him my house wife and put him in a maid dress with garters and stocking oh and the headband thingy.

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body paintings by Karen Turner

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“But a cat couldn’t do cuts that straight!” God forbid my cat is a perfectionist 🙏

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"You're doing it for attention" Also me when anybody finds out

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simon “ghost” riley is so fucking blunt with his words

you’re not even trying to be sexy. just sat on his couch in that worn old tank top, the one with the frayed strap and no bra underneath. your legs are curled under you, hair damp from the shower, picking at your nails and talking about some show you half-watched.

he’s not listening.

"y’re tits sit nice in that top f’yours," he says, eyes on the tv. voice low, almost lazy, like he’s commenting on the weather.

you blink at him. "what?"

"didn’t stutter, love," he says, finally turning to look. eyes dragging down your chest, slow and shameless. “reckon you wear shit like that on purpose.”

your face goes hot but he just huffs a laugh through his nose, leans back further. spreads his thighs a little wider like he’s settling in.

“saw a porno the other day. girl looked like you. sweet thing, bit mouthy. got fucked face-down in a stairwell.” he pauses. shrugs. “thought of ya.”

your jaw drops.

“what?” he says, tilting his head. “should be flattered. ain’t every day i get off twice to the same fuckin’ video.”

he grins when you throw a pillow at him. catches it. holds it in his lap.

"gonna keep wearin' that top, or y’gonna come sit here and gimme a better fuckin’ view?"

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Simon Riley is a chubby chaser

He's constantly surrounded by violence he needs to be harder and sharper than his enemies.

He's covered in scars and hard skin from years on the field and his missions always leaves him on edge... until he comes home to you.

You are his complete opposite. You and your soft plush body. The only marks on you skin are the stretch marks you shyly tried to hide the first time you two fell into bed together.

The way everything about you is a luxury he thought he could never deserve.

It takes him a day or too to settle at home. For his brain to register that he's safe and he doesn't need to be ghost he can be Simon.

You don't have time to even think when you hear him come down into the living room before he's on you. Groping your soft flesh and kissing you like there is no tomorrow.

He pushes your soft thighs apart yanks your underwear off. And he feasts. You lock him in soft thighs keeping him in place while he makes a mess out of you.

You've learned fairly quickly that Simon is a talker when he has his face buried in your pretty cunt. He's the happiest when he's being suffocated by the fat of your thighs.

And when he looks up at you and your pretty bouncing tits? The man is in heaven.

He pulls orgasm after orgasm out of you. And he hasn't even fucked you yet.

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Gentle 🗡️

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relapsing is not enough, i need to die.

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size difference kink but in the “i grew up being made fun of for being chubby so now the idea of a giant of a man being able to toss me around and tower over me without making my weight a problem makes me really horny” way, you get what im saying?

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more roommate simon!

i love the idea that simon thinks he's super open and available with his emotions and reader thinking he's really cold and disinterested. is he ooc? yeah. do i care? no. if you want cannon ghost, play the game!

simon riley doesn't know when you became so important to him.

the only reason he even put out the ad for a roommate was because his landlord though he'd moved out while he was away and he'd rather have some bird in his place than deal with that again.

you were just so easy; showing up to the coffee shop (where you requested to have your first meeting just in case he was some crazy murderer) face flushed, strands of hair all over the place, and sweater a mess; rushing to explain how you got sprayed by a sprinkler on your walk over then chased by a dog. and just as you repeat sorry for the 30th time simon thinks he's in love. you're officially his roommate 30 minutes later.

but it's so out of character for him. he hasn't been around anything other than hard ass military men since he was a teenager. fuck, he's killed hundreds of men in his line of work, tortured thousands more. (he doesn't like to think that that's why he's so drawn to you. that you're so different from who he has to be, someone he's been for so long, that being around you lets him breathe. that he feels like he can actually sit and enjoy his moments away from the field in your tiny manchester apartment.)

he thinks it actually started with the decorations.

the small trinkets you let around the common spaces when he was away. it starts with your room obviously; fairy lights above your bed that spills light into the hallway when he comes home in the early morning hours, paintings on the wall that eventually flow over into the living room, the small plants in your window sill that you ask him to water one day after you leave for work.

then the dinner table suddenly has checkerboard placemats and a vase of flowers that change with the season. and his run-down couch has decorative pillows and a throw blanket (both words he learned from you when he questions what the fuck is on his couch). then the bathroom in the hallway gets a new soap stand, and a mat is placed at your front door, next to the shoe organizer and coat rack.

so he starts buying things too; the penguin plushie in the supermarket window, the vase that matches the curtains in the living room, and a small skull magnet to rest on the face of your fridge.

and before simon knows it his dreary, cold apartment actually looks lived in. and instead of coming home to a dark hallway and an empty fridge, your flower lamp is on, some random show from the 90s is playing, and there's food on the table.

he gets to know you more than he thought he would; he knows what foods you don't like, the books you're reading and the ones you refuse to read again, and even that dick from work he promises to take care of if he bothers you again (it's evident that you think it's a joke and not something that he would genuinely do but simon doesn't think he's ever been more serious).

but he never lets you know too much about him, you don't need to know about it and the less you find out the better.

then came dinners, actual dinner not just him showing up while you already had food ready. you would ask if he wanted whatever you had made ( 'i'm already making food and i normally don't eat is all anyway, so i might as well share' ). so suddenly he was spending his nights at your table with a homecooked meal and simon doesn't think he could ever let this go.

then he gets sent away again, for way longer this time. he makes sure to update his paperwork, changes his emergency contact, your name swirled onto the spouse line. you were probably as close as he'll ever get to one and if you're there they'll tell you if anything happens to him faster. he doesn't want to think of how nice your first name looks with his last name. and you'll probably never even know, simon's never gotten that injured before and he doesn't plan on it now.

months in the heat of the middle east return him to hard shell of a man he was. coming home caked in dirt, blood speckled on his clothes; he doesn't want you to see him like this, he doesn't want you to know this version of him. and for the first time he regrets letting you come into his life.

you are home when he gets back, 2:30 in the morning and every light is off, he opens your door to make sure. you're asleep, not shocking, cuddled into the giant octopus you won at an arcade. he tries not to move, he just wants to look at you for a little bit.

he wakes up the next morning to breakfast and a new pair of combat boots. he's only home for a week this time, not that he's ever home for longer than a month, and he tries to soak up all of your time. you complain about your car, he's on it. the heater started being testy, that's fine he'll take care of it. he's going grocery shopping with you, he watching that weird hospital show, and he enjoys his time in domestic bliss before getting thrown back into some random country.

somehow that all led him here. laying in a hospital bed with two bullets lodged in his shoulder with you sitting in some shitty chair pulled as close to the bed as you could.

"so uh, i'm mrs. riley now?"

"yeah, ya are. 'av been for a while."

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Something something you’ve been seeing this new guy for a few weeks now, sparks aren’t flying between you two but he’s hot, pays for your drinks, only mostly stares at your tits when you’re talking, and best of all he consistently fucks your brains out at the end of each date, so you’re in no rush to break things off yet

Something something he asks you out on another date but says his car is stuck in the shop for a while, asks if you wouldn’t mind being a ‘real bonnie lass’ and picking him up from work, swearing up and down that he’ll make it worth your while in bed tonight

Something something you’re surprised when the address he gave you is a well fortified military base, unable to recall if he’d ever mentioned what his job was in the first place, but visions of his mohawk between your legs tonight silences any apprehension as you pull through the gates

Something something you shoot him a text from your car to let him know that you’re here, but the reception is shoddy and you end up walking around a bit in hopes of finding better connection so the message can go through

Something something you’re focused on your phone screen, smiling to yourself when you finally see the text become delivered, hardly noticing when you walk into a brick wall of a man, dropping your phone to the ground

Something something you both bend down to pick it up at the same time, hands connecting and instant sparks flying through your fingers, letting out a genuine laugh when you end up knocking your forehead against his and falling on your butt

Something something the tall, masked stranger offers you a hand up, never letting go of you as you start talking, the two of you hitting it off instantaneously, hardly paying attention to the sky around you steadily growing darker and darker, each word slipping past his lips in that deep, gravelly Manchester accent of his has you forgetting why you were here in the first place, until he asks

Something something, you explain you’re here to pick up a friend for what’s supposed to be a fourth or fifth date, though you don’t see things going much further, especially now that mister tall, dark and handsome is standing before you, a vision plucked straight out of your wildest fantasies brought to life

Something something, Johnny finally looks away from the recruits long enough to see to see your text, unaware that his plan to show you off as his newest sweet piece of ass to his mates has quickly turned into his Lieutenant stealing his girl right out from under his nose

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Fantasizing about overdosing on my antidepressants, drinking hand sanitizer and slashing a vein or an artery

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luv men who love you weirdly. who love you so much it’s just shy of creepy. luv men who r a little not normal when it comes to you n their love for you.

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What about butcher!Ghost and butcher!reader. What about that huh. What about two intimidating gruff people spending their days elbows deep in guts and animal fat, soaked in blood and meat stank, dull chopping sounds woven into their sparse dialogues and the music from a cheap radio their shop owner allowed them to have on. What about short smoking breaks with their dirty aprons still on, wet nasty gloves tucked into the single pocket, cheap smoke fighting against the raw smell of manufactured death.

What about dates in dingy pubs and awkward kisses in alleways drenched in piss. What about groping each other and barely noticing your fingers squeezing your lover's body same way you do with meat. What about wet noises and slapping of hips that sounds exactly like a nice cut flopping on a greasy cutting board.

What about. Hm.

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How do you think Konig cuddles? Just a hand on the waist or always grinding into your butt and squeezing your breasts?

A bit of both.

While cuddling together, he runs his large and calloused hand up and down your waist, short blunt fingernails scratching your skin gently. He’s always quite gentle and tender when cuddling with you - especially at nighttime. He longs for your sweet embrace all day, to feel your body against his.

However, while you’re cooking or cleaning the kitchen countertops, he can’t help himself from playfully touching you. His fingers leaving dents and marks on your hips from his firm grip. He enjoys irritating you - simply needy for your attention all day long. He might try and convince you to get in his bed while you’re busy cooking a nutritious dinner, frowning at you when you decline his offer of taking care of you.

His hands instinctively reach for your breasts, whining like a puppy when you reject him and bat his hands off!

Let him have what he wants, Mäusi!