reesespiveces

[reesespiveces]

puppy! kyle does something to me.

Being prices sweet little wife, always asking him about getting a dog one day since he doesnt want children, right?

Well, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Friday night as Price is getting ready to head home, you call him "John, honey, you remember how we wanted a dog? Well I've got the cutest little puppy in front of me right now, and he can't wait to meet you! Drive safe, okay baby?"

Price smiles at your excitement, warmth spilling into his chest. He wonders what breed you got. A German shepherd would be fitting, but knowing you you'd get a beagle. He thinks about it the entire drive home, opens the door expecting to hear tiny claws clacking against hard floor. Instead, the house is quiet save for your sweet voice cooing at something in the living room. He follows it slowly, taking in the familiarity of home before he turns the corner and– oh what a sight you've prepared.

There, in the middle of the carpeted floor is Price's favourite sergeant. Kyle has a thick collar around his neck, knelt on all-fours and nuzzling into your palm as you pet him and coo at him. You perk up the second you notice your husband, eagerly wave him down, and guide a hand to rest on Kyle's back. You ignore the full-body shudder Kyle makes "I know we talked about getting a guard dog, but I wanted a cute puppy we could train ourselves! Look, he's already so obedient, I'm sure we can teach him!"

Price grins down at kyle, who is looking up with stars in his eyes. He peers over to appraise kyles leaking cock, decides he doesnt mind your impulse adoption and presses a kiss to your cheek. "Im fine with it. We'll need to get him the proper items, though. A good bed, a crate, maybe something to deal with the leaking..."

You only laugh, reach over to stroke Kyle's cock in a way that has him whining into the carpet "oh hes only excited to meet us, honey. It'll calm down once he settles in!"

Kyle whimpers, wonders what exactly he got himself into, a settles in for brutal training as you and price discuss how to introduce punishments and rewards for his little puppy brain.

[reesespiveces]

i love when he’s absolutely disgusting.

Every time the boys say anything even slightly flirty to you Ghost shoves his hands down your pants to see if it made you wet. Doesn't do anything about it if you are, just curious.

Most of the time you don't even know where he came from. One minute you're giggling at Gaz's compliment or rolling your eyes at Johnny's blatant innuendo and then suddenly theres a wall of scars and muscle pressed up behind you wriggling his fingers between your legs and into your cunt.

If you're extra wet he'll grunt in disapproval, making you suck his fingers clean as he tells you to get a hold of yourself.

Maybe he'll repeat the things he knows really gets you going when he has you folded in half in his bed.

He's just not good with his words thats all. Needs some pointers.

[reesespiveces]

ii. HE’S IN YOUR HOME.

꣑୧ TW ─── DUBCON .ᐟ SIZE DIFFERENCE .ᐟ DIRTY TALK ( lots ) .ᐟ PART ONE.

the size of his palm engulfs the entirety of the side of your face, your eyes half lidded as drool seeped out of your open mouth like a waterfall and coated the dent where your face met the sheets. “thas’ it love. take it like a big girl.”

fighting the urge to recoil at the mocking tone in his comment, embarrassment flooding your veins. there wasn’t much you could do anyways, stomach too full of your stalker’s heavy horse cock. you were practically being split in two.

your cries fell on death ears as he practically bullied his cock into you. stretched so wide around his girth that all you could do was wheeze and whimper into your pink sheets. every time you tried to fight him off, he’d let out a snarl of rapture.

“can’t get enough of this ass. been absolutely mad for it luv.”

he brings a calloused hand down on your ass, fingers digging into the fat or your bottom as he jiggled it beneath his palm. your cunt constricts and relaxes around him at that and he laughs meanly at you.

“you like tha’ yeah? dirty fuckin’ girl. g’nna fill my pussy up nice.”

the damn near pornographic moan you let out at that had you burying your full face into your bedding again. not before his hands comes up and tugs at your hair. maybe you are a sick woman. with every filthy word, you find yourself getting more and more turned on.

“nuh uh, wanna hear you love. pussy’s already talkin’ to me.”

your pleas are weak, broken dissolve into more soft whimpers as he slams into you, over and over again. the bed creaking under the force of his thrusts, the headboard slamming against the wall. even with your brain oozing from your ears—you couldn’t help but mentally apologize to your neighbors.

when you reach back to push him away, to put space in between his cock and your cervix, he simply pins your arm behind your back. redoubling his efforts to make you cream around him. his meaty, muscular thighs and hips clapping against your own. you could feel him hovering over you, completely blanketed by his sheer size and mass.

selfish bastard. you couldn’t come like this even if you wanted too. but god, the slick sounds of your wet pussy opening up to take him was causing an unbearable heat to form in your core. stupid fucking body.

as if he sensed your dilemma, you felt him pull out before flipping you onto your back as if you were some twig, planting himself right back in between your legs. his mask was resting above the bridge of his crooked nose, blonde stubble covering his strong jaw.

you didn’t have much time to take in his face before he starting to run his wet dick in between your sipping folds, his bulbous tip nudging your swollen clit. with your arms free, you were able claw at his arms, a plea right on your tongue.

you only had a second before he was pushing into you again, a breathless groan leaving his lips. you were in for a long night.

©REECESPIVECES ( 2025 )

[reesespiveces]

please send req. only writing for COD

[reesespiveces]

ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི SIMON’S DAUGHTER IS BRINGING HOME A BOY.

you’re excited. your daughter was experiencing all the excitement and awkwardness of young love and opportunity you didn’t have. at sixteen years of age, your beautiful little girl had finally gotten a boyfriend.

a sweet young man who you’ve seen her blushing from behind the phone screen with a few times.

she had finally worked up the courage to ask you and her father, if she could bring him home for dinner one night this week.

meanwhile, silently sulking in the living room, your husband, simon, was meticulously cleaning his collection of vintage firearms. it was cliche but you knew he was going to be dramatic as always. you didn’t blame him. she wasn't just his daughter; she was partner in crime, the only other person besides you who would laugh at his jokes.

when the topic of a boyfriend got brought up, he could see his life flashing before his eyes.

him holding her for the first time after a rough birth, her first steps, first words, first lost tooth. he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve but he almost fucking cried that night.

simon remembered teaching her to ride her bike, the scraped knees and triumphant squeals, and it felt like only yesterday. now, some young bloke was about to waltz into their lives and steal her attention, her affection, and her time.

it wasn't about possessiveness; it was about preserving the precious bond they shared, the unspoken understanding that transcended words.

he was her protector, her hero, and the thought of relinquishing that role, even partially, filled him with a strange mix of sadness and resentment. simon knew, intellectually, that she had to grow up, that she had to experience the world on her own terms, but his heart wasn't quite ready to let go.

“simon, honey, what should i make for dinner tonight?”

you walked into the living room, letting out a small huff that turned into laughter as you took in the sight of your greying husband cleaning his guns in his chair.

simon didn’t have to say much for you understand that he was deeply troubled by this all. it was enough for you to push your excitement down for a few minutes, making yourself comfortable on the arm of his chair, hand coming up to rub at his broad back soothingly.

"he’s a good kid, si”

you’re met with silence.

“our little girl is happy. she’s growing up, can’t you be excited for her, love?”

simon stopped, his gaze hardening, his shoulders tensing under your touch before he relaxed.

“she’s sixteen. ‘happy’ should be about getting good grades and not falling off her skateboard, not mooning over some muppet."

simon’s voice is soft as he speaks but you can hear the restraint. he runs a hand over his buzz cut, the familiar gesture a sign of his rising frustration.

"i just... i don't want her getting hurt."

you sigh, simon opening up about his feelings always made you proud but you could tell this was something daunting for him.

"i know, love. but you can't protect her from everything. she has to learn, to experience things, even the tough stuff."

you paused, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "besides, you were hardly an angel at sixteen, were you?"

simon's lips twitched despite himself. "that's different," he grumbled, but the edge had faded from his voice. you had to admit, it was deeply endearing to see him so worked up over something like this.

"i just... i remember what it's like. the hormones, the stupid decisions..."

"and you think our baby is immune?" you chuckled, squeezing his arm. "she’s your daughter, simon. she’s got your stubbornness, your intelligence, and a whole lot of heart. she'll be fine. and if she's not, we'll be there for her. together."

simon looked at you, the tension slowly draining from his face. he knew you were right, of course. he simply just hated the thought of his little girl growing up, of facing the world with all its potential for pain.

"fine," he said finally, a hint of resignation in his voice. "it’s about time i taught her how to shoot a gun anyway.”

©REESESPIVECES ( 2025 )

[reesespiveces]

REESE. NINETEEN. A03

RECENTS.

─── SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

꣑୧ HE’S IN YOUR HOME. PART ONE. PART TWO. ( stalker! simon riley / afab! reader )

꣑୧ BEFORE HIS EYES. AO3 / ( simon riley / afab! reader )

GEN TAGS.

𝜗𝜚 — ghvstsslag.com ( short oneshots )

reeserecs .ᐟ ( recommendations)

[reesespiveces]

You have been Simon Riley's housemate for about two years now. He's the perfect roommate - never oversteps your boundaries, always cleans up after himself, is quiet, and helps with groceries. Most of the time, however, he's gone. He's in the military, so Simon goes on missions that can last for months and months at a time.

Here's the thing. Simon bought this very nice weighted comforter recently. You remember seeing it in the order history on your shared Amazon account. When it came, Simon snored like a damn chainsaw. He slept like a baby, even bringing the comforter to the living room on movie nights. And sometimes, though you loathe to admit it, you'd go into his room to take a nap under that comforter. It's one of the more expensive, better-made, and heavier blankets. You're pretty sure it's almost 30 pounds.

Unfortunately, there's always a risk when you nap under that blissful comforter. The risk that he'd come home. Today, you're curled under his weighted blanket, taking a quick nap before you make supper. You really shouldn't have ever done it. It's disrespectful and an invasion of privacy. But that damn comforter sang to you like a siren... and you couldn't resist the urge today.

Simon comes home, exhausted from flights and the mission. He drops his duffel in the closet, then kicks off his shoes. You must not be home. It's quiet here today, no TV or video games on. You're not in the kitchen or reading in your room. But then, he gets to the doorway of his room. In the center of his otherwise tidy room, curled into a ball, is you.

"Little fuckin' goblin," he grumbles.

He should pick you up by the scruff of your neck, scold you for sleeping in his bed, and kick you out of his room. But there's something about seeing you in his bed that makes him feel possessive. If you were anybody else, maybe he'd be angry. But you're you, and he can't bear to even raise his voice at you.

"Hey, girl," Simon whispers, gently waking you.

Your eyes open slowly until you recognize who woke you up. You sit bolt upright, gasping like you just had the air knocked from your lungs. "Oh, shit!" you squeak.

"Relax," he says softly.

"Okay, l-l-listen, I can explain," you stammer.

"I don't think you can," he replies, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I just wanted to sleep under your comforter," you whisper, face heating with shame. "I'm sorry, Simon. It was wrong of me."

"Well, that's half the battle right there," he murmurs, putting a comforting hand on your thigh. "You could have just asked me."

"You're... kind of scary," you mumble. "I thought you'd say no."

"I know that comforter is nice," he whispers, rubbing soothing circles over your leg. "I sleep under it."

You nod sheepishly, heat flooding your neck and face even more now. "I'm sorry," you say again.

"You're alright," he promises. "Just ask next time, yeah? You look good in my bed."

You're almost certain your chest is flushed at this point. "Uh-" you say eloquently. "I- um-"

"Were you going to make supper?" he asks gently.

"After my nap," you admit.

"I can do it," Simon assures you. "If you want to sleep some more."

You shake your head. "No, you just got home. You're probably tired."

He shrugs. "I'm always tired."

You scramble to get out of his bed. "You sleep," you whisper. "I'll make dinner."

"Why don't we... both sleep?" he offers tenatively. "Would you like that?"

You go completely still. You thought you were going to be in a world of trouble. That Simon would kick you out of the house or, at the very least, yell at you until you cried. But he didn't. And he won't. In fact, he's offering to let you go back to sleep under that heavenly comforter of his. Next to him, the human space heater.

"Okay," you squeak out. "Okay, we- uh- we can do that."

Maybe this is your punishment. Because you have never felt so flustered in your life.

Simon takes off his mask and his gloves, throwing them aside like they offended him. In one swift move, he wraps you in his arms and rolls under the sheets.

At this point, you're pretty sure this is all a dream. No way Simon Riley would cuddle you in his bed, tuck you in, and hold you while you nap. "This is crazy," you whisper to yourself.

"I sleep easier when you're near," he says, breath brushing your ear. "Just... let me have this. I'll order takeout when we wake up."

You nod, turning in his arms so you can face him. "This is surreal," you tell him.

"I know." He presses his lips to your forehead. "I know it is."

"This is comfy," you admit, nudging your nose against his chest.

"Just sleep," he says, almost a command. "No nightmares when you're here."

You quiet down, allowing Simon to cuddle you to sleep. Maybe sleeping in his bed wasn't such a bad idea, especially since you ended up in his arms. You don't mind so much. In fact, you think you like being held by him.

[reesespiveces]

i. HE’S IN YOUR HOME.

trudging along the sidewalk, the weight of your oversized tote bag mirroring the exhaustion that dragged at your bones after a long day at the office. your feet ached because you thought it would be cute to wear the new cherry red pumps you’d bought the other day and your feet were absolutely screaming. you could only mentally replay the endless spreadsheets and passive-aggressive emails, lost in the drudgery of your workday until it was time for you to go home.

thoughts of dinner and catching up on supernatural before sleeping sounded so good right now.

the first thing you do when you get home is kick off those damn shoes, a small sigh of relief leaving your lips as you rub your feet against the soft carpet of your living room.

sweet sweet relief.

everything else after that was a blur, the cooking, the cleaning, the showering. you didn’t even have time to watch your show from the utter fatigue that had your body about to shut down. you slipped into an old raggedy shirt before going to check your front door. you stayed on the fourth floor so there was definitely no one fucking scaling your building.

you feel a chill cross your arms as you walking into the living room, the air felt slightly colder than usual but you paid it no mind due to the fact that you’d gotten out of the shower like five minutes ago.

the door wasn’t locked and you felt your gut turn. your mother probably would’ve slapped you crazy if she’d found out that you hadn’t locked your door as soon as you got home. but once again, you paid it no mind—the possibility of some crazy man breaking into your own and gutting you open seemed crazy. the thought made your skin crawl.

The sound of the deadbolt clicking echoed through the stillness of your apartment, a small victory for your forgetfulness. it would’ve been nice until you ended up tripping over a pair of something, stumbling and hitting the ground with an audible thud. looking down, your eyes widened in horror. a pair of heavy, mud-caked boots lay sprawled in the middle of your living room floor, boots that were too big to be yours.

a wave of icy fear washed over you, paralyzing you for a moment. the realization hit you like a physical blow – you weren’t alone.

“silly little bird eh? didn’t mommy tell you to never leave your door unlocked?”

your heart drops and the panic sets in before you can truly understand what is actually going on. there’s a man in your apartment and he’s towering right over you.

he was… enormous. like a wall of muscle and shadow blocking out everything. you had to crane your neck just to meet his eyes, and even then, it felt like looking up at a predator. you could barely see anything due to the lights being off, the only light coming from your room down the hallway and the moon through your curtains.

his voice was as thick and heavy as gravy, laced with a cheeky, almost sarcastic lilt. like a mouse toying with a cat. you were fucking scared out of your mind and you only stumble more as your crawl away backwards from him, legs seemingly not working. it wasn’t the time but now you gladly understood those little damsels in horror movies

he only stared down at you, the black fabric of his mask covered the lower half of his face, creating a stark contrast that made the skull seem to float against the darkness. in an instant, his hands, like slabs of meat, calloused and scarred—wrapped around your ankle and pulled you along toward the light of your bedroom. your frantic screaming falling on death ears.

“pl-p-please! no! let me go!!”

he was literally dragging you kicking and screaming like you were nothing and for your sake, it was better to ignore that ache beginning to form in between your legs. the masked stranger proceeds to lift you up as if you were nothing before tossing you on your bed, your shirt flying up to reveal your unshaven mound. probably a bad time to go commando but to be fair, you didn’t know some creep would be breaking into your apartment.

“you can take anything! ju-just please don’t kill me.”

it was then that you had gotten a good look at him. those cold dead yet familiar eyes giving you a once over as you reach your pull your night gown down. he looms over you and scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

“been watchin’ you for a while now lovie. if i wanted to kill ya—I would’ve done so already.”

that really made you heart drop, and you don’t realize you were crying until you felt the tears sliding down your face. he’d been watching you? fuck! were you really that green and naive? the stranger must’ve noticed the look on your face because he was grabbing your ankle and pulling you to the edge of the bed again, his other hand coming up to undo his belt.

“don’t look so scared girl. i’ll take good care of ya.”

©REESESPIVECES ( 2025 )

[reesespiveces]

i need him. now!!

simon’s hands are always on you lately—big, rough palms cupping your swollen tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you’re squirming. he can’t help himself. you’re round with his kid, fucking glowing and he’s obsessed.

“fuckin’ perfect,” he growls, squeezing the heavy weight of your breasts in his hands. “look at you. made for me, yeah? ”

you whine, arching into his touch. “that’s it, love. let me have ‘em. wanna suck ‘em dry ‘fore the baby even gets a chance.”

his mouth is hot and wet when he finally pulls your top down, tongue swirling around your nipple before he sucks hard. you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair as he groans against your skin.

“taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he murmurs, switching to the other side, biting just enough to make you jerk. “gonna milk these pretty tits while i fuck you full again. wanna see ‘em leak when you come on my cock.”

you’re dripping already, thighs pressing together and simon notices—of course he does. his hand slides down your belly, fingers slipping under your waistband. “fuck, soaked for me. that’s my girl.”

he doesn’t make you wait. not when you’re like this. swollen with his child and tits heavy in his hands. he fucks you slow and deep, murmuring filth against your skin the whole time.

“gonna breed you again soon as this one’s out,” he promises, hips grinding into you. “keep you round and fuckin’ perfect forever.”

and when you come, shaking around him, he licks the milk from your tits and swears he’s never tasted anything sweeter.

[reesespiveces]

STALKER ! SIMON “GHOST” RILEY.

ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི stalker! simon who keeps track of his bird from the confines of his home. cameras that he had time to set up in your apartment while you were at work. naive little thing you were.

ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི stalker! simon who has a key made to your apartment. he watches you leave every day before simply making himself comfortable in your home. lying in your bed and using your dirty panties as a makeshift fleshlight around his cock.

ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི stalker! simon on plays the waiting game. sure, there have been times where he’s been wanting to steal you away and keep you hidden in his little cabin in the woods. but there were things that hadn’t been worked out yet. patience is key.

ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི stalker! simon who leave you small tokens on your counter. you were too caught in your own head to realize that you had mammoth of a man stalking you—so he made you aware.

ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི stalker! simon who steals your clothes for keepsakes. waving your cute lace panties in front of johnny’s face with a complacent look on his mug as he brags about you, “got me a soft bird waitin’ fer me.”

ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི stalker! simon who enjoys watching you panic as you finally realize that there was someone keeping tabs on you. he gets off to that.

ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི stalker! simon stands at the foot of your bed while watching you sleep, his cock chubbing up in his pants as he takes you in. he wouldn’t dare touch you until you’re his for sure. it damn near make him pounce you then and there.

ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི stalker! simon finally gets you. you leave your door unlocked and he sneaks in and waits until you’re ready for bed before he gets you. placing a chloroform covered rag over you face as you go limp in his arms. he had no problem getting you out of your apartment, you lived in a “see nothing, say nothing” neighborhood due to the cheap pricing.

silly girl.

©REECESPIVECES ( 2025 )

[reesespiveces]

I know Samuel Winchester is hung like a fucking horse.