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simonsslut · 1 month

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mmmm i have thoughts about being threatened because you're simon riley's girl and them realizing that you're not the lady in distress they thought you would be (18+)

it is late when you get to your car. your shoulders sag from a long night at work, and you can't wait to curl up on the couch with something warm to eat and something strong to drink to lull you into a peaceful sleep tonight.

you're alone. he should be home any day now, but you aren't fortunate enough to know when that is. that is how this works, and you accepted that a long time ago. if anything, it made you appreciate the times when he is close, when he is at home. it makes your connection special, and you are comforted by the fact that your bond is more than physical.

your eyes droop, and you don't pay attention to the vehicle three cars behind you that's been tailing you since you left. you press the brake and toe the accelerator on autopilot and memory alone, and you zone out as you cross familiar streets. you think you saw a new movie to watch last night, and you think about how nice it'll be to play it as you cook dinner.

you park in your usual spot, getting out and shutting the door behind you. you open the backseat, grabbing your bag and closing the door. in the reflection of the mirror, you see someone behind you, just standing there.

you react first. you toss your head back and smack him with the back of your skull, and you're satisfied when you hear the telltale crunch of a nose breaking. when you spin around to face him, he's shouting, cradling his nose, but he flicks a blade out quickly, pressing you up against your car and putting the sharp edge to your neck.

"fuck!" he cries. "fuck! what did you fucking do?!"

you raise a brow, "you sneak up on a lady like that, and you wanna start complaining?"

"shut the fuck up," he snapped. you don't flinch, even as he digs the blade a little more into your neck. you tighten your jaw at the feeling of the edge pricking you a little. you narrow your eyes, tilting your head to the side.

"this isn't random...is it?" you ask. he stands tall, taller than you at least. he's a scrawny thing, but he's still bigger than you, and he has a weapon. his pupils are a little dilated, telling you he have taken something for the edge, and he fidgets. he's wearing a black bandana to cover the lower half of his face, but you can see the peek of brunette curls and the wild green of his eyes. you memorize the eyes, the accent--ukranian, georgian, russian? you try to place it as he speaks again.

"mm..." he shakes his head, "you're smart girl, i'll give you that."

you click your tongue, "then i don't have to tell you what a bad idea this is, do i?"

"it's because of that, that's why i'm doing this--" he comes closer, and his breath stinks, even through the mask. "they fucked with me, so i'll fuck with them. starting with their whores."

you tilt your head to the side, "oh...you really..." you smile a little, and it is off-putting. he frowns a bit momentarily. the smile you wear startles him. "you really don't get it."

"no, this is--"

"they won't just come for you," you whisper. "they're going to come for your family. mom. dad. sisters. brothers. cousins, friends--" you grit your teeth, "anyone that even so much as opens a fucking door for you or shines your goddamn shoes is going to lose a limb, are you ready for that?" you snarl a bit. "and when they find you, which they will, believe me--" you laugh, "it will be slow. it will be painful. you think you're the first?"

"fucking--"

"you aren't," you snap. "you're not the first, and you won't be the last." you glare at him, meeting his crazed eyes, and you take a deep, shaking breath. "so i want you to think again about what you're doing. i want you think about what it is you're going to do. because for every scratch they find on me...they are going to give it back to you." you blink, "so think. i'll wait."

you lean back against your car, your posture relaxed, your feet steady. it unnerves him, how calm you are. how you don't flinch, how nothing scares you, not even with his blade right against your soft skin. it doesn't phase you, and it's terrifying.

"they stole from me," he says finally. "eye for an eye. you'll just have to accept that."

you sigh, pouting a little.

"god, i...i really wish...i really wish you hadn't said that."

you bang on your car with one hand, drawing his attention away from you for just a moment. with your other, you slip your keys into your fist and you swing. you block his knife-wielding arm, sinking the pointed end of the key into his face, and you go for the vulnerable spots. back to his bleeding, broken nose, against his mouth, and the finishing blow, right into his eye.

he screams, the knife clattering to the floor, and he drops to his knees, cradling his bloody face. his hands shake, and you put your foot to his chest and kick, knocking him onto his back on the pavement.

you pick up the blade, holding it steady before you step on his neck, making him wheeze. he thrashes, preoccupied with wondering if he'll go blind in one eye.

"i told you," you spit. "you're not the first."

for a moment, your resolve breaks. your lip trembles, and you squeeze the handle of the blade tight for stability. this is the price you pay for loving someone. this is what you must do to keep a ghost, and although you feel strong and resilient and capable, you feel fear, too.

"he'll have to be the last, then."

your head snaps to the side when you hear it. he stands on the sidewalk, duffel bag at his feet. he's still wearing his gear--and fuck, he looks so big when he wears it. he looks so broad, the boots make him just that much taller, and it seems as if he hasn't had time to unload the artillery he normally wears. there's a gun holstered to his thigh and magazines stuffed into their pockets in his vest. he still wears his mask, eye-black smeared messily across his pale face.

it means he came here immediately--it means he didn't have time to undress. it means he wanted to come home, and come home fast.

you breathe easier when you see him there. when you step aside and the man beneath you gets a look at him with his good eye, he starts to cry. he sputters, starts to beg, but it falls on deaf ears.

the gravel on the pavement crunches under his boots as he comes near. like a magnet, a gloved hand comes up and grips you firmly on the back of the neck, and you lean up on your toes, tilting your head back just enough to kiss him through the mask.

it's soft, sweet, a little hungry after the time apart. you pull away slowly, smiling up at him. he narrows his eyes, angry, but it isn't at you.

"missed you," you whisper, and he grips your jaw with one big hand, tilting your head to the side. he grunts when he sees the thin line left behind from the blade, tiny droplets of blood beginning to peek out from it. "missed you so much--"

you gasp when his hand falls and gropes you. cupping one side of your ass, squeezing the fat of it in his paw and drawing you near. he pressed the front of you against him, despite the layers that separate you, and he hisses.

"are you olright?"

you nod. "just fine. he's new at this, i think."

you hum as he squeezes your ass again, patting it gently before nodding back towards home.

"get inside," he leans down and presses his covered mouth to yours again, and you can feel the rumble of his growl deep in his chest. "gonna rid y'of the rubbish, sweetheart."

#nadiascrolls 🍒#simon ghost riley #god he’s everything to me

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simonsslut · 2 months

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#real facts

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simonsslut · 2 months

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I feel like... if you call ghost daddy in bed he'll go crazy

ghost with a daddy kink ? oh yeah… he definitely eats it up, when his prettiest princess calls him daddy in bed. <33

—❤︎︎ — DADDY’S HOME . . . ❞

SIMON GHOST RILEY X FEM!READER

✵. !! WC : 3.7k

✵. !! TAGS & CW : explicit content! (18+ mdni) - service/softdom!ghost (he’s a lil bit mean), cunnilingus, daddy kink, size kink/difference, praise/petname usage, subtle spit kink, squirting, thigh slapping, overstimulation, dumbification, pussydrunk!ghost (hes in LOVE with your pussy), orgasm denial, fingering, the mask stays ON.

✵. !! A/N : hihi babies ! just a lil treat for y’all and thank you for 700+ follows and all the love you’ve given for simon says ♡!! hope you enjoy this mini fic, lmk how we feeling about it !! <33 ps… i folded. im sat. i actually wanna call this man daddy so bad. 🧎‍♀️

In your mind, there was one word— one forsaken word that you refused to utter. A word that only the most sexually deprived would use.

A person with their morals in check, should never attempt to sexualize something that is meant as an innocent title and name. Usually reserved for an actual father, or someone fulfilling the role of a male caregiver.

Right.

A person with their morals in check.

Right. You totally weren’t projecting… and deeply shaming your own innermost yearning, to desperately call your boyfriend ‘daddy’ while he fucked you.

It definitely wasn’t a thing you could say you were proud to admit outloud. Nope, you would quite frankly rather be caught dead than have your questionable cravings exposed to the world.

But every single day, you swore to god that your boyfriend tried to purposely provoke you into using the absolutely forbidden word.

Simon always took care of you. Whether that’d be making sure you got to work safely, cooking you meals on days that you were too tired to be bothered, or even texting you throughout the day to make sure you were resting properly.

You know. You know that’s probably the absolute bare minimum, and what a boyfriend is supposed to do for you in a serious relationship. But you just couldn’t help that ache and flutter you got in your heart, that made you so weak for him.

He worked so hard every single day, busy and moving nonstop on less than four hours of full rest. Even when he had his most stressful and agonizingly long days at work, he still tried to reach out to you. It could be a single worded text message or a phone call that only lasted for five minutes.

No matter what or without question, Simon will do his absolute best to tend to you. It was truly unconditional love, devotion, and his unspoken rule to give you whatever you most desired.

And you feel sick— sick in the head for letting your insatiable lust take over your sense of morality. Putting his mostly wholesome catering ways, in the same category as what you needed to relieve that scorching, sore pounding in your core.

That was alright though, you could live off your little fantasies and scenarios you created in your mind. Always making yourself dizzy and soft headed, imagining a world where he would make love to you and refer to himself as ‘daddy’.

It would suit him so well. Your hulk of a man, who had to put a slight bend in his knees whenever he came through the doors of your home. His mellow, husky voice always gently rasping to you— almost never, ever raising it higher than an octave at you. The way he could spoil you absolutely rotten, only ever calling you by his own little terms of endearment.

Always putting you first when he fucked you. Even in times when it got rough or you two were experimenting with things on the more intense side, you always came first. Literally and physically, since Simon couldn't properly get off himself, without knowing you were completely satisfied.

Your aftercare would consist of cuddling, he’d coo the sweetest of praises as he handled your sore limbs.

“My sweet girl, look at how pretty she is. Did such a good job today, angel. I know baby, I'll take good care of you now. Such a pretty girl, aren't you?”

It’s perfectly fine.

You could keep all those things about him to yourself. Just let your brain work its magic, to create fantasies and fill the deep void of your scorching carnality. You always subconsciously needed that one little thing to make yourself come even harder. But you were a good, grateful girl for him and always let Simon know how well he treated your body.

It’s perfectly fine. You don’t need a daddy kink in your life, to make yourself feel better. You were so much better than that, and you’d never let Simon get the idea that you were some ill, perverted deviant.

It was all fine.

Until today, when he finally pulls the most forbidden word out your mouth— and satiates the bubbling, hot desire that has a heavy chokehold on your heart and soul.

You don’t know how things escalated so fast.

One minute, you get his text that he’s on his way home and he’ll see you soon.

Out of pure joy and excitement to finally see him again after three weeks, you start to get yourself ready for the evening by taking an extra long shower. Making sure you’ve lathered and exfoliated every inch of your body in vanilla scented body polish, with a hint of brown sugar and cocoa butter. It was always Simon’s favorite scent on you, and he’d seemed more clingy than usual whenever your sweet aroma hit his nose.

The next hour, you throw on a simple, yet cheeky little lingerie set.

A delicate floral embroidered baby blue bra, with its matching mini stringed thong panty. You couldn’t help but fall in love with it at first sight. The design is a lovely work of art, the milky color enhancing the glow of your soft skin— yet it’s so scandalous on your body.

You did purposely get a smaller size, but on top of that it was made of see through mesh material. Not a single doubt in your mind that if he looked close enough, Simon could make out the shape of your nipples through the bra. And between your legs? The outline of your folds were perfectly clear and transparent against the light color of your panties.

After spending another minute admiring yourself in the bathroom mirror and taking a few selfies of your enticing form, you slip on a fluffy cream colored robe and head to the kitchen. You wanted to get something in your stomach before Simon came home, so you decided to lightly snack on a slice of pomegranate fruit.

You don’t even make it to the fridge before you hear the sharp clicking of keys turning a door knob, and feel the cold gust of wind that comes with the front door being swung open.

A gasp and squeal flies out your mouth as you bounce up and down on your toes, the actual sight of your boyfriend trudging in through the doorway makes your heart swell and pound in your chest.

“Baby!” You practically skip on your feet towards him, unable to hide your excitement of his abrupt appearance, as he starts taking quick strides to meet you halfway.

You think with how fast Simon approaches towards you, and him not even bothering to take off his shoes at the front door, he must’ve been just as excited to see you.

When you two finally meet each other in the middle of the hallway, you give him a big, dazzling smile as you go to lean in to hug him.

Before you can get your arms around him, he places a large hand on the small of your back and pulls you in close to his chest. You gape up at him, your smile slowly melting down to a look of pure confusion. Knees already feeling wobbly at his close proximity, and the way he has to tilt his head down to look you in the eyes.

Your breath hitches in your throat, when he slowly drags his open palm up along the cotton material of your robe. Even through its thickness, you can feel the heat radiating off his hand that follows along the curve of your back. Sending tingles down your spine, when his hand eventually makes its way up to the soft nape of your neck.

You both stare at each other. Your eyes become hazy and unfocused, while his dark ones scan over your perfect little form. You hear him pull in a deep breath of air through his nose. Holding it in his chest for five seconds before letting it back out, while he drags his eyes up back onto yours.

“Been thinkin’ about you all day long, y’know that?” He mutters these words, yet somehow they’re loud enough to ring and echo in your eardrums. You pull your lips in your mouth, feeling your core thump in tune with the pitter patter of your heartbeat.

You practically whimper out loud, as he continues onto his sentence,

“ ‘S about time I came home. Think it’s only right to show my princess how much I really missed her, wouldn’t you agree, pretty baby ?”

That was the only warning you were given… for what your boyfriend truly had planned for you, once he finally got his hands on you. Everything after that moment, truly did escalate as if time were being fasted forward.

You knew he missed you. Without him vocally telling you how much he thought of you, his actions spoke much louder than his words.

He was so sloppy.

From the way he practically rips your robe off your trembling body, to pushing you down onto your shared mattress and diving face first into the warm heat of your clothed pussy.

He was truly like a dog in heat. Not even bothering to take his mask off completely from his head, and only lifts it enough to show you his parting lips as he comes face to face with the growing patch of wetness sticking in your panties.

“Look at my pretty lil’ lady,” he coos softly, hooking his thumb into the side of your soiled panties and pulling them to the side to expose your glistening cunt to his heavy eyes. “Missed me, haven’t you? Can’t imagine how tight ‘n upset you are, since I haven’t been givin’ you proper treatment lately.”

It always blew your mind when Simon literally talked to your pussy.

Speaking in soft murmurs and giving it the same delicate pet names that he gave you, the owner of it. As dumb as it probably sounded, you sometimes couldn’t help but feel that ugly swirl of jealousy when he practically treated it like it was an entire living and breathing person.

You don’t have time to mull over your childish feelings, letting out a squeak when he grabs both of your thighs and presses them back until your knees squish against your chest.

“Know you’re mad at me, little one” Another squeak sounds out your throat, as you feel him turn his head to the side of your thigh and he lets his teeth sink into the doughy flesh of your skin. He hums, sucking on the flesh before letting it go and pressing a soft kiss to the flaming bruise he leaves behind. “Gonna show you how much I’ve missed splittin’ you open on my tongue.”

He follows through with his words, putting his full attention back onto your pussy. Using his index and middle fingers to pry open the thick lips of your cunt, groaning when he sees your hole twitching and spasming over nothing. The scent of your nectar coating your thighs and leaking out your pussy, makes him feel even more high and drunk off your arousal.

You’re so messy already. And like the gentleman that he was, Simon always took the initiative to help clean up messes that you made.

Still keeping his fingers spread enough to keep your lips parted, he lolls his thick tongue out before swiping it on your slit. You mewl and flinch at the feeling of his warm tongue, but he grips the side of your thighs to keep you still. Simon continues licking up and down your cunt. Maintaining the same pattern of stroking his strong tongue, as if he were savoring a frozen delicacy that helplessly dripped down the side of its waffle cone.

Once he feels like he’s collected enough of your cum on his tongue, he pulls his tongue back into his mouth to let the taste of you sit heavy on his taste-buds.

Your toes curl and you let out a soft gasp, as you watch him hollow his cheeks, before he lets the sinful mixture of your cum and his spit fall right back into your twitching hole. Chuckling to himself as he watches the way his greedy girl swallows up the little treat he gave her.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, princess” This time he does actually talk to you, dragging his eyes up from your drenched pussy and onto your blearing, glossy ones.

“Always so good for me. Could eat you up every single day ‘n never get tired of it. Can’t believe I went so long without this, fuck.”

Simon starts to probe his tongue along your core, tracing the shape of it until he finally pushes inside you. Already feeling the tight caverns of your pussy ease up, and welcome the thickness of his tongue rubbing up against your gushing walls.

“S-Sim— oohhh,” You throw your head back, unable to finish your squealing when he pulls his tongue completely out of you, and decides to inflict his torture upon your little clit. First he flicks the tip of his tongue over it, then he lets his mouth completely envelop around your pearl. Pumping it a few times between his lips, before pulling off to run his tongue over the expanse of your pussy.

You weren’t going to last.

You were far too sensitive after not having him around to please you for three entire weeks. All you could do was sob and let it happen, letting out a cry before you feel a fat watery gush of cum shoot out your hole. Simon pays it absolutely no mind, only widening his mouth to catch every little drop you gifted him.

“That’s it. Such a sweetheart, you’re already spoiling me ‘n givin’ me a lil’ treat. ,” He feels the way your body starts to relax, already going into its state of after pleasure— but he isn't done. Far from done, actually. Hasn’t even been half of an hour yet, and your legs start shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“Ah, Ah,” Simon tuts, slapping his palm hard on your soaked inner thigh, making you jolt and buck your hips up. “C’mon baby, couldn’t have thought I was done with you. ‘S only been a few minutes, ‘n you’re tapping out already? Thought my baby missed me, hm?”

It hasn’t only been a few minutes. Even in your dazed and dizzy mind, you knew that he’d been feasting on your pussy for well over twenty minutes. You shake your head, bottom lip wobbling as you let out a soft sob.

“I di-did miss you, baby” You sniffle wetly, feeling him trace his thick fingers along your soaking heat. Shaking your head in protest as he slips in his middle and ring fingers, humming while you babble to him. “But I can’t ta— aaahh, t-take it anymore. ‘S too much, baby. No more.”

“Too much?” He starts to flex his fingers deep inside of you, curling them in slow motions to stimulate your special gummy spot, that has you sobbing hysterically.

“You haven’t had your fill yet, sweet girl. I can feel it. Y’see this?” Simon tries to retract his fingers from your cunt, but your walls instantly clamp down on him. “You’re not lettin’ me out. My little lady down here knows exactly what she wants. So c’mon princess, lay still ‘n let me spoil this pretty pussy rotten.”

Having absolutely zero regard for your whines and sobs, he continues his previous abuse on your poor little pussy.

Seconds, minutes, hours, decades— You can't even tell how long he stays between your thighs.

Simon uses both strong hands to keep your legs steady and trap you from squirming or running away. You can take it. You will take it. He knows how much you need this, humming at every broken little sob and wanton moan that comes screeching out your throat.

Your vision starts to blur while you stare up at the spinning ceiling. Saliva pooling in your mouth and making a puddle next to your temples, as you let it run down the side of your lips.

You’re going crazy.

So high off the overstimulation of his face buried deep in your leaking pussy, that you swear…. you swear, you can feel your brain getting mushy. So mushy that if you shook your head hard enough, it could probably come spilling out through your ears.

He’s speaking into your pussy, saying words and mumbling something out loud. But you can’t hear it. All you can hear is your heartbeat pulsing in your throat, and feel the way he shakes his face side to side, while his tongue is plugged in your cunt.

Feel the way his hands grip your thighs so tight, that the blunt tip of his nails dig deep into your skin. You can already imagine the bruising and crescent little puncture marks it’ll leave on your legs.

It’s all so sloppy. Your pleas and cries for mercy, getting lost in the little squeals of ‘yes!’ and ‘simon!’ you can’t help but let out. And he eats it up, kissing your heated pelvis while burying three fingers inside of you.

“There’s my good girl, y’sound so pretty” He goes back to focusing his attention on your sore clit, giving it an open mouthed kiss before he continues speaking to you.

“Wanna hear my girl tell me who’s making her feel good. Hm? Lemme hear it. Say who it is, that can make you sing your little heart out.”

You make some unintelligible garbles, and Simon chuckles at your quivering and hiccuping. He squeezes your thighs encouragingly and smacks the side of them twice.

“Big words, baby. You’re a big girl, so tell me… who’s making you feel good right now?”

“It’s…” You swallow thickly and sniffle, slowly losing your train of thought as he suctions his lips around your swollen pearl. “It’s— ohhh, ‘mmm my goddd. It’s you…”

You start to gather some of your discombobulated brain cells to form a complete sentence. Simon’s name sits on your tongue, and you’re ready to tell him, it’s him. Simon. It’s Simon.

Until he pulls his head back with your clit between his lips— taking it with him, and letting it go with a loud pop!

It’s not Simon.

“Oooohhh g-god. It’s you! ‘Mmmy goodddd… daddy, it’s you… it’s all you, daddy.”

He pauses.

Whipping his head up to see if he really just heard what he believes you just cried out. Tapping the side of your thigh, he tries to get your attention so you can focus on his voice.

“What was that, honey? Didn’t hear you, come back to me and say it again.”

You whimper and hiccup, tears run down the side of your face and you continue whining at him.

“ ‘S you, daddy. Need you so badly, pleasseee baby. ‘M-m so close. I need it.”

Unbelievable.

He lets go of your trembling thighs. Letting the weight of his body help keep them pressed against your chest, as he crawls from up below your stomach and hovers over your face. Simon’s face is covered in your arousal. His lips glisten, and a good portion of the mask is damp and sticks to his skin.

“One more time, honey. Y’said it’s ‘daddy’ ? Hm? It’s your daddy, that’s taking good care of this pretty pussy?”

Simon’s fingers trail back down between your legs, softly shushing you as you keen at the feeling of his digits sliding back inside of you. He stares down at you, practically seeing the little stars spinning in your eyes. You weren’t in your best state of mind right now, but he’ll be damned if you tried denying that word escaping out with your cries.

“Can’t come ‘till you let me know,” You give him big, sad eyes but he shakes his head at you. “Wanna come, right? Tell. Me. Say it again, _____.”

At the use of your real, full name you quickly snap back into reality. It was like a switch, your bubbly headspace falling apart and bursting open once he rasped your name.

You did it. You really did call him daddy. It was your most taboo, and forbidden word—

But fuck it.

Today, your daddy was finally home. And you needed him to take care of you, just like he always did.

“Daddy,” you mewl out, feeling another hot sensation shooting through your spine. It was coming. You were so close. “Daddy I n-need you. ‘S you Simon, so please, pleaasee let me cum.”

His nostrils flare before he’s smacking his lips down on yours. Licking inside of your mouth, and inhaling the little moans you let out from tasting yourself on his tongue.

“Not yet, pretty little baby. Daddy hasn’t had all his fun yet.” Simon pulls away from your lips for a moment, laughing softly at the way you try to chase after his mouth for more. He uses one hand to swiftly fumble with the buckle of his belt, making quick work of pulling down his cargo pants and boxers. Laughing again when he pulls his drenched fingers out your greedy little hole, that puts up a fight to keep him deep inside your cunt.

“Must’a been treating my lil’ lady real good,” You can feel the heat of his hard, thick cock pressing onto your pelvis. Already licking your lips and grabbing onto his flexing bicep for support. “Gotta keep showing my special girls how much their daddy loves ‘em.”

He uses a free hand to guide his length to your throbbing pussy, unable to help himself from slapping the head a few times against you. His cock makes a squishy plop plop when he makes contact with your sticky folds, and teases you with a rub on your raw, swollen clit.

“Want you to remember this, once I’m done with you.”

Simon feels your nails dig into the hard meat of his bicep, bracing yourself when he finally lets the head of his cock greet your warm, welcoming insides. Already feeling the way your pussy grips around him, and makes no plans of ever letting go.

“Want you to remember what’ll happen every single time, that daddy comes home to his pretty, little princess.”

✪-tagging-✪ / : @touyyes @winterbimbwo @sirenh4ll @sailewhoremoon @noriken @kokobunn @fushisslut @dilftaroooo @aasouthteranoswife @daeneeryss @simon-rileys-princess @g4bby @sussywowzaee @lazuli-leenabride @moonshot-eclipse @mietkoz @honeybee54321 @lich1 @terrythetortoise @fuckinriley @actuallyanita @wedonttalkabouthenry @motionlessinrhi @hauntingtherosebush @spookyclowwn

(couldn’t tag y’all </3 ily tho) @benandjerrysisqueer @bleedingmagic-02 @tescomealdeals-blog @getoruii @alyssam14 @officialjotchuagirlfanclub

#nadiascrolls 🍒#simon ghost riley #it’s all over my screen #and walls !!#🎀

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simonsslut · 2 months

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gotham!au simon x reader.

the ghost of gotham x catwoman!reader.

im thinking…. 🐈‍⬛💀

#nadiaworks #simon ghost riley #gotham

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simonsslut · 2 months

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by vhenan_virabelasan

original posts: x and x

#nadiascrolls 🍒#my hubby

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simonsslut · 2 months

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That TikTok trend of soldiers posting “no grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her” with their spouses except it’s Ghost and he reeeeeeally means it. Like really. He means it. Like it’s a threat. You should be nervous.

#nadiascrolls 🍒#isn't he so dreamy?♡#simon ghost riley #man of my dreams

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simonsslut · 3 months

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creamed all over my phone🎀🤍🍒

!! smut - minors dni; based on this absolutely delicious ask of dadbod!simon <33; fem reader

just. the way simon grips your waist and pulls you towards him, manhandling your body so you meet his thrusts. the grip along your sides, the slaps of his meaty thighs against your own, the press of his belly on your ass – it makes your toes curl, fists tightly gripping the sheets.

and the sounds. god the sounds.

it’s not just the wet slide of his cock fucking into your cunt or your squeals muffled on the pillows, but simon’s moans. simon’s dirty talking. simon calling you his pretty girl, his good girl. simon telling you how delicious your pussy is as it grips his cock.

“gonna wife you up, baby,” he grunts. “gonna- jesus- gonna tie the knot and keep you on my bed like this. keep y’r cunt stuffed. y’want that, lovie? want me to keep filling your pussy with my cock?”

simon bends down to fold himself onto you, his body draping along yours. you don’t know how but it drives his cock deeper, sliding along the sensitive bundle of nerves and kissing so deep in you. his hands are holding onto you even harder and you know you’re going to have bruises later but fuck. fuck. you can’t think of anything past the razing pleasure, overwhelming you into silence.

into submission.

“gonna ruin you for everyone else, sweetheart. gonna make sure all y’r pussy wants is me,” simon rumbles in your ear, and the promise makes you clench on his cock.

he laughs, the sound coming out so mean. “knew you’d love that.”

#nadiascrolls 🍒#simon ghost riley #i need his cock #in me #NEOWWWWWW

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simonsslut · 3 months

Text

prompt: blue collar worker ghost knocking reader up in a gas station bathroom on a whim. (nsfw, 2k)

Just to look over at him on the driver’s side drives you crazy.

His buzz cut uncovered by a hood or balaclava is the new normal. It makes your blood rush to think of dragging your fingers across it, never long enough to really grip; heats you up faster than sitting by a fire or plunging into warm water. It’s the same new normal as the bristly, naked skin of his jaw, which flexes under scrutiny. He hadn’t gotten around to shaving earlier—rarely does these days as long as he can keep to a five o’clock shadow—and it makes you shiver when you think of the raw tenderness on your inner thighs, a consequence of that decision.

These are the consequences of trust and loyalty. Not long ago, you wouldn’t have expected more than a glimpse of dark eyes behind a mask.

The window is cracked open just enough to let the smoke from his cigarette out. Black fingerless gloves, nails bare and trimmed, dirt and ink trapped always in the grooves of his fingers. Eyes heavy lidded as always from poor sleep, shot nerves the takeaway from an old life of brittle thin sleep. His cortisol levels, to this day, must ride high in the bloodstream. You’d give anything to ease it at a touch, but that’s not how things work.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re gonna have a problem,” Simon says when you glance over at him for the fifth time in as many minutes.

“A problem?” you repeat. You’re not trying to be coy—you’re really not—but it comes out that way regardless. A bit breathlessly too, you realize with a small degree of embarrassment. You’ve got no shame these days.

He grunts instead of answering. Your fists close over your thighs as you dry to concentrate on the road ahead of you instead of the persistent ache between your thighs. It’s not his fault that your pussy picked now of all times to get desperate.

You peer over at him again out of the corner of your eye.

“Bird,” he growls. Doesn’t even have to look over at you to know that you’re staring. Just another weird six sense from another life. It’s a warning though, one you hear loud and clear.

“I didn’t say anything,” you say in a huff, turning your head fully away from him now to stare out the window.

Only a handful of minutes tick by with you watching the brown patches of grass and the trees lining the motorway before you shift in your seat. Acutely aware of the wet spot between your legs, the way Simon’s fingers curl over the steering wheel loosely when he drives one handed, the smell of smoke on the upholstery, the grimy spots on the windshield where the wipers don’t reach, the moment he shifts and the weight of him makes the leather squeak.

You peek over at him again.

He doesn’t bother signalling before veering into the rightmost lane, ignoring the furious honking from the car right behind you. You yelp when he takes the exit at a breakneck speed, fingers gripping the underside of your seat before whipping your head around to glare at him.

“What’s the matter with you?” you scream, spine stiff from the sudden lane change.

Simon doesn’t answer you, but you notice that the exit leads to a rest stop just off the motorway. It’s one of the less frequented ones—just a cluster of fast food restaurants and a gas station. He pulls into a parking space and practically slams on the brakes, making you jerk forward in your seat. Simon’s never been the most cautious driver, but this is a whole new level for him.

“Simon—Simon, what are you doing—” you hiss through clenched teeth, but he’s already up and out of the car, circling around to your side.

Your heart goes hummingbird quick in your chest, stomach in knots. When you pant out a breath, it comes out shaky with nerves and excitement. You toy with the idea of pressing down on the child lock when he comes around but think the better of it. There’s already a twitch in his eye.

You look up at him through your lashes when he opens the door and leans in to release your seatbelt.

“Get out,” he orders, and yanks you out before you can reply.

The walk to the gas station is tense and you struggle to keep up with him. He walks too fast and expects you to keep up, growling down at you to move it, but you drag your feet a little. It’s shameful how even that gets you worked up.

“Are we gonna—?” you ask breathlessly, irritation seeping out of you. Simon doesn’t answer, just tightens his hand around your wrist.

A chime above the door jingles when the two of you walk in, heading straight for the back. You catch the attendant staring at the two of you with open contempt and give a tight, embarrassed smile back. Simon doesn’t so much as glance over. You think he’d let the man call the cops if it came down to it.

The gas station bathroom is one of the crummier bathrooms you’ve ever been in, but you hardly register that with how Simon hauls you up against the door he just slammed shut and kisses you within an inch of your life. His kisses are ever slick and wet, dangerous for you—drugging when he drags his tongue over yours and a hand cups your head to angle it just right. You want to give as good as you get, but it’s easy to let yourself get swept away and open your mouth to let him in because you feel his hunger.

“That cunt never gets tired of me, does she?” Simon mumbles into your mouth. He steals your words from you when he slots his lips over yours again. Only gives you enough space to drag in a sharp breath.

It’s in your best interest. The only words available to you are pathetic little pleas, desperate fingers digging into his jacket and trying to pull it off so you can feel the muscle underneath. Trying to get as close as possible to him, to wrap yourself around him. A needy, pitiful thing.

“Poor thing,” he sighs, pulling away from your mouth and laughing when your lips chase after him. Standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him again and kiss, hands tugging him down by the back of his neck. “So horny that you nearly made me crash the fuckin’ car.”

“Couldn’t wait,” you whine, peppering his neck with kisses when he draws up to his full height, nearly dizzy now. “Sorrysorrysorry, please—please fuck me, Simon—please—”

“Not here, bird—want you to see how desperate you look.”

He drags you over to the other side of the bathroom and makes you stand on his boots and face the mirror covered in lipstick and sharpie and god knows what else—“c’mon, up you get”—while he rucks up your dress. The stark contrast between the two of you in the mirror makes you baulk. Like you haven’t slept with him before and lived to tell the tale. He’s all dark clothing and mountains for shoulders, mouth always set in a flat line of impatience that would make anyone else turn the other way.

You, however, press yourself back into him.

Rough fingers tug your panties to the side, not bothering to check if you’re wet. Assuming that you are—that you always are with him, eager to cant your hips and offer yourself up to him.

You try not to think about how your pelvis is already tilted towards him.

Simon holds your head up with a single hand under your chin, squishing your cheeks a little. “Fuckin’ hell…look at that,” he rasps, eyes almost black with lust.

“You’re being mean,” you whine, pushing back against him and wiggling your hips.

“Doesn’t matter how many times I give it to you—always whining for it. Cock hungry bird.”

It would hurt if you didn’t already know how much he wants you too, the deep rasp in his voice betraying an aching, insatiable hunger. An arm locks like a bar across your chest to hold you in place, his hand fitting over a breast just to have something to hold. He can tell you again and again that it’s just you, but you know that he wants it just as badly as you do.

He reaches around to undo his pants and then you feel a familiar cock bully its way into you, a tight fit only eased by the wetness almost glistening on your inner thighs. He grunts when his cock pushes into you, the same hand reaching around to rest low on your stomach, pinkie brushing the top of your mound.

The first thrust jostles you, forces your palms to slam down on the mirror even though the arm across your chest keeps you tight to his chest. It’s sticky under your fingers. You wince when you think of how much Purell you’ll need after this, but the thought melts away when he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you before slamming back in.

“Yes, yes—fuck—” you gasp, staring at your reflection in the mirror. After a couple hours on the road, you’re not exactly in tiptop shape—sweaty and in need of a shower and coffee—but any timidity evaporates under Simon’s hot gaze. It eats you up.

His jaw flexes with each thrust, eyes flitting between your tits bouncing under your dress and your face until it stays there, devouring you in a single heated look. Every time your shoes almost slip off his boots, he pulls you tighter into his chest; you couldn’t get out of his hold even if you wanted to. The thought makes the blood rush through your ears.

“Almost need someone else jus’ to take care of you when I’m not around,” Simon growls. He gives your breast a rough squeeze, an admonishment.

“No—no one else—”

“Jus’ me then, pet? No one else can take care of this little cunt?”

You shake your head, maybe nod, maybe sob a bit. It’s hard to tell. The hand on your low belly grips into the flesh, holding you in place while he rails you over the sink. Impossible to look away from the man towering over you, a man you’ve let willingly bend you over and get between your thighs. You wouldn’t even if you could. He’s the summation of everything you’ve ever hoped for, packaged in the too big body of a gun for hire, riddled with nerve damage and a nasty temper. You wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

Your eyes slip shut.

“Tell you what,” he breathes into your ear, the burr of his stubble rubbing your neck raw. “I’ll give you somethin’ else to keep you busy.”

Your eyes spring wide open.

He shifts his stance and drives into you with renewed vigour, muffling your sounds with a hand over your mouth. The mirror fogs up through the gaps between his fingers, the room damper and stickier now than when you entered it. Tears build in the corners of your eyes.

When he goes quiet, you know what’s about to happen. Your toes curl in your shoes when he exhales a ragged breath, gritting his teeth when he meets your eyes again in the mirror. Something about his gaze alone makes you come, like a deep press into your soul. The fat cock stretching you out is just a bonus.

The come down is harsh, laboured breaths panting out of you until your chest finally settles, until it feels safe enough to move. You lower one foot from on top of his boot just for Simon’s arms to constrict even more, holding you fast to his chest. He can probably feel your heartbeat against his wrist.

“Quit squirming,” he scolds, giving you a little warning squeeze.

“‘M sweaty,” you complain.

“We’ll towel off at home,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t bitch.”

“I’m not bitching, I’m hot—”

He lets you carp and moan about your inner thighs being covered in beard burn and come while straightening out your dress, pulling your panties back into place. He’s quicker with himself, doesn’t even bother grabbing a paper towel to wipe himself off before shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up. When you ask him to hand you one, the look he gives you scorches you right to the bone.

“Wait ‘till we get home,” he says, hand on your back when he unlocks the bathroom door.

“Like you aren’t gonna do it all over again the second we get there,” you mutter.

His smirk isn’t smug, but it’s a near thing.

#nadiascrolls 🍒#simon ghost riley #this got me pregnant

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