#ghost mw2

[tanked-up]

*Ghost and Soap daily convos*

Ghost: Honestly I’m too high

Ghost: You won

Soap: Huh-

Ghost: I care about you

Ghost: and you make me fucking hard

Soap: Sir, I’ll drop to my knees right now

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Price: I wish they turned off their radio

Gaz: Not me, I’m loving every second of this

[jaesblogstuff]

Probably your other Girlfriend

“Remember that little black ashtray you used to have?” Simon calls out from the kitchen, digging around like he’s gonna find something that isn’t his.

You don’t even look up from your laptop. “Ashtray?”

“Yeah,” he says, rattling a drawer. “ You know, black. Square. You always kept your lighters in it.”

You blink. “Simon, I don’t smoke.”

There’s a pause. The kind where you can feel him stopping mid-motion, mentally scrolling through his own memories like an idiot.

And you’re just sitting there, watching it click behind his eyes. That he’s not technically wrong. You did buy a little black dish like that once. Flea market, two bucks, no thought. Tossed your lip balm and keys in it. Forgot it even existed.

You smirk, eyes still on your screen. “Must’ve been your other girlfriend.”

Throwaway line. Joke. Light. Nothing mean. But of course Simon wants a say in it.

“Yeah,” he says. So fast. Like he was waiting to say it. “Could’ve been.”

Silence. Your head tilts slow as hell.

Just your eyes on him like you’re calculating the trajectory of the beer bottle next to him and deciding whether or not prison’s worth it today. “Ha. Ha.”

He freezes. Still holding the drawer like it’s a shield.

“You keep playing with me.” It’s not loud. It’s not even a threat.

But he knows better than anyone—that’s the danger zone. Because your tone doesn’t change. But the air does.

“You make another joke like that,” you nod toward the counter, “and that bottle’s going in your skull. And not the fun way.”

Simon just stares at you for a second, like he’s trying to decide if you’re bluffing.

You’re not. And he knows it.

Because last month, you ruined a man’s entire bloodline for lying to you during a debrief. Did it barefoot, in pajamas, eating chips. Didn’t even pause the show you were watching.

So no, you’re not the one.

He nods once. “Copy.” Smart.

He moves back to the fridge like nothing happened, but the corners of his mouth are doing that thing, barely-there smirk, like he’s impressed. Like he lives to piss you off.

Because this is foreplay for him.

He wants to see how far he can go before you finally snap and kill him in his sleep. And honestly? You let him.

Because who else is gonna carry the groceries and make you tea and know exactly where your shoulder blades like to be kissed?

He’s annoying. But he’s yours.

[veeegaaas]

[presepohne]

okay adding to this + snippets

FORGET ME KNOTS //ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ SIMON GHOST RILEY.

"Why are you actin' like this—" you complain, fingers looping around his belt hoops to pull him back, forgetting he can drag your arse around like that. "Like what?" He grunts, taking a small step away from you, distance to give him space.

"Like I am a stranger—"

"You are, kid." He mutters, "Toilet duty for the weekend" he announces before leaving the room.

nsfw. simon ghost riley but like walk with me down this.

simon riley who has been such a big person in your life, always there for you and like a father figure or just like those seniors/people whom you'd never disappoint. it's like a very good platonic relation and you enjoy his company as much as he does yours.

simon riley, your lieutenant who is grumpy to everyone but you. he has a special soft spot for you in every sense— let's keep the romantic out of it. it's not really romantic but more of a bond you both can't fucking out a name on. whatever it is, it's tension less and more like a mentor turned very good friend.

you go out for drinks with the team, and everyone gets shit faced drunk— which ends up with you hooking up with simon. it's really more like an accident, but really you didn't think it would affect you so much that when you wake up with your face pressed against his neck and his arms around your waist— you're literally so fucking confused how did you end up here.

when you try to pry away, slowly pull away, feeling as if you breached a boundary— simon pulls you back in, lips on your forehead muttering how warm you are and you will get cold.

except this man wakes up and is in a full blown panicked state that he slept with you. it's in his body language, not words or actions, but the stiffness that he carries around and is avoiding you unlike the other days. it's harrowing. you know? that kind daunting feeling where you feel like your failed life by pushing that one guardian whom you wanted to make proud.

now you both are tip toeing around each other, and johnny and gaz are having the best time in their life, because the tension is better than those stupid shows on the telly and price is having a mid-life crisis on team morale.

all because you and your lieutenant fucked.

[eleu22]

sorry im spamming ghost sketches

[dead-flight]

saw this post and thought i'd do one a day (inconsistently) to get me back in the mood to write!

simon riley headcanons [2] touch ⠀ ⠀⠀ `· . dead-flight .ᐟ masterlist -> REQUESTS OPEN!

simon doesn't have a love language. words of affirmation? it comes out clumsy, tired, like they don't feel real, not to him, at least. it feels forced, hard to believe. he'll never stop an i love you, or a compliment, but he's never going to fully believe it. until he met you, keen on having a hand on him at all times. it spooked him at first, but he's grown into it after a while. maybe it's not an official love language, not yet, but sometimes, on rainy days,

he'll have you in his lap while you're working on something, leaning back in the couch and just watching you, admiring you--his hand smoothing down your back periodically, voice reminding you to stop slouching every-so-often.

but simon's also a sleepy man. sure, he's active, active enough to keep up his physique, but he's got his rest days, and he makes the most of them. you'll be sitting on the couch, scrolling on your phone, and then the big man is crawling up beside you, dropping his head on your lap and passing right out. like a big dog that still thinks it's small enough to be a lapdog. he'll stay there for a little longer, won't let you get up until he's had enough.

he's needy for affection, always.

if you catch him after a mission he's more than willing to give you anything, and take what he wants--with your permission, of course. he's all over you, desperate and loving, keen to have as much of you as you're going to let him have. when he's done, he's spooning you, pulling you right up to him and burying his nose in your hair, catching the smell of your conditioner--home.

but if you catch him somewhere you shouldn't be, he's closed off. doesn't want to be touched, would rather not be spoken to either. like when he's leant against the sink in the bathroom, struggling to wash his face in the morning because it reminds him of waterboarding. or when he's scrubbing the blood off of one of his masks, trying to rid the fabric of the stench of gunpowder and the iron taste of blood.

it's not that you're not welcome. you always are. but he'd rather you never see what makes up the ugly parts of him, even if you swear up and down that you'll love him through it.

[lahnabelle]

pov: movie night with the riley’s 🫶

[roosterm3at]

Welp i was given the go ahead to be able to post my art i did for the @sunshine-soap-zine

its an older piece but! some soap for yall

[bomi60088]

Say hello to mommy, son

[jumbojazzcats93]

"Looks like a pitbull, is a golden retriever" bf Simon with "looks like a golden retriever, is a pitbull" reader. Simons scary as fuck looking, but is just silently smitten and in adoration of his partner. Meanwhile his partner is just insanely hot and unhinged.

I'm specifically thinking of this image I found on Pinterest

[klaart]

smooches under the soapghost mistletoe💕

(I totally did not forget to post on tumblr)

[tanked-up]

Soap: Tomorrow we can bang

Soap: *hang*

Soap: Oh God

Ghost: No take backs

[jackactuallywrites]

All Seeing, All Knowing, All Loving Part 28

Rating: Sex scenes

Warnings: Eating pussy 😌

Summary: ^

Word count: 1,608

ao3 link

You didn’t have any expectations of what Ghost’s house would look like, but when you saw the solitary, grey stone house, standing guard over the dark valley, you didn’t know how you could have pictured anything different.

Of course, Ghost would live in a place like this. It looked haunted. You half expected bats to come flying out of the windows, and rabid dogs to be snarling at the gates. Even the path up to it was lonely, a tiny one-track road, the hedges on each side scraping against the sides of the car.

“Go open the gate for us, will you, love?”

You looked at the leaves pressed against your window, “How exactly do you imagine I get out?”

“You’re a smart woman. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

You grumbled, but did as you were told, unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing into the backseat. The second you were halfway into the back, hands on the cushions, hips wedged between the two front seats, you felt Simon’s hand smack against your backside.

“Did you ask me to do you a favour just so you could do that?”

“Might have.”

Your eyes flitted to the crutches laid across the backseat. Hm. Yeah, you figured he was more likely to make a sex joke rather than admit he needed anyone’s help. Though it wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy it. After all, you were wearing a fun summer dress to match the godawful British heat, and his hand was lingering on the back of your bare thigh.

Oh yeah, you couldn’t resist the joke.

“Oh no, step-bro, I’m stuck!”

His hand paused, fingers stopping their slow trail across the back of your thigh.

“Beg fucking pardon?”

Oh for fucks sake. Of course he was too chronically offline to get the joke. Your cheeks flushed red, “You know, like the porn?”

Perfect.

Simon snorted, “First masked men, now you tryna tell me you have an incest fetish?”

“Oh my God, no! It’s like a meme, you know? ‘Cause it’s a super common thing in porn where the woman gets stuck in the washing machine and then her ‘step-brother’ shags her.”

“How much porn have you watched with that in?”

You groaned, “No, it’s like-“, yeah, no, there was no explaining this one. “Forget it. You’re too much of a grandpa to understand.”

“Step-bro, now grandpa? You gonna start calling me daddy next?”

You could feel the blush all over your face, and you did your best to wriggle away, unable to have a serious conversation with your arse in the air, but Ghost grabbed your ankle, preventing you from escaping.

“‘M not saying no, love. You wanna roleplay some filthy shit, you just tell me.” You could hear the sound of him unbuckling his seatbelt, followed by him shifting behind you, but you couldn’t see what he was doing. It was impossible not to feel vulnerable like this, your heart beginning to thump in your chest.

Simon’s lips grazed against the back of your calf, and you tensed, feeling his other hand slide up your leg.

“All I want is to make you feel good, sweet’eart. I’ll wear a mask,” he punctuated this with another kiss, further up your calf, “let you call me daddy,” his hands shifted to the front of your thighs, pulling you back a little, “dress how you like,” his lips were at the bottom of your thigh now, hands shifting up so they were beginning to push your dress up, “act how you like,” his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down as he kissed up the back of your thigh, “‘ll be your fucking slave. S’long as you want me.”

He could have said anything in that moment, and you would have agreed. His lips were so close, grazing across your upper thigh, and you swore your heartbeat was in your clit, desperate to be touched.

But Simon was a tease.

Rather than going straight for your clit, as you would have desperately wanted, he was taking his time, lips finally brushing against your labia, pressing another soft kiss there, as though you were precious, delicate. Oh, how you wanted to shove your pussy in his face, but you didn’t dare break the spell, digging your fingers into the fabric of the backseats.

He rested his forehead against your bare arse, trailing patterns with his fingertips over your thighs, “Do you want me?”

It was the stupidest question he’d ever asked.

“Yes.”

“Even like this?”

“Like what?”

You could hear the bitterness in his voice, even as he caressed your legs, “Useless. Crippled.”

You would have liked to have comforted him in that moment, but he still had you stuck between the seats. No doubt this was part of his master plan, to only be emotionally vulnerable when you were physically vulnerable. Especially considering you could barely think about anything other than getting him to shove his face between your legs.

“Even injured.”

He rewarded you with his tongue, running the tip of it over your clit and then up to your hole, tasting you, as though you were his personal gourmet meal. His tongue explored every inch of you, as though he was trying to map your pussy out in his mind. One of his arms snaked around the front of your thighs to hold you against his face, and you could feel the ridge of his nose pressed against you as he worked his tongue back down to your clit. He paused, pressing a gentle kiss there, “Tell me again.”

His other hand slid up the back of your thigh, and his thumb moved over to press against your pussy, yet not slipping in until you told him what he wanted to hear.

“I want you, Simon.”

Very gently, he began pushing in, his calloused thumb delightfully rough against you, and you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, muffling your moans. He kissed your clit again, running his tongue over it, his voice a soft murmur, “Let me hear you. Please.”

It was all you could do to not force yourself back against his face, so desperate for his touch, but then, wasn’t that what he wanted? You gave in to your baser impulses, bracing your hands against the backseats so you could push yourself against his face, desperate for his touch. He groaned, and held you firmly in place, beginning to run his tongue up and down over your clit, his thumb pumping in and out of you, your hips beginning to rock back against his hand and tongue, feeling that familiar tingle rising in your core, and you let your moans run free, his name spilling out of your mouth over and over, until you could feel yourself clench around his thumb, a shuddering orgasm flooding through you. He replaced his thumb with his tongue, pushing it deep inside you as you finished, desperately wanting to taste your climax, arm a vice grip around your legs, pinning you to his face.

In that moment, you could have died happy. His tongue shoved in you, arms wrapped around your legs, riding out the last tingly waves of pleasure. But that wasn’t your fate. Ghost pulled his tongue out of you, pressing another soft kiss to your labia before he covered you back up with your knickers, bringing you back to earth. You’d just got your pussy eaten while wedged in between the front seats of his car, in broad fucking daylight. Was there a name for the depths of perversion he dragged you to?

His arm shifted, going up from your legs to wrap around your waist, pulling you out from where you were wedged and then sideways into his lap, curling his arms around you and holding you tightly against his chest,

“You taste fuckin’ amazing.”

His voice was a sultry purr in your ear, but still, you laughed and rolled your eyes, shifting so you could look up at his face, “Give over. Pussy tastes like pussy.”

He smiled, his lips still a little wet from you, “Maybe I’m biased. Knowing it’s you I’m tastin’ makes all the difference.”

You gestured at his mouth, “Not gettin’ any kisses from me while you’re like that.”

Ghost ran his tongue over his lips, removing what remained of you there, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips where he’d rested his hands, a strangled groan in his throat.

“If I weren’t on crutches right now, I’d be takin’ you in that house and breaking the fuckin’ bed.”

You tilted your head at him, trailing your fingers up his chest, “I can always be on top.”

He caught your fingers, pressing a soft kiss to the back of them, “Nah. Not givin’ you anything other than my best.”

Typical. You just wanted to get your back blown out by him, but he was a romantic. Sort of.

“Christ, you’d think I’d killed a puppy, that expression. How desperate are you?”

You thumped his chest lightly with your fist, “Fuck off. You want me to open that gate or not?”

He grinned, clearly amused at how easily he could get under your skin, “Aye, go on then.”

The hedge didn’t press in as aggressively on his side of the car, so you opened his door and squeezed out, pointing back at him as you went to open the rusty gate, “Remember, Si, piss me off enough and I will steal your crutches. See how smug you are when you’re crawling on all fours, begging me.”

“That one of your fantasies?”

Yeah, there was no winning with him.

[minkei]

forgot to post this here

[cyberpunkcyborg]

art by

Aleksandra Skiba

@AlexineSkiba

[alchemyfreak321]

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Credit: OG Ghost render by Pavseh@deviantart