#pornstar!ghost

[ghosts-cyphera]

pornstar! ghost who buys u cute little underwear sets for every scene u do together ?? he says it doesn’t mean anything but in reality he spent hours trying to pick out the nicest colours n fit for u <33

18+; mdni / suggestive fluff / pornstar!ghost x fem!reader; masterlist here ♡

ghost's foot drummed against the ground as he studied the boutique from the street. the window displays were decorated with flower arrangements and expensive-looking cotton clouds, among which golden hangers displayed the most intricate sets of lingerie he had ever seen.

fitting for you.

you, who he knew—no matter what kind of a scene you were shooting—liked to feel beautiful on set. beautiful just to be adored and worshipped: to be made love to, or beautiful to be turned messy: to be fucked and made to feel used. that touch of something pure was always there when you showed up for work, day after day with a sparkle in your eyes.

with a warm chuckle, ghost stepped inside. 

everything about the boutique reminded him of a candy store. the colors, the details, and even the scent of something sweet were all tugging the corners of his lips into a warm smile.

he was utterly out of his comfort zone, but fuck, did it also make him feel all sorts of fucking thrilled. 

you’d love the place to bits.

“shopping with a special someone in mind?” 

the words flowed from the tongue of a sales assistant: a twinkly-eyed woman whose arms spread in a greeting as she closed the distance to him. “a partner, perhaps?”

bloody hell.

“oh, no—err—,” ghost cursed under his breath as he let out a deep laugh. “just a friend, really.”

“that’s one lucky friend right there,” she chuckled. “we carry a wide range of sizes and models for all body types, but if there’s any chance that you’d happen to know their measurements, that would—“

“yeah. of course. yeah, I’ve got—,” his finger slid into the pocket of his jacket, and he pulled out a neatly folded note that he handed to the assistant with a grin. “I—err—asked her stylist.”

“your friend is in the show business, is she?” the assistant mused as she unfolded the paper—a touch of warm amusement on her features as her eyes scanned the handwriting. “perfect. I see that they’ve included everything we need for finding the—,” she paused, her brows rising as a bright smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “you really did come prepared, huh?”

“yeah, I’ve got val to thank for that,” he let out a laugh as his gaze traveled across the store. everything about the space screamed luxury, from the velvet couches to the tall windows and the complimentary champagne that the assistant—nila, she introduced herself—was now offering him.

yet with a shake of his head and a polite smile ghost declined the drink, all due to the spark of curiosity prickling under his skin.

while he was not usually a man to display his feelings and emotions publicly, as his feet now led him towards a stand in the middle of the store, he knew there was no use in trying to bite down his smile. 

for on a round stand, surrounding a tall flower-arrangement, half a dozen sets of lingerie were gently placed: each of them damn near handcrafted to you.

their colors, cuts, and details were all you.

“seems like something’s stood out," nila’s voice was warm as she stepped to him.

“she’ll call me a bloody stalker for knowing her this damn well, but these—,” ghost let out a warm chuckle as he nodded his head, “yeah. she’d feel fuckin’ beautiful in these.”

“you really do know her,” she peered up at him, much in the same way that he was used to with other women. yet what came to her, in her eyes was nothing but genuine curiosity: warmth not towards ghost, but towards you. “she’s really lucky to have someone like that.”

“it’s really fuckin’ me who’s gotten lucky,” despite the whisper of a smile on his features, with his words his voice dipped ever so slightly. “she’s the best thing I’ve ever—,” he wet his lips with a chuckle. “it’s the way she makes you feel seen. special. like you—“ he shook his head. “fuckin’ hell do I know. never really been good with words.”

“if even a fraction of that glimmer in your eyes is visible when you look at her—,” nila arched an amused brow. “believe me, she knows.”

“rather she didn’t.”

“stuck on that stage, huh?”

ghost grinned, wetting his lips as a touch of warmth rose to play on his cheeks. “alright, enough of that, yeah? back to the—,” he gestured towards the stand with a chuckle, “fuckin’ lingerie, eh?”

the next two hours flew by on wings as ghost gathered a selection of pieces for you. each one was carefully picked not only to bring attention to all those things he knew you loved about yourself but also all those small parts that you were still learning to embrace. all of it—he hoped—to help you see yourself in the way that he saw you.

nothing short of perfect.

“the last one,” nila smiled as her fingers finished tying off one last satin bow: one just as perfect as the previous dozen had been. “and we’re all done.”

ghost wet his lips with a chuckle as he reached for the gift box. “is it weird to suddenly feel fuckin' nervous?”

“a little,” she smiled. “you really don't need to worry,” she arched a carefully amused brow, “ghost.”

his gaze found hers, his brows furrowing slightly. “you know who—“

“from the moment you walked in.” nila’s laugh was soft as she leaned against the counter: her amusement now reflecting back on the features of ghost.

“and so, you know who these are for, eh?"

“it’s just a wild guess, really.” her grin turned into a careful smile. “she’s beautiful. don’t—,” she shook her head. “don’t let her go.”

“fan of hers?”

“sexual awakening of sorts.”

“fuckin’ understandable,” ghost’s laugh was breathless as he pushed off the counter, his hands now filled with gift bags. “thank you, eh? for all your help.”

“of course,” she beamed—only for her eyes to widen with a sudden realization. “hold up! I almost forgot—“ she reached over the counter to wrap her fingers around the note of measurements scribbled down by valeria. 

“believe me,” nila laughed as she slipped it into the pocket of ghost’s jacket. “you don’t want to lose it.”

it was not until he had made his way home that he finally fished out the folded paper: the one that did not only include the measurements of your bust, hips, and waist. scribbled at the bottom was also an additional message, accompanied by a small hand-drawn picture.

on the off chance that one of these days you’ll go and admit just how down bad you are for her. – V

a measurement, and next to it, a drawing of a ring.

fuckin’ hell.

ghost blinked his eyes shut with his laugh, deep and warm.

for now, the small pile of gift-wrapped boxes would have to do, yet as he walked to his bookshelf and slid the note between the pages of his favorite book… 

that’s when he promised himself to never lose that small paper, and with it, the reminder to hold onto you, too.

a/n: aah my wee cheeks are literally cramping from how brightly I smiled when writing this, haha. too cute? nah, we don’t know her. love you all! / pornstar!ghost masterlist / my inbox is still so very open for all your thoughts about him. 💌

[shotmrmiller]

pornstar au

f!reader x simon 'ghost' riley

3.7k words (sorry)

tw: teacher-student relationship but it's just a scene for porn. explicit. horrifyingly so.

You burst into the classroom and stride purposefully towards your professor, who is seated in his leather chair, engrossed in his work. Impatiently tapping your foot, you waited for him to finish marking essays. However, after 5 minutes, your patience with this unbearable man ran out.

"Professor."

He hums, a deep sound coming from the back of his throat yet doesn't look up from what he's doing. A real piece of work, he is. How fucking aggravating.

"Professor Riley," your voice takes an irreverent tone.

The hand that had been writing non-stop comes to a sudden pause, and he finally directs his attention to you. Meeting your gaze, his dark eyes are hooded, his lips set in a firm line. His job is to literally deal with students, yet he dares to look annoyed.

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong 'r am I gonna have to learn how to read minds?" he states.

Taking in a calming breath, you clench the crumpled essay in your hand. "Can you explain to me why you failed me on this? I did exactly as you asked!"

He must know precisely what you're talking about because he simply turns back to the papers on his desk.

"Tha's your problem. You did exactly as I asked, with no thought behind it. Just wrote the bare minimum, if you can even call it writin'. It's copy-paste," Professor Riley sets the pen down and leans back in the chair.

"I need ya to use tha' head o' yours when in this class. Otherwise, you'll fail the rest o' your classes too."

Fucking hell.

Professor Riley shifts in his seat, seemingly done with the conversation, and finishes, "If tha's all."

Shit. Your pause is too long, and the director calls it. Fuck.

"I'm really sorry, Ghost, I didn't mean-" Your words of apology dissolve into thin air as his strong hand finds its place on your hip— giving it a gentle, but firm squeeze.

"S'all righ', love. Mistakes happen. Matter fact," his eyes drift from you to behind you to beckon someone with two fingers. "C'mere, you."

It's the set assistant, and he's brought the script with him. Ghost swiftly stops him from handing it to you, instead pushing it onto the assistant's chest. "Won't be needin' tha', thanks. Tell the director tha' we'll be ad-libin'. Now sod off."

The assistant follows his command in haste, scurrying off to follow Ghost's instructions.

"Hey," he murmurs. Your eyes meet his, feeling the intensity of it quickens your heartbeat. "Say whatever you like, just remember to follow the storyline, alright?"

Follow the storyline. In porn. The irony isn't lost on you, but you bite the side of your gummy cheek to keep from laughing. "Yes, sir."

He drops his hand from where he held you slowly, seemingly almost reluctant to let go. "Ready?" Ghost's thin lips curl into a smirk when you nod at his question. "Good girl."

Your fingers tightly grip the flimsy material of your uniform skirt at his praise, and warmth pools in your lower belly.

His good girl.

A high-pitched voice cuts through your thoughts, signaling the restart of the shooting. You exhale a long breath, unclenching your hands in the process.

Action.

"If tha' all." Ghost reaches for his pen when you frantically grab onto his Oxford sleeve.

"Wait, Professor, please! I can't," you stammer, "I cannot fail this class! My parents would kill me if I studied abroad only to flunk. The tuition—"

His tone is authoritative as he abruptly cuts off your lengthy excuse. "Enough. Nothing can change the mark I've given you."

Your ears pricked up at his wording, and the corners of your lips pulled up into a roguish smile. "No?" Ghost stills before turning to face you, countenance blank. "Nothing at all, Professor?" With a coy tilt of your head, your wide, doe-like eyes meet his as your fingertips trace an alluring path from his forearm down to his knuckles.

"I really can't convince you in any way to change that grade for me?" You lean on the edge of his wooden desk— skirt so short it doesn't even graze the surface of it— and lightly curl your hand around his pointer finger. "It can be our little secret, Professor Riley," you purr.

Ghost lifts a single brow, and settles back into his seat, arms crossed over his barrel chest as his eyes travel from your feet to your exposed cleavage, fixating on the soft skin peeking out from your uniform top.

"Please?" his hushed voice reverberates inside your skull. "I promise to be a good girl."

That catches his attention, eyes flashing to yours, the fire behind them hot— you hope it burns you.

"'Sat, right? Tha' changes things now, doesn't it?" Ghost rolls his chair back, away from his desk, and spreads his thick legs apart in invitation, arms resting on the rests— the dictionary definition of casual. "Convince me then, pet."

"Yes, sir." Sauntering to stand in between his legs, you swallow thickly— the bulge in his groin was quite frankly, intimidating. You've had large, but this was in a league of its own.

"You gonna do it from up there? I know I'm bigger than average but not tha' big." A huff escapes from your lips. A whole comedian.

Knees pressed into the cold, tile floor, you expertly undo the button of his trousers and with his help, pulled them down along with his pants— just enough for his cock to spring free.

Bloody fucking hell.

His cock is monstrous. It rested against his belly, heavy and thick. The pink tip slightly peeking from under his foreskin. There was a groomed thatch of coarse hair at the base, and his balls were also heavy— one hanging lower than the other.

Ghost leans forward and cradles the underside of your jaw with one large hand, fingers gently caressing the delicate skin of your cheek, while the other pumps his rigid cock in anticipation. "Not scared, are ya?" His grin was wicked. "I promise it don't bite."

Grabbing his wrist, you maneuver his hand so that his thumb now rests on your soft lips. "Might not, but I do, Professor." And catch the tip of his finger between your blunt teeth, the subtle sting of it making him hiss.

"Perfect, pretty girl," he says, almost inaudible. His words of praise are for you alone— not for the scene, nor the camera. You peer up at him through your lashes, mewling softly at the expression on his face.

His brow was set, hooded eyes sultry, a rosy hue across his cheeks and nose, and lips parted as he panted quietly.

Delicious.

Ghost then pushes his thumb further into your slick mouth and hooks it behind your bottom teeth, delicately pulling you closer to him as he tips his head down— taking his thumb out with a pop. His warm breath fans across your face as he moves closer until his lips connect with yours. He slid his tongue into your mouth, tasting of frosty mint and his own unique taste.

Your hands come up, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs when he grasps your wrist and moves it to the focal point of his desire— his breath hitching when you give his cock a firm squeeze. Ghost bites your bottom lip before breaking away, a guttural noise escaping him when you begin to stroke him. "Tighten your hand around—" he breaks off, moaning against your kiss-swollen lips when you comply.

He threads his fingers through your hair that sits at the base of your skull, curling them into a fist and tugging back— craning your neck, hair pulled taut.

"So obedient. Jus' f'me, love?" you hum cheekily, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

"Would you hold it against me if I said no?" he chuckles under his breath, the grip on your hair tightening marginally.

"I'd say tha' you're lyin'." He sucks in a breath when you press down lightly onto his slit with your thumb. "Cheeky."

He loosens the hold he has on you, feeling your scalp prickle with tender relief, and relaxes back into the chair. "All yours, sweetheart."

That light wasn't getting any greener, so with a grunt, you shifted your weight, ignoring your aching knees, and wrapped your lips around his cock.

Barely.

The salty bite of his arousal and musk spread on your tongue as you took him in deep, stilling once he hit the back of your throat.

"Fuck, look at me."

Slightly tipping your head back, you do as he says, your throat closing around him as he slips in even further.

"Fuckfuckfuck," a hiss, "such a hot little mouth, just swallowin' me righ' up." Your lungs burn with the lack of oxygen, forcing you to pull back to gasp for air. Ghost squeezes himself at the base and taps your cheek with his saliva-coated length.

"A dirty slag like you, jus' takin' me like a professional. Tha' what you are? A professional cock sucker, love?" he taunts. Your pussy clenches when he calls you a slag, pressing your thighs together in the hope of some friction; Something to alleviate the throbbing ache in between your legs.

Ghost with eyes as keen as ever, notices. Damn.

"Oh? Little harlot likes to get degraded, does she? Reminded of her place? How I'd love to teach you exactly where you belong, but tha' wouldn't be you convincin' me to change your bad grade, now would it?"

His cock taps on your swollen lips. "Another time, hm? Now open. Make me see reason."

Ghost's wish is your command. With enthusiasm, you take him in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head, place a hand right under your lips, and twist with every push and pull.

It's sloppy, spit covering your hand, dripping down to his balls. Your jaw aches, a burning pressure a little under your ear, but what gives you the strength to continue is the loud moans coming from Ghost. He holds nothing back, his hand engulfing the crown of your head while he gently pushes you down. A performer down to his very bones.

You were about to pause the recording, the pain in your mandible and knees almost becoming too much when he suddenly pulled you off of him.

"Wha—?" Ghost seizes you by the upper arms, forcibly bringing you to your feet, disregarding your pained whimper, and places you on the sturdy desk.

He's curling his fingers into the waistband of your frilly knickers, slipping them down your legs and pocketing them. There's a quiet popping sound when he bends his knees, going eye level with your bare cunt.

In a hushed tone, you say, "This isn't part of the scene." Ghost drags his eyes from your glistening slit to your face, gaze suffocating, smothering the very air in your lungs.

"Just a taste, love." He curls one hand under your thigh, lifting it to perch it on the edge of the desk, the other he throws over his strong shoulder. The only sound in the room is your soft moans as he expertly slides his warm tongue through your slick folds, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

By god does he eat pussy like it's his job. Peering down at him, you can't stop the sounds that spill from your mouth when his tongue visibly splits your pussy lips open, flicking at your clit, lapping up your arousal like it is honey. You take hold of his short hair, tugging at the strands as each swirl of his talented tongue pushes you closer to your peak.

His eyes cut to yours when he presses a thick finger into you, drinking in your desperate expression as you keen, begging for more, blabbering about it being so good, yet not enough, please god more.

Ghost curls his finger, only taking a second to find your sweet spot, and pushes— bursts of light flashing in your peripheral vision. You begin to rock your hips unconsciously, chasing your ecstasy, and Ghost simply flattens his tongue, letting you grind against it.

You teeter on the edge of bliss, a tightening in your stomach, right under where his finger is. Shaky exhales leave you, the leg that's on the desk visibly trembling from the tension that threatens to snap you in half.

He presses a kiss to your sodden pussy, and croons, "Gonna come f'me?" You jerkily nod.

"Yes fuck yes, I'm gonna come for you, just for you, Professor Riley pleaseee—" your blathering turns into a high-pitched squeal as he lightly sucks on your pearl, hips lifting off the desk as a blinding orgasm crashes into you, pleasure bursting through your very core, cunt pulsating with every wave of ecstasy around Ghost's finger.

He wastes no time in rising to his feet and slotting his mouth over yours, the taste of your slick strong, potent on his tongue. Ghost breaks away, his breath smelling of your desire. "Exquisite, like ambrosia. Addicting."

Ghost's hand cups your sensitive quim and whispers, "Think you can take me? Tha' orgasm took a lot outta ya."

Silly question. "I'm a big girl, Ghost. I can take it."

He licks the front of his teeth and glances down to where his hand rests. "Course you can, love. Turn around f'me."

Your movements are sluggish as you turn over onto your stomach, rising to the tip of your toes as you present yourself to him.

Ghost grabs the sides of your waist, and flips your skirt up, tucking the edge into the waistband of it. His hands palm your cheeks, thumbs digging into the meat of your ass to spread you open, completely exposed to him.

"Fuck me if tha' isn't the prettiest sight I've ever had the pleasure of seein'." He doesn't acknowledge your scoff as he spreads your hands out, placing them flat on the table— enveloping your hand with his own, intertwining his fingers with yours.

His leans over your semi-prone body, cock gently prodding at your entrance, gliding easily through your folds. "Ready?"

Arching your back, his tip slips inside, just barely. That's your answer.

You can hear the smarmy grin that spreads on his face, and wanted to snark back but you're rendered mute when he pushes in. Your eyes cross at the stretch of his cock, a feeling so sublime you know that no one will ever be able to duplicate. Your fingers tighten around his as you mewl when he bottoms out, hips flush against your arse.

Ghost sucks in a breath through his teeth when you shift your weight, and whatever you did has him sliding in deeper— turning his hiss into a guttural groan. "Fuck, you have no fuckin' idea how good you feel."

Probably not, but you have every idea how good he feels.

"You okay, love? Took me so well like you were made jus' f'me. So warm and soft, tight like a vice around my cock. Pretty pussy split wide open, stuffed full of me." He speaks unfettered filth to you, dripping over your ears like molasses, thick and syrupy. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders— dizzy, drunk on his scent, his cock that's got you tearing at the seams.

Then he begins to move, pulling out until an inch remains inside, and pushing in until he's nudging the plug of your womb, feeling a deep pinch under your navel.

This is what it's like to get fucked by Ghost. The one everyone covets after, hoping he drags down the very heavens with his bare hands and lays it at their feet. And here he is, fucking you. A newbie, a fresh face no one knows yet, a name that'll probably never grace the front page.

You doubt his motives are altruistic, but goddamn does it not matter; Not with the way he's carving a space inside of you that only he will ever fit in, or the way he's curling his free hand around your neck, thumb pressed right over your racing pulse.

He lowers himself until his strong chest is to your back, his teeth nipping the tip of your ear. "The moment I saw you gettin' fucked by Johnny, I knew I had t'have ya." Your walls clamp down on him involuntarily, wrenching a pained noise from him. "Fuckin' hell, I knew this pussy would be magical."

Ghost's lips skim over the shell of your ear before pressing a chaste kiss on it. "Lemme hear how good I make ya feel, pet. Don't hold back on me now." He grinds into your arse, going in so deep that it feels like he's trying to push past the entrance of your womb. "S'alrigh'. I'll jus' have t'pull 'em outta ya."

He releases you, placing both hands flat on the desk, on either side of your shoulders. "Take em for myself, make 'em mine." Straightening all the way, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist.

"What a view. Perfection." He rolls his hips, rhythm languid, loud squelching noises coming from where he fills you. "Drippin' cream all over my cock, pet. Can't tell me this isn't 'cause of me."

How the fuck can he still talk? How is he coherent? Why isn't his brain turned into mush like yours is?

"Fuckin' ya speechless, am I? Oh, sweetheart, but I'm barely gettin' started." Ghost slowly pulls out, and curls his hand around your shoulder, nudging you to turn over. "On your back, now."

You lazily flip over, hair sticking to your sweat-slick skin, and he hooks his arms underneath your legs and drags you to the edge until your arse hangs from it. "I wanna see that pretty face when you come." He wastes no time in sheathing himself back inside your swollen channel, walls fluttering at the invasion.

Ghost hooks one leg over his shoulder to lean forward, pinning you to the desk with his upper body, and maneuvers your other to wrap around his wide waist. "That cock drunk look on your face makes my balls tighten, what a fuckin' expression you've got, christ," he growls. "Knowin' I put it there makes it all the better."

He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and gives you a smile that is all teeth. "Now let's make you sing."

Grunting, he straightens. plants his feet firmly, stance wide, and begins to fuck you. The videos of the famed Ghost you saw are nothing, nothing, in comparison to real life. His full weight is behind every spine-jarring thrust, it makes your teeth clack, it rattles your brain inside your skull. He does it so perfectly because at no point do you feel any discomfort, not even a twinge. It's all a pleasure that blazes, an all-encompassing heat that threatens to swallow you whole, burn you from the inside out.

His cock punches the breath out of your lungs, wails clawing out of your throat, and it's so good, so fucking good— god, maybe he is god, you don't know, everything is so blurry, hazy—

All senses focus on the sudden touch between your legs, an expert thumb drawing tight circles on your slippery clit and there's no way you're going to survive this—

"There she is, the girl I saw in the video. Tha's an expression I see in myfuckin' sleep. Give me what's mine, pet. Let me feel you, cream all over my cock."

He's relentless in his pursuit of your climax, a wave of pleasure so intense, it just might drag you out to sea, drowning you.

Ghost, the fucking god of sex, stops his ministrations to spit on your pussy. Spit. From his full height, a glob of warm saliva drops to your mons, and he smears it with his fingers over your pussy lips before rubbing your clit. His thrusts slow in pace, turning into a firm snap of his hips, making sure you feel every ridge of his cock, and in less than a minute, your spine arches off the desk.

Your mouth opens into a silent scream, lids snapping shut as you break underneath him, warmth gushing from where he's continuously sinking into you, a steady, slow rhythm that never ends.

"Came all over me, didn't ya? Bet you didn't know you could even do tha'."

You didn't.

"Jus' for tha', I'm gonna give you somethin' in return, yeah? A little reward for bein' so good," he praises.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, swollen and thick, and unconsciousness creeps at the very edges of your mind.

All you can do is lie there and take it, his sloppy thrusts, his harsh panting until he moans, "'m close, so fuckin' close," and with whatever remnants of strength you have left, you use to squeeze him tightly— unwilling to let go because his come is yours now, you've earned it.

"Come in me, Ghost," you whimper.

That does it. He slams his hands on either side of your head and borderline roars out his release, cock twitching inside of your used cunt, filling you with his spend.

Cut.

Ghost's breathing is labored, a harsh pant that fans over your overheated skin, damp with sweat.

His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut, gulping in air and shivering in the aftershock of his climax.

To be fucked by Ghost is to see the Garden of Eden behind your eyelids.

Now you understand. You understand why he has no equal. He is unparalleled.

Jesus Christ, you're fucked. So, so fucked.

He slowly opens his eyes and peers down at you with a wolfish grin.

"Perfection."

--

A week later, your video with Ghost is the most viewed on the entire website. Not one other video even scratches the bottom of where your video sits.

Ghost truly is the king.

Curiously enough, your friend is the one who lets you know that Mr. life-altering cock himself never kisses during work. Not once in any video of his has he ever kissed, apart from a short pressing of lips to skin.

Your heart traitorously flutters at the thought of it meaning something more. Catching feelings when you get fucked for a living is not the move. But there's no stopping it from misbehaving, especially when you receive another script, to make another video with Ghost.

Another. one.

Fuck. Fuck!!

You cannot wait.

@mishaglass

[yawnderu]

>Being invited to have sex on camera was never in Simon's plans or Part II of Simon being obsessed with a pornstar.

Half-lidded brown eyes struggle to focus on you, shivers running down his spine at image in front of him. You're riding his meaty, long cock on your feet, the sounds of your ass slapping against his thighs and your wet cunt mix in, forming a symphony he's never heard before.

His rough, calloused hands guide you up and down, feeling his numb nuts getting stickier as your cream leaks down his cock, perfect, pierced tits bouncing up and down right in front of his face. His eyes drift to the set up of cameras in different angles, all of them being displayed on a large TV as you record.

“Fuck, angel...” Simon grunts out, muscles bulging as he squeezes your pretty waist, trying his best not to cum yet despite how your experience mixes in with the desire, fucking him nice and hard, your hands using his hard chest as support.

He's barely lucid enough to push you off of his dick, registering your expression of surprise when he positions you in all fours, one of his warm hands coming up to make your back arch, getting a better look at your sopping, slutty cunt.

“Give 'em a good show.” He whispers only for you to hear, voice dripping with dominance. This is all he ever wanted; the chance to prove he could fuck you way better than any of your co-stars, better than any of the many people he's seen you fuck on social media.

His grip tightens on your waist, slamming into your needy cunt without a warning. He manages to catch the surprise on your pretty face first-hand, a small smirk forming beneath the mask when he sees you give the camera your trademark smile. Simon doesn't hold back, his thrusts aggressive and unrelenting, the natural curve of his cock hitting your spongy cervix in such a perfect angle that you're not even able to follow your regular dialogue.

“Harder...” You manage to moan out, a sharp gasp leaving your lips the moment the intensity in his thrusts builds up, becoming faster and more erratic. His hand snakes around your pretty throat, applying just enough pressure to add an extra edge of pleasure.

“Yeah...? Like that?” He growls in your ear, his voice low and thick with desire. You can barely nod your head, your hand coming up to hold his tattooed arm as he chokes you, holding you even closer to his imposing, burly body, his grip possessive and demanding. He can feel your walls tightening up around him, louder moans escaping your fucked-out body that only seem to encourage you to go harder.

“That's right, sweetheart...” Despite not being a porn actor, Simon's words contain a hint of affection that can't be denied by either of you, only making the tight knot in your stomach come undone. Your long nails grip the sheet, feeling the familiar sensation on your core before you're cumming all over his cock, coating every single inch in your needy juices.

Simon's thrusts become more intense when he realizes you're cumming, fully lost in the primal need to drag out your orgasm as he fucks you raw with pure hunger.

“Show 'em how much you love being fucked.” His hand drifts up to your jaw, applying light pressure and lifting your head up, making sure that your audience gets a perfect look at your face when you have a real orgasm for the first time on camera.

With his own words as the catalyst, Simon follows close after, his release washing over him with the intensity of a tidal wave, shooting ropes of thick, hot cum deep inside you.

Part I | Part III

taglist: @gazsdirtysocks @infpt-zylith @love-simon @chrishy973 @just-another-personal-side-blog @ghosmooth-operator @b100dr0t @bisky-business @watersquirtpewpewboomm @li85367 @thenonweeknd @jamesrifftapes @lastofabbyy @xxshadowbabexx @yumimak @cherryblossomandpeace @kodiackwrites @angelaut0matec @fell4fictionalman @winbinw

[cordeliawhohung]

THIS ACTUALLY MADE ME SO SAD OMG https://www.tumblr.com/cordeliawhohung/747582231386734592/i-know-i-already-did-this-with-mafiaghost-but?source=share

YES

i just. as a girly who... struggles i always end up shoving this trope in somewhere a;lskdjf like just the idea of kyle realizing it and going to ask you about it and you just fucking break down sobbing over it because it's so frustrating and embarrassing and he's like the first actor ever to actually give you aftercare??? sobbing.

i do plan on actually writing for this but i'm playing catch up with soft spot this weekend so we'll see a;lalsjfkd

in the mean time, i actually did this trope with mafia!ghost if you guys wanted to read that lmao

[tojisun]

hhnngrf i know it's been done before already but thinking about pornstar!reader today :(

you had always been faking your moans while shooting but on the day that you were filming with pornstar!simon, the director had to stop the shoot because you just, well, you sounded different.

you don't sound the way you always do—whining, mewling, your moans reverberating from the base of your throat. you used to even croon, stuttered words slipping from your kiss-swollen lips as you sang how good everything felt.

instead all they heard from you today were the quiet rasps of your gasps, hitched breaths, and warbled whimpers that barely got picked up by the mic.

were you sick? did you need to take a break?

of course not.

you haven't felt so good in a while now, if not for ghost. his cock was big, if not short, but it filled you up so well that it rendered you speechless. he was hitting everything, stroking everywhere. ghost was the first to hold you down and fuck you deeply; the first to stuff all of his cock and make you feel every stretch, every thrust. pleasure hummed underneath your skin, spasming along your synapses until your brain was fried in your delirium.

others were able to coax your orgasm with their fingers or their tongues, sure, but ghost had been the first in a while to make you cum just with his cock.

"christ," his voice rumbles somewhere behind you. you startle, whirling to look up at him—his eyes are dark, his lips tugged up in the faintest of smiles.

he pushes your hair away from your sweaty face.

"i knew you doctored y'r voice but who knew that you sound completely different when pleasured, huh?"

he's mocking you, you know, but your eyes stray past his gaze and flit towards his groin, your throat constricting at the sinful image his cock makes underneath a skimpy towel.

god, you want more.

"aren't you just an open book?" ghost trills, giddy. you glance at him again, brows furrowed in your confusion.

he chuckles and bends forward just enough to hover his lips above your ear. then, he whispers, "meet me in my trailer in ten. i need to know what else you've been fakin'."

he kisses your cheek goodbye, leaving you to feel warmth flood into your cheeks and raze through the plane of your spine.

fuck.

[tacticalprincess]

Would pornstar könig mind if I fell a biiiit in love with him after he fucked me?

mixed emotions… he would think you’re dumb and naive for feeling anything for some random porn brained creep from the internet without even knowing what he looks like, but the ego boost that it gives him to hear you say it overpowers his discomfort with vulnerability — his dick game must be phenomenal if it’s turning you all silly in the head.

the thought of him inviting you back against his better judgement (that he already doesn’t have much of) and you confessing while he’s just trying to mold your guts to the shape of his cock, hitting it just right and not even on purpose. he’s sure he’s hearing things until you double down on it, then he’s pushing your face into the pillow so you can’t talk anymore. afterwards he’ll ghost you for a while in hopes that you recover!

since he spent his whole life being practically invisible to everyone, he would probably think it’s a facade for the camera or just a little dickmatization your end, but who knows, you might fix him! give him enough attention and enough pussy to fulfill his unreasonably high sex drive and he might consider taking you seriously…

[luvyeni]

— MY SHY NEIGHBOR ( YANG JEONGIN ) !

( synopsis ). you move into a new apartment after breaking up with your horrible ex and you met the boy next door… jeongin is shy, and can barely speak to a girl, that’s until he starts talk to a camgirl who brings out different side of him, a cam who seems oddly familiar.

pairings. yang jeongin x camgirl!reader

genre. cam girl au, strangers2lovers, mature, social media au,

warnings. mature themes, crude language, sex work, smut… more to be announced …

started. 11.10.23

finished. tba

💬 nia's notes. this is only FICTION this does not represent any straykids member or any other idol in anyway.

— 𖦹 PROFILES !

000. meet everyone 🖤 …

— 𖦹 CHAPTERS !

001. moved in 📦💕…

002. the girl in the elevator …

003. lovestreams …

004. the elevator …

005. may he not be 70 🙏🏻 …

006. yeni <3 …

007. HE TALKED TO A GIRL🎉🎊🍾 …

008. video chat with yeni <3 …

009. daddy issues 🎉 ( debatable ) …

010. night out 🥩🤍 …

011. locked out ...

012. last night after math …

013. who that? ...

014. my favorite cashier 🥰🤍…

015. l0vergirl …

016. oh …

017. ghosted 💔 …

018. i like you ...

019. movie date 🎥🤍 …

020. movie date 🎥🤍 pt.2 …

021. morning after ...

022. disturbing my peace 😐 ...

023. jealous innie ...

024. perfect date ...

025. worst day ever 😭 ...

026. paint date ...

027. after the date ...

028. girlfriend 🤭 ...

— 𖦹 EPILOGUE !

029. special guest ...

030. amature pornstar ...

— ( taglist closes the day of release but i’ll open it up the end when finished )

©LUVYENI

[blingblong55]

Pleasure -Simon 'Ghost' Riley NSFW

Based on a request:

for kinktober what about you make one with two pornstars or maybe Ghost does a colab with a cam girl from only fans who he has had a crush on and he is so obsessed with her that in the video he keeps kissing her and praising her body im horny so its why im requesting this _____ F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, porn star!Ghost, cam girl!reader, oral!sex, unprotected!sex, P-in-V _____

Simon is a well-known actor in the porn community and has made videos with other female creators before but there is one female content creator that he loves to watch. He has been obsessed with your body and content for years. He and you are in his flat, getting the lighting and cameras ready when he starts smiling at how gorgeous you are. "What's wrong?" you ask him when he stares at your face again. "Nothing, you're just too pretty." He walks over to you and smirks, the cameras recording, you and he know what will happen. He can't wait any longer, no intros just him wanting to fuck you.

"Such a pretty girl," his thumb under your chin, making you look up at him. His lips on yours, so obsessed with the plump lips you carry. Big strong arms around you, taking you to the bed and never letting his lips leave you. Your skirt lifted, panties slid down and he smirked, one nod, "Ready?" He knows his side always surprises the girls he fucks and he likes it but he wants to be careful with you, and wants to take it slow for the first time in his career. "I'm ready, Ghost." You use his pornstar name. "Good, darling," he kisses your neck, your arms wrapped around him. Your soft thighs spread, his bulge hitting your wet cunt as he dry humps you. Getting eager by the second to fuck you.

His finger teases your slick, and you squirm. "Ghost, please~" your hips buck, rocking them against his fingers. He chuckles. "Someone is ready to be fucked, isn't that right, darling," he kisses your forehead. You bite your lip and smile, "I need you to fuck me," you whisper. "Oh, I will fuck you pretty good," he kisses your neck, your hands on the zipper of his jeans. You take his cock out, you open your mouth. "Oh not yet darling, let me have fun." He whispers and spits on his fingers before stuffing them inside of you.

The camera captures how your body and his connect, he begins to kiss your clothed chest before he slowly removes the garments. In past videos, he would be rough with the women, with you, it's different. The tip of his cock slapping on your pussy. "Just take it slow," he whispers against your ear. His size, spreading your folds open, you let out whimpers, by far being the biggest man inside of you. Your hands wrapped around him, "Mark me, love," he tells you. It's like he finally found the woman he needed. The thrusts are slow, he doesn't want to hurt you, wants to get you used to his size before he fucks you with no mercy.

"Oh god," you moan as his thumb rubs your clit, your eyes on him. He knows you love it, he knows how much he needs to give you orgasm after orgasm. He kisses your forehead repeatedly, your pussy becoming his fleshlight. You and him, fucking on camera but with a burning passion that began when he picked you up at your place. How he immediately touched your thigh as he drove back to his, looking at you as if you were made from a dream. Your hands on his hips, his cock buried deep in you, your juices as a natural lube for him. He slips in and out of you with care, "You're so perfect, you know that?" He whispers. It was rare, you expected him to be rough like he was with the other women.

The body he watched on his phone as he imagined fucking himself into you, now keeping it warm. Your lips open a little, and he kisses them, his back with light scratches from your pretty nails. "Look at you," he smiles, and kisses your chest, his eyes never leave yours, it's like a trance. "I love this," he moans when he feels the pre-cum leak from him, your walls clenching around him. "Milk me, darling, milk me for everything I'm worth. I'm yours," he kisses you again and again."

He grabs a camera, missionary position as he records you and the way his cock disappears within you. He zooms in on your cunt, you chuckle and he smiles. His spit all over your body. Your pierced tits are already covered in love bites. All men will know you had me to pleasure you, was all he repeated as he kissed your tits and shoulders. It was like he was already possessive of you. His back with more scratches and that's when he couldn't take it anymore. "Fuck this, I need you R/N," he uses your real name. The camera is thrown to the side, hiding in the pillows.

He makes sure to wrap your legs around him, your arms holding him close to you. His cock sliding into you again as he begins to get rougher with his thrusts. "Fuck, Simon," you whimper. He smirks knowing he can keep this up and fuck you dumb. Wants to make you so sensitive it can manipulate you into saying you love him. You and him, both getting drunk on sex. His arms wrap around you as well. Your hand on his ass while the other marked him all over again. He groans and looks at you with loving eyes. "Just like that baby, just like that," his wide cock so fat, you begin to cry from pleasure. "Simon…fuck..please, please it…ah..n-ngh~" your teary eyes getting kissed. A grin appears on his face, "You like that? Oh my baby, so cute and small for my dick, huh baby," he kisses you again. It was like you held the antidote between them. You feel your core ache, your orgasm ready to spill all over him. "Come for me, I know you want to, R/N."

He rubs your clit again. Your moans like the star you are, too pornographic it made the neighbours understand what the single man brought the girl for. Your juices spill all over him. His under-tummy getting covered in it and for him it was glory. He doesn't stop, he pulls out and fingers your tight cunt. "S-…fuck… Simon..please," you whine. "Sensitive already?" he chuckles. He slaps your tits, hand on your neck, choking you as he lets the cameras capture what everyone knew he would eventually do. He slaps your tight cunt and moves so his dick is now by your mouth. "Fucking suck me off like the slut you are," he slaps your face multiple times until he has you opening your mouth. Your tears spilling out, his fat cock creating a bulge in your throat. His thrusts are finally animalistic, classic Ghost. Your hands try to stop him but all he does is rub your sensitive clit over and over. He pulls out, "Say you love me, bitch," he slaps you. Your tits bounce.

"I…n-ngh…S…Simon…" You cry and stutter. He slaps you again. "Fucking say it," he demands with a growl in his voice. "I..I love….y-you," you whimper and he grins. His cock is back in your mouth and he begins to fuck your throat again. He grabs the camera again and as he was about to come, he pulls out, "stick your tongue out, bitch," he commands. You do so, your tits in the frame as he strokes his cock. While all in frame, his cum falls on your face, leaking so far that some ends in your tits. You smile as he makes sure the camera captures how much of a pretty mess he and you made.

A/N: need to be this mans slut so bad

Tags:

@liyanahelena @kit-kats06 @itstokyo-cos @cherry-bunnyyy @koko-1025 @actuallyhiswife @lols-wdym @fandomsinthegalaxies @rockcollector3000 @red-dead-raptor @ess-perspective-blog @lav1-isgay @havoc973 @kenjizixx @w4lk3rss @fruitymoonbeams-blog @moondust-imagines @meowbertwhisker @vanillachaii @liidiaaag @ghost-is-my-bbg @anonymuslydumb @ilovejquinn @hayleybarnesx @jamesrifftapes @literallylovered @channelsoph @undercover-smutlover @lunamoonbby @fandomishiguess @evilcherries @simpofghostandprice @r0mant1c-p4r1site

[ghosts-cyphera]

reader getting jealous when she’s seen pornstar!Ghost’s previous work with other girls even if she knows it’s irrational to be jealous since it’s his job 🤭

you chewed on your bottom lip as you flicked through photo after photo. each of them was with a different girl looking up at him or kissing him on the cheek. in some of them, his arm was draped over their shoulder, or they were perched on his lap with twinkling bright eyes.

most of the girls you knew. you'd worked scenes together or met them at work events. they were all lovely, and beautiful, and clearly his type too, judging by the grin on his features.

"christ."

it was silly. of course it was.

it was his job, just as it was yours: you knew that getting dicked down day after day did not mean anything.

it had not meant anything. 

not until you’d allowed yourself to get used to the way he looked at you, his eyes full of adoration. the way he touched you, like the mere permission to run his fingers along your skin was something special. you had gotten used to the way he made you feel special. 

and suddenly, it had all begun to mean something.

the realization had of course followed soon after. you were not any different from the rest, were you?

the fans all shipped you, yet there was not a single picture of you on his social media. the studio praised you for the money that the two of you were bringing in, yet they kept scheduling him with other girls.

girls who looked at him with the exact same twinkle in their eyes that you knew had to possess your gaze whenever you looked at him.

stupid. your fingers swiped through the photos faster in a surge of something bitter: something childish in the way that your lip moved into a pout. it was all stupid, all freaking—

"thank fuck you're here." the low rumble of a familiar voice startled you, and from the surprise, your fingers slipped: the betrayal followed by your phone falling. 

flat across your face.

with a groan, you listened to it clatter against the floor of the common space of the studio, yet as soon as you pushed off the couch to reach for it you realized it to be too late. 

ghost's fingers had wrapped around it, the man now grinning from ear to ear as he dangled it between two of his fingers. "if I didn’t know you any better—“

“ghost.”

“—I’d think you were doin' somethin' sneaky." 

you shot him a warning glare as your fingers rubbed your aching nose. "give it here."

he had never been nosy: never dabbled into your privacy, and you could tell that this time too it was not his intention in the slightest. yet you could not blame him for recognizing himself on the dim screen of your phone, now could you?

fuck.

"darlin'," he paused, fingers still wrapped around your phone. his gaze flicked to yours as he raised a brow. "really?"

"just give it back."

with a grin—nearly boyish in the way his eyes twinkled—he tossed the phone back at you. "you shooting today, stalker?"

"just finished." 

ghost raised an amused brow. “did you, though?”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the implication: at the knowing smirk on his features as he uncorked a bottle of water and brought it to his lips. he looked casual like this: leaning against an armchair opposite from you, dressed in grey sweatpants and a black compression shirt.

“can’t really say that we just wrapped up either, now can I?”

“fuckin’ rawdogging my girl, eh?”

“your girl, am I?” you fell back on the couch, gaze headed towards the ceiling of the penthouse as you bit down your silly little grin. "funny considering that that's what he called me. inspired by our vids, I assume."

“who’d you shoot with?”

“graves,” you mused. 

“ah so, no.” you could hear the grin on his features. “you did not actually finish.”

god. 

your laugh was bright as you rolled your eyes. “if I did not know you any better I’d think that all this—,” you chuckled, “was jealousy. you’re not—jealous, are you?”

"nothin' to be jealous about, is there?"

"it's just work."

"opposed to what we have, eh?" his grin was playful, yet as your gaze met his, there was something else too. something deeper in the way that his eyes studied you. 

what, you did not know. before you'd managed to place a finger on it, he'd pushed off the armchair. 

now walking to you.

"so what if I were a little jealous?" his voice was a warm chuckle, and he crouched on the floor next to you. "would you feed my ego? would you go 'n tell me?"

"tell you—?"

"look me in the eyes," he tilted his head ever so slightly, his voice low, "and tell me, darlin', that graves fucked you like I fuck you."

"no one fucks me like—," your words died down with a laugh: your lips parted before you'd managed to bite down the words. "I'm not gonna go and feed your ego, ghost."

"already did," he grinned. no, he downright glowed, as he took a seat on the floor next to you. "y'know, I do sorta wish it was you today."

the corners of your lips tugged into a warm smile, and you propped your head against your hand. "who is it?"

"shel."

"shel's lovely."

"yeah," he nodded. "yeah, but she's not you, is she?"

you nipped your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt your cheeks turning warmer by the second. "it's not—," you then managed out a soft laugh. "it's just work."

"doesn't feel like fuckin' work with us, though, does it?"

"no," you hummed. "it doesn't."

where your sudden courage to address any of this was coming from, you did not know. yet as you saw the switch in his eyes: the touch of something warm, of something relieved...

"darlin', I wanted you to know I—"

a call for his name, echoing from the hallways of the penthouse cut his words short, and he pushed off the floor with a chuckle.

"fuckin' A."

"duty calls." you smiled. "I'll see you—"

"tomorrow," he grinned. "oh and—," ghost wet his lips with a chuckle, slightly breathless, "it was kate who stopped me from posting our photos, y'know? on social media. somethin' about the marketing team thinkin' it's better to—they want us to be exclusive. as in," he rushed to speak with a shake of his head, "for the website. so that to see what everyone is fussing about—"

oh.

"right," you managed as you fought back the bright smile that threatened to take over your features. "right, alright. so if it wasn't for kate—"

"sweetheart, I'd have you as my goddamn profile picture just to see more of you."

huh.

a call for his name—this time audibly frustrated—echoed across the space once more, and you grinned. 

"go before they fire you for keeping them waiting."

"your loss, eh?"

"only financially," you smirked—your laugh warm as you watched him bump into the doorframe on his way out. and as you unlocked your phone, the grin that ghost had in the photo on your screen—smiling next to a girl—seemed to suddenly dim in comparison with the way he had just looked at you.

a/n: giggling, blushing, kicking my feet. I’m so goddamn soft for these two, lmao help. / pornstar!ghost masterlist / I'm so freaking here for all your thoughts about him!! 💌

[shotmrmiller]

retired pornstar!ghost would write a script just for you both, only so he can call you his wife or something.

also, he has you cockwarming him while he writes it in his office.

also also, price would come in unexpectedly, thinking ghost's alone.

"jesus, simon. next time lock the door."

not only does price not sound upset, he also doesn't stop looking at your naked pussy- how it drips desire, neglected clit swollen from your arousal.

"gettin' caught's half the fun, innit love?" his shifts in the leather-covered chair, sinking deeper into you.

a garbled mhm spills from your pretty lips.

"see? even my personal little cock sleeve agrees."

2 things happen here.

1) john just snorts and pointedly levels a look at simon while locking the door before leaving

or

2) he closes the door, locking it behind him and with your explicit permission, licks a broad stripe from ghost's slick-coated balls up to your stiff pearl.

hehe

[yawnderu]

Simon ''Ghost'' Riley — Masterlist 💀🖤

cr: @ave661

Simon Riley Moodboard | Smut Masterlist | Bimbo!Reader Masterlist | Dad!Ghost Masterlist

This Masterlist only has the material I've created in 2024. To explore older works, you can check my Main Masterlist, or use the tags #Simon Riley x Fem!Reader or #Ghost mw2 on my profile to access all my works!

Do not translate, post, or put my content into AI tools.

Ongoing Series Lorelei

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

K-9

Simon Riley and his pathetic efforts to get close to the new medic will earn him a scar or two

or

Simon Riley is in love with an uninterested, tired medic.

Angel

Synopsis: Afraid of giving you the same destiny all his loved ones met, an emotionally unavailable Simon does his best to pretend being in love with you for one night, later deciding to introduce you to the one person who can give you the love you want; John Price.

Smut

Silly love-making

Simon's obsession with pornstar!reader

Sex on camera

No man could act this good

Using his naked body for art purposes

Love-making

FWB!Simon cucking your hookup

Tattoo Artist!Simon

Prettiest girl in Edinburgh

Hybrid cat!Reader tag teamed by Simon and Johnny

Soul-crushing devotion and medical emergencies

AI!Reader gets a physical body

Neet!Reader jerks him off

Hybrid wolf!Simon x Catgirl!Reader

Sleep-walking, but fucking instead

Simon becomes vocal when give him blowjobs

Rimming him

Monster fucker

Dick headcanons

Catgirl in heat

Drabbles

Gym bros Johnny and Simon

Creature!Reader

Tag team 🌶️

Simon Riley is a stray, roughed up cat

Seduction goes against the rules

Nymphomaniac!Reader

Immortal!Reader

The phrase ''the wife'' is always in Simon's mouth

Choking🌶️

Cock warming🌶️

Lipstick marks on his cock

Neet!Reader sniffing his armpits

Milf!Reader drives Simon insane🌶️

Military high ranked!Reader

What turns him off

I have no faith, but I believe in you

You and your daughter love his tattooed arm

Simon is a furnace

Creature!Reader cuddles

Asking for sex after he had a bad day

Cumming too early🌶️

Wearing a white wife beater

Girl dad

Raccoon

Simon makes weird faces under the mask

Juiciest ass in the Task Force

Bulking

Dating a MILF

Naked cuddles

Relationship similar to Batman and Catwoman

Work Song

Cumming on your glasses🌶️

Touch starvation

Fluff & Hurt/Comfort

Expensive presents

Displays of trust

The most broken man turns to religion when you're hurt

A man without big pecs is like an angel without wings

Simon Riley was made for soul-crushing devotion

Broken man in love

Cuddles after a bad day

Simon is a giant black cat

Ai!Assistant Reader

Ai!Assistant Reader bothering Simon

Second chance at being an uncle to your niece

''I'll be the weapon when he needs protection''

Moody catgirl

Red panda hybrid!Reader

Hiccups during sex🌶️

First relationship

Angst

Emotionally unavailable

Immortal!Reader doesn't come back to life

Angel - Part I | Part II

[poisonedprose]

I just got this thought but how do you think Simon would react if his gf had an only fans🤭🤭🤭

₊˚✧ cam girl — in which simon reacts to you filming for your only fans

simon 'ghost' riley x pornstar!fem!reader

warnings: 0.5k words, smut, pwp, f!mastubation, f!nipple piercings, voyeurism, exhibitionism,

masterlists

You had mentioned vaguely to Simon about your job. You never went in too much detail, only saying that it's an online, stay at home job. He never took your inexplicable answer to heart, he was the same way when you asked about his job. He enjoyed the simplicity of not stressing over telling each other every single thing and with him barely being home he'd never caught you doing your job.

Well, that was until today. He was laying in bed, reading a book that he's been meaning to read since however long ago when you asked if it was alright if you got some work done. He, of course, was blissfully unaware of what was about to happen and happily gave you permission, promising it wouldn't distract him. 

As he promised, he wasn't distracted by you. He didn't notice as you set up a camera, placed a few pillows on the floor, dug into the box he stored all of the toys he loved to use on you, and took your clothes off, being left in a matching lingerie set. Your cold. metal nipple piercings shining through the mesh of the lingerie. You felt nervous as you sat on the floor, in front of the camera. You'd never filmed any videos with a live audience before, especially with an audience as enticing as Simon was.

Ghost looked up from his book, shooting you a quick glance before returning to reading. His eyes widen and his head shoots up again, his pupils dilating when he sees you in front of the camera with barely anything on. He watched with intent eyes as you turned the camera on. He closed his book and put it on the bed. He slowly sat up, breaking his promise of not getting distracted.

You felt his eyes glaring into you, nervous butterflies bubbling in your stomach as you trail your hand down your body. You rub your clothed clit, exaggerating a moan. Simon's eyes practically bulge out of his head. He would have never guessed your online, stay at home job was porn. His face flashed with jealousy, he envied the men who sat at their computers and watched you perform for them. 

But another part of him was just totally and utterly aroused. The fact that these strangers on the internet got to see you pleasure yourself did something to him that he couldn't explain. He should hate the fact that anyone other than him got to see you in your most intimate moments, but for some reason, all it did was create a huge tent in his pants. 

He looked back at you and watched the plush of your thighs as you rode one of the pillows. The bulge in his pants and the look in his eyes only grew with lust with each passing moment. Your high-pitched, pornographic moans were symphonic. He groaned lowly and ran a hand over his erection, softly palming himself to release any of the tension you were giving him.

He didn't even have time to process what you were doing before you were pushing your panties to the side and pushing the vibrator against your swollen clit. Your nerves seem to calm when you see he finds pleasure in this. His intent eyes only urged you more. Your fake moans were becoming more and more real. He only wished he knew about this sooner, maybe your videos could keep him from becoming lonely when he was deployed. 

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎┊ㅤㅤ💋 ㅤㅤ ﾟㅤㅤ ┊‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

[1800titz]

Another pornstar!Harry TEASER

“Just—“ Y/N manages between searing kisses as his fingers work the seams of her shirt apart through button-work, “—-jumping right into it, huh?” It’s probably not the sexiest thing to say from the get go of the camera rolling, but she’s honestly still got bits of nerves coiling up in her. This is RideTheTiger. This is happening. She’s going to fuck RideTheTiger. 

Another short kiss, this one she can feel the cushiony pink of his mouth curving up into. 

“Sorry,” Harry amends against her mouth, lips ghosting wetly against her cupid's bow, and the word sounds sort of amused.

And then he’s manually spinning her and marching her over to the dresser, where the camera is set up, her stumbling, rushed gait steadied by the firm press of his thighs from behind as he walks her, colossal hands cupped over her arms. 

“This—” he starts, an introduction blatantly made for the lens, and her pulse stutters when his palm slides up and across and cups over her throat warmly — not quite squeezing, but just there. His other hand explores the expanse of her silhouette from the waist down, pads of his fingers roaming over her tummy, “—is the infamously naughty Birdie.” 

Her veins thrum with something, something hot when the ringed digits traipse to the button of her jeans, just looming over. 

“Can I take these off?” Harry murmurs against the shell of her ear. The tips of his curls tickle at her temple, and she knows he asks it low enough that it’s meant for her. She knows the camera will pick up on it anyways, too. 

“Yeah,” the agreement falls out meshed with an exhale, and her head tips back against his shoulder as his fingers do deft, impressively one-handed work at quick discarding. 

The other hand fondles at one of her tits, only covered with fabric for so long before he takes advantage of the opening he’d made along the line of buttons, pulling at one side for the pink polka-dotted cup of her bra to come out on display. This is all very pro-level disrobing. Y/N decides that when Harry multi-tasks, popping the button of her denim through, pinching at the zipper and tugging down, all still with his other hand caressing over padded flesh at her chest. Ultimately, though, both hands make their way to her hips, and his digits wriggle under either side of her waist band to strip her jeans off, until they rest at about an immobilizing mid-thigh, with an unceremonious yank. 

“I’m Tiger,” Harry talks again, finally, after what’d been a silent moment of apparent concentration, his chin ducked into the nook where her shoulder and her neck meet. 

The man’s fingers toy up under the hem of Y/N’s shirt, wandering over a bare sliver of skin between the top and the line of her panties before they climb the buttoned suture and make work there. 

A chill rolls down her spinal cord, stemming all the way from the nape of her neck, the back and underside of her skull, when Harry declares, almost like she’s not even there, his voice a low and heady baritone, “But, she’s going to call me Sir, and we’re gonna play a little rough with her today, because that’s what she asked for.” 

[lightwing-s]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x reader

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

It was like the entire room shook with every step he took, his combat boots sending tremors through the floor. A proper man-made earthquake. With his stature, he towered over everybody. His presence was intense, and you could feel him coming even before hearing or seeing him, your head snapping to the entrance of the room to watch the scene attentively.

Wearing his skull balaclava, the Lieutenant returned from his practice alongside Sargeant MacTavish. You watched his chest shaking as he walked, the muscle jumping up and down like a juicy pornstar’s boobs would do, highlighted by the compression shirt he wore sticking to his skin. His sweat left it soaked, making the fabric slightly see through and his nipples easily visible. 

Swallowing deep, you felt your mouth go dry as his intoxicating smell of sweat, smoke and gunpowder filled the air. You were certain you must have looked dumb in front of all the other soldiers, eyeing your Lieutenant up and down. A tingling sensation growing on your cunt as he side-eyed you when he passed your smaller frame.

Fuck me, you wished, watching on as he started to disappear into another room. You were a sinner, of that you were sure, because nothing else could justify such a harsh punishment. Seeing Lt. Ghost Riley in person every single fucking day and all you could ever do was stare. You felt like Dionysius without his wine, or Snoop without his weed. Deprived, dismantled, deranged.

And he wore spandex today. Fucking spandex. Molding his ass and his muscular thighs perfectly, not to mention how much it emphasized the bulge on his groin, as if he knew very well the effect his choice of clothing had on you.

Fuck you, Simon. Fuck you. Fuck me.

Taking a deep breath, you turned around and returned, or attempted to at least, to your exercise. Every movement filled with days of build up frustration. Your arousal, hopefully not evident through your leggings, made its way to your nose, and you rolled your eyes out, exasperated to leave the training room.

Turning a corner, deep into whatever side of the base you stood, you found a darkened alley leading to a dead end. It was quiet, far for anyone. Resting against the wall, you let your mind wonder, thoughts of your Lieutenant crowding your head.

Your breathing was uneven, rushed, but your walk over there wasn’t what caused it. Your core ached, burned, begged for attention. Peeking briefly at your sides, you did something unthinkable, something your shame shouldn’t have allowed you to do. Putting a hand inside your leggings, you touched your aching clit, circular movements dragging soft moans out of your pursed lips.

Enjoying the sensation, the quick relief brought to you by your own fingers, you increased their speed, wanting to reach that so desirable end, the increased sensation making it harder to hold your moans down as you desperately bit your lips to stop them from coming out. 

Your mind darkened as the pleasure spread to different parts of your body, almost making you melt down the wall you were laid on. In your mind, the picture of your Lieutenant and what he could’ve been doing to you instead, crowded your mind. 

You pictured his hands all over your body, leaving purple bruises on your skin. His face buried deep into your cunt, licking your sweetness off of you. You picture his hoarse voice calling your name, but did not picture it dragging you out of your daydreams. Nor did you imagine the door closing right in front of you, revealing to you your own dreams in flesh and bone.

“Yn,” he called and you swiftly removed your hands from your pants, shame burning red up your neck. “I hope you’re aware this is a very unacceptable behavior.” 

The raspiness of his voice would have sent you on overdrive, but now it frightened you to no end. Taking slow but steady steps in your direction, Ghost had his eyes locked on you, drowsy and darkened, as yours, instead, filled with tears. Fear of what was about to come next filling you up. “Especially when your Lieutenant is right here.”

Staring down at you, he tugged at the hem of your legging, pulling it away from your skin and peeking into it, spotting the red underwear you were now thankful for selecting. He slid a hand you didn’t notice was ungloved down your pants, inside your panties, feeling his way down through your trimmed hairs and soaked folds. When he reached the spot your own hands had just been playing at, his cold fingers caused you to jolt, unused to the strange sensation.

“These naughty new recruits, always causing me some trouble,” he stated, sight still locked into your eyes.

Starting to move, his movements were much rasher than yours, rubbing at your clit ferociously from the start, dragging out moans muffled by your pursed lips out of you. Not long later, just as your vision was starting to spot, you felt him park his hand at your entrance. You had to hold his arm for support once you felt him entering your pussy, his palm fractioning against your already sensitive clit as he pushed his fingers in and out of your leaking core.

With speed, you let out moan after moan. Your legs started to tremble, as you felt your release knocking, begging to come out, and you barely held yourself up before his low raspy voice guided your eyes up to his. “With only one finger?” he stared you down, voice too close mocking for your liking.

“That was only one finger?” you cried out, a bit louder than you’d expected.

“Now it’s two.”

He resumed his movements, the new girth tearing you apart, the pain mixing with the pleasure making you wetter by the second. Noticing your weakling legs, with his free hand he pinched your ass, sliding his hand to just below it to pull you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

The wet noises his fingers were making echoed through the empty corridors, and you prayed no one else was hidden somewhere, watching you reduced to a fucked up mess on your superior’s fingers. With his finger thrusts, he stared down at you, golden lashes a majestic sight, as if you were a mere toy in his hands. A puppet he could play around with all night long.

His eyes bore deep into yours, making you feel small, diminished. Since your mouth hung open, silent moans escaping from it almost rhythmically, he held your throat and, playing first with your bottom lip, forced his thumb inside your mouth. You sucked on it like a hungry baby, and you swore you heard a chuckle come out of him.

Soon, you could feel your orgasm coming through. Your wall sucked his fingers in, needing to be filled with so much more. Your high grew, your legs suddenly light like a feather, your vision spotted, almost blacking out, and your mind blank of any proper or coherent thought. Just as you were about to come, a loud moan left your mouth, instantly to be covered by the Lieutenants free hand, making your skin burn from the accidental slapping, but only adding to your aroused sensation.

Ghost shook his head at you, removing his fingers from inside you just as quickly as the moan came out. He left you empty, hollow, as he still looked at you with a disappointed shadow in his brown eyes. 

“Pathetic behavior,” he whispered, stepping away from you. Your legs dropped to the ground, and you had to hold yourself up so as not to fall to the floor. Turning on his heels, ass shaking deliciously as he walked away, he didn’t even care to look back at you as he gave you one last warning. “Present yourself to my office, Yn. We have to think of what punishment I’ll be giving you.”

[veryinnovative]

@jegulus-microfic | january 3, prompt: ruthless | word count: 1.422 featuring pornstars jegulus! NSFW

“They’re going off-script, why are they going off-script?” Barty grits out, confined to the sidelines since he’s part of the camera crew and not the main act, one hand firmly gripping the tripod’s handle as the other waves the booklet in front of Evan’s face.

Because Regulus is sprawled out on the bed on his back, his harness and strap-on discarded on the floor, purple rubber still glistening from where it had been seven inches deep inside James moments prior. His thighs are spread wide by the broad palms and pinned to the mattress as his set partner crawls between them, face still flush from exertion and hair in total disarray as a result of Regulus’ constant pulling and shoving.

The position is not a total mystery, no. Regulus had been in the industry for over a year now, a short span of time during which he had climbed the rank listings and breached the top ten, now striving after the top five together with James Potter, arrogantly self-proclaimed oral king by the looks of it, always needing something in his mouth to satisfy him or shut him up, take your pick. The entire set had been arranged by both their managers, going off on tangents about how they have impeccable chemistry on-screen (combined with Regulus’ superb acting abilities). It’s their second time shooting a video together, considering how their first had broken the record just three weeks ago, and neither Pandora nor Lily had wasted a second to get them together in a room again.

“What are you doing?” Regulus hisses as James’ mouth works a burning trail down his chest, tongue laving over the latticework of bruises and the lovebites blooming. He tries very hard not to lean into it, wards off the urge to chase after the hot cavern the ventures dangerously low.

“Going down on you,” James whispers into his stomach, quiet enough for the microphones not to pick up. Even if they did, it could be edited out afterward. 

“I was supposed to go down on you, remember?” Regulus retorts, mentally convincing himself he’s only keeping his legs open for the camera. It’s not like he’s been wondering if James’ mouth is the real deal as many others have made it out to be. Not at all.

“I already came and you didn’t, so I’m just returning the favor before we move on,” James mumbles into his thighs, masking the speaking movements of his mouth by kissing the skin.

“You’re wasting your energy.” Then, the little light of Dorcas’ camera across them flickers, indicating it’s Regulus they’re focusing on. He makes a show of letting out a pleased sigh, craning his neck, and throwing back his head so his face can’t be recorded. It allows him to talk. “I don’t feel like cumming, so just let me do my job. Besides, I doubt you could get me off like this anyway.”

Blatant fucking lie. James undoubtedly notices because he stifles a snort into his leg.

“Sure thing, love.”

Regulus’ jaw ticks and he winds his fingers into James’ hair, reprimand ready on the tip of his tongue, dying off into a choked gasp when the flat of a thick, broad tongue runs a long stripe through his folds.

And the thing is, it’s not just his mouth. Because James’ hands wander, alternating between gripping his hips and roaming upwards to flick his nipples, taking them between his forefinger and thumb to stimulate—rub, pull, gently squeeze all the while his tongue dips in and out of him, gathering the wetness there, swallowing it, moaning at the taste, stopping and only letting the hotness of his breath ghost over Regulus’ dripping core. Building anticipation. Teasing. Lips slick and just as swollen as he is, spreading him open wider just so the camera can get a clear-cut image of how James leans in again, thumb pulling up the hood, mouth this time aimed at Regulus’ cock.

James’ tongue is ruthless.

Licking, sucking, humming around Regulus and sending the vibrations roiling through his spine, static shooting into his skull, paralyzing the rest of him. Using his nose for friction if it’s his tongue that’s too occupied fucking in and out of him, thumbs eagerly pressed into the divots of his hips.

“Jesus fucking Chr—” The words pathetically drop in pitch, bleeding into a low whine as Regulus’ hips buck, James’ mouth only following the undulations. He swirls his tongue, pulls him into his mouth, and sucks until the wet, sloppy sounds of his mouth no longer rise above the ringing flooding Regulus’ ears. He moans, fingers pulling onto the thick curls until it leaves James whining between his legs as well. “Oh, fuck.”

“Oh, fuck, indeed,” Barty whispers from to the side. “Holy shit, he’s making it look so real.”

“Am I about to tell you something,” Evan mutters, adjusting the sound settings.

Regulus arches off the bed, writhing in place against the steel hold on his hips, the balls of his feet digging painfully deep into James’ back when he feels the pressure building low in his stomach, pleasure pooling low below his spine. 

“I’m not going to cum,” Regulus gasps out, not giving a fuck how loud it comes out. Between his clenched thighs, James chuckles, its rumbling reverberating through each and every one of his nerves as he pulls off his cock with a wet pop.

“Yes, you will,” James answers, kissing his cock before biting into his thigh. “Because I’m going to make you.”

The mouth leaving him punches a little, pitiful sound of protest out of Regulus, one he will most certainly deny and demand be edited out. Though, right now, he’s too strung out to care. Regulus’ eyes droop down, watching how James leaves the little space between his legs, strings of spit and wetness breaking off into the air as he crawls up onto his knees.  

Everything moves rather swiftly afterward. The excited noise filling the room might have either been his or Barty’s, but none of it matters when James grabs Regulus by the back of his knees and pins them down, nearly folding him in half before he continues his mouth’s assault, urging the tightening knot low in his abdomen to unravel.

There’s the tongue inside of him, on him, in him, around him—circling, pulling, teasing, drawing out the most guttural of moans when he feels the graze of teeth. The entirety of Regulus swallowed by James’ mouth, consumed with the sort of deprivation only the taste of him can alleviate if the desperate sucking is anything to go by. Regulus’ legs shake, body twitching in place, fingers curled so tightly around handfuls of curls when he chokes out a weak, “I’m not—I’m not going to—”

James groans a muffled command, fingers digging deep into his thighs, the splay of stray strands across his stomach, muscles pulled taut, the fluorescent lightning above, that stupid fucking tongue, the sole bane of his existence—

Regulus cries out a soundless rasp, like his voice has left him together with his soul, entire body convulsing, head thrown back on the arrangement of pillows as his eyes roll back into their sockets. 

Worst of all, James doesn’t stop, only grunts in response as Regulus gushes over his tongue, making a dangerous sound stuck low in his throat when the hand on his head tries to push him away.

“Stop,” Regulus squeaks out. Squeaks, because that’s how terribly low he’s fallen. The overstimulation is a lot, pleasure overwhelming like his brain is threatening to come oozing out of his ears, and next thing you know the video will be titled ‘James Potter managed to make exalted Regulus Black cry with his orgasm’. 

“Please, please s’too much—” Regulus tries again, almost sobbing out a breath of relief when James does finally lift his head with a gasp, his entire fucking face slick from where it had been buried inside Regulus.

“Fucking hell,” Barty hisses in the back, vocalizing Regulus’ internal monologue. “Cut! Fucking, cut the cameras! Pause! Water! Bring this fucker some water before he passes out—”

A flurry of movement in the background, the noises fading into white noise as Regulus’ legs are lowered back onto the bed. James hovers above him, the spit-slick grin almost blinding, or that’s just the stars blinking in Regulus’ vision.

“You were saying?” James asks, teasingly touching Regulus’ puffy cock, laughing when it rewards him with a full-body shudder.

Regulus weakly wacks him in the chest. “Go fuck… Yourself.”

[inkbybambi]

⚜️ pornstar!ghost who's so, so in love with you —

words: 3.8k tags: smut, creampie, pet names (good girl, love, darling, etc), throat holding, no use of y/n, fem!reader, ghost and reader are so in love with each other, biting/marking, mentions of sex work. notes: inspired by @ghosts-cyphera 's pornstar!ghost. thank you so, so much for creating him and for letting me bite him and chew him like a squeaky toy. please read the original here and give it lots of love! here is the playlist i made while writing — a mixture of soft and sweet and filthy and everything in between. minors dni, my blog is 18+.

in the muffled quiet of the bathroom, you take a deep breath. your heart beats in time with the rhythmic thumping of the bass that reverberates throughout the flat. that same steady beat of edm songs has been on repeat since you arrived at the party, and your blood hums with the vibrations. you love parties; the drinks, the snacks, the absolute unhinged bullshit that can only be achieved by those in front and behind the camera.

you’re surprised there hasn’t been a noise complaint.

you slip from the bathroom, perhaps just a little tipsy, the warmth of the drinks and the atmosphere thread through your blood like fire, the colored flashing lights casting everything in a multi-colored glow. you move through the crowd to find the one person who means more than the entire world and —

he’s sitting on the couch, pretending to listen to one of the newer talents; she’s a touch too close, fingers reaching out to graze his forearm. he doesn’t even blink twice before he’s pulling his arm away, pretending to adjust his watch as his eyes sweep the room.

as soon as his gaze lands on you, he straightens up, leaning forward in anticipation. the other girl looks put off but neither of you pay her any mind as you make your way to him, crawling onto the couch where he’s (been) waiting for you.

you nestle into his side, taking the red, plastic cup you trusted him with when you went to the bathroom. you take a small sip.

“this isn’t my drink,” you tell him.

“you’re right.”

you pout at him, eyes glittering with the lights.

he looks at you expectedly, pointedly looking at the cup and giving you that look. the one he gives you whenever he wants you to do something, and you always listen.

you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out at him, before dutifully drinking the water that he’s so graciously filled your cup with instead of whatever fruity and far-too-strong cocktail the host had conjured up. he snorts, rolling his eyes fondly as he slings an arm across the back of the couch.

when half the cup is gone, you look back at him, doe-eyes big and glassy, the need for praise and approval simmering under the surface. even in the low light of the room, you see how his eyes soften as he takes you in. his hand comes up to cup your face, cradling it. you close your eyes, nuzzling into his palm as you enjoy the moment of calm. as his thumb gently wipes under your eye, your eyes flutter back open to focus on him, and he tilts his head as he assesses you.

this moment is just for you two. even in a room full of people, you’re unable to focus on anything but him.

he glances at his wrist to check his watch — the one you gave him for his birthday last year and the one that’s been on his wrist ever since, not even taking it off to film unless absolutely necessary.

(and if he got you a bracelet that matched his watch as close as possible for your birthday? neither of you mention it, but you know.)

ghost’s never been one for social niceties —preferring to keep to himself — and you know you haven’t been here too terribly long, only one drink deep, but both of you have a rare day off together and he’d rather be alone with you for as long as possible than at this last minute thrown together “party” by a few colleagues.

he leans in close to graze his covered mouth against your jaw — he never takes off the skull mask, except when he’s alone with you.

("it's part of my charm," he claims, grin stretching across his lips, getting ready for his first shoot of the day. you bite back an amused smile, sitting in front of him and fussing until he sits still so you can paint on his eye black.)

“i think it’s time i took you home, princess.”

and christ, his voice.

it's well known you’re closer than most, so it’s not terribly surprising when you arrive and leave together and generally stick to each other like glue.

you press your lips right against the sensitive skin behind his ear, brushing against the fabric, voice masked by the music but still keeping it low enough so only he hears.

“then take me home, simon.”

his eyes flash dangerously, taking your cup and abandoning it on the coffee table. his large hand dwarfs your own as he drags you off the couch.

you didn’t say hello to anyone in particular when you arrived and you don’t stop to let anyone know you're leaving. you’re too focused on his thumb running across the ridge of your knuckles, the way he laces your fingers together, how you two fit so well together.

if there was a red string tied to your pinky, you know it would lead you right to him.

the ride back to your flat is spent with his hand on your thigh, hot and possessive like a brand.

there's something different about tonight. ghost's touch lingers, as if he doesn't want to be without you for even a second, and you're drawn to him like a moth to flame, helpless to do anything but get as close as you can, hoping you won't burn and turn to ash.

you know exactly where the night is leading when he pulls you to your bedroom, the soft glow of your bedside lamp casting everything in a halo of warm, dim light.

ghost turns to you, hands on your hips, pulling you closer. you fingers tease the edge of his mask, hooking under the familiar fabric and starting to drag up. you pause as his lips come to view, watching him carefully.

glassy eyes meet yours and you forget to breathe for a moment. you want to capture the warmth swirling in his eyes, keep it close on the days that are dark and dreary, on the days that only he makes better.

you pull the rest of the covering off, his hair slightly ruffled, haloed by the light.

a delicate smile graces your lips, reaching a hand up to run your fingers along his jaw — a motion so familiar, a motion repeated in front of cameras and bright lights and others watching. he's sharp lines and features carved from marble but he's so soft, a comfort you can't name when you're with him.

he looks like an angel, heaven-sent.

"whatcha you thinkin', pretty girl?" he asks, voice low, accent thick, capturing your wandering fingers and pressing a kiss to your inner wrist, right beneath your bracelet.

you don't say anything, continuing to admire him, biting your lip. you're afraid to speak. afraid to give a name to these emotions that have settled into your bones and blood, seared into you.

for now, you keep those words locked in your heart, protected by ribs and flesh and walls that he so carefully picks apart with his teeth and tongue and fingers.

you shake your head instead of answering him, a gentle smile gracing your lips, threading your fingers through his hair. it's fluffy and a bit on the long side. he showered as soon as he was off work. he never wants others lingering on his skin.

you tip up on your toes enough to capture his lips with yours, biting at his bottom lip.

he presses you up against the wall, mouth hot and wet on yours. he licks deep into your mouth, fingers lacing in your hair. you grip the front of his shirt, mewling into his mouth as he kisses you like he'll never get to again.

some of your lipstick is smeared on his lips when he pulls away, eyes black. you shiver under his stare.

you press a tantalizing kiss to his jaw, teeth nipping.

"want to film it?" a mischievous smile paints your lips, hands raking lower to hook into the hem of his shirt.

both you and ghost have quite a collection of videos and pictures of you two, hidden behind locked albums and passwords. it's a testament of trust — one that's been carefully built and protected, tucked away where only you two know.

"not this time," he replies, voice soft, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. he cups your jaw gently, wiping away smudged mascara. "this is just for you n' me."

you swallow thickly, choking down words threatening to spill from you. the temptation to say something lingers on your tongue, pressing behind your teeth, daring you to take a bite.

the kiss you press to his lips is far softer than anything, heat just below the surface.

ghost doesn't make a habit of kissing those he's filming with. a bite or two, something more vicious and rough — but with you? sometimes he'll kiss you like you're glass, afraid of marring you, breaking you. other times, it's all heat and liquid fire, consuming you and all you think about for days after.

he'd wake up every day kissing you if he could.

your clothes are a mess on the floor, not that you particularly care right now.

not with the way ghost is pressing his weight down on you so deliciously, hot and heavy, devouring you. he cages you between his thick forearms, barely giving you room to breathe, biting and nipping and licking deep into your mouth until your lips are shiny and swollen, pupils blown so wide, they're practically black.

"wish i could be the only one to see you like this," he pants against the hinge of your jaw, dragging teeth and tongue down your body.

the urge to bite and bruise and mark clouds his mind, wanting nothing more than to bury his teeth into the supple flesh of your thigh, until the imprint of his teeth lasts for days.

surprisingly soft hands part your thighs, baring your glistening desire to his burning gaze.

but that's not what he's looking at.

he's unable to look away from the temporary tattoo that's fading on your skin. it's been washed away from your time on set — spit and water and release coating your skin — but it's unmistakable.

a ghost.

"what's this?" he asks, thumb stroking over the faded lines of the tattoo, breathless.

you rise up on your elbows, desire thick through your veins. you don't have to look to know what he's asking about. but you look anyways, mesmerized by his thumb grazing over your skin.

"the girls and i had some on set," you begin, voice soft. "we were filming in a bath so we figured why not, y'know?"

he looks up from between your legs, predatory and possessive.

you lick your bottom lip, feeling bold.

"thought it might be cute to have you with me," you say, a whispered confession.

ghost looks like he's repenting for his sins, kneeling between you legs. you thread your fingers through his hair, arching your hips up, failing to bite back the whine rising in your throat, needing him impossibly closer.

“oh, love.” his voice is rough, wrecked, dragging his lips over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, teasing right along the edge of where the ghost fades. “let’s give you something a little more permanent, hm?”

he shouldn’t — he really shouldn���t — but the urge, the need to mark you is overwhelming. it overrides every other rational thought.

he sees the way others look at you. he'll watch your videos — out of curiosity and not jealousy, he tells himself — and see the way your co-stars have this star-struck, pussydrunk look about them. he never brings himself to finish watching the videos.

his teeth sink into your skin, a sharp shock of electricity and want flooding your senses. your nails dig into his scalp, hissing out a breath between your teeth. his teeth are deep, and you can't find yourself to care. arousal leaks from your cunt, begging to be touched and filled and claimed.

ghost eventually withdraws his teeth. you sink down into the mattress, tension seeping from your body. the sting of the mark he left becomes a focal point of your attention, body buzzing and thrumming with arousal as ghost licks thick stripes to soothe the deep impression, admiring his work .

"laswell's gonna kill you," you mumble, moving to cradle the back of his head, trying to pull him up.

he goes willingly.

his eyes sparkle, a cocky smirk painted on his lips as he drags them from your cheek to your lips, indulging in a slow kiss, tongue pushing in your mouth and licking along the edges of your teeth, grazing the roof of your mouth.

"good thing i don't care what laswell thinks," he says against your lips when he pulls away, continuing the path of his kisses down your jaw to your throat, pressing delicate kisses to your pulse.

his cock lays against your hip, thick and pulsing and dripping pre-cum. you lace your legs up around his waist, heels of your feet resting delicately at his sides.

one arm cages you in while he uses his other hand to push your hair back from your face, lips tracing a path from your forehead down your temple, right above your ear.

"and me?" you ask against his jaw, wrapping around your arms around broad shoulders, enticing him to lay more of his weight down on you.

"and you what, sweet thing?" his reply comes so quick, so fluid, like he was waiting for you to ask.

"do you care what i think?"

he presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek before pulling back to look at you in a way only he can. you've seen — felt — the stares of your coworkers when you're filming.

it never compares to how ghost — simon — looks at you. like you were made only for him (and maybe you were, you think, from time to time); like you were the moon and he was so desperately trying to be the stars to be close to you; like his every breath began and ended with you.

he doesn't answer you with words. he's never been a man of many words, anyway.

he cups your jaw so softly, thumb brushing along your cheek. his eyes are so bright, his touch is always so gentle.

you can't remember life before he came into it, a blur of memories and moments lost to time. all you know now is that you can't — won't — go through life without him by your side, so deeply entwined in your blood and bones and soul.

his mouth is warm and tender against yours, and it's so easy to lose yourself to the comfort and the haven he has become. he kisses you like his life depends on it, like he'll stop breathing if he lets you go.

his fingers skim along your sides, down your spine and to your hip, tilting you up against him until your ass is resting against his thighs, cock hot and heavy and leaking right above your clit.

he carefully guides himself down your cunt, slipping himself between your folds, gathering your slick, before notching the fat head at your entrance and you ache.

he's so big — bigger than any of your coworkers, anyone you've slept with outside work — but he pushes himself so easily into your soaking pussy, walls fluttering around each inch that sinks into you. you feel so fucking full of him, the stretch a pleasant burn that ignites in your belly, lighting up your nerves like a wildfire.

always a little delirious when he pushes into you, consumed by the tight, wet heat of your cunt, he pants against your cheek, cradling you against his chest.

you fold yourself into him, legs hitching higher, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. you lick at the sweat clinging to his skin, cologne sticking to your tongue.

without any words, he knows when you're ready. you always need a moment to adjust to his size, feeling the deep, steadying breaths you take. he pulls out slowly, carefully, until the tip rests at your entrance, before snapping his hips back against yours. his lips fall to the column of your throat, feeling each moan he pulls from you, each whimper and whine.

you love the way he fucks you for work. it doesn’t feel like it’s work, not with him, never with him. you try not to dream too much about being able to keep him all for yourself.

this feels different. this is different. deep, slow thrusts, lingering kisses, noses brushing, breathing in each other.

your name sounds like a prayer on his lips, as he takes your fingers to kiss them before lacing them together, pressing your joined hands above you on the pillow.

your vision is hazy, clouded over with pleasure, barely able to keep your eyes open with each deep, steady thrust, his cock kissing the tip of your cervix.

"look at me, sweetheart," he begs, accent slurred and thick, eyes so dark and inviting. you want to lose yourself entirely to him.

maybe you already have.

"you don't even know what you do to me," he whispers against your lips, keeping his confession sacred between you. your breath stutters in your throat, unable to choke down the thoughts drowning you, a tear slipping down the side of your cheek.

he chases it with his lips, placing softer kisses to your eyelids, and then above your brow, moving down your nose to the bow of your lips. your nails dig into his sides, trying to convey each muddled thought through your touch, marking and marring him and staking your claim.

a sharp inhale follows a deeper thrust, choking out his name as pleasure floods your veins like venom, overtaking you.

"there?" he breathes, nails digging into your hip to keep you steady. voice lost, all you do is nod and mewl, pressing your breasts up against his chest, always needing him closer.

"yeah, baby, i know," he says, almost laughing, arm lacing around your waist to press you flush against him, his other hand tangling in the sheets beside your head.

with anyone else, you'd roll your eyes and scoff at the arrogance. but with ghost? you're so pliant and loose in his grip, letting him do whatever he wants with you, so submissive and obedient, only for him.

"oh, you've needed this ever since we got to the party, hm?" his teeth graze your neck, down to your collar, right above the curve of your breast. "bet you would've let me fuck you in the bathroom, hm? let my cum leak out of you for everyone to see, let them know that you're mine?"

his thrusts are sharper, meaner. it's everything you want, eyes rolling in the back of your head as the pleasure burns hotter and hotter, the precipice of release right there. the sound of your cunt drawing him in deeper with each smack of his hips against yours fills the room, each moan accented with your pussy gushing around him, his cock coated in your desire.

"gonna be my good girl and cum for me?" his voice is so rough, a hand around your throat forcing you to look at him, mouth open as you pant out each breath, unable to think of anything but his name.

unable to think of anything but your first name with his last, a contract with your names, a band around your finger.

you can only whine out a yes, please, fuck please, want to cum for you. the fingers around your throat tighten, the edges of your vision seeping black.

a sharp bite to your shoulder is the catalyst for your orgasm. thighs shaking, a moan of his name weak in your throat, your cum coating the tantalizing line of hair from his bellybutton to his cock, dripping down your thighs.

"fuckin' hell," he growls against your skin, snapping his hips hard, grazing your clit twice, three times, before you feel his spend paint your insides. thick, hot spurts of his cum pulse from his cock, drawing out your own orgasm and making your brain static with pleasure.

a mixture of his cum and yours spill out from the edges of where he's buried inside you. his cock pulses a few more times as he comes down from his high, skin slick with sweat that's rapidly cooling.

he presses his entire weight down onto you, burying his face into your neck as your nose buries into his hair. sex and release and the last dregs of your perfume permeate the air.

you card your fingers gently through his hair, a comfortable silence lingering as you both fight to catch your breath. he needs a haircut, fingers tangling in the length. maybe he'll let you give him one tomorrow.

his body sinks deeper into yours, his breath even and steady to the point where you think he might've fallen asleep inside you. you're not about to wake him.

“have you ever thought about leaving?” you ask, hesitant, letting your question linger in the air.

“the industry?” comes his reply a moment  later.

you hum in acknowledgement.

he takes another moment more to think, before his answer comes, muffled against your throat. “sometimes, yeah."

“if i left, would you leave with me?”

his reply comes not even a second later, without any hesitation.

“my love, i go where you go."

you're glad he's tucked into your neck, arms wrapping around him protectively, possessively, throat clicking as you swallow. more tears slip down your cheeks, burning a path down your cheeks and settling in his hair. your eyes close as the emotions threaten to burst from your chest, a weak attempt to maintain your composure.

you can only hold back so much.

“do you believe in soulmates?” you ask, significantly softer. you only ask when you're confident your voice won't betray you. the crack gives you away.

ghost is silent, inhaling the scent of sex and sweat and you.

"'m not sure," he replies. he sounds worried, unsure. your heart beats painfully.

he's scared you're going to leave.

you'll never leave him.

“maybe they’re not in this world," you say, fingers tracing along his shoulders and down his spine. "maybe in another, another life, another place."

he shivers under your gentle touch.

"i think you’re mine," you say, heart beating and aching and tearing at the seams; so, so scared of your confession. "i can’t imagine going through this life without you.”

his voice, so much stronger, more confident and brazen and sure comes after a heartbeat.

“good thing you’ll never have to, darling.”