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siren-141 · 6 months ago

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unholy

summary: you get picked up by a mechanic shop owner after your car breaks down. the night turns into something that you both needed. pairing: mechanic shop owner Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader warnings: car sex, age gap (reader is at least mid-20s, simon is about 40 in this one), slight size kink if you squint, semi-public sex but not really (in reader's driveway but nobody's around), fingering, oral (m rec), justified cheating (not against reader; simon's married but his wife fucking sucks and is cheating on him already) word count: 2.8k a/n: so this actually took me two months to write lol but enjoy :)))

COD masterlist ☾ main masterlist

18+ only, minors DNI

This was honestly the last thing you needed.

Standing on the side of the road, you looked at your pathetic car, tire barely hanging onto the wheel after it was blown out. You hadn’t even realized that you were speeding down the old road, let alone that you were flying over a fairly deep pothole. You realized it though when you had to hit the brakes and saw the smoke from your front passenger side rising up.

It was just around midnight, and you had just left the bar where a local band had been playing. You needed a pick-me-up after the week you’d have – hell, after the month you’d had. Busy in school, assignments coming at you non-stop, dealing with being newly single and frustrated. Why did guys have to suck so much? Whatever – no time to think about that now.

Calling a few tow truck services, there was no luck. Either you were too far out or too expensive, taking advantage of the female voice they were talking to to jack up their prices. Family over an hour away and friends that were close enough to come get you, but you couldn’t leave your car here on the side of the road, who knew if it would still be there in the morning? All you could do was thank the gods that you had taken the back roads home, choosing the scenic route so you could blast your music and take your time getting home, instead of going on the interstate and having a blowout.

While you were tapping away at your phone trying to think of different options, you could see headlights in the distance. Squinting, you couldn’t decide if you wanted the person to stop or if you’d rather take your chances being out at night alone. Watching as they got closer, you breathed a sigh of relief as you watched the truck pull off to the side of the road just up ahead.

The door opened, and out came this hulking of a man. Easily 6’4”, shoulders broad as ever, sauntering over to you in a scuffed up pair of work pants, a white shirt that wasn’t so white with all the oil stains on it, and an unzipped black jacket. You couldn’t really see his face, a plain black mask covering from his nose down. From his look alone, you didn’t know if you should be turned on or afraid for your life – somehow, you chose the first.

“You okay?” he called out, voice deep and gruff.

“Yeah, I just-” you sighed, cutting yourself off. “Left the bar earlier. Tire blew out, I hit that pothole back there. Towing companies are either too far out or charging too much.”

He nodded his head, walking around to inspect your wheel. He squatted down and even as close to the ground as he was, he still came up to your stomach. Fuck, this guy was big.

“I can get a ride home but I don’t want to leave my car out overnight, probably wouldn’t be here by the time I came to get it tomorrow,” you explained, fidgeting with your phone. You could see the man’s shoulders and back move, almost like he had scoffed at your suggestion.

“Nonsense,” he stood back up, walking closer to you – taking in how you looked. Black lacy top with dramatic bell sleeves on it, a flowy black miniskirt. Platform boots that made you a few inches taller, but still much smaller than him. There was no way on earth that he’d have seen you and not pulled over to help. “I can call one of my guys to come pick up your car and bring it to my shop to stay overnight. I can bring you home if you wouldn’t mind, your friends wouldn’t have to wake up and drive out here.”

You weighed your options and somehow, that was the best one you had. “Okay, yeah. Thank you.”

About 10 minutes later, a man pulled up in a tow truck, having the man move his truck from in front of you so he could back the tow truck up to the front of your car. As the man got out of the car, you saw that he was attractive too – dark brown skin that looked as smooth as ever, sparkling eyes that smiled kindly at you even though it was half past midnight. Grey sweats and a black hoodie with a mechanic shop logo on the front – you guessed that they worked together. You stood back as you watched the two men hook up your car and load it up.

“Thanks Gaz, owe you one.”

“‘s no problem, Simon,” Gaz clapped him on the shoulder, giving you a quaint smile and wave before getting into the tow truck and hauling your car back the way he had just come from.

–

“So,” you said as you got into the truck with your savior for the night. “You just know a 24/7 road service guy, huh?”

“Mhm,” he said, driving down the road. “I own that mechanic shop a couple miles back that way. Opened it up whenever I retired. He works with me.”

You nodded your head, keeping the conversation light. You figured he wasn’t one for nonsensical small talk, considering he had been quiet so far, only really saying what was needed. You could appreciate that.

“So where’d you retire from?” You asked him, looking out the side window at the trees starting to disappear the more you got into town.

“Military,” was all he said, still keeping it short and light. You hummed, figuring he’d talk more about it if he wanted to.

“What do you do?”

Your eyes unfocused from the trees, and you shifted in your seat. “I’m in school, grad school. Work in one of the offices on campus during the week. Gets boring but it pays for my schooling, and I enjoy being there, so that’s what counts I guess.”

It was silent for a minute.

“Got out of the military couple of years back, whole squad actually retired together. Came back, married a nice girl. Two step-kids – teeangers, really. Boy and a girl.”

You almost deflated in your seat. Of course, you shouldn’t have expected much – your love life was filled with disappointments littered throughout. Maybe his friend Gaz was single. But this was still a kind stranger that thankfully was not a serial killer, and you were still grateful for all of his help tonight.

“Oh, that’s nice.” He grunted, rolling his eyes at the statement. Whoops.

“She’s busy at her office. Works at one of the law firm buildings downtown. Got her sister watching the kids at her house.”

“Thought they closed at 5..?” you asked, eyebrows creased in confusion.

“They do. The CEO stays late sometimes though. Think she just wanted an upgrade from a shop owner.”

Oh.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, focusing your attention back on the buildings going past you.

“So you went to the bar by yourself?” he asked, cutting the silence once again. You confirmed for him, telling him your friends either had work that night or just couldn’t make it for some other reason.

“Mm. Boyfriend didn’t come out with you then?” Now you snorted, rolling your eyes.

“No such thing. Actually just left him about a week ago. Too immature,” you started. “He could never keep up with anything…no job, no hobbies. Never any time for me either way.”

“Hm. Sounds like you need a real man in your life then, yeah?”

You could feel your face heat up. Shifting in your seat to press your thighs together without him noticing, you tried to keep your cool. You weren’t dumb – you could see that Simon was older than you at least by 15 years. Not only did he have a job, but he owned the damn place. Established. Smart. Married. But, married to a cheating wife in a loveless marriage. And here you were: had a job, in school. Established for your age. Frustrated. Sexually frustrated.

“Guess so,” you looked over at him, meeting his eyes briefly until you had to look away, face heating up. He focused back on the road.

It was silent after that. The radio played classic rock on its station, and you found yourself deep in thought about everything going on – about the man giving you a ride home. Your leg bounced up and down nervously, and didn’t stop when he pulled into the driveway of your apartment. Biting at the inside of your lip, you didn’t even realize that you had made it yet.

You could hear him sigh, and it snapped you out of your thoughts. Before you could even think about thanking him and going inside, he reached over and grabbed your thigh. “Stop the bouncing, love.”

Your lips parted, not expecting his actions. Your leg stopped bouncing, your heart taking its place, hammering in your chest. You watched his thumb run across your skin before you looked over at him, honey eyes meeting yours.

His hand crept up your thigh, squeezing at the plushness of it before continuing upwards. He gently nudged at your other leg, and you caught the hint, slightly spreading them – just enough room for his hand to fit in the middle. His finger lightly rubbed over your clothed clit, feeling the lace of your panties under the rough pad of his fingertip.

He looked down, taking off his mask and carefully putting it on his gear shift. When he looked up at you again, you scanned his face. He was easily one of the most attractive men you had seen – amber-colored eyes looking right back at you, a scar running through his eyebrow and one cutting into his top lip.

He pressed a little harder against your clit, a shiver going down your spine and a small gasp coming from you. You were sure that if you looked in a mirror, your pupils would have been completely dilated at that point.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, leaning in closer but continuing his movements. You could see his hardened cock straining against his pants.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathed against him, his lips just inches from yours.

“I know,” his fingers slipped past the lace and began to rub directly onto your clit, dipping down to bring your slick up for more lube. You held back a whimper at the feeling of his finger rubbing circles into your nub, legs opening wider. “So tell me to stop.”

His fingers pushed into you, going slow to let you adjust to the new feeling. You can’t remember the last time anything other than your toys or your own fingers was down there. Two fingers slid in and out of you, and you could hear the sound of your slick, very audible in the small cab of his truck. Crooking his fingers, he pressed against your sweet spot, and you couldn’t hold back the whine that came from your lips. “Answer.”

“I can’t,” his lips crashed against yours, your hand coming up to the back of his neck to pull him closer. His tongue slipped into your mouth, taking control – you let him. There was nothing more that you wanted in this moment than for him to take control. His lips fit perfectly against yours, slotted as you kissed for what seemed like forever before he pulled away.

“Take these off,” he snapped the waistband of your panties and you rushed to slide them off, leaving your skirt on. Your hands shook with anticipation as you kicked the fabric off from around your boots, leaving it on the floor of his truck. His large hand cupped the side of your face, leading you right back to him to kiss you again. You reached over to grab at his bulge, and he lifted his hips up just enough to slide his pants and briefs down to his thighs and free his hard cock. Wrapping your hand around it, he groaned and you broke the kiss to get a good look at him.

Eyes going wide, he was huge. You could have assumed, given the size of his body, but fuck. Your fingers could barely touch when wrapped around his cock, vein running on the underside of it, his tip growing red and leaking. “Shit,” you whispered, eyes fixated on him. You gave him a couple of strokes, thumb pressing on top of his tip, and his head tilted back until it hit the headrest of the seat, eyes closed. You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore, feeling like you were going to go into a frenzy.

Leaning down, you took him into your mouth slowly, moaning around him from the taste. “Up,” he said, tapping your back, and you popped off of him, repositioning yourself to kneel sideways in the passenger seat. Going back to your previous actions, you bent down and took him into your mouth again, lapping at his head while you stroked the rest of him with your hand. You could feel him shift, and then felt his hand gripping at your ass.

Even though you couldn’t see it, you could feel that his entire hand covered most of your ass, and you could only imagine what it looked like. His fingers ran through your cunt, feeling the slick that had gathered there and smeared on your thighs. He toyed at your clit before pushing two of his fingers back in, making you moan around his cock. The feeling of being filled pushed you, bobbing your head down further down his cock.

“Fuck, you feel so good, love,” he breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again, taking in the sight in front of him. Pretty girl sucking his cock, hair pulled back out of your face with his large hand, back arched in the seat next to him as he fingered your tight hole.

You raised your head up, letting spit pool in your mouth before letting it drop onto his cock, adding more lubricant to suck him off easier. As you went back down, he picked up his pace. You arched your back even more, pushing back against his hand for more, and he pulled your hair a little tighter in his hand.

He could tell you were about to cum – you didn’t even have to say it. He could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, could see how you’d deepen the arch every time he hit that magic spot in you. He could feel you unintentionally slowing down.

Crooking his fingers just right, he pushed deeper into you and that was your undoing. Your voice was partially muffled as you came, moaning and whimpering around his cock as much as you could, stopping all movement with your tongue but unintentionally sinking down further on him as your whole body tightened from your orgasm washing over you. Goosebumps rose on your skin as you preened at the euphoric feeling running through your veins, head a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the blood pumping hard through you.

Seeing you come undone and your brain essentially melt from the orgasm was the last straw for Simon. Pressing his head back into the truck’s headrest, he groaned as he spilled down your throat, large hand squeezing at your ass enough to leave reddened skin behind. His hips pushed up just the tiniest bit each time more cum would spurt out, and you gladly swallowed it all.

Your mind was a haze as you pulled off of him, weakly sitting up and the both of you fixing your clothing. You adjusted back to normal in your seat, reaching down to grab your panties that had been tossed on the floor, and before you could even think of putting them back on or at the very least walking inside with them, the man beside you took them out of your hand. You watched as he pocketed them.

“Just something to remember you by, hm?” You looked down, hands fidgeting as a small smile crept on your face.

“Well…thanks for the ride,” you said awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as if your jaw wasn’t starting to ache from being stuffed full just minutes ago. Before you could grab for the door handle, Simon had cupped the back of your neck and kissed you again, this time gentler.

“Remember your car tomorrow,” he said, almost a whisper. From the look in his eyes, you knew that this was far from the last time you’d be meeting him under these circumstances. From the look in your eyes, he knew that you needed this just as much as he did.

Nodding your head, you gave him a small smile and left the truck, walking inside your apartment and shutting the door behind you. You listened to him drive off after he saw that you had made it in safely, and your head just spun. You don’t know what the hell just happened, but you’re glad it did.

#simon riley #simon “ghost” riley #simon riley smut #cod #call of duty #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #call of duty smut #cod smut #cod x reader #mechanic simon riley #this took me way too FUCKING long to write #this is what I mean when I say I'm a low-energy writer

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lethalchiralium · 5 months ago

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simon’s been in the kitchen for longer than you expected.

you just asked for a glass of water - you had spent all night bent over wrapping paper and presents and enough ribbon to wrap the house twice, and all you wanted as you laid down to sleep was water. and of course, the sweet man he is, he got up and left to get it. twenty minutes ago.

maybe he fell asleep on the way there, you didn’t know, but you still slid into your slippers and tied your fuzzy robe tight. quietly escaping your bedroom, shuffling down the stairs and towards the kitchen when you hear a giggle. every muscle in your body froze, your body suddenly and silently flush against the wall as you peered towards the sound.

winnie’s curls bounced as she pressed a bow to a wrapped present, using her whole body as momentum. the huddled figure beside her made your chest squeeze with so much love that you thought it would burst.

simon, neatly wrapping presents, quietly spoke to winnie, “be gentle with mama’s presents. we don’t want santa to be sad if they’re messed up, do we?”

“no, daddy.”

“thank you, duckling. now, can you write ‘to mama’ on there? it would help santa so much when he gets here.”

your daughter instantly sprung into action, scribbling on the wrapping paper as your smile mirrored hers. you could watch them wrap presents all night - simon’s gentle direction and winnie’s endless happiness. instead, you turned around and retreated back upstairs. didn’t want to ruin the surprise that simon and santa’s little helper were creating for you.

happiness masterlist

#happiness series #merry christmas!#simon “ghost” riley #merry christmas #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #lethalchiralium #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #lethal chiralium #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley x f!reader

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irl-simon-riley · 1 year ago

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tw: sexual assault mention (not really explicit but just in case)

not enough people talk about Ghost being a victim of SA and it makes me so sad. IT'S LITERALLY SHOWN ON PAGE IN THE COMICS YOU CANNOT DENY THAT IT HAPPENED!!!!!!!!!

the comics were published 2009 when most media wouldn't even touch on male SA victims unless it was to make fun of them. we don't even get many empathetic portrayals of it in recent years!!! (whether the perpetrator is a man or woman). Ghost is quite literally the first good male ID'd SA victim rep I've seen in a piece of media that I enjoy.

it also shows disassociation (not dissociation) by having Ghost literally separate Simon Riley from himself. He tells his backstory by pretending it happened to someone else and calling Simon Riley an "old friend" of his that died.

he is so special and important to me

#you can guess why my blog is themed around him based off of this post lol #tw sex assault #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mw comics #simon “ghost” riley #simon ghost riley #cod simon riley

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p1n-p0int · 5 months ago

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Honest to gods, I'm working on that that hc, but hear me y' all...

I have a "Ghost who's too closed off due to his trauma, doesn't talk about his past nor his work (the details he's allowed to say), and a reader who is desperately trying to save him from drowning in his self-hatred, and everything seems fine between them til the day before Simon's countless employments where reader pokes the bear too hard and Ghost snaps at them before leaving for the base" agenda running free in my mind

Like man, he loves you but the constant betrayals he went through, both familial and work related, before making him unable to let you into his comfort zone properly. Don't get me wrong; this man loves you to death and could do anything and everything, illegal or not, for you at the drop of the hat, but the thought of you knowing about his past? It sends him spiralling.

Thus why he doesn't see any issue in keeping you at arm's length and out of his business 'til the night before he has to depart for a mission.

You randomly begin to talk about hypothetical marriage and children you two are going to have one day. A happy life together you wanted for yourself and Simon... He threw you a side-glance telling you to drop it, he told you twice when you insisted on interrogating him as to why a loving family he could come back to from employment sounds bad... He has never meant to verbally snap at you the way he did - you backing away from his reach zone and putting a heavy kitchen table between him and you as an additional barrier, your brain was terrified of the man you were seeing in front of you. But it was not your Simon that was speaking, it was some twisted, traumatized soldier? child? part of him peaking its sorrowful head out, that much you knew - triggered his traumas. He couldn't hold it in. You pushed way too many times and his glass-like wall broke under the pressure.

When he was done ranting off to the grimy image in his head and looked up at you, scared of him, he bolted, grabbing his things and running out of your shared flat, not able to face you and the look on your face that's going to haunt him for the rest of his days. Because, sworn with a hand to his heart, he thought he singlehandedly ended the relationship there and then.

I don't have detailed route options for this one, but definitely, just like for Price, I'm planning for:

that hits all the raw points and talks about all the important topics of mental health, PTSD, self-worth and trust issues, you name it basically. A bit darker, with Ghost literally going through it to make himself better for the reader and first and foremost himself. (Groveling on his knees, fix-it route)

Ghost coming back from the employment, determined to discuss the previous fight with them, explain his side of view... Only to find the reader long gone from their apartment. (Angst route)

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley × reader #Simon “Ghost” Riley #ghost cod #task force 141 #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #call of duty men #cod x reader

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drop-cherries · 1 month ago

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Ghost's Secret wife. Part 2 part 3

You were nervous, anxiety pooling in your stomach as you ran around your shared house with Simon.

His friends were coming over, though he only called them his "work buddies" but you knew that was a lie. Mostly because the soft fondness that would roll over his features when he talked about his work days in the evening as you lay in his arms.

There was a smell of Simon's favorite dish that wafted around the house as you frantically fluffed the colorful couch pillows, and straightening the blankets that laid across the back.

The sergeants under Simon didn't know you existed let alone Simon was married. He always kept that part of him a secret. He didn't want them that close to him in fear of losing them someday in the midst of battle.

You were a sweet little thing. Far too good for someone so hardened by life like him. It surprised him how kind you were day after day, helping him clean up after a mission your softness with him baffling. Because never did he have someone take so much care with him like you do

You dressed in your favorite sundress, the one that always had Simon swooning.

The door bell rung right as Simon stepped out of your bedroom. He walked up to you asking if you were ready, with your sweet smile you looked up at him his heart skipped a beat. You nodded and he moved away to open the door but not before pecking you lips with a soft kiss.

The door opened and his friends loudly greeting him but stopping in their tracks then the spot you.

You lift up your hand and wave, and the one you know as Johnny opens his mouth his jaw dropping as he notices the ring on your finger.

Price moves past him greeting you with kindness, the only one of Simons team that knew who you were. Gaz stands next you soap equally as surprised as Simon walks over to you wrapping his arm around your waist.

"You have a wife?!" They both balk.

#ghost x reader #simon “ghost” riley #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic

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pricetagged · 6 months ago

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butcher paper

Here's a young (maybe 19-early 20s) Simon struggling with his emotions, working as a butcher's apprentice, and fixating on the pretty student waitress at the café next door (':

Content: plus size f-presenting reader; allusions to domestic abuse (Simon's past); fat-shaming (not Simon); little bit of violence, unedited. (Link to Ao3)

He's not sure that it counts as desire. Interest. It crawls over him, makes him feel aggressive, makes him want to dig his teeth in and shake and snarl.

It's hunger.

And he knows hunger. Knows it like he knows the cigarette burns on the back of his hand. Knows it like he knows his old man's a waste of space and that he has to defend his mum and protect Tommy and- and-

He's the man of the house, only the house is rotten. Woodloused frames, crumbling bricks. Gutted. Empty shelves hidden behind broken doors. Chipped plaster, electricity cutting off. Squeaky steps that always clued them in when the old man was on a rager (not that it helped, creaking out a warning but giving no clue where to run. The percussion leading to a gallows' jig; the heavy step before the hit).

But the old man's gone now. And Simon is left trying to fill in the boots he doesn’t know how to wear. All growth spurt and gangly limbs and anger. So much anger at the old bastard. Tear-soaked anger at his mum sometimes (buried deep behind the shame that he feels when he thinks of her black and blue. Anger and shame, bitter roots that he chews at to soothe the clench of in his jaw and the grind of his teeth). And then he sees you through the window. Through the peeling CHRISTMAS SPECIAL sign highlighting ham joints and turkey and pigs in blankets.

You're so soft.

You look like you’ve lived a life well-fed and well-loved. Something round and sweet and helpless, like the puppies he and Tommy had seen dumped in the park while they snuck cigarettes and swigged from cheap supermarket cider.

And that brings him back to the hunger. He's an awkward creature, shuffling to the café where you work part-time. He's more feeling than man, all rage and appetite stuffed into a skin suit. You sense it too, nerves tugging at the tilt of your smile as you approach the scavenger that swept in to sit at the cheap plastic tables in this greasy spoon. He sits awkwardly, too, hunched over the table like his stomach is gnawing at him. Big hands snapping the disposable plastic coffee stirrers and shredding the napkins. That first day, he just stares at you. Sneers a little when you flutter over to take his order.

You slosh the tea a little when you serve it.

He sees the burn bloom, watches as you suck at the sting with plump cheeks and a rosy little mouth, and he just wants to dig in and scratch hard to see you do that again.

It becomes a habit, watching you. He finds out bits and pieces listening as he rends and chops and saws through muscle and bone, stinking of sweat and iron. You're here as a student. You're living in student digs (good, best that you avoid the up-and-downs and rough streets that would fit a student budget), and you're a real sweetheart. Old Sal who has been running the café for the past 30 years leans a heavy elbow on the display counter as he chats with the boss.

"She's lovely, taken to it like a fish to water," his raspy, smoke-charred voice is cheery as he waits for the bacon and sausages to be weighed and wrapped. "Only asked for Thursdays and Fridays off since she has afternoon classes then. Otherwise, I almost have to round her out of the shop, doing more afternoons and weekends than my own kid."

You're hardworking too, then. He wonders if it's because you're hungry too, needing something to do with your time, living on pot noodles and supermarket ready-meals like he'd heard some students do. It's strange how that thought sits uncomfortably, makes him want to hunch over you and bring you his scraps.

That week, he decides to talk to you. Only the words get caught, don't come out quite right as he stares at the way your jumper clings to the soft curves under your faded apron. When you turn around, bustling to other customers, he can't help but stare at the line of your skirt. It's real pretty, decent, sitting just above your knees but Christ, he wishes that it would roll up a little higher. That it would catch on the corner of a table or hitch up as you raise your arms and swish past with a tray full of fry-ups. He almost gets lucky as you bend over to mop up a spill just across the room. Your thighs widen as they press against the table, tights stretching thin and sheer and he just can't tear his eyes away-

(The hunger in his stomach turns hot and biting, makes his cheeks flush and his mouth dry-)

But it's ruined. Fly in the soup, hair in the dish, as you catch him and your eyebrows pinch together as you look away. There's something guarded, bitter, in your lovely eyes, and the dryness in his mouth turns wet and sour. You seem to take pains to avoid him, swapping out with Sal's son so that you can work the counter instead of the floor.

"'m Simon," he grunts as he goes to settle the bill. "Work at the butcher's across the street."

You clearly didn’t expect an introduction, shoulders relaxing and hesitant smile blooming as you give your name in return.

"Yeah, I know. Sal mentioned you a few times. He's tried to give me the rundown of practically everyone on the street, feels like."

"Y'should come in t'the shop," the invitation rushes out in a way that makes him feel clumsy. Perhaps that’s why he did it; to have you in his space, with his head and his footing right. Here, he feels every inch the artificial man. Pieced together, too big and too looming, with no help or guidance on how to talk to soft things and pretty girls.

You grimace a little, eyes focused on the till as you count out his change. "Not really on a butcher-shop budget right now."

"'S'alright. I can keep something aside for ya," he doesn't mention how it would come out of his wages. How it would come out of what he brought home to his mum and Tommy. It didn't matter, though, when he was used to going without.

"That's - that's really nice, actually," Your sweet face is glowing now, and he feels like he could bathe in the warmth of it. "Next time you come by lunch is on me."

He sees the way you tuck your chin and smile as he walks away, and that bottomless pit in his guts feels just a little more full.

(He doesn't quite catch the snickers of the boys at table three, whispering and nudging each other as you come to take their orders. This time.)

He stares more and more through the window of the shop, watching as you come and go. Watching the way you greet the regulars and skirt around the group of lads who like to linger in the evenings. There's something sharp, nasty, to the way they circle around the entrance. The way they cackle and hoot when the one with the eyebrow piercing smirks and whispers to his mates as they force you to brush past. They're a pack of hyenas, shrieking and smug as they toy with the poor little thing that's walked past their watering hole. He's seen this type before, practically grew up with them. His old man was probably one of them, perfecting his cruelty while young, cementing it as part of his nature.

It has Simon sharpening his knives while he grits his teeth. Has the boss tutting at him when he cuts too close to the bone.

He knows there's something violent in him. The old man tried to bring it out then snuff it out, getting scared when the knife that he sharpened was able to cut him in return. He's no stranger to bloodshed. No stranger to the calloused, deprivation-dimmed apathy that breeds like algae in the environment where he was forged. Dripping, slimy, suffocating.

Doesn't mean he likes it, though.

(He'd gone back for those puppies, you know. Felt wrong leaving them. Felt like a rebellion against his old man's sick life lessons as he dumped the box outside the doors of a local veterinary clinic).

So he keeps his eyes peeled, stakes out the café like he owns it. Stares down anyone who looks at you wrong until they look away, muttering under their breath. 'Fucking freaky dead-eyed git.' It seems to work.

And you seem to like it, sparing more smiles for him. Bringing him bigger portions than normal and topping up his cup before he even needs to ask.

"I know you've been working since seven, Simon. Gotta keep your strength up," You seem bashful as you slide the plate across, and he just eats it up.

You've been looking at him, thinking about him. It's not something he's familiar with, having someone care for him. His mum loves him, of course. Tommy too. But it’s not the same, not when it's been his job to take care of them. His job to step up to the mantle and into the shoes that his father should've filled. Watching the sway of your wide hips as he tucks into the steak and kidney pie with gusto, he feels satisfied. The hunger is there, always is, but it's not gouging at him under the skin. It's satiated, pleased. The kind of comfort that leaves his eyes heavy and his belly warm.

It's a routine you fall into, and everything is rosy-

Until it's not.

He's closing up shop, wiping down the counters and getting ready to haul down the shutters when he sees them. Those stupid pricks, travelling in their pack and signaling that their quarry is in sight. Look, there it is alone and limping and- You're in a rush, leaving later than usual and shrugging your coat on carelessly as you shout your goodbyes to Sal. You're in that skirt again, the one that makes his lower belly tighten and mouth feel dry.

"Oi, look! Dirty scrubber has her fat arse hanging out!"

It sets them off, chittering and howling as you freeze wide-eyed and lip-quivering.

"Gonna be sick, mate. Don't want to see your knickers, love. Didn't even know they came in that size."

He doesn't even see red. Doesn't see anything but your pretty, round face crumpling as you try to tug your skirt out from where it got caught under your coat.

The ringing of the bell by the door muffles the sound of the first punch. His fist crunches into that prick's nose, and he wants nothing more than to keep going until his face is little more than meat and pulp and blood. He can taste it, smells the blood in the air like a shark.

But you're watching.

"Bit bored with y'taking the piss out of her," he snarls it as he hauls the man by his jacket, shoving him hard against the wall until his head thwacks against the bricks. Easy as hauling a side of beef. "Why don't ya try me next?"

The man seems dazed, head spinning and nose dripping. His mates, too, look floored. Ready to scatter and abandon their leader to the bigger beast. Only the promise of more blood keeps them watching, feeds their nasty appetites and he's just itching to let them see. Watch what happens; it's coming for you next.

"Speechless now, eh? Had so much to say earlier," he's spitting the words out, teeth snapping as he leans down so close to the man's face that he can see how his pupils constrict. "Apologise."

And he's smarter than he would give him credit for. Smart enough to whimper out his 'sorry, sorry, sorry' as he drops to the filthy, damp pavement when Simon swivels towards the others. Something about the set of his shoulders, the way his hands and apron are splattered with the gore of man and animal, has them scattering.

"That goes for the rest of ya! Don't ever want t'see your ugly fucking mugs around here again," he spits on the ground, itches at his jaw with his wrist as he watches them run.

He can't hear them anymore. Can't hear anything over the sound of his heavy panting and pounding heartbeat.

It's cold out. He's only realising it now, standing in the December chill with just an apron over his jeans and t-shirt. It has him shaking, flexing his hand as his knuckles start to sting and swell. He welcomes it, welcomes the familiar bite as he pushes down the savage, ragged anger rippling through his chest.

"Simon-"

"Y'alright?" he cuts you off, faces you head-on.

And all the rage saps out. You're not cowering away. There's no disgust on your face. No tears or embarrassment either, no. You've got a crumpled packet of wet wipes in your hand, reaching out for him. Concerned.

"Figure you'd want to get that prick's blood off you soon as possible," you give him a sad little half-smile. "Didn't have to do all that for me, Simon."

"Yeah, didn't have to." He concedes as he steps closer to you. Crowds into your space until you're toe-to-toe and he can feel your warmth. He brushes his fingers against yours, lets them linger on your soft skin as he reaches for the wipes. "I wanted to."

-----------------------

Let's all pretend that this was okay and ignore the fact that I still haven't posted the wips that I keep going on about 🫠💖

Just a little self-indulgent drabble idea that I had today, thinking back to watching 'My Mad Fat Diary' as a teenager, feeling nostalgic ~ (The Finn-defending-Rae scene had 18yo me in a chokehold lol).

#you have a sweet little blossoming romance until tommy starts acting up and simon joins the army #but youre his first love and who knows...there may be a future for you years down the line #when old grizzled simon spots a familiar pretty face walking the streets of manchester while he's on leave #and really，him watching you and looking out for you is a relationship tradition at this point (:#idk im not confident with this and its not great but the idea was lingering and idk self indulgent #simon riley cod #simon “ghost” riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley/reader #ghost cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod imagine #báirseach writes #cw implied abuse #cw fatphobia

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the-californicationist · 9 months ago

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Friday Night Magic

AO3 Link -- I'm pretty sure this was an old ask, but I don't have the original request anymore. Sorry!

Your husband of many years, John Price, has been keeping your secret: you love it when he plays doctor, giving you a happy little pill that makes you really sleepy, really fast. The best part is that you never know how you’ll be woken up. But, when he suggests that you can still play together even while he’s in the middle of hosting game night with his mates, you decide to trust in the fact that the doctor really does know best.

TW: non-consensual sex, drugged sex, nc-somno, rape, gangbang, betrayal, anal and vaginal sex, references to past rape events

His hand was doing nothing for him, and John hadn’t drawn a usable spell in the past six turns. He was mana-screwed and bored with his lieutenant’s penchant for playing control decks. But, it was Friday, and that’s all that mattered. The tired captain always looked forward to Fridays when they were off-mission. It meant that he got to drink through his whiskey collection, smoke way too damn many cigars, and play Magic: the Gathering with his mates. All work and no play makes John a dull boy, after all.

Friday nights also meant that you were tucked away in your room, playing with yourself while your man played cards, often overstimulating yourself to the point of tears so that when he was ready to fuck you, his cheeks pink and his breath smelling of whiskey and tobacco, he could go for hours, his fat dick drowning in the milky mess you’d made. He was like your very own sex machine, pounding away at your drooling hole, half-drunk and eager to have you in every position he could dream of.

Sometimes, though, John’s Friday nights were extra special. Right now, he couldn’t even concentrate on the game. He just wanted to check on you to see if he was about to get a very rare kind of lucky. Fingers crossed, he excused himself from the table and padded into his bedroom, nudging the door open a crack to see where you were.

You were laying in bed atop your plush blanket, dressed in a matching mesh set, a pale pink bra and crotchless panty, lazily touching yourself with your deft fingers and reading smut on your phone. You didn’t even remove your hand from your clit when he walked in, continuing to swirl slow circles around its sensitive head, rolling your hips just a little to help you feel the slow, delightful drag of your pleasure.

“Hey, pretty bird,” John purred, sitting beside you, feeling the mattress sink under his weight.

“Hey, baby. You done with your game?” You asked, peeked up over the edge of your phone before turning back to your scrolling.

“Not yet,” John leaned forward and kissed your nipple through the fabric of your bra, the thin mesh letting you feel the hot, wet whisper of his tongue.

You moaned for him, a lovely, ragged sound. It awakened something mean and primal in his chest. You pouted a bit when he pulled away, your bottom lip bulging out and showing him a small frown,

“I thought you wanted to play doctor tonight.”

Jackpot. John was a lucky man, indeed. He felt the blood from his core rush down to his prick, making his flesh instantly start to swell. He loved playing doctor.

“We can still play,” he began to tease you, snaking his hand up your ankle and calf, his palm warming your skin.

“Aren’t your mates still here?” You asked, a hint of scandal in your tone.

John cocked an eyebrow, questioning your inquiry, a bit put out by your resistance,

“Don’t you wanna take your medicine, love?” His hand slipped slowly over the meat of your inner thigh, his longest fingers reaching just past the seal of your lips, barely dipping into your swollen, drooling hole, “Feels like you’ve got a fever.”

“You think so?” You smiled coyly up at him, putting down your phone and playing with your nipples in front of him, pinching and shaking them back and forth through the pink fabric.

John nodded, “I think you should take a pill, yeah? Better nip this in the bud before you get sick, sweetheart.”

“The doctor knows best!” You winked at him and rooted around in the bottom of your beside table.

You pulled out a little purple pill bottle, tipped the lid, and placed a white tablet in his open palm. John removed his other hand from between your legs and used the fingers that had been inside of you to gently lift the pill to your lips.

“Say ahh,” he commanded, almost all of the softness gone from his voice.

“Ahh…” You made a long noise with your throat, tipping your head back and sticking out your tongue. When you felt the pill land in place, you flipped it under your tongue to allow it to dissolve.

“Good girl,” John praised you, letting you suckle on his slick-covered fingers as you liked, enjoying how you were sucking him down to his knuckles as if you were practicing for his cock. Then, once the pill was gone, you released his hand and kissed his palm, the sticky sheen of your lip gloss making a little popping noise as you did.

“Thank you, doctor. I know you’ll make me feel so much better,” you smiled,

“I will, sweetheart. Come say goodnight to the boys.”

“Okay, but I need my robe,” you said, your voice laced with heavy apprehension. John wasn’t asking, though, and he helped you stand up from the bed, taking your phone and wrapping your silk nightgown around you, doing the bare minimum for your modesty.

You fixed yourself in your vanity mirror and followed John out into the main room, holding the robe tight against your body as you emerged.

“Hey, bonnie,” Soap’s face lit up, “Good to see ya.”

“You, too! Just wanted to come say good night before I went off to bed.”

“Oh, no. You gotta join us for a game, babes. It’s been too long,” Gaz chided you playfully, grabbing you by the shoulder and guiding you to the table.

You looked up at John for help. But, he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew you only had a few more minutes before the pill would start to take effect, and he also knew that you were way too shy to tell them the truth about your naughty little habit.

What could you say? Oh, sorry, I can’t play tonight. I took an extra-strength sleeping pill because I want my husband to fuck me while I’m helpless and knocked out cold.

John smiled, watching you squirm and rack your brain for any and every excuse to back out,

“Oh, no, there’s no more chairs. I’ll just —“

“Si’ down,” Simon said curtly, grabbing your hip and pulling you down onto his lap, letting your legs straddle one of his huge thighs, “You can play my hand, Mrs. Price.”

The fact that your robe had ridden up your legs almost to reveal your thick asscheeks was only a secondary concern. The primary one was that your well-rubbed pussy was already leaving a damp stain on Simon’s jeans. His thigh was as hard as a stone, heavy with muscle, and he was holding your hip hard enough to keep you fully pressed to him. The only movement you could make was to grind back against him, which you had to do every time you lost your balance on his leg.

You tried your best to pay attention to the game, but you were struggling to stay alert. The pill’s effects were making your head foggy and your eyes droop. Your fingers were too weak to hold the cards, and when they dropped from your hand, your husband’s smile turned sinister.

“Feelin’ alright there, love?” Gaz asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“Um…” You tried to form a sentence, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Felt a bit under the weather earlier, wasn’t she? Took her pill, though. Makes her a bit drowsy,” Price explained, sitting next to Simon, rubbing your back, not seeming to care that his hands were shifting the collar of the robe out of place and making it hang down your shoulder, revealing the top of your sheer bra to the whole room.

You tried to fix it, but you were slowly losing control of your arms, feeling like you were floating in a dreamy sea.

“Dinnae fash, hen,” Johnny grinned, folding his hand on the table, “We’ll tuck you in, won’t we, lads?”

“Aye, that we will,” Simon’s voice was deep and low, spoken right into your ear.

You looked up at John for help, realizing that he wasn’t going to save you. You thought he would scoop you up and take you back to bed, or at least make some excuse and send his men home, but no. He was letting them pull at your robe so that it hung around your waist, watching them reveal your ample tits in your see-through bra, doing nothing but looking pleased as could be.

“John…” You slurred, feeling yourself slip away to a drugged sleep, hearing his words right before your head fell to the table in front of you,

“Sweet dreams, love.”

You were gone from the world, floating in between being awake and being asleep. And it almost seemed like you could feel yourself being fucked. The pleasure was there, and yet, you couldn’t move or scream. You couldn't open your eyes. But, John would never allow that to happen. It was just a dream, right?

When you first awoke in one of your windows of consciousness, you were still at the table, but something was… wrong. You hadn’t moved from Simon’s lap, but now, he was moving you. You were split over his cock, and he was buried, balls-deep in your pussy, fondling your breasts under your mesh bra. The others were laughing, talking, joking, carrying on their game, but their eyes leered at you like hyenas waiting their turn to sink their teeth into the neck of a caught gazelle.

“Mmngh, ungh,” you tried to speak, but you sounded drunk, “John?”

“No, princess,” Simon snarled in your ear, “Your big man’s lettin’ us jump the line, yeah? Nice of him, innit? Fuck, I love Fridays.”

“What?” You were so confused. Why was Simon talking as if this had happened before? You were so ashamed, and John was right beside you. How could he let this happen? “John… Please…”

You tried to reach out to him, but your arms only lifted to his knee, trying to grab at his shirt or hand, anything to make him help you. Simon’s dick was steadily pounding into your swollen cunt, and John was just smoking his cigar and laughing at your feeble attempts to get free.

“Hush, now, love. Riley loves playin’ doctor, just like me. In fact, the boys have been takin’ good care of you every time they stop by, haven’t you?”

“Aye,” Johnny held his whiskey up to you as if to give you a toast, his eyes wide and full of a sick sort of hunger, “That bonnie cunt gets me through the week, lass. And ye keep it so wet for us. Such a good wee missus you’ve got, Cap’n.”

“Can’t thank you enough for the hospitality, Mrs. Price,” Gaz nodded to Soap, agreeing with his crude statement, taking another swig of his drink as his other hand moved under the table, moving rhythmically, obviously jerking himself off to the sight of you being speared on Simon’s big dick.

Suddenly, you felt Simon’s hands grip your hips on both sides of your body, holding you down onto the base of his cock, and you knew that he was about to come. You squirmed, wishing you could muster up any kind of strength, feeling as if you were still dreaming,

“No… No! Stop… Please… Don’t come in me…”

John cupped your cheek as his lieutenant dumped load after load of his sticky come into your body, his cock pulsing inside of you like a heartbeat, each throb of its huge shaft was another thick pool of his spend, turning your stomach and bringing desperate tears to the corners of your eyes.

“Shh, shh, shh,” John purred, “Take the medicine Riley’s givin’ you, love. It’ll make you feel so much better. You want mine next, hm? Will that make it right, pretty girl?”

“Unghhh…” You felt your body betray you, your pussy needing to come. Simon had one of his hands working quick, lurid circles around your clit, and now he was dragging you to a climactic peak, forcing you to come on his spent cock.

As you felt yourself spin out of control, your legs began to shake, giving away your moment of pleasure to the whole table.

“That’s a good girl,” John praised you, brushing a stray lock of hair out of your face.

“Fuck, she’s so wet. I think she likes an audience, Cap,” Simon observed, planting sloppy kisses onto your neck as you trembled from the aftershocks of your bliss.

They barely allowed you to cool down before John said,

“C’mere, love. My turn.”

Simon lifted you off of his lap with Price’s help, your robe fluttering to the floor. Your husband turned you on your back, laying you on the table across the cold wood and stacks of strewn playing cards. You tried to roll away, tried to sit up, but it was no use. The drugs had their hold on you, and you felt yourself fading back into a deep sleep.

Just before the blackness took you, you saw John lining up his fat, drooling cock at your entrance, sliding his head through Riley’s come with little resistance.

“Mmm-fuck. You’re so tight even after Riley’s prick, love. This pussy can just take so much cock, huh? Perfect girl.”

You slipped away into sleep yet again, and it seemed like you had only been out for a few minutes. You woke again in the same position, with your husband brutally pounding away at your hole, stuffing himself inside with wet, slick, slapping sounds.

Hands were roughly groping your tits from the other side of the table, none of which belonged to your husband, and as they played with your nipples, they began to pinch and pull at them, making you cry out.

“Look who’s awake again,” John cooed, his voice laced with farcical pity, “Don’t worry. You’ll get Johnny and Kyle soon enough.”

You couldn’t hold on. You tried to struggle against the shadowy slumber that pressed down on all your senses, but it was no use.

When you woke up again, you were in bed. Your pillow and blanket were gone, but you recognized the soft sheets. Then, you realized you were moving. The whole mattress was shaking back and forth, and Johnny was behind you, shoving his leaking dick into your asshole.

“Unghff-fuck! You back among the living, bonnie? Your tight little hole just grabbed me like a fuckin’ vice.”

“S-s-stop. Please…” You managed to whisper, your throat feeling sore for some reason. You tried not to think about why that would be.

“Cannae stop, lass. Your man’s dead set on findin’ the cure for what ails you, and I’m here to help. Based on how wet your wee slit has become, I think we’re on the right track.”

Just when you heard his words tease you about your wetness, you felt his fingers slip inside of your pussy, three of them, cruelly thick, following his cock’s rhythm, stretching you wider than you’d ever been in your whole life.

You tried to cry out, to scream, to call for help, but it was no use. So, you melted into his efforts instead, feeling your muscles flutter against him, threatening to make you come from his anal sex. He didn’t seem to notice your mounting pleasure, or if he did, he didn’t much care. He just continued to thrust into your holes, slamming his stocky weight into you, making your cheek sink into the mattress as you lay face-down, ass-up for your husband’s best friend.

The last thing you heard as you fell into unconsciousness was Johnny’s moans, and his comment of surprise,

“Oh, bonnie girl. You gonna come for me? Fuck, yes…”

Your next moment of lucidity was in the living room. You were on the couch. Well, your face was laying against the crook of someone’s neck, your forehead pushing into the fabric upholstery, as you were being fucked in their lap on the sofa. You tried to lift yourself to see what was happening to you, and as you did, you saw that you were riding Simon again, straddling his legs as he fucked his cock up into your dripping hole from below. His mouth was suckling from your nipple, your bra missing, latched on and unwilling to let go, leaving little hickies behind as his teeth teased the sensitive nub.

But, he wasn’t alone. There was… something… happening to your asshole. You craned your neck to see Kyle standing behind you, fucking his long dick into your ass as Simon pounded into you from below.

You let out a long moan, the pleasure that you’d been receiving clearly coursing through you despite your lack of consent. You had been coming and coming and coming, and you hadn’t been awake for any of it.

“Holy shit,” Garrick growled, his grip on your flank tightening hard enough to bruise, “She’s gonna come again. Can’t fuckin’ believe it. Feels so goddamn good.”

“Fuck,” Simon popped his mouth away from your chest to lean his head back, relaxing as he rode the waves of your impromptu orgasm, “Oh, look. She’s awake.”

Kyle’s huge hand fisted your hair and pulled you back so he could see your face,

“I dunno. I wouldn’t call that awake. How much did she take?”

“Cap gave her two more when she was with him and Soap, so we’ve got time, Sergeant. Don’t we, love?” Simon grabbed your face without care, squeezing your cheeks and making you look at him through hooded, tired eyes, “Oh, yeah, we do. All the time in the world.”

Fic #99 is in the bag... next one will be #100! Thanks to everyone for supporting me through my absolute descent into madness. lol

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 1 year ago

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thinking of mermaids AGAIN sooooooooooooooo

Merman!Ghost x Mermaid!Reader (for Mermay 2024)

cw: dubcon elements, rough sex, SELF-INDULGENT and therefore weird mermaid biology, (suspend disbelief idk and idc about mermaid biology, i just wanted to write ghost fucking a mermaid.), forced?-ish breeding (both parties were aware of the risks)

Merman!Ghost who's actually a selkie... of sorts.

Merman!Ghost who took the coat of a GREAT Greenland shark over three centuries ago and has lived as a shark ever since...

Merman!Ghost who's a deep dweller and has become quite the hunter, using the darkness of the depths to attract dumb prey so he can kill them.

Merman!Ghost who's not above mauling humans, in fact he despises them, especially when he finds them hurting animals. Sure, he kills them, but he's an animal himself.

Merman!Ghost who when he's bored causes issues on purpose, including scaring fish and other underwater life, and finds great humour in it.

Merman!Ghost who constantly gives trouble to fishing boats by trying to sink them, slamming his tail on the side of them to send them rocking side to side... and by ripping their nets with his teeth...

Merman!Ghost who has had horror stories and cautionary tales told of him by many navigators, pirate captains, sailor crews... who has become somewhat of a legend, a myth, and gets referred to as "The Creature".

Merman!Ghost who's not immune to mermaid song, surprisingly enough, but who can resist it plenty well.

Merman!Ghost who hears the lilting of your voice through the dark water but doesn't seek you out.

Merman!Ghost who succeeds in resisting... for days, weeks, months...

Merman!Ghost who awakes to the endless sound of your singing bubbling into his ears, and gets lulled to sleep by it as well.

Merman!Ghost who finds himself going insane by your voice, that follows him like a backdrop for every waking moment of his life, and cannot tune it out.

Merman!Ghost who eventually bites the bait and allows himself to rise from his domain.

Merman!Ghost follows your voice as it carries for miles upon miles.

Merman!Ghost who comes across a natural cave by the beach. Way too close to the beach. Close enough for him to know he'll end up washing up and getting stuck.

Merman!Ghost who checks both sides, making sure the beach is empty before he tentatively strips off his coat for the first time in years.

Merman!Ghost who stashes his coat between the rocks, covering it with algae before he dares venture into the cave.

Merman!Ghost who can't see as easily without the shark eyes, who can't swim as well without the shark fins, who can barely walk because all his human muscles are atrophied.

Merman!Ghost who wades in waist deep water into the darkness of the cave, looking around for you, his burly, calloused hands using the rocks as crutches to seek you out.

Merman!Ghost who only notices you when it's too late... when your song suddenly stops and the water splashes as you dive back in.

Merman!Ghost who watches you zoom past him in the water, a slippery fishtail propelling you in a zigzag amidst the rocks before you emerge out of the cave.

Merman!Ghost who watches you grab his shark coat and try to make off with it...

Merman!Ghost who takes his sweet time returning back to the mouth of the cave, watching you bob on the water with a mischievous smirk on your lips.

Merman!Ghost who demands "Give it back."

Merman!Ghost who scowls when you tell him "No." and "If you want it back, you have to marry me."

Merman!Ghost who crosses his arms and glares at you, shaking his head and refusing.

Merman!Ghost who scowls even more when you tell him "Then I guess it's bye bye to your skin.".

Merman!Ghost who despises being a human more than he despises the prank you're pulling on him.

Merman!Ghost who tries to negotiate and offers you something in exchange for his coat.

Merman!Ghost who pushes you against the rocks at the entrance of the cave as the cold water and seafoam wash over you both while he kisses you, pressing his tongue, the only warm part of his body, into your mouth, toying with yours.

Merman!Ghost who licks at the salty sea water glistening on your skin and the scales adorning your pretty neck, an arm wrapped around the small of your back.

Merman!Ghost whose human fingers, pale and wrinkled from the salt water, wrap around your exposed breast, softly tugging on the pert nipple while his mouth kisses and sucks at the patches of skin amidst your scales.

Merman!Ghost who tsk's at you for having been singing for so long to attract him, and scolds you for getting him so riled up for weeks on end with your song.

Merman!Ghost whose hands push you up onto the rocks so he can dip his head down your chest, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it slowly and watching you mewl and cry so beautifully.

Merman!Ghost who gets a reminder of the one positive side of being a human, as his human cock rises up suddenly and stiffly, large and thick, already oozing precum against your tail scales.

Merman!Ghost who carefully grinds his leaking cock against your slick cunt, right before the spot your thighs meet and blend into a tail.

Merman!Ghost who turns you over, bending you over the rocks, one hand on the back of your neck, the other steadying you around the bones of your hip...

Merman!Ghost who plunges his hooded cock deep into your cunt, causing you both to cry out in delight, eyes rolling and jaws going slack as he bottoms out.

Merman!Ghost who bullies his cock deep into your cunny, feeling how your warm, gummy walls contract and squeeze around him while he groans loudly.

Merman!Ghost who pounds away at you again and again, hearing your voice go high-pitched and squeaky with each snap of his hips, finally shattering the mind-numbing and intoxicating mermaid song he's had stuck in his head for weeks.

Merman!Ghost who watches you squirm and whine as you cum around his thick cock, nearly choking it with how tight you get, before he slams his hips against the back of your tail a few more times, and shoots his cum deep inside you.

Merman!Ghost who watches smugly how blissful, quiet and calm you are after he's done, breathing heavily and your body buzzing.

Merman!Ghost who snatches his shark coat from your hands as you're too fucked out to remember you're meant to keep it out of his reach.

Merman!Ghost who puts his shark coat back on and morphs back to the shape he's comfortable in, then wraps his maw around your tired body, beginning to drag you underwater with him.

Merman!Ghost whose body rumbles with a laugh when you try to get free and loosen his grip on you, demanding he let you go.

Merman!Ghost who tells you "I thought you wanted me to be your husband? Well, I made you my broodmare too... Now I have to take care of you."

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hyperactively-me · 2 years ago

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high

He whips his head around when he hears his name, eyes half-lidded. He stumbles over towards Johnny, then leans on him, placing most of his body weight onto Johnny. You stare straight at him, slightly confused. “Oi, who’s this li’l bird then?” he slurs. Johnny stills, eyes flicking towards yours, his mouth agape. In a flash, he slams his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.

simon is high off his ass from anesthesia and you have to deal with him. (does this count as a sick trope?? idk)

(asks are open)

happy reading

warnings: none

You didn’t know your boyfriend was coming back home tonight until you heard a hard knock on the door. The sun had already set long ago, you were settled on the couch with a good book and a cup of your favorite drink. You were forced out of your focus by a hard knock at the door. Immediately, you perk up, a little confused on who’s knocking this late in the evening. Setting your book down, you make your way to the front door. For a moment, you hesitate, and decide to peek out the window before opening the door just in case. Imagine the surprise on your face when you see Simon and Johnny standing outside the door. In a flash you’re at the door and throw it open in one swift movement.

“Johnny?” you say, bewildered. Johnny has, what you presume to be, Simon’s bag of belongings slung over his shoulder. Your eyes dart back and forth from Johnny to Simon, who’s standing a few feet behind him looking at some nonexistent thing out in the distance.

Before you can say anything, Johnny strides up to you, leaning down to whisper to you.

“Lassie, listen here, he jus’ had a medical procedure done an’–”

Your face immediately morphs into concern.

“What?”

“He was stabbed durin’ the mission. But there was a medical procedure done, stitches n’ all.

The color drained from your face. “W- what–,” you take a deep breath trying to steady your racing thoughts.

“No, no, don’t worry, he’s fine now, he’s just high off the anesthesia…”.

You nod your head at Johnny, mentally preparing to deal with this high behemoth of a man. You look over Johnny’s shoulder and simply say, “Simon.”

“Oi, who’s this li’l bird then?” he slurs.

Johnny stills, eyes flicking towards yours, his mouth agape. In a flash, he slams his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.

Confusion washes over you, your eyebrows raised as Simon wriggles his eyebrows at you.

“I–”

Before you could say anything, Simon gives you the most goofy, silly, suave-looking grin, like he’s trying to flirt with you. You immediately regret looking back at Johnny, as his face is now contorted into something that looks like pain from trying not to laugh. That sight itself nearly makes you laugh, so much so that you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep quiet. You try to put on your most serious face while Johnny is trying to compose himself by taking a deep breath.

“A’right, Simon, here ya are,” Johnny squeaks out. You eye Simon wearily, worried about how severe his condition is just from seeing how completely out of it he looks.

Johnny steps to the side, moving his arm to gently push Simon inside your shared apartment. Simon stumbles forward into you, nearly knocking you over because of his physique. You gasp, trying to find your footing as he leans his body weight on you.

“Oh, sorry lovie,” Simon rasps, grabbing your shoulders tightly as he stands himself up straight. Well, he looks kinda lopsided. He dusts your shoulders off as if he dirtied them, then squeezes your arms gently before pulling away. Johnny is trying not to laugh, your face flustered even more.

Johnny had followed you inside, motioning to the bag he still had slung over his shoulder, an amused expression present on his face.

“I’mma leave this here. It’s all of Simon’s belongins’.” You watch as he sets it down on the kitchen counter.

“Thank you, Johnny. I appreciate you looking out for him,” you smile warmly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.

“Ay, it's nothin’. I’ll be in contact with ya,” Johnny nods to you, smirking playfully at you for a moment, eyes darting between you and Simon. “Alrigh’, I’m leavin’ lassie. Good luck.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you one more time before pulling the door shut.

You move to lock the door behind him, sighing as the lock clicks. You turn back to look at Simon, leaning on the front door.

“How are you feeling?”

He looks you up and down, unmoving from where he is standing. Save for the slight swaying of his body.

“‘M fine,” he grunts out quickly. “You’re very pretty, aren’t ya love?” his cheeks are flushed.

You push yourself off the door and move towards him, stopping a few feet away. You look straight into his eyes, and giggle out, “Thank you, Simon.”

He looks confused for a moment, mouth opening and closing, but tries to act suave. You think it's just the cutest thing that he’s just flirting with you like you’ve never met. You smile to yourself, knowing you’re going to have so much fun teasing him about it when the anesthesia wears off. Taking Simon’s hand in yours, you tenderly usher him further inside towards the kitchen. Dropping his hand, you go to pull out a water bottle and some painkillers that he is definitely going to need when he wakes up in the morning. He shuffles behind you on his unsteady feet, following you like a shadow. You turn around with the items in your hand, using your free hand to grab Simon’s hand once more. He immediately tenses at your touch, but he doesn’t let go.

“C’mon, big guy,” you say, guiding him through the hallway slowly enough so he can walk in a straight line. He stumbles a few times, murmuring nonsense to himself, eyes trained on the floor in front of him as he shuffles his feet.

He stumbles a few times, prompting you to resort to slinging his arm over your shoulder, carrying the brunt of his weight as you move down the hallway. He leans on you, breathy chuckling escaping, vibrating against your body.

“Yer too short for your own good, bird,” he slurs, chuckling at the sight of you trying to maneuver him.

“Ah, well, nothing I can do about it,” you giggle.

He doesn’t say anything, just lets out a small “Heh.” You assume he’s too gone to even respond properly.

You kick open your shared bedroom door, much to his surprise.

“Oi, take me out to dinner first lovie,” he looks down at you with a lopsided grin, hair tousled and wild.

“You’re a rascal, Si,” you huff, an amused smile creeping up on your face. “Let’s lay you on the bed, okay?”

He nods quickly, pushing you off him in an attempt to walk by himself. You watch him take a few steps, eyeing him carefully as you set down the water bottle and medicine on the bedside table. You turn the bedside lamp on, casting a soft golden glow in the room.

“Simon, hold on.” You turn to him, gently pushing him down to sit on the edge of your shared bed. He shifts his position until his back hits the headboard, eyes half-lidded and cloudy.

“Eh, pushy aren’t ya? Y’know, really, a dinner would be nice, love.”

You smile, shaking your head. Kneeling on the bed next to him, you take the water bottle and place it softly into his hands. “You should probably drink some of that. I’ll be right back.”

You push yourself off the bed, making your way into the bathroom to wet a warm towel to clean his face and body.

You come back through the door frame only to see him trying to get off the bed, feet planted on the floor, unsteadily pushing himself to standing. He takes a few wobbly steps towards you, smirking with his eyebrows raised.

“No, no, lay back down,” you protest, gently trying to push him back towards the edge of the bed.

“No, I just wanna say, bird, you and I, we should really go out sometime, y’know,” he looks at you with a serious expression on his face, placing his hands on his hips.

You look up at him, mouth open, the corner of your lip perking up into a bewildered smile.

“Oh my god, Si,” you laugh. “Okay, okay, but only if you sit down and drink some water,” you say firmly, crossing your arms over your chest, feigning frustration.

His smile is huge. God, it makes your heart flutter seeing him smile like this, like there's nothing else in the world that matters.

He sits back down on the bed, moving back to rest up against the headboard. He places his hands behind his head, an exaggeration of himself relaxing.

“Simon, I need to take your shirt off…” you trail off, motioning to the wet towel in your hand, already having an inkling of what he’s going to say back to you.

“D’ you now,” settling back into the bed, the biggest smirk you’ve ever seen crosses his face. “Well, bird, you've certainly got a way with words. Can't say I've met someone as bold and direct as you before.”

You look at him, open mouthed.

“If yer speechless now, wait ‘til you see what's under my shirt,” he says matter of factly, slurring the words.

You couldn't help but smile at his bold comment, finding his charm and mischievous confidence strangely attractive. His garbled statements just contributed to the situation's humor.

You try to compose yourself by raising an eyebrow and responding, “Oh, is that so? You've certainly sparked my interest now.”

“Mhmmm,” he draws out, hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt, trying his best to tug it off his frame. His smirk widens, and he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “Darlin’', you have no idea what you're in for.”

“Simon, now is not the time,” you giggle. You reach forward, pulling him from resting on the headboard so you can help maneuver his shirt off his body. His skin is burning hot under your touch. When it finally slips off his form, with much struggle, you huff, placing it on the bedside table.

You kneel on the edge of the bed next to him, grasping the warm towel tight as you begin to rub off any grime or dirt from his rough skin. As your touch caresses his skin, he shivers at the sensation, a subtle but noticeable reaction to your careful ministrations.

A soft smile dances across your lips as you notice his reaction. You lean in closer, your voice filled with tenderness and affection, “Ticklish, are we?”

He chuckles, a deep rumble resonating across the air. “Just a bit, love.”

As you examine his hands, you notice their calloused texture, a testament to his tough being. You treat them delicately, soothing weary muscles and offering brief tranquility.

He sighs blissfully, his gaze locked on you, an unconscious expression of thanks and appreciation traveling between you. Taking care of his needs becomes a subtle gesture of love and dedication.

Finally, as you finish wiping away the last traces of dirt, you lean back slightly and examine his cleansed face. It now has a new luster to it, emphasizing the attractive elements that drew you in all that time ago.

“Thank you, bird,” he says as his fingertips brush over your cheek. You swear he’s almost cognizant, the way his fingers touch you.

You respond to his touch with a delicate kiss on his hand, your heart fluttering. “Always, Si.”

A devious light twinkles in his eyes as he looks into yours. “You know, love, I must confess that being pampered by such lovely hands has me feelin' a l'il spoiled,” he adds with a teasing grin.

You rub your hand over his shoulder, massaging it slightly as your other hand moves to stow the towel away. You turn to the lamp, hand hovering over the button before you click it off.

“Ok, it’s time to sleep now, ‘kay?” you murmur, gingerly laying him down on his pillow. “Close your eyes.”

“You don’t have t’ tell me twice,” he chuckles, dragging you down with him. You’re careful to stay away from his injury, shifting slightly in his grasp. As the fatigue sets in, his eyelids begin to droop, weighted down by the day's exhaustion. His breathing grows slower and more steady, creating a beautiful lullaby that permeates the room.

You watch, affectionately, as his features soften and his face relaxes into a serene expression. You move closer, snuggling into his good side, your hand comes to rest on his chest. He automatically draws closer to you, seeking refuge in your embrace.

His body relaxes fully as he succumbs to sleep's embrace, feeling safe and comfortable in your arms. You hug him softly yet firmly, savoring this private moment of vulnerability and trust.

You take sanctuary in the solace with each passing moment, savoring the weight of his body against yours, the rise and fall of his chest, and the softness of his breath against your skin. You gently trace your fingers through his hair, lulling him deeper into a deep slumber.

You continue to hold him until sleep takes him entirely, your love and dedication wrapping him like a warm, safe blanket. In this quiet time, you take comfort in the mere act of being together, knowing that you both greatly savor the time you spend together.

And as you begin to nod off, you take comfort in the knowledge that tomorrow will bring new moments that you'll cherish together. But for the time being, you appreciate the tranquility of the night, cradling him in your arms and savoring the calm of this shared sleep.

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nananarc · 1 year ago

Text

Stethoscope . 2023

More doctor!reader shits. Ghost is diagnosed with Big Tits Syndrome and Slutty Waist Disorder.

More of my Ghost fanart over here. Timelapse and no-doctor version on my Patreon.

Commission info over here.

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babygirl-riley · 1 year ago

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Small Traditions

Simon starts to notice the small signs that his mother would do when he was young to what he now does with his girls

A/N: GUYS naturally I had to use @ave661 art cause listen ovaries HURT anytime she posts the dad!simon series 😭

“That she's gettin' older and I wish that you'd met her. The things that she'll learn from me, I got them all from you.”

Warnings: angst, fluff, dad!simon, mentions of childhood trauma, missing mom hours, swearing

Taglist

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family

Simon was finally able to actually spend time with his baby girl. He was gone for a while, 3 months to be exact. Which made his baby 6 months old, he missed out on appointments and her first roll over on her tummy. So when he came home, he made it a mission to spend anytime and every time with her.

When she woke up early in the morning he turned to you, feeling you getting up. “No love stay asleep, ‘ll get the little one.” He mumbled, waking up a bit.

You hummed and laid back down immediately passing back out. Simon put on a black shirt as he adjusted his sweats as well. He made his way to his babygirl’s room. She was standing up holding onto the rail of her crib. Her smile beaming as she giggled, jumping up and down.

“Ah isn’t the little rascal,” Simon smiled chuckling lightly. She reached up for him as he picked her up. She placed his head on his shoulder and gripped his shirt. “I’m happy to see ya too princess.”

Simon changed her diaper and started to make his way into the kitchen. His daughter cooed as he held her close. She would play with his shirt or put it in her mouth. “See ya starting’ to teethin’.” He said softly, letting her suck the shirt.

After making the bottle he went into the living room to put on the tv. He set her on the couch with him on the edge, she was old enough to hold the bottle herself so he just watched. Her hands gripping her bottle as she chugged the milk down.

Simon chuckled now sitting on his calfs. “Damn little one, ya that hungry?”

He never knew if she was listening or even understanding by how her eyes would just stare blankly. As he stared at her, he noticed the small things. The features that would bring his heart to swell but also break a bit. The dimples that she had were in the same spot that his mother had.

Simon picked her little feet up and played with them as he thought. His mother would be proud of where he is at. The family he created after all the pain he went through. Never would have thought to be a father, after what he saw with his father. He was afraid to become him. To be him. Yet here he was, with a baby girl.

“Grandma would have loved ya,” He mumbled kissing her little socked feet. She sighed as she fought back a laugh, she was very ticklish on her feet. Just like Tommy, as kids Simon used to piss him off by tickling his feet. Simon inhaled deeply before shaking his head. He didn’t need to get emotional, there was no need. However just the way his daughter had some of the features conjured them. “Would love the way you look so much like me, have some similarities from her, hell Uncle Tommy would make fun of actually settling down.” He chuckled to himself.

He never thought even before the tragedy of his family that he would settle down. Family was plagued by his father. His childhood made Simon not want to give his own children one solely on fear of course. Yet here he is. Half of him and half of you. He would never trade it for the world.

Simon has even noticed the things he would do that his mother would do before his father was shunned away from the family. The way she would hum particular child songs to calm both him and his brother down. How when dad wasn’t home, she would whip up a random treat, particularly peanut butter bars. In which, your child has become addicted to them. Or when putting him to bed she would say ‘never forget, you’re smart, you’re handsome, and you’re loved.’ Instead his babygirl would be replacing handsome with beautiful.

Simon would only do it when you weren’t around, whispering it softly. Even though he doesn’t know you usually are around the corner, listening to him, with tears. Simon noticed these things as time grew on with his daughter. It didn’t hit him until now. Thinking of all the things that his mom would do with her grand baby. The family dinners. The babysitting. The holidays. All of it.

Simon noticed that tears were at the edge of his eyes. He shook his head and coughed then grabbed her little feet and softly ran his thumb from her heel to her tiny toes. “Ya made me soft ya brat.” He tickled her foot as she let out a laugh kicking his hands away.

Years gone past and now he has three of them. He stood in the kitchen as he placed lunches in certain boxes. You needed help as you did hair and gathered their school things. Simon never could do hair hell not even his youngest’s hair and she was 1. “Dad! I can’t find my shoes!” Millie yelled as she ran down the stairs.

Simon sighed and smirked. “Well since you didn’ put them away, I threw them in the trash.”

Millie stopped in her tracks and had the same smirk that was on his face on hers. “Uh huh, really though please.”

Simon smiled and nodded. “‘ight ‘light, they’re in the closet with the coats,” She shook her head and went towards the door. Simon placed the last thing in the last box. “Start puttin’ them in ya room yeah?”

Millie nodded and looked at him. “Aye,” She walked up to him and lifted her finger. “Love ya see you after?”

Simon looked down at her finger, his mom would tap his finger, going once up and they would switch sides and tap again. It was their way of saying bye and love you when dad had his beer and game review on. Simon smiled and tapped her finger as they flipped them over to do it again. “I’ll be pickin’ ya both up.”

“Daddy! Daddy,” His head snapped up to see his second daughter soaring down the stairs. “Look what mum did!” Her hair was in to braids that linked into one large one. A smile beaming on her face. Showing one of the dimples his mother once had.

Simon chuckled grabbing a small piece of it before placing his thumb on her cheek. “Looks beautiful Alli,” He said softly then kissed her on her forehead. Simon looked up the stairs and saw you smiling down, holding the newborn. “Ya takin’ them?”

You nodded as you walked down the stairs. “Yes I have to grab more things from the store.”

Simon and you already talked about the store and her taking Millie and Allison to school. Simon pushed and pushed to only get pushed back, eventually compromises came and he staying to give you a break from the 2 month old. Then he could pick up the girls after school. You handed Tessa over to Simon. “Already changed just needs to be held. Needy this morning.” You whispered kissing Simon softly on the lips.

“Roger,” He mumbled as he kissed her one more time hearing Allison fake gag. Simon chuckled as he turned handing you the boxes. “Packed and ready.”

“Thank you,” You smiled, grabbing them, and ushering the older two out the door. “I’ll be back!”

“Bye dad!” Millie yelled walking out first.

“Bye daddy!” Allison followed suite turning to sign ‘I love you’ with one hand.

Simon did it back cradling Tessa between his chest and bicep. You smiled at him, kiss towards him. He smiled as the door shut. Tessa wiggled and started to whine. “Shh shh,” He whispered looking down at her. “It’s ‘light we can go down stairs and watch somethin’ yeah?”

Later that day Millie and Allison opened their lunch boxes that day and found a small sugary snack with a note attached reading; ‘what do you call an angry carrot… A steamed veggie.’ They always loved it, having notes from dad that had terrible jokes even if Millie would roll her eyes and smirk. She loves them.

You didn’t know about it until the next day. You were check boxing everything that was needed to grab as Simon helped with Tessa. When you opened it you saw the note, chuckling to yourself. Millie stood next to you and looked at you. “Dad says that Grandma Riley would leave jokes for him and Tommy.”

You looked over at her and up to the stairs, making sure he wasn’t coming yet. “Oh really?”

“Yeah,” Millie smiled. “I always read ‘em to my friends. Just don’t tell him. His head will inflate more.” She joked grabbing her box.

You smiled as you watched Simon come down the stairs in his uniform. “I shouldn’ be long,” he mumbled having his balaclava in his pocket. Millie frowned as did Allison. “I told Uncle Price I’ll be late to take you two.” He smiled at them as their faces calmed into a soft content expression.

Simon handed Tessa to you and kissed your cheek. “I’ll be home no later than 8.” You nodded and watched them go out the door.

Simon opened the door for both Millie and Allison to get in as they went down the street. “Was Grandma Riley fun?” Millie asked nonchalantly as she looked out the window.

Simon could feel his throat hitch from the sudden question. “Yes.”

“Do you do things like she did to us?”

Simon looked in the rear view mirror for a brief moment. Only if she knew, all the things his mother taught him has been passed down to his girls. After his father was kicked out for good his mother was more open about good parenting, she always was of course. However there wasn’t any hidden signs or anything of the sort. Even when he was older, when confrontation came around, she was kind and gentle. Since both him and his brother didn’t know how to handle or deal with situations as so.

Simon taught his girls to be polite and kind to everyone. Just like his mother was. Everything she did that he remembered he wanted to pass along. Simon inhaled for a moment. “Ya know the finger taps,” Both her and Allison nodded their heads. “That came from grandma. It was our sign to say love you and bye.”

Allison smiled. “Did she do the night routine?”

Simon smiled. “Yes.”

It was silent again before Millie shifted a bit. “Grandma Riley sounded cool.”

Simon smiled again and nodded. “She would have loved all of ya.”

It was good silent as he stopped in front of the school, as kids packed to go inside. Allison opened the door and turned with her finger out. Simon and her did the signature finger taps as she hopped out. He waited until she caught up with friends that were right outside the car. Then he went to Millie’s school.

“What happened to them?” Millie asked, Simon knew that eventually the girls would put two and two. Uncle Tommy and Grandma Riley not around, yet dad talks highly of them? It would make a tween curious.

Simon took a second to think of the answer. He never told you until 3 years of your guys’ relationship. Millie was too young to know but he couldn’t lie to her either. “Someday I will tell you.” Was all he could say to it.

Millie nodded and chuckled. “Was she terrible at the jokes like you?”

Simon laughed a bit. “Terrible? My jokes are amazin’!”

Millie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Yeah yeah.” Simon pulled up in front of the school and he turned to her. She unbuckled and lifted her finger, smiling. “Glad you keeping’ traditions dad. Grandma would be happy.”

Simon felt his chest tighten as he smiled it off. Doing the taps. “She would be happy indeed,” He nodded his head to the school. “Get goin’ ya love the joke today by the way.”

Millie laughed as she opened the door and shook her head once more. “Yeah maybe.”

Simon watched until she got into the school and drove to the base. “You would have loved ‘em mum.” He mumbled to himself as he kept the tears at bay.

Even through all the hardships, he will be forever grateful for his mother and her teachings. He hopes that one day that she will meet his family, the family that he knows she would have loved. To see how much as changed in Simon that he thought that could never happen. So she could see that not only her that showed him unconditional love even through the darkest parts but how his girls have showed him as well.

Simon sighed as he relaxed. Yeah, she would have loved them all.

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