#your security sucks: simon

[mcuntainbcrn]

@irritableteadrinker liked for a starter!

Another evening where the former security officer was supposedly working late, though she really had to wonder about that - perhaps he’d found himself a new partner?

If that was the case then his recent cageyness would make sense, especially considering that, at least in her opinion, the man could not pick a nontoxic person to save his actual life.

So she sat up as she often did, waiting for him to walk through the door - he was a clever fellow, knowing how to skirt around the truth just enough to not set off her lie detection, but she was determined to pin down what exactly he’s really been up to.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

“Fuck, you’re so wet. This all for me, love?”

You felt your thighs squeeze around your lieutenants large hand at his filthy words, a soft mewl escaping your lips as your mind was too hazy to formulate a response.

“Nothing to say? You had plenty to say earlier when you were running that filthy little mouth of yours.” Simon’s tone was teasing, borderline mean. “Wanted me so damn bad, here I am sweetheart.”

You let out a strangled gasp as he curled his thick fingers, grazing the spongy spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. “P-please.”

“Please? Please what. Use your words.” Simons fingers didn’t relent now that he knew he found your spot. He was nothing if not relentless.

“Please, I need to cum, sir.” You squealed, your eyes fluttering shut, your mind running completely blank.

At that, Simon ripped his fingers from your aching hole, his eyes not leaving yours as he proceeded to suck his digits clean. Before you could even comprehend how impossibly hot the action was, he had you spun around, practically slamming your back against the door of the supply closet you were currently hiding away in.

“You gonna be a good fuckin’ girl for me, Y/N?” He cooed in your ear, his hands roughly ripping your pants down to pool around your ankles. “Gonna be a good girl for you lieutenant?”

You gave a weak nod in reply, not daring to trust your voice. It seemed to be enough for him, as he was quick to unfasten his belt, his own pants pooling around his ankles as he lifted you with ease, prompting your legs to wrap securely around his bulky waist.

“Your pretty little thighs are shaking, love.” He was shamelessly teasing you now, but you’d lost any sense of shame at this point. “Does my cock still make you nervous, even after I’ve fucked you in this closet more times than either of us could count?”

You let out a muffled cry, biting into Simon’s shoulder as he slammed himself inside you without warning, his thick cock a welcome intrusion within your walls. The stretch was delicious, your warm walls welcoming his thick length with ease. You’d never get sick of this, of the way he felt inside of you.

His pace was brutal, never pausing once to let you adjust. He never did, he knew you could take him. You always did.

Your whines seemed to encourage him as he pressed into you harder, your back sure to be bruised from the force of being shoved against the door, but neither of you cared.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you for any one else, sweetheart.” He growled into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your earlobe. “Gonna ruin my pretty girl.”

And Simon Riley is a man of his word.

[lovelyghst]

ex-boyfriend simon riley making you admit you still love him if you wanna cum <3

he can be such a jerk sometimes! calling you up one evening, claiming he was just wanting to check in on you and how you know how overbearing protective he can be sometimes, acting surprised when you snapped at him barely after his greeting.

“what has you so frustrated, hm, dove?… christ, can practically feel you seethin’ through the screen.”

you bit your tongue and gave him the truth over the phone; how he shouldn’t be calling you without warning like this considering you’ve broken up, and it’s inappropriate to be labeling you those sweet pet names you unfortunately and unknowingly still adore deep down.

how you don’t appreciate his abrasive bluntness, then again, he should know very well that you never have liked that part about him.

you told him the truth, though you couldn’t be entirely honest with him, in the sense of how fucking needy you’ve become with his absence. for touch and care, proximity and security, and all that.

but you are over him, undoubtedly, and you let him know that.

“yeah, baby, whatever you say…

…bet you rub that little cunt raw every night thinkin’ve me.”

and that shut you up quick.

he hummed in understanding, like your silence was readable.

“poor girl prob’ly hasn’t had any proper attention since i’ve been gone… shame such a pretty thing has to be so neglected, eh?”

butterflies invaded your tummy at the compliment, and you cursed yourself for your hasty, blind acceptance of it. but you can't blame yourself; what girl wouldn’t at least begin to crumble at that voice?

“i’m right, yeah?” he taunted, and it almost made you sick when you caught yourself rubbing your thighs together at his meanness.

“c’mon, sweetheart… you know you can be honest wi’ me.”

and god, was his cocky tone so infuriating; you wanted to reach through the phone and slap his smug face straight for overstepping your relationship’s boundaries so blatantly, and with such a deeply rooted nonchalance in his voice that always had you heated and wet.

“say the word, ‘nd i’ll come over and fuck you right now.”

…which is why you had eventually asked him oh, so nicely:

“please..?”

you could practically hear the shit-eating grin on his face, followed by the faint noises of boots hitting hardwood floor and then the clicking of a door’s lock, the obnoxious ringing of keys clanging together.

“just give me ten minutes, doll.”

and now, as he bullies and buries his cock deep in your warm cunt, reaching all those sweet spots you or another man could never even come close to, you can’t really think much of his misbehavior.

truthfully, you can’t think much of anything at all, at the moment.

he had teased you prior to finally managing his way inside you, for god knows how long. his mouth, his fingers, his cockhead; all had brought you to the edge rather quickly, over and over after each other, but he was yet to give you that final push.

he puts his full body’s weight on you, strong pecs pressed up against your heaving, sensitive tits, and his stubble tickling your neck unceasingly. you can’t stop squirming and writhing beneath him, and his hot groans right up against your skin aren’t helping, either.

it’s always been a feat taking his cock, being crammed in your precious cunt almost every night when you two were together, but now it’s been weeks, and you nearly forgot just how big he was.

you missed it, admittedly. all of it; the veins and ridges, the unforgiving stretch. the slight twinge of pain he always hushed with his fingertips pressing your swollen, little clit, or a calloused thumb shoved between your puffy lips to suck on and drool over to distract yourself.

you missed his stamina, his libido. most striking of all, his selflessness in the entire act. he’s a soldier, he serves you right. most times.

“fuckin’ christ, sweetheart… missed this tight, messy thing wrapped ‘round my cock… practically stranglin’ me ‘n with no remorse, eh?”

shit, and you missed his dirty talk most of all.

“gonna fill this pretty, little pussy… keep ‘er happy all night, make up for lost time with my girl.” he wraps his hand gently around your jaw, making your eyes meet his. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

you nod frantically, swallow as best you can, before sucking in a breath. “yeah— yes, please, si… i-i want it really bad… please.”

he kisses your lips with a smile, and then all over the side of your face, up to your forehead. he just can’t seem to stop kissing you.

“tell me, sweetheart. y’wanna cum, too?”

“i do, si—! i really, really do- fuck, please?” you beg and beg, and as much as it turns him on, digs at his heart to just give in, he sticks to his guns and merely adds:

“then say the words, pretty girl,” he coos, making you whimper in frustration. “that’s it, y’know what i wanna hear.”

you huff a whine in response, albeit your breath is strangled when he doesn’t halt his movements for even a second.

you really, really don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

he’s nearly panting himself, big chest and even bigger shoulders rolling upwards with every thrust. “y’ain’t cummin’ til i hear you say it, baby. c’mon, now. jus' admit it, that you still love me.”

he buries his cock to the very hilt, taking your slackened jaw tighter in his hand as he watches your eyes grow even hazier from his pelvis rubbing up against your vulnerable, needy clit. the stern look he gives you tells you he's serious about his last statement, but you'll later swear you sensed a bit of sadness, even despair in his expression.

“i love—” you choke on your own breath, desperate to sputter out the words. “i love you, si…”

and he practically has hearts in his eyes. “you mean it?”

“yes—! yes i do, i promise i still love you, please,” you spill, sounding closer to a temper tantrum than anything. “just lemme cum, please, si… really need it, please, i-i’ve been good...”

he hums lowly, contented, satisfied for once. as if those three words themselves — i love you — are the ones actually stroking his fucking cock. his ego maybe, you’d think, but jesus.

if you knew just how badly off he was beforehand, you never would’ve let him get this cocky and in control.

“love you too, sweetheart.” he kisses your puffed out lips, wipes a tear you hadn’t even noticed was trickling down your cheekbone. “always been my good, patient girl, haven’t ya?”

you nod once more, pinched brows and bleary eyes doubling in severity at his soft tone. simon praising you and being so, so uncharacteristically sweet has always made you fawn after more, even now. especially now.

“tha’s right, baby, you’re my good girl… now do me a favor and cum on my cock for me, yeah? lemme feel every last bit of ya.”

he ultimately resumes moving inside you, and it makes you wonder when he ever even stopped. your brain shuts off when he snakes a hand between your bodies, smoothing over your tummy before his middle and ring fingers quickly find your tortured, little bud. pressing hard, making you writhe with oversensitivity.

he works you over the edge diligently, and embarrassingly fast on your part, taking into account just how long he had edged you for. the sight and sweet noises you make are a dream; a reality he awfully missed, and something no other girl could compete with.

"that's it... easy, sweetheart," he coos softly.

he gives you a moment to come down from your high, softly palming your throbbing cunt to assist in grounding you, but you're barely able to finish catching your breath before he's doing it all over again! resuming flicking at your clit, rubbing you harshly and overstimming you enough to make you fruitlessly jolt and cry out beneath him.

he frowns down at you, damn-near condescending. "again, for me?"

you twitch and moan relentlessly as he gradually coaxes another orgasm from your tuckered body, his cockhead hitting that part deep enough inside you to make you see stars, his hard abdomen pressed against your tummy making the pressure of it all skyrocket tenfold.

the sensation of you finishing around his length once more has him barreling into his own orgasm, and soon fucking his pent up cum deep into your cunt with a few hard thrusts and a grumbled, broken groan right at your temple.

endless praises spill from his lips as everything becomes a blur for you; from the moment he's pulling out of your used cunt—crawling down and giving it and your pretty tits a couple sloppy kisses before briskly redressing himself—to being coddled in bed and squished between his muscular arms and torso.

he holds you so close to him that it makes you wonder why, or even how you could ever turn your back to it. he truly makes you feel like a spoiled doll in this sort of space. a doll with shaky legs, ruined makeup, and half a conscious.

"remind me why we broke up again?" he chimes.

you groan aloud, burying your face somehow further in his chest. "shut up, simon."

he laughs softly, pestering you with even more quick kisses, one after another to the crown of your skull. large hands rubbing up and down your back, moving to knead at your ass and thighs for a short moment. he just loves touching you so much.

“c’mon, pretty girl. let’s go get you cleaned up,” he mutters with an exhale. "how's a hot bath sound?"

you have no time to interject, other than a displeased pout and shake of your head, before you’re being hoisted up on your wobbly legs, then swept up and carried to your restroom when you couldn’t even make it three steps before your knees began to buckle on you.

you’re dizzy, utterly dazed and half asleep as he bathes you. making sure you don’t lift a finger as he works, treating you as nothing less than a princess. your loosened muscles somehow melt even more with his precise touch and strength, and you remember just how much you love being turned utterly numb and dependent on him.

you’re pretty sure you fell asleep the moment you were wrapped in a warm towel, pulled into the strong embrace of his meaty arms, but something he said moments beforehand had stuck with you.

“hey,” he whispered, soapy hand turning you to face him. he leaned in and kissed the area between your brows. “i’ll be better this time.”

“you promise?” you mumbled. your head fell atop your knees, arms wrapped around your legs and keeping them close to your body.

your extended pinky finger made him chuckle a bit, and he quickly looped his own around yours. solidifying his words. “promise.”

[bejeweledblondie]

Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcannons

A/N: these are loosely inspired from real life experiences I’ve had living on a military base, these men have a on & off switch it’s crazy

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Warnings: NSFW

• Simon first saw you while he was in the States for a training exercise, he was out at one of the local bars with some of the other soldiers he was with

• Soap had actually asked for your number first & since he was so intoxicated you turned him down

• Simon apologized for Soap & that’s how you met

• he did have a heart attack when he found out there was a bit of a age gap between you two but quickly got over it when he realized how mature you were

• it was a long distance relationship at first (from personal experience it sucks in the beginning)

• there were times when he couldn’t talk due to the risk of potentially exposing his teams location so you had to write letters every now & then

• you cried constantly whenever you saw some horrific news in the paper about what was going on overseas, the anxiety was awful

• but when he returned the reunions were euphoric

• you have a bottle of his cologne & aftershave so you can always feel close to him

• and you’d spray your perfume on the letters you sent so he couldn’t always smell the paper when he was missing you

• it took him sometime to open up to you about what had happened to him in his past, & your respected that

• when he first met your family, he was shocked by all the support he had received from them

• he asked your parents to marry you the first time he met them & showed them the ring too (ofc they said yes)

• he proposed to you in private after a nice dinner, he got choked up during the proposal

• your dad specifically was elated, he got to brag at how bad ass his son in law is

• your mom if she’s a teacher, had her entire class send cards, candy, anything they’d need in care packages Soap nearly cried when he opened the sweetest letter from a little girl (this actually happened irl my mom’s class did this & one guy got really choked up)

• Simon always would be your fiercest protector

• since he’s like an freakin tree he will guide your head with his bear paw of a hand in crowds

•he CANNOT sit with his back facing the door it stresses him out

•this man is strapped 24/7 whether that be a knife, bear spray etc. he’s ready

•he has a trauma kit in his car because “you never know”

•Simon is 1000% one of those apocalypse preppers you have freeze dried food, medicine, water, etc. he’s always on edge

• he sleeps with a damn rifle next to y’all’s bed

• you have a whole security system too

• your guy’s apartment is impeccable like you could eat off of the floor

• hell your guy’s bed has damn hospital corners

• Simon adopted a cat so you don’t feel as lonely when he’s deployed

• He’s your chonky boy & you do send plenty of photos to Simon when he’s deployed

• Gaz & Soap tease him about him living his “cat dad” life

• you start trying for a baby two years into your marriage

• Simon does fall victim to the “curse of the infantry” (which is not a negative thing btw it’s a running joke that infantry soldiers have all daughters) he makes girls

• he was deployed during your pregnancy & was worried sick he nearly missed the birth of your daughter

• that little girl is the most well protected baby in the whole world, the Task Force gifted him not just baby stuff but damn security for the nursery

• He watches your baby from his phone in the nursery on deployment, he was silently crying once when he was watching you sing a lullaby to your baby girl

•Price had to comfort him father to father

•In reality Simon has a very hard cold exterior at work for the sake of keeping his mental health for the profession he’s in but deep down he’s always held a soft spot & your relationship just brings it out

✨NSFW ✨

• there is a big size difference between you two & it drives him insane

• the first time y’all had together he didn’t want to break you in half

• when he returns from deployment y’all go at it like rabbits for multiple rounds, your poor pussy was so sore afterwards

• has a massive corruption & daddy kink

• he’s an ass man I don’t make the rules here so any position where your ass if the focal point is his favorite

• y’all have made so many sex tapes for him when he’s deployed, he has a whole folder on his phone & jerks off to them in the bathroom or the porta potty (it’s a canon event, trust me) to them

• he lets your cockwarm him constantly when you’re on the couch, when he’s working, hell y’all had even fallen asleep like that

• I know people say he has a Prince Albert piercing but alas per army regulation that is safety risk I think it’s more likely he’d use a cock ring on you

• during a military ball you two snuck off & fucked in a supply closet

• he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel room after seeing you in your gown, it was red his favorite color

• and he just looked so fucking good in his dress uniform, that was the night you totally conceived your baby girl

• he groans into your ear when he cums & he’ll use his body to just eclipse yours

• “one more baby girl” & “c’mon pretty girl use your words tell me what you want”

• is a sucker for babydoll lingerie it brings your innocence & triggers his corruption kink

• moral of the story Simon Riley fucks

[simonbrain]

giving simon a blowjob for your own comfort because today was stressful and you were two seconds away from swerving off the road into a tree on your way home, and all you want is something in your mouth to distract you from your prick of a boss.

you're sitting between his legs, a large hand threaded through your hair and a pillow shoved beneath your knees. he's so thick, your lips stretched thin around his cock as it sits limp and heavy in your mouth. it always starts like this: you taking simon in soft and gradually feeling him fill out on your tongue. he tastes so simon, a little salty and sweaty, but he also smells faintly of body wash, and the musk of him completely overwhelms your senses and lulls you into a deep sense of security.

simon thinks you look so pretty like this. adores his girl on her knees, sucking him in so good, mouth warm and wet. your soft tongue rests beneath his cock, occasionally twitching and rubbing up against him before stilling again. your eyes have slipped shut now, and usually he would coo at you to open them because he loves seeing how teary they get when he's filling you up like this, but he's feeling a little nice. it won't last long, but he'll let you have this moment.

he chuckles fondly when you rest your head against his thigh, a content look on your face. you look so sweet, and he feels a little bad for thinking of all the things he wants to do to you right now.

but something in his eyes flickers, and whatever little amount of guilt he was feeling has been snuffed out because when he notices saliva escaping out the corners of your mouth and running down your chin, he bucks his hips up, a sick part of him buzzing in approval when he hears you choke a little and sees your eyes open, staring up at him in question. there's a furrow in your eyebrows and he pets your head, settling back down against the couch.

"sorry," simon rumbles quietly, huffing in amusement when you roll your eyes a little but ultimately accept his apology and flutter them closed again. he mumbles an affectionate brat but lets you get away with it.

he's fully hard now, and he's struggling to not just slip in a little further until the tip presses against the back of your throat. he knows that this is more for you than him; you're doing this for yourself because you like to decompress this way. it eases your mind and sends you away to a little place where the only thing you're thinking about is simon. it would be selfish of him to take that away from you.

yet he does anyway. he wouldn't be yours if he wasn't a dick sometimes. he'll earn your forgiveness later.

your eyes shoot open when you feel fingers pinch your nose shut; whatever sound was about to come out of your mouth is muffled by simon easing more of his meaty cock down your throat. suddenly it feels like too much, and your wet eyes dart up to simon, but he only strokes your cheek with his thumb, a warm look on his face.

"there are those bright eyes of yours," simon murmurs, his gaze so soft and loving as he slowly begins to work your head down on him, letting his fingers slip from your nose and instead rest on his knee. "good girl, doing so well f'me, pet. breathe—tha's it."

the change in pace has you whimpering, saliva spluttering out onto his lap and running down your neck. he's not going too rough, not as rough as you know he wants to be, but it still has you going limp as he uses your mouth.

"tight little throat," he groans quietly to himself, his cock pulsing on your tongue, so fucking fat that you almost can't breathe. you have no choice but to take it, whines getting stuck in your throat. the taste of pre-cum swirls around your mouth, mixing with your saliva, and it has you keening for more.

"gonna cum righ' here, baby," he croons, a hand going down to rest on your throat, rough fingers rubbing gently to feel himself filling you up, making you accommodate for his length. "so fuckin' good to me."

simon groans deeply when he cums, his hand keeping a firm grip on your head as you take it all in, unable to stop yourself from choking. he stays like that for a few seconds longer after his orgasm before finally relenting to give you a break, pulling himself out to examine your ruined state.

you're a right mess—a mixture of tears, saliva and cum all over your face. he shushes you when you cough and whimper a little and leans down, inspecting you closer. your mouth parts open slightly, and—fuck, there it is. his cum pooling in your sweet little mouth.

"sorry, sweet'art. overdid it a bit, didn't i?" he hums quietly, petting your hair apologetically when you whine in response. "it's alright, come here lovie. i'll make it up to ya."

you moan softly when he begins to lick into your mouth, mopping up the cum you couldn't swallow with his tongue until he's kissing you, wet and sloppy and much too disgusting, but you don't care. he's nasty with the eye contact too; eyes cracked open as he stares down at you, his still hard cock twitching in his grasp.

when he parts, a thick string of saliva drips between you, the sight stirring heat in your belly. it's a filthy mess of fluids covering the both of you, but simon only cares about returning the favour.

"on the sofa, love," he murmurs, patting your cheek gently and spreading his legs to allow you to get up. he rids himself of his shorts and tucks his cock back into his briefs before sliding between your legs, peeling off your pants and soaked underwear.

your cunt sits pretty on display for him to salivate over, his eyes focused on the wet mess between your thighs before he's leaning in and pressing a kiss on your clit, then on your hole. he's fucking kissing your pussy as if it were a person, and you think you're going to combust, and then he looks up, his dark brown eyes warm and dilated. yeah, you're definitely going to burn up and sizzle away if your heated face is any indication.

"let me apologise properly, sweet girl."

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - request: angst 1/3 - mama pov

"It's going to be fine."

Simon's forehead touches yours, and you take the opportunity to breathe him in, fingers knotted in his sweatshirt. "I know."

"I know you're nervous, but you don't have to be." You sway together in the silence, his lips moving your temple. "It won't be too long, and when I get back, we'll start packing to move."

"I can pack when you're not here." You mumble, still clinging onto him. You've grown too dependent, too reliant. You should have been livid about the house, about how he was arranging things in secret, behind your back, but you couldn't find it in yourself to hold a grudge. How could you? After everything he's been through, his life compared to yours, how could take a sense of safety, security away from him?

Love is sacrifice, you think. You're not sure, but you're still learning.

And in this moment, these last minutes before he leaves, love feels like a death march.

"I don't want you pushing yourself. You're balancing work and the baby now, don't stress about packing. We'll take care of it together, when I'm home." A tear slips over your cheek, and he swipes it away.

"Will you have your phone?" You ask, hopefully.

"I will. Probably won't be able to turn it on as much as I did last time, but I'll see what I can do, okay?" The house smells like lavender, chamomile, candles and tea an effort to soothe your nerves, help Orion sleep.

It worked for the baby, but not so much for you.

"Hey, look at me." He tips your chin, delivers a slow, sweet kiss to your lips before pulling away. "It will go by really quick." You gulp.

"O-okay." There's something sad in the way he looks at you, a regretful sliver of doubt, filling you with guilt until it runs over. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm not good at this, I just can't stop thinking about all the bad things, all the things that could go wrong." The lump in the back of your throat gives way to a sob, its weight choking through your lips.

"Shhh." Simon cradles the back of your head tucks you into his chest, arms wrapped so tight across your shoulders he blocks out the light. "You don't have to be good at this, mama. I'd be a little concerned if you were. I don't want you to get yourself worked up and worry, I want you to focus on taking care of yourself and Orion, okay? I'll be home before you know it, I swear."

"Promise?" The plea is high pitched, weak. A trembling ray of hope against the anxiety and fear churning in your heart. He kisses your forehead.

"I promise."



Your phone rings for the first time three weeks later.

You roll off the bed in an attempt to reach it, still fumbling with the lockscreen when you land on your ass. "Hello?"

"Hey, mama."

"Simon oh my god." Tears spring freely at the sound of his voice. "I'm so happy you called."

"'m sorry, wish I could've called sooner, but-"

"No, no that's okay. I... I understand. Are you... okay?"

"I'm okay, we've been busy, but we're safe." He's nearly whispering, vow low but still soothing, and you close your eyes.

"We miss you."

"I miss you too. Both of you. Little man looks like he's grown two sizes since I left." He sounds sad, and your stomach pitches.

"I know, but you'll be home soon right? You won't be missing too much." There's a long, regretful sigh on the other end, and the two of you lapse into silence until he clears his throat.

"You doin' okay?"

"Yeah, we're okay. I'm okay. Cami has been over a few times, and we've been going to the park and stuff. Gettin' out of the flat."

"Good, that's good." He takes a deep breath. "Listen, sweetheart. We're goin' be a bit longer than expected."

"How long?"

"'m not sure." You try to breathe, sucking in a deep breath, but the air feels sparse now.

“Okay, well. Okay.”

“I’m sorry mama.” Your lower lip quivers.

“It’s okay. I uh… I understand.” You try to endorse your voice with confident, but it only wavers.

“Don’t cry.” He says softly. “Please don’t cry, I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine. It’s okay. Just… be safe okay? Come home in one piece.” He sighs.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[keresnotceres]

Good, Good, Great

Ghost x Fem!Reader (And they were roommates)!

[nsfw] cw(s): Jealousy, alcohol consumption, references to smoking, strip club, rdr calls ghost ‘big boy’ several times, suggestive content, non-explicit sex (it’s mentioned), rdr is highkey a brat lol, mention of dumbification.

PART TWO

3.4k words I don’t understand how UK currency works so i guessed, ALSO! Reader is kind of a slut!! Because we don’t get enough readers that have BEEN AROUND TOWN (iykwim) and I am hellbent on fixing that :) ALSO ALSO this kinda sucks and it’s prolly OOC but I spent like four days on it so here u go <33

You’re not dating — but he’s not keen on sharing. He sees you serving another table drinks, scantily dressed, hips swaying with every step, and can’t help but watch with a glare as some other man sets a 20 between your tits.

How Laswell convinced both herself and Price that a strip club was the best place to meet and discuss information on a new mission was beyond Ghost. It wasn’t until two blocks away from the venue did he begin to recognize the surroundings, the streets, and damn it, even the people.

He forwent the skull mask and the skull-patterned balaclava for a plain black surgical mask that left him feeling bare and exposed. Only a thin piece of fabric was between him and his anonymity; two strings that held together the Ghost façade from falling into Simon.

He’d be damned if he told the others that he recognized the club — that he frequented it. Not for a certain stripper, no, not for the girls performing at all. He knew every staff member from the amount of times he’d come to pick you up after your serving shift.

You always smelled like alcohol and someone’s blueberry vape, sometimes weed; you claimed that just came with the job. He’d respond asking if he smelled like gunpowder and metal, if that was the case. He remembered how you shook your head.

“You smell like cigarettes and aftershave.”

He grimaces as they approach the shining lights of the club. Myth is a looming building; five floors, only two used for actual club affairs. The other three were offices or something equally as boring; even if you would prattle on about your outlandish suspicions of a mafia being run up there.

The first floor had the basics; a main stage that was across from the full bar, a plethora of sleek tables and uncomfortable leather chairs filling the space between the two attractions. On the far wall, a few booths with itchy velour couches separated by fake bushes. Doors sat on either side of the four booths, both led to some sort of VIP room that Ghost had never stepped foot in.

The second floor overlooked the stage section of the first, only the dancers could see the people decorating the steel railings. It was usually reserved for the rich people, the important men who had had wives and didn’t want to be seen in the public eye, the men who were desperate enough to pay extra to pretend they could get some, and the people staff liked. Ghost happens to fit into the latter category.

There was a second stage on the upper floor, it wasn’t often dancers were up there performing, they were usually lounging around with someone they knew would paid them well. The was a second, smaller bar which served the singular purpose of storing new bottles, which caused you to complain about having to go up and down the stairs every time you had to get another round for a table.

His constant presence had led to him “befriending” the bartenders (if getting a free drink counted as being friends) and getting half-hired as security (he was roughly the same size as the men they already had for the job), even the hostesses knew to assign him to your section each time he walked in.

It baffled him, to say the least. Even after he was gone for 11 months the one time, (what a god awful time that was), the Myth staff knew who he was.

Ghost didn’t even register Price trying to tell him to stop as he walked to the shiny glass doors of Myth. The thing that dragged him out of an absentminded state was Soap’s obnoxiously loud laughter, Ghost stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face the rest of the task force.

“Yae walkin’ right in like ye own the place, eh, Lt?” He had a conniving grin on his face. “Didnae take you for that kinda guy.” Gaz looked like he was trying to picture Ghost in a club, Price only looked at him with mild amusement on his face.

Ghost glares at Soap, embarrassed. “I’m going where we were told to go.”

“Wasting no time, either.” Gaz manages to crack a smile from Price with his chide.

“Are we going in, or not?” Ghost’s eyebrows raise in questioning, his patience already running thin. He looked over his shoulder at the bouncer, who he wishes he didn’t recognize as Paul.

Gaz had already fished his ID out of his pockets, the graying white background of the Royal Air Force card reflecting the sign lights. Soap wasn’t far behind him, most people who see someone with a mohawk assume it’s a teenager who lost a bet. Anyone could look at the Captain and know he’s over the age of 18, no college student could rival the man’s facial hair.

And Ghost? All he had to do was look Paul in the eyes and he was let though without even a second glance. It was no different than if he were just coming in to pick you up, although it was considerably earlier than your usual 2 AM clock outs. Ghost forgot the club was even open at 5 PM.

He got an odd look from Soap at the lack of identification, but odd looks from Soap were a daily occurance.

The club looked the exact same as when he’d left 4 months ago, the same blue-purple lighting, same ugly silver bead curtains hanging over the walls, and the same Thursday night bartender. His name was something along the lines of Tony (Tim?); Ghost hadn’t particularly cared about him, he’s never at the club on Thursdays anyway. Your shifts are normally on the weekends, only the occasional Thursday if there was an event.

The hostess seems to be familiar, too. She’s either Camille or Angelica; he could never really remember who was who. The two have the same bleach blonde, blue eyes, and freckles; they’re practically the same person to Ghost. He really only pays attention to you when he’s at Myth.

The hostess stares at Ghost for a second, as if trying to recognize him. Before she could try to speak, Price cut in.

“We’re meeting someone here. Blonde hair, a little older.” His eyes scan the half-empty floor of the room. “She might be upstairs?”

The hostess perks up at the mention of a woman. “Right. Follow me, please.”

The blonde led the group of them upstairs, two of the 20 tables had people at them. Only one of them had a Laswell-looking woman at them. The other was a group of seven men; each in a suit, and each with a glass in their hand.

Once the hostess set a few menus on the table, she spoke a final time. “Your server will be right over.”

Ghost let the others sit down before him, eyes lingering on the group of men across from them before they slid over to Laswell. She looked as comfortable as any other person in a strip club by choice, lounging back in her chair with a cocktail in her hand.

“You look disgruntled,” she notes, eyes resting on Ghost.

“You had us meet in a strip club,” Ghost mutters. “This isn’t my usual scene.” It was quite the lie, really. He’s spent more time here than any other pub in the Manchester area at this point.

“It’s close to home.” She takes a sip of her drink, completely at peace. “And it’s unsuspecting. Who comes into a strip club to talk about top secret information?”

Ghost looks at her, unamused. “Us.”

Laswell ignores the distaste in his voice. “You don’t have to worry about that group,” her head tilts in the direction of the rowdy group of men. “They’re all drunk or too focused on the girls to even bother listening to us.”

The distant sound of heels against the floor catches his attention, his eyes fly towards the staircase. And there you are, flouncing up the stairs with three glasses in one hand and a bottle of Blue Label in the other.

You make your way to the group of men, a customer service smile plastered on your face. Ghost can’t hear your words, but he watches you set the bottle down in front of the most important-looking man, along with two of the glasses you were carrying.

He watches as your shoulders bounce when you laugh at something he says, though it looks like the fakest giggle you can muster.

He watches as the man takes a 20 pound note from his pocket and tucks it right between your tits. On instinct, Ghost’s hands tighten into fists and he glares. It’s a sharp glare, one he’d give to some idiot recruit that tried being cocky. You gasp, then smile brightly at the man, he can tell you’re saying thank you profusely from the way your mouth is moving.

You step away from the man and Ghost’s eyes fly from him to you, and his glare drops into a normal enough look, but his fists are still tight; his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands.

Ghost’s eyes roam your body, how the little black skirt you’re wearing rode up just enough that it would be considered a tease, how the black shirt you’re wearing is just a little too tight around your tits, and the 20 pound note that was stuck right between the two of them. He had to consciously unclench his fist before anyone would notice.

Then you come prancing over, hips swaying almost hypnotically as you walk, a glass of bourbon nestled in your hand.

You smile sweetly as you bend down in front of him, showing off both your tits and the note right between them, and set his glass on the table.

“I believe that’s for you, big boy.” Fuck, he missed hearing your voice, the nickname flies over his head through his stupor. Even if it was the faux, sultry version of it you used for work. “Can I get the rest of you anything? A beer? Whiskey?”

It was almost impossible for Ghost to tear his eyes away from you, rather, that damn note between your breasts. He wanted to pluck it out and throw it right back at the other man, replace it with something bigger, better.

When he notices Gaz’s disturbed stare, his eyes avert from you.

Gaz’s eyes trail from his to yours, “I’ll take a Manhattan.”

You smile at him, “of course, is Sazerzac okay?” Gaz nods shortly, glancing away from you to avoid Ghost’s stare. “Anyone else?” You pivot towards Price, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

Price angles his head to meet your gaze, squinting through the LEDs of the club. “Gin and tonic,” his eyes don’t leave yours, “Hendrick’s.” An offhand comment from Soap entertains the liquor’s Scottish origins.

You nod along with his words, then tilt your head towards Soap. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll have a Coke.”

“I hope you mean the soda,” you muse. You didn’t get any reaction out of the group, not a single smile — how disappointing. “We have the cherry kind, if you’re into that.”

Soap shakes his head, a small frown on his face. “Just normal Coke’ll do.”

You hum absentmindedly, “alright.” Your eyes flicker to Ghost, the smile on your face contorts into a little mischievous one. “Are you going to be wanting the bottle, Simon?”

You really are a vixen, aren’t you? Through grit teeth, Ghost spits out, “no.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back with those drinks, boys.” A single wink, and you were off. Low heels clacking against the tile floor, hips swaying side to side. Ghost was all too aware of every detail of your retreating body, from the way your hair bounced with each step you took, how the skirt you wore rode up just slightly enough to make his grip on his bourbon tighten.

Ghost fights the urge to get up, grab you by the waist, and pull you onto him. Both his experiences and his logical reasoning say it’s a terrible idea, yet the idea of reminding you who you ultimately belong to is so enticing he could be drooling.

He’s seen you cockdumb; it almost always comes after you pull a stunt like this. Of course, he knows you do it just for the sake of getting him bothered and getting fucked stupid. But he also likes the idea that you do it just for him. You put on a little show.

He finally put it together years ago. Back when you would bring over some pathetic-looking hookup just to see his reaction. When you’d fake moan loud enough for the whole damn neighborhood to hear, then look at him the next morning through your eyelashes all innocent.

At some point, the hookups ended, and you began flirting with customers right in front of him. Just like you had done a moment before.

When your head disappears from view, Soap is the first to attack him vocally, almost gawking after you. “You’re on a first name basis with the bottle girls at a strip club?” He looks incredulously at Ghost, almost jealous.

“Is that why you were in such a hurry to get inside? You knew this was where your flings worked?”

Soap leans in closer, “how often do you come here, LT?” It was question after question from the Scotsman, and despite his inclination towards him, Ghost was getting slowly more fed up.

Ghost set his glass down, “I’m going to the bathroom.” He put his hands to his knees and stood up from the plush seat, eyes scanning the other group one more time before he left his teammates at the table.

It doesn’t take long for him to find you, leaning up against the doorframe to the server’s closet while you wait for another cocktail server to put in a ticket, twiddling your coworker’s Elfbar in your hands until she reaches behind her for the vape.

You hand it off to her and turn to face Ghost, a catty smile adorning your lips. “How can I help you, sir?” Ghost stops a few inches before you and a hand darts towards your cleavage. He tugs the 20 pound note from between your tits, your hands following his to grab for it.

You give Ghost several noises of grievances as he holds the note away from you, a look of slight disgust evident in the ways his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

By the time you gave up trying to reach the banknote, he’d begun digging in his back pocket. “I’d like my tip back, asshole.”

Ghost says nothing in return, no noise or gesture to acknowledge he had heard you. Instead, he tugs a 20 and a 50 pound note from his pocket and tuck the two bills into the space between your breasts. The money from the other man was crumpled and shoved back into his pocket.

You don’t stop him, you’re a bit too turned on to even think of stepping away from him.

“There,” he mutters. “your tip.” He steps back from you, like he was going to leave and go back to his table. You, however, were having none of that.

“Hold on.” Your hand twitches, stopping before it could shoot out to grab his wrist (but you’re smarter than that, you know him). “You didn’t call or anything.”

Ghost frowns under the mask. “I’m not home.” It was a clipped reply, not one you wanted.

“What?” You match his frown, annoyed.

“I’m here for work. You saw the others,” his hand gestures vaguely to the upstairs, “they’re my coworkers.”

You raise an eyebrow, “you work with someone who has a mohawk?” Disappointment flickers in Ghost’s eyes, if it was from your question or just the thought of Soap’s haircut, you didn’t know. The poor man isn't even there to defend himself.

“Is it that hard to believe?” Ghost knows that, yes, it is hard to believe that he worked with a Scotsman with a terrible haircut while continuing to be the infamous Lieutenant ‘Ghost.’

The look on your face screams ‘yes.’

Ghost relents, “listen.” His voice has a certain sadness in it that makes you calm down a bit. Truthfully, you’re pretty damn pissed at him for just showing up out of the blue from God-knows-where, but your expression softens after a few seconds.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Riley.” Your coworker nudges your shoulder to let you know it was your turn to use the kiosk. “Go back to your friends,” you wave your hand in a dismissive fashion. “I’m working.”

Ghost doesn’t budge, even after you’ve ducked between the bead curtains that dangle at the top half of the doorway. You pop back out of the doorway, an unsurprised look on your face.

“Don’t flirt with him.”

Your eyebrows fly up, an incredulous tone flooding your voice. “What?”

“Don’t flirt with him,” Ghost repeats, his eyes boring into yours.

You set a hand on your hip, annoyed. “I’m making money.” The look in his eyes doesn’t change, he’s utterly serious about some random man you’re flirting with for extra cash. A thought crosses your mind, and your annoyance melts into mischief.

“You’re jealous over him?” The way his eyes widen a bit is enough to tell you that, yeah, he is. “Really, big boy?”

And fuck, if you didn’t have him wrapped around your finger by the way you walked, you had him now. All it took was one stupid nickname and Ghost is crumbling into Simon.

“Not jealous,” is his defense. You just soak it in with a grin on your face. You step towards him a little, shoulders forward and leaning down ever so slightly so that your cleavage is a little more obvious, so that the money he stuck between your tits is poking right out at him.

“You sure?” You look up at him, still grinning like your coworker once had when she got a free vape from a customer. “Seems like you’re a bit jealous.”

All he can do is stare down at you, clenching his jaw shut lest he say something he really shouldn’t. But God, does he wish he could.

Really, if it weren’t only 5 PM, he would’ve let you get to him. Let you drag him into an empty VIP room and fuck your words right out of you, leaving you a whimpering, babbling mess. But Ghost — Simon — knows better than to incapacitate you when you’re working.

All he’s left to do is watch as you give him little smirks from across the room, as you adjust your clothes to be just a bit more revealing, as you get close enough that he can smell the remnants of your perfume when you ask him aimless questions. And that’s just what he’ll do once you prance off to get his teammates drinks.

You pat him on his covered cheek patronizingly before you slink away, outstretching your hands for the three drinks cluttered at one side behind the bar. You pass him by, drinks in hand.

“If anything,” you look up to his eyes as you pass him, “it’s the guys you’re with you should be jealous of. You know I like older guys.” That’s enough for Simon to be reclaimed by Ghost.

He follows after you, glowering at your back. You don’t have to look back at him to know he’s scowling at you, but it brings you a slight bit of satisfaction.

“C’mon, big boy,” you hum, “I’ll get you another drink if you tell me his name.” You look back at him once you reach the staircase and climb a few steps ahead of him.

Ghost stares into your eyes like a dead man, you almost think you’ve gone a bit too far. “No.”

You give him an exaggerated pout and turn back to the front to see where you’re going. “If you aren’t jealous, you shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“No,” he huffs, irritation growing steadily. “Ask again and I’ll have your head.”

You quicken your pace on the last few steps, skirt bouncing from the motion; Ghost doesn’t bother to look away. He follows you back to the table where Laswell and the others are chatting quietly.

You lean down to set the drinks on the table, and Ghost takes his chance. His hands hover around your hips, bulge brushing against your ass as he moves behind you to sit down in his seat.

“Sorry,” he muses in the most unapologetic tone you’ve ever heard from him. It’s Simon’s eyes that look into yours, like a challenge. A really, really horny challenge. “Had to get past you.”

[charnelhouse]

safe house

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader Wordcount: 3.1k Warnings: semi public sex. rough smut. pain kink. size difference. ghost is a simp. sex on a couch. cum play Summary: “Kid,” he husks. “I wouldn’t give a shit if they all came in and watched.” Simon 'Ghost' Riley Masterlist

Of all the risky shit you've participated in, deciding to sit with Ghost post-mission takes the cake. Things just happen. Out of your control.

You can't not listen to him.

Even your teammates give you nervous glances when Simon barks at you to come see him for a "debrief."

You're screwed, lass.

Eat a dick, Soap.

So here you are, forced to brush shoulders with your hulking lieutenant while the others shower or scrape cold chili out of cans in the tiny safe house kitchen.

Everything is secure.

Ghost smells like fireworks. There’s snow still melting in his boots. He’s managed to remove all his gear aside from his gun on the coffee table, but he’s just as enormous. Burly. Rippling with that animal aggression, he can’t shake off after a mission. 

“You should shower,” you suggest sweetly. You’d gotten first dibs, but you’d been unable to scrape off the blood wedged under your fingernails and mud crusted to your hairline like sea barnacles. You feel dirty, as if the job had left you withered and full of dust. There’s the particular flavor of guilt clinging to the underside of your mouth. 

“You didn’t listen to a direct order,” Ghost utters in a voice so quiet it could flicker into smoke. He was screaming at you earlier, demanding that you return to him instead of toward the USB drive with the intel. Red Fox. You take one more bloody step, and I’ll suspend your ass.

“It would have been for nothing had we not gotten it,” you protest. Deny. Deny. Double down. Invent excuses, even though the scariest man alive is speaking to you like he may just break your neck. 

He shifts on the couch. The sounds of your teammates seem very far away, although they’re only in the next room. Simon is angry, and it’s not the familiar hot-headed fury he favors. No. It’s chilling. He’s holding himself back. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his gloveless fingers curl around the edge of the couch. They’re enormous hands. They can wrap entirely around your bicep, the nape of your neck, or the crown of your skull.

He leans back, thighs spread open, stealing space and shoving you toward the end of the couch without even moving a muscle.

“I’m sorry,” you offer rather pathetically. Your voice is audibly weary, utterly subservient. Ghost runs a tight fucking ship, and everything can collapse if you step a hair out of line. 

He presses his arm against yours, lowering his head closer to your ear. “I don’t give a fuck.” 

His hand finds your hip, and before you realize it, he’s got one arm banded around your chest while keeping you pinned to his front. Hee slides behind you until you’re both horizontal, your legs tangled together, his covered mouth puffing warm air against your jaw. You could be spooning if his embrace wasn’t so carved with aggression. 

“You know it’s not about bloody fuckin’ orders,” he growls as he shoves your sweats down your thighs.

“Wha-”

You choke on a gasp as the muscular forearm around your cotton-covered tits squeezes, sealing you into him until you can’t budge an inch. You can hear him fumbling with the button on his pants. There’s blood on his boots. The denim and his sweatshirt irritate your bare skin. You’re damp from your shower, and he’s coated in a thin film of battle. “Simon,” you warn. “They’ll - they’ll come in.”

Unbothered, he continues, and you can feel him, heavy and hot against your lower back. “What did I tell you?” he mutters into your hair. “Before we left...when I had you on your knees?”

Your mind is sprinting on overdrive. The blood rushing under your skin is flaring to an almost unbearable heat. Yesterday morning? You’d snuck into the bathroom with Simon...gotten on the cold tile floor, and sucked him off until he’d nearly punched a hole in the cheap plaster wall. He’d been surprised. It’s not like you hadn’t screwed before, but anytime you ever gave him pleasure when it was only about him, he’d get totally weird. 

Like he didn’t deserve it even though he -

Without warning, he breaches you with a thick finger. You bite down on your lower lip, swallowing a grunt. Your sweats are caught around your knees, and his tree trunks for legs spread you open and stretched like you’re latched into an intricate web. He lazily thrusts into your soaked cunt, drawing his finger out to the tip before sinking it back to the knuckle. 

“Jesus, Riley,” you moan, and the arm across your breasts lifts just enough so he can cover your mouth with his hand. 

“What did I say, love?” 

Your brain isn’t working. Your entire focus has narrowed to the overwhelming sensation of him finger-fucking you from behind. It is a rare show on his part. It’s risky, but Simon Riley is a super soldier, and his hyper-fixation is now firmly on the task of ruining you.   

He lowers the hand from your lips to allow you to speak.

“Swallow it?” you try, and he pauses before an unsettling, baritone noise reverberates within his massive chest and he withdraws his finger only to bury two inside you. 

You jerk, keeping silent but dangerously on the brink of a damn orgasm. You’re drenched, and Ghost’s slow, drawn-out movements squelch with every perfunctory pump of his hand.

You can feel the hard shell of his mask against the crown of your head. “You’re going to be the death of me, kid,” Ghost sighs.

He sounds...exasperated. Perhaps, you had, admittedly, fucked up. You shouldn’t have done it. You should have listened to him. Escape had been narrow and made even more narrow by you wasting precious seconds to grab the intel. Even if Ghost had the countenance of a bull shark, he cared more than most. He was staunchly loyal. He wouldn’t lose people under his watch. 

But you aren’t just people.

Fuck buddy? Sure. 

More than that?

You weren’t entirely oblivious to how he touched you outside their secret trysts. His gaze lingered, his presence curled around you like an oversized shadow. 

What had he said yesterday morning?

“Stay alive,” he husked as his palm enveloped the top of your skull, those sleepy, ink-filled eyes searching yours. His thumb traced your cheek as you rested the side of your face against his thigh. The salt of him coated your throat, the nape of your neck still tingled from his iron grip when he finished in your mouth. “Please.” 

Gingerly, you tug an arm free to grasp the hand silencing you. You pull it away, and Ghost, Simon, allows it. Shooting him a desperate, aching glance over your shoulder, you press your lips to his fingertips. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I’ll stay alive for you.” 

You give his words back, hoping it’s enough. 

See? I was listening. I was listening as you throat-fucked me. 

Pleased, he murmurs your name as he presses closer before you force two of his fingers into your mouth and suck. He goes rigid, and the other set of fingers inside you become still as if he’s trying to assess this startling development and figure out the next strategy. It is only a moment, a few seconds, and then he draws away from your cunt to grasp the underside of your thigh. He eases it up before shifting his hips forward, and there he is: his thick, unforgiving length crudely gliding through your folds. The pleasure comes in bursts. Tiny pricks. Stars. Each time the head of his cock grazes your clit, it sends sparks unfurling in your belly. You shove your ass back into him, demanding and needy. 

You started this, you want to say when you know he’d turn it around with: You did when you didn’t fucking listen. 

His hand returns to your hip, his thumb rubbing small, tight circles into the flesh. “Desperate, are we?” His voice is rough - all gravel and artillery smoke and so low it sweeps like a tongue against the seam of your pussy. “I thought you were scared the others would see us?”

You release his fingers with a slick pop, and he, once again, wraps his forearm around your chest in order to anchor you to him. You can just imagine the scene the team would walk in on. 

Ghost, fully clothed, with his tattooed arm snug around your tits. You’re in a flimsy tank top with your sweats tangled around your knees. His mask-covered face is notched over your shoulder. To anyone, he’d look untouched while you were ruined. Bare thighs glistening with your own arousal. Humiliating.

“Do you care?”

He chuckles, and it vibrates against your back. “Kid,” he husks. “I wouldn’t give a shit if they all came in and watched.”

You shiver, involuntarily clenching around nothing. “Right,” you croak as you feel his hips draw back again, the fingers holding your thigh in the air, are digging into your skin. Blunt nails. Dirt. “Because...because then they’d know I’m yours.”

That must do something to him because he sucks in a breath and suddenly, without hesitation, slides into you until his groin is nestled against your ass. You black-out. Your vision swims and blurs until you can’t distinguish between the dark fireplace and the shitty armchairs. His cock is too big. That’s a stone-cold fact. The first time he’d fucked you had been more than a challenge. He’d prepared you with his tongue, fingers, spit and lube you filched from Soap, but it had still been difficult. 

He’s breathing steadily as his heart thumps against your back. His hand falls to your stomach, where he can, undoubtedly, feel the head of his cock nudging one of your internal organs. You feel full - crammed to the brim and feverish. Sweat collects at your hairline as you endure the pressure of him inside you. The girth. The weight. Every time Ghost fucks you, it’s a lesson in endurance. He can go for hours, and you take it like his well-trained soldier. The two of you are an HR nightmare.

You squeak when Ghost presses his balaclava-covered mouth to your neck. “Good girl,” he soothes, clucking his tongue. “Good girl...just take it like you are. Fuckin’ perfect.”

Well-endowed fuck. 

It’s only painful in a good way. Your body accommodates him, allowing him to squeeze an inch deeper as his hand slides down from your belly to your clit. He presses it gently before drawing circles. He retreats, his cock dragging through your walls until he’s halfway out before he plunges back in. The pace is unhurried. He’s grinding into you as if he’s savoring every part of your pussy. He cups your tits, grasps your throat, and explores the sensitive flesh stretched around his enormous shaft. 

You’re never having anal. 

Unless he asked really nicely. 

“I want to mark you,” he muses through long, deliberate strokes. “If I come in that lovely cunt, you’d keep me in there, yeah?”

“Of course,” you reply immediately, even though you sound like you’ve been drowned and spit back onto the beach. You’re so sick with him, overwhelmed and a little in love and how did this fucking happen? “Anything you want, Luitenant.”

He delivers a sharper thrust that nearly propels you off the couch, but his grasp on your waist is unforgivable. His strength. His presence. He smells like sweat and packed dirt and a forest fire. “You’re bloody obedient when I’ve got my cock in you.”

Obviously. 

“I know,” you murmur as you bite your lip again when he strikes something tender. He’s rubbing your clit in time with every snap of his hips, dick pistoning inside you as your lower muscles buckle, your thighs quivering as your pleasure hangs precariously over a steep drop. His legs wedge yours open, keeping your cunt spread as he manipulates your body like one of his precious guns. If I move this, what will this do? Let me make it better.  

“I’m so - so fucking easy,” you slur. 

“No,” he grits as his pelvis begins to stutter against your ass, his breathing ragged. “No, you’re the most difficult thing I’ve ever had beneath me - ever - ever had to fuckin’ handle.”

God - that has double meanings. You’re his subordinate. You’re his lover. You’re on your knees for him, but it goes both ways. It had been Ghost who had turned the lights off the first time and removed his mask. He’d trusted you enough to shut your eyes and let him lick your pussy until you were in tears. 

I wouldn’t look, Riley. That’s something I won’t take unless you give it. 

You had felt his face, though. In the pitch blank, you had touched his full lips, the defined lines of his cheekbones. You’d felt his thick, silky hair and the bumps of various scars. 

You feel sexy.

You’re trying to butter me up. 

The sounds from the kitchen startle you. The men are taunting each other. A pan clatters. The volume turns up, and you suddenly realize that you and Ghost are making quite a bit of noise. The couch is creaking. Your cunt indecently squelches with every spear of his cock. He’s grunting into your hair, the skin at his groin smacking the full flesh of your ass as he bottoms out. 

“They’re going to hear us,” you warn. You’re on the cusp of exploding, breaking into fragments. 

“They probably already do,” he quips before fucking you harder. Your hand flies up to clutch at his burly forearm, your other hand rises higher to grasp the back of his head. You want his hair, you want to fist it and hurt him just a little. “Easy, love,” he urges. “Relax...relax...you’re getting too tense.”

He’s right. Your orgasm has fluttered away because now you’re fully aware that your teammates have probably created a racket to drown out their Lieutenant, their stiff, cold enigma of a Lieutenant, railing their comrade into the couch. 

“Focus, kid,” he orders bluntly as if he was chastising you on a mission. He ducks his head and nuzzles your cheek to coax you back into his fold. “They won’t come in,” he drawls in a low, piercing rumble. “They won’t say a goddamn word because they know I’d murder every one of them if they tried ripping me away from this cunt.”

Holy. Fuck. 

Everything has climbed up your throat. Your head is on backward. The pressure of his cock, his fingers on your clit, and his massive body wrapped around your own is causing the air to crackle. 

“Simon,” you gasp as he readjusts his grip and forces you forward. He shifts his hips so he’s thrusting down, and it’s impossible to know when he’ll be done. He rides your ass until his pace falters and his cock twitches and throbs before he abruptly settles, douses out the fire, and continues at a more even, lazy rhythm. 

“I need you to come for me, darling,” he encourages softly. It’s dipped in a tenderness that surprises you. His voice remains deep and gruff, but there’s a gentleness behind it. You’ve never seen his face, and the intimacy with which he handles you is nothing you have ever experienced. It is too much. 

Ghost gives you his history in patches. There are brief moments where finishes and rolls off you, and you both just stare at the ceiling, fingers brushing in the dark. “There’s this pub by the Irwell that I think you’d fancy,” he remarks. “Jesus knows if it’s still around, but I reckon you’d like it.”

It’s not just sex. This is not just sex at all. 

Stay alive. 

Please. 

You know it’s not about bloody fuckin’ orders.

Simon is coaxing you into your climax. He’s buried so deep that you can feel the tip of him nudge against your womb. You feel swollen and raw, and his muscles twitch against you. You’re throbbing like an open wound as he maneuvers your ragdoll body on his cock. It should be overwhelming, but his fearsome rough voice is full of yearning when he motivates you to find your pleasure. 

The tang of your climax builds until there’s nowhere else for it to go. It roars forward, jolting through your limbs as it forces you to curl into a fetal position, but Simon is right there. He holds you in place, his mask grazing your cheek. “C’mon, love,” he says. “That’s it. Good girl.” 

As his palm clamps over your mouth, you erupt, and you bathe his cock in your climax. Hot and flooded as the punch of a tropical storm. “Bite me,” Ghost demands, instinctively thrusting into your soaked, fluttering heat. “Do what you need, love. Take it out on me.” 

He groans when your teeth nip his palm. You bite harder, and he nearly chokes.  

You don’t understand how this has gone from him enraged to riding you to a full gallop to allowing you to use him for your own pleasure. As he fucks you through it, jamming into the searing, wet clutch of your spasming sex, he hits his end. His hands on you tighten as he makes a deep, grating noise from his chest, filling you up. It’s warm and somewhat soothing. Shuddering, Ghost has to brace his arm on the couch to keep himself from collapsing on top of you. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters as he buries his face into your neck. “Jesus.”

He slips out, and there is only emptiness. You’re aching and sore, and he pets at your cunt, pressing his come deeper so it doesn’t drip. You shift onto your side to face him, his hand still nestled against your pussy, his eyes black and heavy-lidded as they regard you with subtle affection. 

“Keep me in there,” he reminds you. 

Hesitantly, you snag the edge of his black ski mask and slowly lift it. He stops breathing, his heart beginning to thump wildly as his gaze widens. However, he doesn’t stop you, and it’s a test you predicted. 

“Red,” he warns. Your call sign. The bite of his authority rippling between you. 

You hitch the mask just a centimeter above his top lip. You sit up awkwardly, your sweats still knotted around your knees, your lower half gone to jello. You grasp his stubbled jaw and kiss him tenderly. He stiffens, making a startled noise in the back of his throat before he decidedly returns it, licking into the cavern of your mouth as he forces you onto your back and wedges himself between your legs. The pointed edge of his skull mask digs into the top of your cheek, but you’re past caring. You can feel his cock filling against the crease of your thigh. 

Again? You can’t go again. You’d surely split in half. 

“Don’t worry,” he says as if he can read your mind. “I just want this.”

Just this. The couch, the safe house, and their teammates only a room away. 

He breathes against your mouth, the sliver of his secret skin scratching your own. You nudge your thumb along a scar and kiss him harder. 

[springtyme]

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 ♡

Simon Riley x afab!reader || Masterlist || Ghost playlist

summary: You’re up late at night, alone and touch starved, when you get a phone call from the man you miss the most.

word count: 3.3k

warning/tag: Smut (18+, mdni!) Language. Fluff and a little angst. Mutual masturbation (phone sex). Reader is wearing one of Simon's shirts. Mention of cunnilingus, tit sucking, unprotected p in v with creampie, implied breeding kink on Simon’s side. Use of ‘good girl’.

"Girl, you know I miss you, I just wanna kiss you But I can't right now So baby kiss me through the phone”

Simon is away again and holy fuck how you miss him. Every moment feels incomplete without him by your side. The distance between you seems unbearable at times, and the ache in your heart grows with each passing day.

As you are lying in bed, wearing his t-shirt, thoughts of him consume your mind. The soft fabric against your skin carries his scent, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. You imagine his smile, a smile so few people get to witness, but you are one of the few lucky ones who he let see it, you imagine his laughter. The warmth and security you feel whenever he holds you tight in his strong arms. As you replay cherished memories in your head, the longing intensifies, turning into a thumping pain in your chest, but it also brings you a sense of cathartic comfort.

If you just could call him it’ll be easier, but you can’t, you understand the need for secrecy and the importance of protecting his mission. You just have to be patient and wait till he can call you.

Now every time you hear a phone ring, your heart skips a beat. When it’s your own phone you find yourself hoping that it’s Simon on the other end, ready to reassure you that he is alright and that your fears are unfounded. But at the same time, there’s always a tinge of fear, a nagging worry that the call might bring news that your worst nightmare has come true.

And, as if on cue, as you lay and think about these things, the sound of your phone breaks through the silence, causing your heart to skip a beat. 

Your heart races, and you can’t help but wonder if it could be Simon. With trembling hands, you reach for the device, hoping beyond hope that it’s him. You glance at the screen and can’t see any number, it is an encrypted line, and a surge of emotions overwhelms you.

Heart pounding with a mix of anticipation, excitement and fear, you answer the call. “Hello?”

“Hi, love,” Simon’s gruff voice comes through the phone. He sounds knackered, but definitely alive. His voice crackles through the line, but the sound of it instantly soothes your worries. 

Relief floods over you, and tears well up in your eyes. “Hi, Si,” you greet him, trying to keep your emotions somewhat in check so you don’t use the precious time you get to talk to him bawling your eyes out. 

“I didn’t wake you did I?” His deep voice, laced with concern. 

“No, you didn’t,” you reassure him, not that you would have given a damn if he had, you’re just happy to hear his voice, alive and well.

“Well, you should be sleeping, I hope you’re taking care of yourself, love,” Simon says, his voice filled with genuine concern. “How have you been holding up?”

A mix of emotions floods over you at his question. You appreciate his thoughtfulness, knowing that despite the dangers he faces, he still worries about your well-being. But at the same time, you don’t want to burden him with your own struggles and fears.

“Well, you know me, I’ve been managing,” you reply, trying to sound strong. Afterall, he is the one who is facing danger and dodging bullets, not you. “Just looking forward to having you back.” 

Simon laughs softly, his deep voice filled with warmth. “I look forward to that too, love. But I promise, I’ll be back before you know it. We’ll have a proper cuppa together in no time, I’ll make sure we don’t have to deal with any of this long-distance rubbish for a while.” 

You can’t help but smile, a mix of love and longing in your heart. “I’ll hold you to that, I’ll keep the kettle ready. And I’ll make sure to get some proper biscuits this time.”

You had bought some fancy biscuits with rosemary and bergamot once, and Simon had absolutely hated them. Not that he had expressed it like that; he had been very polite about it, carefully trying to mask his distaste for the treats. However, you could see right through him. You had run down to the corner shop under your flat and bought some milk choc hobnobs, cause despite looking like a big scary bloke your boyfriend has the tastebuds of a child.      

“That sounds good,” Simon says, a longing sigh coming through the phone.

The simple thought of sharing a cup of tea with Simon brings a smile to your face. It’s the simple moments like those that you cherish the most, the moments of normalcy amidst the chaos that his career brings. But it also makes you miss other things to do with Simon. 

“Yeah, it does,” you agree, as your heart yearns for him you let a short silence unfold between you before you continue, your voice now sounding a little lower and more breathy. “I miss you, Simon.”

There is a brief pause before Simon responds, his voice filled with a mix of longing and determination, and holy fuck how you love that voice. You feel heat creep up your cheeks, at the sound, warmth pooling in your stomach, spreading through your body like a wildfire with longing for him. “I miss you too, love. Can’t wait to hold you again.” 

A surge of anticipation courses through you, and you can’t help but let your voice drop to a sultry whisper. “Yeah, I look forward to that.” 

Simon’s voice takes on a husky tone as he reads your switch in mood. “Consider it a guarantee, love. When I get back, I’ll make it up to you, show you just how much I’ve missed you, okay?”

“Mmm.” You hum to let him know that you are hearing him, but it comes out closer to a moan really. 

A brief silence hangs in the air between you before you break the silence again. 

“Si…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m wearing your shirt,” you confess, the words escaping your lips with a mix of vulnerability and desire.

There is a short pause between you, one that feels way longer than it actually is, before Simon finally says something. “Which one, darling?” His voice carries a hint of curiosity and anticipation, as if he can already picture you wearing it.

“Your Zeppelin one,” you confess.

You can hear how Simon’s breath quickens on the other end of the line, becoming more throaty and shallow. His voice, when he finally speaks, is filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness.

“Yeah?” he responds, his tone laced with anticipation.

“Yeah, it smells like you,” you whisper down the phone. “I just miss you so much.” 

There’s a moment of silence, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Then, Simon replies, his voice filled with the same desire that echoes within you. “Believe me, love, the feeling is mutual.” 

His words carry a warmth that wraps around you, bridging the physical distance between you both. It also makes a warm sensation swoop through your stomach, and you involuntarily squeeze your thighs together as you begin to feel a warm throbbing between your legs.     

“I wish you were here,” you say, meaning it from the bottom of your heart. 

Simon lets out a low chuckle, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Yeah, me too, love, you have no idea. But I promise, it’ll be worth the wait.”

Squirming slightly in your seat by his words, the warm throbbing of your cunt increases. You take a deep breath grabbing the fabric of his shirt to bring it up to your nose, the scent of him lingers, providing a sense of comfort and reassurance but also making you miss having him close so much more, making you crave it. 

“Are you alone?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.     

“Yes.”     

“Wanna tell me what you’re going to do to me when you come home?” You feel a swoop of anticipation run through you as you ask him.

The sound of Simon swallowing audibly comes through the phone, his voice filled with anticipation. 

You put your phone on speaker, placing it on a pillow beside you. 

“I’d take my time with you,” his voice crackles through the speaker, deep and raspy. “I’d start by kissing that sweet mouth of yours. I’d drink up all those little moans you always make for me. You have no idea how much they turn me on. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I hear them, making me so fucking hard, baby. and I’ll have to get up to rub one out.”       

And as if on cue you let out a whiny moan as you imagine him in his tactical trousers, the imposing bulge of his hard-on restrained against the fabric, how his big hand will squeeze it though the garment. 

“Yes, baby, just like that,” he says with a sound that you think was supposed to be a laugh but ends up sounding more like a throaty groan. You hear the clang of metal through the phone, like a belt being unbuckled.  

“I’d kiss you until we are both out of breath, until we would have to break apart, maybe even a little longer. Fuck, miss kissing you so much, lovie.” 

“Miss that too,” you whimper, your hands now on your breasts, softly squeezing them through the soft cotton of Simon’s shirt as you rub your thighs together, feeling how the throbbing of your cunt reaches a whole new high, your panties getting more and more damp.      

“I’d start going down, kiss your jaw and down your neck,” Simon continues. 

Your breath hitches, and you squeeze your eyes shut. You can almost feel how your skin tingles in the places Simon describes kissing. 

“I’d keep going down, kiss you everywhere, love. Let myself taste just how sweet that body of yours is,” he groans softly. 

As his words reach your ears, a vivid image takes shape in your mind. You can picture the way he would hold you. How he would slowly trace every contour, every curve, as he maps out your skin with his lips and tongue, savouring the taste and texture of your skin, leaving a trail of desire in his wake.

“I’d take those pretty tits in my mouth, give them the attention they deserve.”  

You let out a little squeal as you imagine his tongue around your nipples, licking and sucking at your sensitive nubs. 

“Then I’d have you laid back on the bed, all naked and spread out for me. I’d get between your thighs and eat that sweet pussy out just how I know you like it, wouldn’t stop until you’ve gushed all over my face.”  

The thought alone sends a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself instinctively responding to the memory.  You can feel the weight of his touch, the warmth of his breath against your skin. Your head tilts back, lost in the sensations that flood your imagination. The mere thought of his touch elicits a tantalising twitch of pleasure through your body, a physical manifestation of the connection you share.

You let your legs part, spreading them wide on the soft mattress, and you let your non-dominant hand creep down the soft fabric of the Simon’s shirt, continuing lower until you reach the hem of the garment and slides it up under the shirt, slowly tracing your fingers up over the warm skin of your naked abdomen and up through the valley of your tits, until you cup your breast again, this time without the barrier of the shirt, gently squeezing at the soft flesh before you start playing with your hardened nipple. Your dominant hand is wandering down to your panties, the pads of your fingers gently tracing a line over the now soaked fabric. You haven’t been this wet in a while, at least not since Simon left for deployment.   

Through the speakers of your phone, you hear him curse softly, his voice filled with a mix of longing and frustration. The distance between you feels unbearable, as the desire to be together intensifies with each passing moment. As you close your eyes, your imagination takes flight, allowing you to indulge in the sweet memories of your bodies entwined. The anticipation builds, fueling the fire within. 

Now feeling so damned desperate you dip your hand into your panties, slowly sliding your fingers through your wet folds, coating them with your arousal, before you start to, oh so slowly, circling around your clit.  

“I’d let myself drown in that sweet, sweet pussy of yours. Sweetest, fucking thing I’ve ever had. I can still taste it whenever I think about it,” he continues. His tone is damn near dangerous, so low and growly. You almost cum from the thought alone, the thought of being completely at his mercy. “What about you, love? What would you do with me if I was there?” He coaxes you. 

“I’d let you have me however you want me. I miss having you inside me so bad, Si,” You admit with a whimper. 

“Oh, missing my cock that much, lovie?” he teases, but there is a tenderness and a longing hidden behind his words.   

“Mmm.” You nod even though he can’t see it. “I miss all of you, Si.”

The sounds of him pumping himself is now audible through the phone. The sound is making you even more desperate to have him back. You can’t help but imagine him, his big fist sliding up and down that big girthy cock of his, the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, throbbing and dripping with precum, just for you. 

“Fu-uuck, what I wouldn’t give to be inside you right now, sweetheart.” he almost growls, making you whimper. “I’d make you feel so good, baby. Turn you into a babbling cock drunk mess.” Simon’s voice grows huskier, filled with primal desire. “I’d fill you up so good, again and again until you you’d be fucking dripping, with my cum.” He growls down the phone. “Fill you up and give you a piece of me to carry, a piece of me you could have forever. Fu-uuck, and everyone would know that I’m yours, that we belong together.”    

A soft moan escapes your mouth as you imagine the scenario he’s describing. Your fingers now moving in fast tight circles around your sensitive clit. 

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, huh, love?” His voice, dripping with hunger and desperation, and you whine out for him, giving him those sweet sounds that you know makes him go feral. 

“Good girl,” he praises. “Fuuck, doing so good for me.”

A hot shiver runs up your spine at the praise. You remove your fingers from your clit, instead sliding them down a little further, making your panties push down your hips to instead dwell around your thighs. You drag your fingers through your slick folds, collecting your wetness before you slide first one then two fingers inside of your pussy. You bring your other hand, that until now had occupied your sensitive nipples, down to your clit, flickering the sensitive nub while you pump into yourself wishing that it was Simon’s skilled fingers or girthy cock that was thrusting into you instead. His name starts spilling from your lips in a line of whiny moans. 

“You sound so fuckin’ pretty,” he sounds like he is as close to ecstasy as you are, his voice low and breathy. “Are you close, baby?” 

“Ye-yeah, so close, Si,” you pant. The slick sound of your fingers pumping in and out of your soaked cunt ring in your ears and you know that Simon must be able to hear it over the phone. 

“I’m close too, love. Can you cum for me, sweetheart? We can cum together. Imagine me filling up that sweet little pussy, have you dripping with my cum, yeah?”  

“Yes, Simon, want that so bad,” you moan, “Fu-uck, I’m so close, Si.”

“That’s good. You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart,” he groans. “Come on, baby, cum with me.” 

You moan out his name as your walls clench around your fingers, your other hand flicking over your clit in a fast steady rhythm as you feel how the tight coil in your stomach finally snaps, your orgasm rushing through you in hot, blissful waves as you fuck yourself through your high. You can hear Simon’s throaty moans coming over the phone, cursing and panting under his breath as you both ride out your climaxes.

Your walls flutter around your fingers as you slowly come down from your high. Aftershocks are still pumping through your cunt as you slowly pull your soaked fingers out, wiping them off on the sheets. You’ll change them in the morning, but right now you can’t be bothered. 

You both take a few seconds to catch your breath before Simon’s voice crackles through the phone again. “How do you feel?”

“I’m good, Si, really good, just wished you were here to feel good with me.” You grab the phone, turning it off speaker again and bringing it up to your ear. You lay yourself down on your side, curling up on yourself  as you let your body sink into the soft mattress. You pull the duvet over you, suddenly feeling very tired and alone, wishing that Simon was there to cuddle with you.     

“Yeah, I’d like that too.” His voice sounds much softer now.  

A little silence falls over you, the both of you needing to land again and you both feel the other’s absence all the more now, but you don’t want to stop talking with Simon, not when you finally can, but you also know that he only has limited time for phone calls. You just have to stay strong until you finally have him back again.  

“Si?”

“Yes, love?” Simon responds, his deep voice gentle and reassuring.

“Come back to me safe?” you plead, the weight of worry evident in your words.

A small pause follows. Then, Simon’s voice breaks through, filled with determination and devotion. “Love, I’ll come crawling back to you if I have to.” 

The words hang in the air for a moment, the intensity of Simon’s promise sinking into your heart. Tears well up in your eyes as you whisper, “I don’t know what I would do without you, Simon.” The vulnerability in your voice echoes the depth of your emotions, the fear of losing him almost too much to bear.

Simon’s voice softens, filled with tenderness as he responds, “You won’t have to find out, love.” 

Though you still worry about him, you let his words offer you solace for now.  

“It’s getting late,” Simon’s voice comes through with a hint of playfulness. “I think it’s time for you to get some beauty sleep.”

You can’t help but let out a tired giggle at his teasing tone, despite your worry for him, feeling the warmth of his affection even through the phone. “Oh, so you think I need beauty sleep, huh?” you reply, a mischievous twinkle in your voice.

Simon chuckles softly. “Well, only because you’re already the most beautiful person I know, and I want you to wake up even more radiant tomorrow.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, lieutenant Riley,” you say, a playful lilt in your voice and he chuckles softly at your remark. “Can you stay on the line until I fall asleep?” you ask softly, a gentle plea in your voice.

“Of course, love,” Simon replies, his words full of unwavering devotion. “I’ll stay with you as long as you need me.” 

A sense of comfort washes over you, knowing that even when miles apart, Simon is there for you. The ache in your heart is still there, but it’s overshadowed by the knowledge that Simon is safe, for now.  

Closing your eyes, you listen to the steady sound of his breathing, a reminder of his presence and the love that binds you together. In this moment, sleep comes easier, your worries momentarily eased by the knowledge that you are not alone.

As you drift off into dreams, you hold onto the promise that soon you will be reunited, and the ache in your heart will be replaced with the joy of being in Simon’s arms once again.

[bxlladxnnabxtch]

Unapologetic

Simon Riley x Reader

❀​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​❀

Summary: I wish there was one, but this is just smut. 

Explicit content ahead!

Warnings: swearing, manhandling, choking, edging, overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, bondage, sadism, spanking, pussy slapping, dirty talk, hair pulling, He throws you around frfr.

Your legs wrapped around his waist securely, pulling him into you harder, the want to have him on your body dragging you to run your hands through his hair hastily. He slammed you against the white penthouse wall, the pictures rattling with the force, mouths slotted together in frenzied mess of tongue and staggered breaths. The fleeting pressure of his tongue left yours, the brief moment of vacancy being filled with the rustling of clothes before both of your shirts were off. The action barely being registered in your yearning state. His mouth was on yours again, hands roaming the expanse of your hips and up your sides, before rounding your back. He unclipped your bra, the material slipping down your arms before you tugged it off and let it fall to the floor. He let out an amused breath, his lips falling from yours, trailing down your jaw to your neck. His lips latching onto the skin, sucking hickeys onto your neck, painting it with an array of blues and reds.

A breathless moan escaped you, echoing across the empty penthouse under Ghost’s ministrations. His hips rolled against yours, steadily grinding against you and you twitched in his hold, the sudden pressure making you gasp. His lips dethatched from your neck, confusion momentarily replacing the lust clouding your mind before the fingers of his left hand wrapped around your throat, leaving you to be pinned between the wall and his body, thighs supporting your weight effortlessly. The hand around your throat constricted ever so slightly, the pressure making a whimper leave your lips as you begun to feel light headed. “You’re practically falling apart and I haven’t even done anything yet.” He teased, face dangerously close to where his hand met your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin.

You couldn’t respond even if you wanted to, the hand wrapped snuggly around your neck keeping you from doing so. Your hands wrapped around his wrist at his words, your thighs clenching around where they still rested around his waist, to which he smirked. You tried to grind your hips into his pathetically -key word tried- but his right hand tightened on your waist, other hand tightening around your neck dangerously, and his eyes narrowed- a warning. Your face knitted into a desperate expression, and the man in front of you laughed at the sight. Fuck. You needed something, anything.

Before you could even attempt to say anything more, his hand unravelled from around your throat, both hands picking you up again and carrying you across the penthouse. You were momentarily disoriented, the sudden blood rush to your head making you feel dizzy, and you felt your cheeks flush harder under the sudden high. His steps were fast, carrying him with purpose while you were still trying to get your barring’s. You felt your weight shift, and you were flung onto a soft surface, snapping out of your haze as Simon crawled over you. He straddled you, rest on his knees as he undid his belt over you.

“Your safeword is red.”

“Red?” You asked, slightly dazed.

“Yep.”

He undid his belt and pulled it from his belt loops with a quick tug, before he grabbed both your wrists, hiking them above your head and wrapping the leather around it. You got a view as he was over you, you looked down, eyes tracing over his toned stomach, leading down to a defined V-line. You nearly drooled at the sight, but chose to look back up to his face, your eyes caught on his arms and the way his muscles rippled under his skin as he tied you. You took in the sight, but the longer your eyes trailed over his body the more needy you became, but you decided against doing anything to relieve the pressure due to his earlier warning.

He pulled the belt tight, making sure it was secure, and you winced at the slight pain that jolted through your wrists.

“Don’t move around too much, the belt will leave burns.” He said coyly, before moving down to tug your pants off. You moved your hands to help him, you were still able to help him since you could move your-

You yelped when he pushed you back down, slamming your hands back down on the mattress as he bent down to whisper in your ear.

“Keep them right fucking there. Or I might have to tie them to the headboard.”

His previous words didn’t have that much of an effect on you. But this, this. You could feel the dominance radiating off him, silently daring you to try anything. A shiver ran down your spine, cold air hitting your legs and bare cunt as he pulled your pants off along with your panties.

He slipped his pants and boxers off as well; the pants having been undid with what was used for the bindings against your straining wrists. His hands gripped your thighs hard, the slight pinch making you wince yet again, the action only made Ghost’s smirk wider. “Fuck.” You hissed, the pain from his nails digging in to your skin shot through you. His smirk faded at that, replaced by a slight frown. “You might wanna tidy up that potty mouth. Act like a whore and you’ll get treated like one.” This time it was your turn to smirk. “Says the military man, who knows what kinda shit you spew on the daily.” You instantly regretted the words, the aura around him suddenly becoming suffocating. His eyes narrowed into slits, his demeanor becoming more threatening.

Maybe you shouldn’t have done that.

“You’re gonna pay for that.” Was all he said before his hand slipped between your thighs, running down your slit as you mewled lowly. His thumb came up to rub your clit in small, torturous circles as you whined and struggled against the belt. The sudden relief to your needy clit making you clench around nothing. The feeling of being so utterly empty made you squirm below him, your hands struggling against the belt. He pushed a finger inside you, a satisfied moan fell from your lips as he slowly pumped it in and out of your sloppy cunt. It felt so good, so fucking good, but it wasn’t enough, and he knew that all too well, watching you writhe in needy agony below him only fed his arousal. He hit a spot that made your breath hitch, and he quickly slipped another finger into you, pinpointing and abusing the spot deep inside you. Your moans stuttered, and you screwed your eyes shut, the slow drag of his fingers inside you was driving you crazy, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Simon!! I- ah!”

You squealed loudly when a harsh slap came down to meet your clit, the overwhelming sensation making you reel and squirm away from his touch, the pain entwined with the pleasure making your thighs shake slightly. You clenched hard on his fingers despite your attempts at fleeing, he only pulled you down back on his hand harder, making his fingers reach deeper inside you while he sped up his movements, meeting your unspoken request.

“Talkative little bitch, aren’t you? You’re so messy, creaming all over my fingers like this.”

A choked moan was ripped from your throat at his words, your back arching at the increased intensity of his fingers dragging along your walls. Your nails dug into your palms, your last attempt of gripping onto reality as your sanity started to slip, the coil in your abdomen getting impossibly tight at his words. Simon noticed your struggles, the smirk crawling onto his face once more at your pitiful attempt to stabilize yourself. “Aww, you having a hard time there hun?” He asked mockingly, pressing down on your bundle of nerves just as your eyes rolled back, causing your thighs to shake violently. You could feel yourself about to tip off the edge, focusing on nothing other than how he toyed with your soaked cunt.

Your pussy fluttered around his fingers, clenching hard around the digits as you teetered over the edge. He pulled his fingers out at the last second, making you cry out at the sudden loss and effectively ripping your release away from you. The pain of it flooding through your system for a fleeting moment before you felt your clit throb desperately. “No, no- why? Fuck!” You felt your orgasm fade away from you, becoming frustratingly out of reach for you, and you sobbed at your needy state. You cried out in frustration and sheer helplessness, looking up at Ghost as he stared down at you with a shit eating grin.

“Bad girls don’t get to cum.”

“The worst thing in this room is your ego.”

His eyebrows raised at that, the expression of shock painting over his features before it morphed into something more carnal. His eyes darkened, and he let out a laugh, but the laugh was different, no light hearted chuckle or a sadistic ring of sick pleasure, it was something malicious. “You want to cum then? Fine. I’ll fuck you until you’re a braindead little bitch. Fucking slut.” He grabbed your hips and roughly turned you over, lifting your hips up to position himself before bottoming out all at once. You grabbed the sheets below you and choked on a whine at the stretch, the burning sensation making small whimpers settle in your chest.

He pulled you back to meet his thrusts, his cock dragging along your sweet spots so effortlessly it made your head spin. The noises you made were unholy, your cries and wails echoing through the room along with the sound of skin on skin. His hand came down on your ass, the smack resounding through the room as you yelped, colours starting to bloom along the skin from the impact. Your whole body trembled, the proof of your arousal clinging to your thighs as you looked down to see the mess you made. You clenched around him when you saw how he was plunging into you, your tight pussy stretching to accommodate his size.

“You’re sucking me in like a bitch in heat, am I fucking you that good?” You couldn’t formulate an answer, so many thoughts running through your brain. You were full- so full. All you could do was watch as he fucked you into the mattress and listen as the lewd squelches echoed around the empty room. You could feel the coil in your gut wind up again, the pressure becoming intense as you moaned out.

You felt fingers interlace in your hair and pull you up, being lifted off the mattress as you were pressed into Simon’s chest. “You don’t know when to shut up do you? Noisy slut.” You could feel the vibration from when he spoke, the words only pushing you further towards your release. His pace never let up, fucking into you fast a hard from behind, hand still in your hair making you back arch almost painfully against his chest. Two of his fingers invaded your mouth, his palm holding your chin as he pressed down on your tongue with the digits, making you gag and saliva pool in your mouth. Your thighs shook violently, the exertion on your body causing your legs to feel almost numb. Before your legs could give out, Ghost released his grip on your hair and wrapped his arm around your waist as he supported your weight easily.

“Going dumb on my cock already? Can’t even hold yourself up.” He muttered into your ear, the arm around your waist dipping down lower to rub circles on your clit. The coil in your stomach snapped, and your orgasm hit you like a truck as you gushed around Simon’s cock. Your eyes rolled back as euphoric pleasure washed over you, the feeling overtaking you while you trembled violently. A string of moans rang out that were muffled by Simon’s fingers, and you could here him hiss behind you from how tight you were clamping down on him. Ghost made sure to fuck you through it, his fingers never letting up on your throbbing clit even when you started twitching from overstimulation. His thrust never slowing down even as your cunt clenched and fluttered around him.

His thrusts never let up even as you came down from your high, still fucking in to your messy pussy as overstimulation began to set in and you squirmed in his hold. Your senses heightened, every sensation becoming so much, your mind still clouded in post orgasmic bliss that you never had a chance to come down from. He took his fingers out of your mouth, ignoring how your drool dripped down his hand and down your chin.

“Simon! I- hnngh- S’ t-too much- please! - fuck”

“Do you remember your safeword?”

“Y-yes!”

“You can call it at any time.”

He wrapped his fingers around your neck again, squeezing lightly as he placed open mouthed kissed up your throat. You felt the arm around your waist tighten, pulling you closer to him, and you laid your head against his shoulder, sputtering as you tried to catch your breath. Simon groaned against your neck, his thrusts becoming uneven as he chased his high. He sped the movements up on your clit and you cried out, the oversensitivity sending you hurling towards another orgasm. You clenched your fists tighter, the coil in your stomach coming on much more intense due to your heightened sensitivity. He pressed down on your clit, the action being the last straw to make you come undone yet again, falling over the edge as you cried out his name. He moaned at the feeling of you clamping down on him, making him come undone as well, filling you up as his hips stuttered.

You both sat there for a minute, taking a moment to regulate your breathing before Ghost took his hands off your throat and clit. He pulled out, and a mixture of cum dripped out of you and down your thighs. You ached everywhere, your blissed out state covering up the soreness for now, but would be a refute to deal with later. Simon untied your hands, your wrists were rubbed raw from the struggle against the leather, leaving angry marks across your skin. He brought them up to his lips before kissing them both gently, rubbing them sweetly to hopefully get rid of some of the pain.

“You ok? Are you hurt anywhere besides your wrists?” He asked, looking you over. “I’m fine, and no, not that I know of now at least.” You answered, your eyelids feeling heavy with exhaustion. Ghost helped you lay down, guiding you to rest your head on the pillows. “Just give me a second and I’ll be back with a rag and some water.” He said, brushing your hair out of your face.

He left the room, only coming back a few minutes later now in sweats with some water and a rag in hand. He walked over to you and handed you the glass, watching you drink it down before taking the glass and setting it on the nightstand. You reached your hand out for the cloth, but he shook his head. “Nope, let me.” He said, already easing your legs apart so he could clean up his mess.

Once you were all cleaned up, he climbed into bed with you, climbing under the sheets and wrapping a hand around your waist. “Get some sleep, ok princess?” he asked while tracing patterns into your hip. You hummed in approval, your voice coming out weak from exhaustion, but he got the jest. He cuddled in beside you and you let your breathing even out before letting yourself drift off to sleep, nearing 6AM.

That was the most peaceful you felt in a long time.

[a-b-riddle]

Out of the Shadows (1)

Dark Simon x Delusional Johnny x Kidnapped Reader

When he first saw you in the city, he nearly missed you. You would have been lost in the crowd if it hadn't been for the absolute look of defeat written on your beautiful face. It was as if any life you had within you had been sucked out.

He was on his way to Captain's when he spotted you. You were walking almost in a daze. Simply putting one foot in front of the other with nowhere to go. He had simply stood at the entrance of the metro station, watching you until you faded from you. Standing there several moments after, almost... enchanted? Bewitched?

All he knew was that he couldn't pull you from his mind. Not that night at Price's dinner with his new wife. Not when he laid next to Simon that same evening.

Or the next.

Or the next.

It wasn't until Simon practically forced Johnny to confess what had put him in such a sodden state that he had told Simon about you. That he couldn't shake you from his head. That he didn't know your name or even the sound of your voice and yet, he couldn't stop thinking about you.

And now you were just gone.

Simon made the suggestion in going back to the city to see if maybe he could spot you again. So he did.

Everyday.

For three months.

It had become an obsession to find you. He had almost given up. Assuming you were a traveler simply passing through. Simon had insisted that it was pointless. If Johnny hadn't found you buy now, searching almost every inch of the city, it would never happen.

But then there you were. Reappearing practically out of thin air. He had been driving through a part of London that was sort of well... the slums to put it mildly.

It was late in the evening. Too late for Johnny to be out and about in these parts and definitely too late for a pretty lass like you to be out so late. But even through the heavy downpour of rain and the slight fogginess of his windows he knew it was you.

You were practically sprinting, as if you were running from something.

Or someone

It wasn't until you went to a building and tried to shake the doors open did Johnny turn sharply on the side of the street to park his car. Whoever was after you, Johnny would be more than happy to handle them. It wasn't until you started banging on the steel security door shouting your name, claiming you were here did Johnny look up.

In off-white letters read West End Women's Shelter.

Johnny's heart sunk into his stomach. Had this been your situation the entire time he had spent looking for you? At a shelter?

Johnny got out of his car. The weather showing him no mercy as it began to soak his sweatshirt. "You alright!?" He had to practically shout over sound of the rain. You turned, jumping at his voice behind you.

"I'm fine!" You lied hoping your assurance would end the conversation and this stranger would just leave you alone. You weren't a stranger to strange men wanting to 'help' you.

"Saw you running and just wanted to make sure you were okay. No one chasin' ye?" You huffed but concealed your fear. Men fed off of it, like prey playing with their dinner.

"Nope!" You replied. "All good!" You crossed your arms over your chest. Too prideful to show you were freezing your ass off and just wanting him to leave so you could start weighing your options.

"You locked out?" He asked the one obvious question you couldn't bullshit. The doors weren't opening and you knew damn good and well they wouldn't until the morning.

No exceptions.

"Fuck," you hiss, low enough in hopes he didn't hear. "Yeah! Just missed curfew!" It's not until he starts making his way toward you, the engine of his car still purring do all of the danger synapses in your brain begin firing away.

"There's a hotel nearby." He said. "It's supposed to freeze over and the rain won't help ye. I could at least cover your room for the night." You looked at him. Where he expected to see relief, even joy, he found uncertainty.

If he wasn't a pervert you would say he's handsome. But even a handsome face and the threat of frostbite would convince you. You're homeless, but you hold on to what little dignity you still have.

You shook your head, taking a step back. "I don't do that."

"It's fine." He assured, pulling out his wallet.

"Stop!" you hissed, looking up to make sure the red light of the camera was off. Of course it had been. It hadn't been fixed since you came here. You turned back to look at his confused expression. "Turning tricks will get me kicked out of here, okay?"

"Tricks?" He asked, confused before piecing it together and shaking his head. "I'm not looking for a night with ye, Bonnie." He explained. "Just don't want you turning to ice." You wish you could believe him. You wish that you could believe that there was still some honest to God goodness left in people and not just those who want something in return whether it be your body or a tax right off. "Besides, looks like yer already out."

He gestures to the doors behind you with a nod of his head, but you don't take your eyes off of him. "I missed lock out." You shrug nonchalantly, as if you were facing certain death if you slept on the sidewalk tonight. "They open up at 8 tomorrow and there's always the metro."

"Look," Johnny huffed, now soaked to the bone while you got sheltered underneath the door's archways.. "Get in the car and I'll at least take you there. The train station on this side of town isn't exactly a place a lass like you should be staying. I'll take you somewhere safer and leave you be. Alright?"

You look back to the closed doors behind you, weighing your options. You were warned about the freeze, but your job had ran later than normal. Your asshole boss cutting you off last. Your feet ached and you were in a skirt, sheer black panty hose with a donated puffer jacket covering the shirt provided by the pub.

Laundry day wasn't for another two days and it was your only jacket. It wouldn't be dry in time for your shift in the morning.

Fuckkkkkkkk.

Why you? Why was it always you?

"Just to the station." You said.

"Just to the station," he repeated.

"And you're not getting anything in return, you know?" You wanted him to know. You weren't looking for a handout, but if he would help you he wasn't going to get anything more than a verbal 'thank you.'

"Don't expect to." He shook his head. "Come on before ye' get sick standing here in nothing but your stockings and a jaiket."

He makes his way over, opening the passenger door, waiting for you to follow.

You take a moment. You're options are limited. The decision a clear one.

You run from your covered sanctuary into the blistering cold rain. He just waits until you're entirely inside the car before shutting the door.

The car was warm and smelled... nice.

It didn't smell stale at all. It seemed like that's all that was around you. The smell of stale piss just outside the pub and stale beer inside of it. The poor circulation of the shelter didn't offer any sort of fresh air and not everyone there took advantage of the hot showers.

But it smelled clean and fresh. Nothing particularly note worth like minty or masculine, or musky. Just like a clean, well taken care of car.

"Name's Johnny by the way." He introduced, not taking his eyes off the road. You gave yours in return. It was only polite. He repeated your name, liking a little too much how it sounded falling from his lips. "Fitting. Bonnie name for a bonnie lass." He didn't turn and give you a cheeky wink. He kept his eyes straight ahead, trying to see through the rapid swiping of the wipers and the rain.

The two of you sat in silence even though he ached to ask you a million questions. He wanted more than just your name.

Where were you from? How did you end up in the shelter? Had you always been in this situation? Were you safe? Is that why you were so sad that day that day he saw you?

"Everyone seems to be out leaving the match." He said instead, noticing the influx of traffic that had began to build.

"Match?" You asked.

"Aye." He said. "Some football match."

"Oh." You said. "Right." You had wanted to work that night in hopes of making a decent tip or two, but the curfew was strict at the shelter so you opted out.

And still got locked out.

"Might as well make yourself comfy." He sighed, leaning back against his seat. "Looks like we'll be a minute."

The warm air incased you fully now. Having warmed up the numbness in your poor toes. If it wouldn't have been seen as rude, you would have taken off your kitten heels and given your feet some relief.

The car's seats were more comfortable than the cot at the shelter. Add that with your exhaustion from an almost twelve hour shift from serving breakfast to finishing the dinner rush, it was starting to become a fight to stay awake.

But you could spare a few seconds of closing your eyes.

There were cars lined up. People, now, all around you. If you felt him try anything funny you would know. It was okay just to rest your eyes for a moment or two.

So you did.

You let the soft hum of the car drown out the noise of outside as the pitter patter of rain lull you to sleep. Your breathing deepened.

It wasn't until Johnny saw in the window's reflection that your eyes had closed that you hadn't turned away to avoid conversation.

You had fallen asleep.

In his car.

It was a no brainer for him that he wouldn't take you to a fucking metro station to sleep. He planned to just take you to a hotel, put a wad of cash in your hand and tell you he meant it. He wasn't looking for a whore. He just wanted to help you.

Or...

Or he could do it.

He could do what Simon had given him the green light to do two months ago when his obsession in finding you had peaked the Lieutenant's interest. It wasn't every day Johnny had fancied a lass longer than a passing glance. He was the type who rarely remembered names.

So when Simon had suggested bringing you home, Johnny thought he was just pulling his leg. Simon couldn't have been seriously considering... sharing? The two of them were together. More than just brothers in arms. It was a thought, once upon a time about adding a more feminine energy to the relationship, but Johnny didn't like any of them enough to have them stick around and Simon didn't like anyone except for Johnny.

But now, it was different.

This was you. The girl who had plagued his thoughts, his dreams for months. The girl he had lost sleep over. The girl who he had thought he would never going to see again.

But now you were here.

Now.

If he was going to do it, he had to do it now.

No turning back.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Purpose: knight!price x princess!reader

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, medieval standards for women

You sat in the solar near the window with your embroidery on your lap. Your attention was on the fabric and thread while your mother sat across the room near the fire place, doing the same as you.

"...the prince is kind. He's about your age too." She said and you had to suppress a sigh.

"It's only been a week, mother." You pointed out and she gave you a look. "If you're that worried about there not being a successor after me, perhaps you can give the throne to my cousin. She has plenty of children."

"She's fickle. She'd run the kingdom into the grave and our lineage would be the laughing stock for generations."

You frowned.

"This is your responsibility as a princess, to run the kingdom after me and secure our throne." She explained as if this was the first time you had been told this in your life. "You can't keep throwing away our options."

"If they truly liked me then perhaps I wouldn't." You retorted and she shook her head.

"That's because you aren't supposed to like each other. It's nothing more than politics, but you could always befriend him later on after children."

You sighed heavily and stopped sewing. You tried your hardest to hold in your emotions as they weighed heavy on your chest.

You suspected that before end of next week you’d be surrounded by other lords or princes vying for your hand again.

You glanced out the window and your attention immediately went to Sir John Price.

He stood in a makeshift ring with a wooded sword in his hand. In front of him was a scrawny new squire who had yet to prove he had enough potential to even be considered to be a royal knight.

Price stood in front of the squire as he prepared for a spar. His knights gathered around to watch and the squire looked as if he’d throw up.

“Alright, lad?” He wondered when he noticed his shaking legs. He sent a quick look to Simon who snickered.

“Aye, sir.” The squire lied and he hummed. “But perhaps I should spar with someone else. In account that you must have better things to do.”

Price sucked in his lips to hide his smile.

“Perhaps Sir Simon Riley will be a better fit then.” He couldn’t contain his chuckle when the squire paled. “I assure you that I will spar fairly. It’s only wood.”

It didn’t take long for the spar to start. Price was fair but he was quick. He struck the squire more than once, knocking him into the dirt and bruising his skin.

It was a spectacle without him trying. Price moved like the wind and cut with precision, his focus making it so he became practically unstoppable. Every swing had intention, every slash had a purpose.

There were tales that Price might be something more than human. Perhaps he was the spirit of heroism reborn, a warrior who lived thousands of lifetimes before this moment, a not a man but some higher being of chivalry.

Price would deny every single one of them.

He had worked hard. He practiced until his hands bled and until he nearly collapsed with exhaustion to get to this point. He worked hard to fulfill his purpose and it was him who made it happen, not some other worldly spirit or higher being.

The spar was done before long. Sweat dripped down Price’s temple while he stood over the squire who looked defeated.

He hardly put up a worthy fight and if Price were any different he would’ve turned him away. Yet he could see the potential he had and maybe he was sentimental, but he could almost see his younger self in the squire.

He helped the kid up and gave him a quick pat on the shoulder.

“Practice more and you’ll get better.” He gave him a quick smile before he waved him away.

The squire limped away to the barracks with a smile on his face.

“You’ve gone soft, Cap.” Kyle scoffed and he raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps you want to spar as well. I know you can handle me at my best.” He offered but Kyle shook his head.

“I’d not like to wake up sore, sir.”

Price chuckled but let it rest. He wiped the sweat from his brow and massaged a knot in his shoulder.

He was only so good because he had to be. This was his entire life, the rest of his life, and one slip up meant life and death.

He looked up at the castle and caught you staring at him in the window.

For a moment you two stared at each other, unable to see the details but he knew you were looking, and time seemed to stop.

Price felt heat rise across his face and he was sure he had turned pink. He swallowed hard, nervous that you of all people had watched him spar, he was not fond of anyone but his knights watching him, and struggled to control himself.

He bowed to you before he made his way out of your sight.

You watched him leave with a similar heat spread across your face. Your heart raced just a little faster and you began to embroider again to avoid any questions from your mother.

As much as you hated to admit you understood now why your ladies in waiting would watch him when he trained.

You stubbornly told yourself you were just in awe by his skill and nothing more.

A/n: all he’s gotta do is just hold a sword and I’m over the edge

Tags: @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare @blush-haze @waiting-so-long @rmikaelson01

[yandere-kokeshi]

Simon, König, and Soap with a gn darling who’s taller

Warnings: yandere behavior, and slight nsfw mention

A/N: This is day one of posting head canons every day :). Enjoy <3!

Simon “Ghost” Riley: 

Doesn’t really bother him — gives 0 fucks, because height is height. Though, he’s a bit relieved he doesn’t have to worry about neck and back pain whilst trying to kiss you if you were shorter. 

Will laugh straight-up if you knock your forehead on the door frame or accidentally hit yourself with the shower head; but, he’s nice enough to fix it, making sure it actually doesn’t hurt you for future uses. 

Will throw some shitty or cliché jokes, but often reminds you to duck or watch out for ceiling fans. 

Loves to be a small spoon, or simply put his head into the place where your neck and shoulder meet. Feels more secure, especially since your arms are likely longer and bigger. Although, don’t think you can tease him, cause if you do, hickeys and rough hands will soon appear on your skin. 

By chance, you’re wearing a collar shirt or any loose clothing, Simon will yank it down, making you come to his level and kiss you very intensely — clearly craving more than a sly kiss. 

If you try to pick him up, it’ll likely end with him using his commanding voice, moving on getting out of your arms but quickly accepts his fate; his lower body hanging around like a Maine Coon being picked up by a literal child. 

König:

It’s perfect, really. Most people are naturally shorter than him, and he likes to use his height to intimidate people. And the fact you’re taller, the power you hold, is unholy.

Though, he slightly does get a bit flushed. You practically tower over him, and he’s often the one to do so. The height difference messes with his head, mentally and physically. With this said, his eyes, and pupils, are shaped hearts whenever he looks at you. 

Bear hugs to its max. Wherever you are, he’s behind you, rubbing his face into your clothes as he asks about your day – not letting you go until you ask him ‘nicely’. 

Really enjoy sitting on your lap, regardless of your gender. Working at a desk for work? He’s asking very nicely. In the living room, watching TV while you eat? He’s doing the same thing but only on your lap. 

Definitely asks you to get things out of reach for him (that he specifically put up because he wants your attention), and hugs you from behind. König, effectively, is trying to hide the obvious tent he has. But, you won’t ignore him, right? Of course, you won’t. 

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

Digs that you’re taller than he. Much like Simon, height is something that’s natural, and he doesn’t care. But you, being taller than him, does things with his head. 

Really tries his hardest to get piggyback rides or be picked up in any way. Sometimes, usually when he comes home from missions, jumps on your back, resulting in both of you falling to the floor.

Soap really enjoys being the small spoon, especially when he’s on top of you, laying on your chest and rubbing his face in your neck. Sometimes, Johnny likes to be the big spoon (or try too). He lays behind you like a koala holding on their parents for dear life. 

Shitty pick-up lines all the time: “I’m surprised you didn’t find me on a stepladder,” – “Aye, the air up there must suck, yeah? Why not come down and catch your breath on my lap?” 

Will share his clothes with you and vice versa — your closet is now his. Hoodies, jackets, even baggy pants are now sharing with him. However, Johnny does love seeing you wear his own; the tightness curving your body. 

—

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© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[siriusleee]

always

You watch as he lifts his fingers up to lick the mixture of you and him off of them. The sight makes your stomach flip, and you dig your nails into the comforter. "I meant what I said," Ghost says, hand settling against your stomach - a reminder that even if you tried to leave, you'd still be tethered to him. "I know." triggers/tags: dubcon, non-con, blood, fighting, simon is a jealous bastard, squirting, (I never know what to put here). Read all my works here. Find my A03 here.

You can't remember the name of the soldier that presses you against the wall - you had barely paid attention to it when he told it to you. His lips, chapped and tasting of cheap beer, trail down your neck as his fingers inch towards the zipper on the back of your dress. His teeth nip at your flesh and you shiver beneath him the alcohol making both of your movements clumsy. 

You hadn't meant to find yourself here - you didn't even want to come to this stupid military ball, but Soap had managed to convince you to get dressed up. 

"He won' be there."

You didn't need to ask Soap to elaborate; getting dressed up and going out wasn't exactly Ghost's thing. He wouldn't be seen with you out in public unless someone held a gun to his head. You didn't ask Soap how he knew about the fallout between you and Ghost; you just let him drag you to the location with promises of free alcohol. 

 It had been a waste of time until you'd found someone who promised they'd fuck you right if you gave them half the chance. You weren't going to let him until you'd caught sight of Ghost. 

The two of you had been orbiting around each other for weeks, broken pieces who had found each other - and then broke apart again. He'd left you behind weeks ago, telling you that he didn't want you anymore, that he couldn't keep seeing you. It had killed you, and seeing him tonight, not even dressed for the occasion, had brought back all the sharp edges you'd cut yourself on when he left. You drank more than you were supposed to until you could get enough courage to say yes when this guy offered to bend you over and fuck you enough to make you feel better.

You had needed something - anything - to take your mind off of Ghost.  

His hands hike up your skirt, and two of his fingers loop in your panties. He kisses you at the base of your neck, sucking a bruise there. 

His warmth is jerked away from you; your eyes shoot open to find Ghost holding him by the back of his dress uniform. Ghost shakes the guy once, who tries to swing free. Ghost drops the guy to the ground, and follows him down. 

You watch in shock as Ghost slams his fist into the guy, his eyes are emotionless behind his mask. 

"Ghost stop! Stop!"

You wrap your hands around his wrist, trying to pull him away from the man crumpled below him on the floor. Ghost pulls his hand out of your grip, and shoves you away. You stumble back; he grabs the guy by his collar and lifts him up just enough so that the man is looking at Ghost beneath the blood streaming down his forehead. 

"If you ever even look at her again, I will kill you."

He drops the guy and stands, blood staining his knuckles. Ghost turns towards you, and for the first time, you see him like the men on the field must see him: a specter of fear. You take half a step back from him; he crosses the distance between the two of you in two strides. He grips you by the elbow and pulls you behind him and out of the back of the building. 

He doesn't speak to you as he drags you back to the hotel, past the night security guard who looks over his desk at the two of you in shock. 

Ghost shoves you into his hotel room; you stumble over the hem of your dress. Before you can do anything, Ghost is behind you, gripping your hair, pulling your head back so he can kiss you. He tries to force your lips apart, but you pull back, biting down on his lip until you taste blood. He jerks his hand, pulling your hair until you gasp, fingers clenched in his shirt as you try to push him away. His nose trails down your neck; you try to shove him off and away, try to extract yourself because you know you aren't strong enough to do this again, to go through all of this again. To hear him say he doesn't want you again.

He fights with you as he drags your dress up, the sequins scraping roughly against your skin. Your knees collide with the edge of the bed, knocking you off balance. Ghost lets you fall and he follows. He wraps his fingers around the front of your panties and drags them down. You kick and he catches your ankle, sliding your panties off of one leg. 

You know you aren't strong enough to fight back, to get him to stop. His fingers explore you - you realize with a pang that you had missed the feeling of him against your skin. 

You refuse to make a noise for him; you know as soon as you do - as soon as you show any bit of pleasure, of weakness, at his actions that you're going to be lost again; drown in him without sight of the shore. Ghost's nails dig into the soft skin behind your knees, hands wrapping around your thighs to pin you down beneath him. 

He bites down hard on your thigh, and your hand pushes against the top of his head, fingers digging into the fabric of his mask. You try to push him away as his tongue laps at the divots left by his teeth. 

"Ghost stop it - get off I-" 

You're cut off by your body betraying you, back arching against Ghost's mouth as he traces one tight circle with his tongue against your clit. You still don't make a sound. 

Ghost releases one of your knees, his fingers tracing up the inside of your thigh before scraping down, the sting stoking the fire inside of you. You try to reach down and push his hand, but Ghost shoves your hand away. 

He pulls his mouth away from you just long enough to tease you with his thumb before his fingers dip into you - it stings, he's never been this rough with you before you think as he pushes in slowly. He fucks his fingers into you; you can feel yourself dripping down his wrist and onto your thighs. Your grip on his mask weakens when his mouth joins his fingers. He slips another finger inside of you and you can't think, can't hardly breathe from how filled you are with him. You want him to move faster; you try to will him to speed up, and like how can always read you, his pace quickens.

It's disgusting: the sounds of the two of you in the quiet room; the wet sound of his fingers stretching you out, the sound of his breathing, ragged and broken against your skin.  

The knot inside you tightens, and before you can try to steel yourself, it loosens. You cum against his fingers, body shaking and teeth clenched to keep from giving him the satisfaction of hearing you. Ghost pulls away, tongue lapping at you, tracing your thighs. You realize - your chest starts to burn red - that you've squirted against his fingers and he's trying to lick it up. Your head is swimming, the alcohol in your system burning through you with the feeling of Ghost.  

"You think that fuck could have gotten you this wet? That he could fuck you like I can?"

You have to unclench your jaw to speak, your voice shaking. 

"Of course, he could."

It's a lie, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of telling him he's right: that he's ruined you for anyone else. That you don't even think of anyone else. That when that guy was kissing you, you were imagining it was Ghost. You feel it - the restraint Ghost had been showing you snap. His fingers disappear from you, and on instinct you lift your hips, searching for him again. He shifts, the bed springs groaning beneath his weight. His warmth leaves you; you open your eyes, wondering what effect your words had on him.

You barely get a moment to push yourself up onto your elbows before he's jerking you up out of the bed, his hands wrapped tightly around your upper arms. He holds both of your hands in one of his as he shoves your panties all the way off of you. He jerks your dress down, you hear the expensive fabric tear. 

"Ghost -"

"Shut up."

He strips you, and your eyes refuse to leave him despite the vulnerability that clings to the both of you. He's seen you naked before but this moment, with the anger and want swirling between the two of you, is the most vulnerable you've ever felt near him. He turns to sit on the bed, pulling you down with him. You try weakly to break away, to pull away, but he tightens his grip. He settles onto the bed, pulling you down on top of him. He holds you captive with one arm, the other forcing your legs apart so he can put his thigh between the two of them. 

You bury your nose in his neck and smell the cigarette smoke and gunpowder, the metallic smell of blood that never seems to leave his skin, and the detergent you bought for him weeks ago. 

His hand comes down hard on your ass, the skin stinging beneath his rough palm. His hand lingers there, fingers teasing the edge of you. His hand connects again, and you try to jerk away, but the arm that's holding you down tightens pushing your chest harder onto the soft fabric of his shirt. 

His hand connects with the spot a third time, and this time you let out a whimper in his ear. His knee jerks upwards and you grind down, trying to find some sort of release, some way off of this ledge Ghost has led you to. You whimper again as he doesn't stop, your hips tilting against his knee to find the sweet spot. You're so sensitive, the rough fabric of his jeans against your swollen cunt enough to make you nearly shatter. 

You bite down on his shoulder; you feel him shudder beneath you as you bite down harder, moaning against his skin and trying uselessly not to let him hear. He doesn't stop until you finish, grinding down on his thigh wildly. The air stings against your raw skin, and you know tomorrow it'll hurt. 

Ghost drops you, shoving you off of him. You're too dazed from your orgasm and from his treatment to do anything. You watch weakly as he pulls his shirt off, a bloody mark on his shoulder where you bit down. You're glad the mark will be on him for a few days - a constant reminder of you. 

His hands work at his belt, fumbling over the buckle. You almost reach out to help him, but you remember how you found yourself here. Instead, you slide down and make yourself comfortable, but your eyes never leave him. He finally gets his belt off and shoves his jeans off. He palms himself as he crawls over you. You break your gaze away from him to stare at the wall. His fingers dip under your chin, trying to get you to look at him, but you resist. Annoyed, his hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him. 

He's pressed up against you, the tip of him barely brushing against you. You resist the urge to shift your hips, to slide him into you. 

"I should never have said what I did. Watching that fucker touch you - he should be glad I didn't kill him there. I would have if you would have asked, that's all it would have taken. I will always want you. You are mine, and I am yours. Do you understand?"

He lets go of your jaw, hand tracing up the tender and bruised flesh to tangle in your hair, to pull your jaw up enough to show the sensitive flesh of your neck.

"I understand, Ghost."

That's all it takes. His hand, gentle in your hair, fists and he slams into you, hard enough that you try to pull away, but he holds you down, holds you against himself as he fucks you in a way he'd never done before. 

You'd missed the feeling of him filling you up, of the way it felt like he completed you. You try to moan beneath him, but his body weight is pressing all the air out of your lungs. Your nails scratch at his back, hard enough that you're sure he will have bloody scratches tomorrow. 

He's whispering in your ear, low and quick. 

"No one is allowed to touch you ever, but me. I am-"

His voice cuts off as he jerks away from you, pulling out just long enough to flip you over. His hands are bruising on your hips as he jerks you back, one hand pushing down between your shoulder blades to make your back arch. 

You bite down on the sheets, trying to keep from unraveling. Another climax is building inside of you; Ghost grips your ass, slamming you back into him. Your walls grip him tighter as you finish again, a scream smothered into the mattress. Ghost folds down on top of you, one hand wrapping around your neck to give him leverage to fuck you harder until finally, he stills. 

He doesn't linger there - he pushes himself up and away from you. You try to roll over, but he pushes you back onto the bed. His fingers trace down your back before dipping down. You feel him drag his fingers up your thigh before pushing into you. Your face burns when you realize he's pushing his cum back into you, to fill you up with him. To remind him that you belong to him. 

Ghost shifts, collapsing on the bed beside you, his mask pulled up around his nose. 

You watch as he lifts his fingers up to lick the mixture of you and him off of them. The sight makes your stomach flip, and you dig your nails into the comforter.

"I meant what I said," Ghost says, hand settling against your stomach - a reminder that even if you tried to leave, you'd still be tethered to him.

"I know."

[mslowlife]

Last Night

18+ ONLY NSFW

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader Warnings: SMUT smut smut, swearing and mentions of scars &lt;3 Summary: Morning cuddles lead to something more... Word Count: 1309

A/N: ok but WTF? my last post blew up so thank you everyone <3 i hope u guys like this, first smut post O_o

You rolled over, wrapping your arm over Simon’s lower torso, tracing his bear and sensitive skin with your dainty fingertips. A soft hum of satisfaction sighed from his lips.

Your nails rain over the ageing scars that strewn on his torso. Simon never told the stories behind the scars, and you never asked. It was the one part of his life he kept secret, he didn’t want to unearth the horror’s he’s seen, especially the physical reminders. Simon didn’t mind that you’d trace his scars, in some strange way, it gave him another story, another physical reminder of you and your unconditional love towards him.

“Come here” He whispered, moving onto his back and guiding you to come closer, you easily complied resting your head on his chest. Simon gently stroked your hair, as you closed your eyes and breathed in his scent of tobacco and musky cologne.

You looked up towards him, his eyes already on you. There was something about your doe-eyes that did something to him, in fact they did many things, in many ways. But in moments like these, where the two of you lay intertwined with each other in bed, holding each other in a state of complete intimacy was unmatched. 

“What’s on your mind love?” He breathed, wrapping his arm around the small of your back. 

“Nothin’, jus you” You mumbled

“Yeah? What about me?” He simpered, his voice low and hoarse.

And just like that, Simon’s tempting and sultry voice brought you back to last night, where he had you pinned against a wall, fucking into you like he’d never before. Last night he was someone else, he made you feel ways he’d never done to you before. And you weren’t complaining, I mean, how could you? He was fucking you into a pure state of euphoria and bliss.

“Jus last night, you know” You spoke

He locked eyes with you again, something in his eyes was devilish. “Oh yeah? Did I make you feel good?” 

“Of course you did, you always do.” You could feel yourself getting wet, the eye contact, his embrace, and oh, his voice. Gosh, that thick English accent could put you in a coma. It was so commanding, yet so gentle. But when he spoke dirty, it drove you crazy. 

“Well how about I show you again how good I can make you feel?” Simon whispered into your ear, slowly kissing your neck.

“Show me”

Within seconds, Simon was on top of you, licking your neck, making a fluttering sensation pulse through your entire body. He slowly licked his way down to your collarbone and shoulders, where he sucked the warm skin, scattering dark red bruises. You threw your head back, breathing heavily. Simon kept a firm grip of your waist, holding you closely and securely. You intertwined your leg cheekily with his, now wrapping your arms around his neck, forcing his head to be close to your chest.

Suddenly, he lifted you up, you clung on, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to a nearby sofa. As he sat you down on scratchy fabric, you quickly sprung onto him. You littered kisses all down his neck and to his chest, you gazed upon him, he laid shirtless on the couch. You caressed your hands down his cheek, palming his chin, then down his sculpted muscles, your mouth drooled as you touched his body. 

You crawled onto his lap, Simon then tilted his head upto yours, where you met eachother with your lips. You swirled your tongue in his mouth, tasting him passionately. Simon’s hands moved to your body, he grabbed your thighs in a firm grip, leaving faint red marks, then he moved his hands to your lower stomach and waist. Where he massaged the skin as he kissed you. You ran your hands through his thick hair, so overwhelmed with the way he handled you. Then you moved your hands to his back, clawing and leaving deep red marks. Simon delicately tugged on the ends of your hair, bringing you both deeper into the kiss.

“Simon- I need you” You whimpered, helplessly craving him.

“Shh, patience my love” He replied.

As some moments passed, you switched positions. Simon hovered over your naked curvy body, lightly tracing his fingertips over your glistening skin, first from your stomach, to your waists, then to your inner thighs. Your breathing was shallow and fast, your eyes watched him as he moved further down your body.

Simon reached over for the nearby draw, seizing a small plastic coated object. He tore the foil off, then rolled the latex down. Butterflies grew in your stomach as his deep blue eyes gazed over your body.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, staring hungrily into eachothers eyes. He lined himself at your entry, he breathed heavily before thrusting himself deep inside of you.

You squealed in both pain and pleasure, screwing your eyes shut. Simon held onto your waist, a sinful smile creeping on his botched cheeks.

“Fuck-“ You screamed out, gripping onto the sofa as his pushed himself deeper into you. 

Tears welled in your E/C eyes as you felt him filling you up more and more. No matter how many times you two had sex, you always had to adjust to his size.

“You’re doing so well.” He chuckled, paying attention to your discomfort.

“Just give me a sec” You groaned, keeping your eyes scrunched shut.

“Such a pretty girl for me” Simon praised, rubbing your exposed stomach.

“Always for you” 

Slowly, Simon began to move, ensuring he checked on how you were handling him. He kept the pace slow, paying close attention to your facial expressions, as well as how your body moved and reacted. Both your bodies found an insatiable groove, moving with each other in perfect synchronised movements.  

“Faster baby” You begged, purposefully moving yourself for more pleasure.

Simon grinned, speeding the pace up gradually, sometimes slowing down until he barely moved, making you whine in frustration, but then suddenly pounded into you catching you completely off guard.

Skin slapping, moaning and breathless panting filled the small, plastered room. 

“You fucking like this? Remind you of last night?” Simon grunted, digging his hands into your hips.

“God- Fuck! Yes Simon, just-like-that!” You squealed in bliss.

A sinister grin crept over his face as he watched you beneath him, your face twisted and turnt with every thrust.

“Fuck- fuck, you’re so good for me! You’re my girl, alright? For-fucking ever” He panted, pounding into you.

“Yesss! I’m always yours” You cried back.

The familiar knot in your stomach started appearing, you tried to push it back, but at the pace Simon kept, it was near impossible.

“Oh fuck fuck, I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum” You moaned.

Simon’s hand reached down, swirling his fingertips on your clit, as his cock went in and out of you. The sensation of both pleasures was overwhelming, you couldn’t last much longer.

“Cum with me, please baby” You begged, holding onto his forearms as he drove into you. 

“Yeah, yeah? You want my cum?” He asks, trying hard not to cum there and then as he watches you.

“Uh-huh, yes please!” 

Your body tensed, feeling your orgasm ride through your entire body, the feeling was incredible. And as you came, so did Simon, stringing together curse words, groans and your name the entire way through.

Simon slowly pulled out of you, you lay there on the sofa below him, breathing heavily and covered in a thin layer of sweat. 

“You okay baby?” He asked, rubbing your thighs that lay around his body.

You nodded, wiping the sweat from your forehead. You close your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath.

Simon leans down and plants a kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s go take a shower, yeah?”

[daydreamerwoah]

Blindfold

While I do love ~ some spicy scenes ~ in stories, I absolutely am terrible at writing them haha! This ended up being more soft Simon than anything.

Simon had you squirming under his touch as he laid on top of you while on the couch. A small kiss turned into a heated make out session before he pulled you under him and kissed on your neck. The little moans that drew from your lips had him struggling to control his own groans out of his mouth.

His right hand prompted you to wrap your left leg around his waist and you complied with the other as he sank further into you. You felt the damp spot in your panties as the roughness of his jeans brushed against your shorts. One of his hands gently grabbed your jaw and turned your head to give him more access to your neck as he kissed and sucked on the delicate skin. All you could do was wrap a hand around the back of his neck pulling him closer, while the other gripped whatever piece of fabric you could on his couch.

"Do you trust me?" he asked against you, his voice so low you didn't hear because you were so caught up in the feeling of his lips against your neck.

"W-what?" you responded, catching your breath.

He raised his head up and met your gaze. You briefly looked down at his lips, seeing a bit of the faded scar that cut vertically through the left side of his lip. You had yet to see Simon's entire face as he always wore his balaclava... even around you. You two had known each other for about six months, but he was starting to get comfortable around you.

Well... comfortable enough that you both wanted a release of the sexual tension that built up between you and him. It was.... unreal. Liking a man who never really talked about himself, you had never seen his face, he was in the military.. and yet you two were drawn to each other like magnets.

"Do you trust me?" he asked again, waiting for your response.

The words slipped before you had time to even think about what he was asking you.

"With my life," you quietly answered.

Did you really just say that? Idiot.

But truthfully, you did. He had already proven himself when he punched a guy in the face for trying to harass you one night.

The small smirk on Simon's lips eased your embarrassment before he leaned down and gave you a peck on the lips. Suddenly, he shifted his weight back onto his knees while pulling something out of his back pocket. His eyes never left yours while you looked in confusion at the silk fabric dangling in the air.

"Sit up," he commanded, holding that fucking smirk on his lips.

You leaned up on your hands, your eyes big in confusion... but also excitement.

He carefully covered your eyes with the blindfold and tied it behind your head with a secure knot. He gently pushed your shoulders, prompting you to lay back down before he let out a deep and soft hum. You couldn't help but bite down your bottom lip in anticipation.

The shuffling noise almost made you jump because you knew Simon was still on the couch, but you obviously couldn't see what he was doing. It wasn't until he leaned back over you and grabbed your right hand, that you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. He gently placed your hand on his cheek causing a barely audible gasp to escape from your mouth.

He leaned into your touch as he dropped his hand to your hip. The touch sending a warm feeling to your lower stomach. You slowly brought your other hand up to touch his face, gently placing your fingers over his cheek and place them there.

For some reason, you paused. Nervous of what to do next.

"You can touch me sweetheart," he quietly said.

The invitation to touch his face made you blush and you could feel the small smile radiating off of him.

Your fingers slowly moved up his face, gliding over a deep scar that started on the right side of his cheek and swam up by his temple. You internally frowned at the feeling, hating the fact someone dared to harm him. While you passed over the scar on his lip, it made you shiver. Those were the same lips that were just on your neck, but you ignored the dull nagging feeling between your legs. Moving your right hand up to the other side of his face you found a scar that cut right through his eyebrow and ended near his hairline. You couldn't help the frown on your face.

"I'm sorry," you said.

What you were sorry for? You had no idea. Or maybe you did.

"Don't be love," Simon responded. He knew exactly what you meant, but you shook your head.

He leaned down to kiss you deeply before you could respond, making your hands find their way to his hair as he groaned into the kiss.

In that moment, you knew you were heading down a slippery slope of falling for this man more and more, and you didn't know how it was going to end.