Cod Simon Riley - Tumblr Posts

RAHHHH!!! LOOK!!! LOOK AT THIS NOW!!! I WORKED HARD!!!

So basically! Imagine after MW3, they gatta go through his stuff and get rid of it.. and (yes i know they didn't go to hs together just let me have this) they find some old photo from high school Johnny kept, though, over the years, it seems to have burned and tattered quite a bit...

(Alr version under the cut)

Please- i spent like 8 hours total on this, also fun fact! They would have graduated in 2004! (I did the maths)

(Also shut up about Soaps arm, im no good at perspective yet and im proud of it-)

bull!simon & cow!reader ?? need to hear more !! ♡₍˘｡> ࿁ <｡ ྀི₎ഒ

Bull!Simon who takes you in as his own. 🐂

He notices how the other bulls pester and harass you, in an attempt to mate with you despite the way you wriggle away and whine out. A cow in their presence is unusual, and they can barely hold themselves together around you. Simon has quickly become possessive over the past few months. He doesn't like the perverse and lustful attention that you receive from the other animals. He wants you all for himself.

You're so ditsy, and that's what Simon adores about you. He loves rubbing his fat, full balls against your soft breasts or your tight, plush rear. He growls out at Price when he attempts to milk you. Who's to say that he's entitled to your precious, special milk? Only Simon has permission to get close to you, to touch you in a plethora of different ways.

Simon adores mating with you. He'll slide his fat, bulbous, and meaty cock into your tight slit, ramming into your glistening folds while you grasp at his horns in an attempt to stabilise yourself as you're fucked relentlessly. Your nipples become perky and stiff around Simon, especially when he's bucking and jerking his sturdy, broad hips into your body, forcing his creamy tip against your cervix. He adores the loud noises you let out, how well you take him. Simon fantasises about impregnating you more often than he'd like to admit – the thought of your stomach swollen drives him fucking crazy.

“That’s right, keep gripping’ these horns, darlin’...”

It's okay honey! 💜

(request: will you write simon x reader with him having pregnancy kink? only if you want to of course)

why not, here you go! tell me if ya like it! :D

warnings: breeding kink, creampie, cum play

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"you want me to come inside you? hm? flood this pretty pusy with my cum?"

his words were ringing in your ears, but your mind was too fucked to comprehend whatever he was saying. your mind was fucked, too fucked dumb to understand.

a spank to your arse brought you back to reality, and you mewled before he grabbed your throat, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"did you hear me? or you're too dumb to even understand? fucked like a dumb little pet?"

you nodded vigorously, and he bit your neck as he spread your legs wider, forcing his cock deeper and deeper. he pushed to the hilt, not pulling back, forcing his fat cock fully inside.

you whimpered and struggled beneath him, wanting him to move, the feeling of him fully inside, too overwhelming. he grabbed your chin, placing a crushing kiss to your lips as he began to move once again.

"i said, i want to breed this pussy of yours. fill it with my seed till it's overflowing, and push more in again and again. do this till your tummy carries my child"

you swallowed thickly, nodding along. you wanted this, hell, you had been waiting for him to come back from deployment so he could breed you, leaving a piece of himself inside you while he's gone. you wanted him to make you pregnant.

"yes, yes, si. breed me, please? give me your babies"

his thrusts increased in pace, fucking you so hard the bed creaked and slammed against the wall with each thrust. your thighs were bruised, aching as he held your legs wide apart, watching as your pussy spread wide to take him in.

"good girl"

you grinned at his words, feeling an orgasm wash over you. he came too, spilling his thick, white seed inside till it was overflowing. he pushed himself back in, keeping it in for as long as he could.

he pulled out a few minutes later, and slid down, reaching between your legs. he scoops the cum that had spilled down into the bedsheets into his fingers, sliding them inside your tight, abused, swollen pussy, pushing them in to the hilt and angling your hips up so it doesn't spill out again. he would finger-fuck you while he's at it, making you cum over and over again, over and over again, because "gonna make it catch, shctaz"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

tags: @ilovehobi101 (Sorry i forgot to add you in the past stories)

Simon was about to make another cut on the man's already maimed face when the phone rang up.

“Would you look at that ?” He smiled, his grin cocky as he flashed your caller Id, saved lovingly as Babe, a red heart too. The man in question had eyes puffed and bruised beyond vision and Ghost only relished in the torture.

“Now keep your pathetic excuse of a mouth shut while I talk to my sweet love.” His words were dagger sharp, glaring as he wiped his hands, bloodied and bruised.

“Baby !” You chirped on the phone, Ghost smiled, heart melting at your voice.

“Haven't you slept yet darling, come on, it's past your bedtime.” He teased you, you whined, scoffing at bedtime.

“I can't sleep without you.” You whispered softly in the phone, Simon cocked his head as the man, tied and on the edge to death whimpered, his expressions hardened and he brought a finger to his mouth, Simon shaked his head at the man, making a throat slashing sign, the man clamped his mouth shut, a sob dying in his beaten throat.

“I am coming home to my sweetheart, with icecream if you be a good girl.” He added with soft chuckle, Simon bit his lips when he heard you giggle on the other side.

“Be quick, I am waiting.” You purred, he was sure you pouted and he so, so wanted to kiss your lips, softly and delicately, like you were made to be cared for.

Simon reluctantly ended the call, kissing the screen as if it were your face, finally turning with devilish look in his eyes.

“Would you like mint chocolate or strawberry ?” He asked, flexing a gun in his slender hands, the man was shaking his head profusely, sobbing almost, trying to free himself.

“Didn't you hear bastard ?” Simon snarled, the man winced, " she can't sleep without me so you better be quick."

“Mi...mi...min...” He stumbled against his words, wincing at every second.

“Too bad.” Simon said nonchalantly, pulling the trigger, “M' sugar likes strawberry more.”

Part 2

Masterlist

Serial killer! Simon Riley x afab!reader | for @softiecakess

Simon opened the door soundlessly, not wanting to wake you up if were asleep, he opened the refrigerator as he sat the strawberry ice cream tub in freezer, his eyes darted towards the doorway when he saw you, your blanket hoisted up like a cape. His smile broke into a grin when you rushed to him, jumping up in his lap and wrapping your legs around his waist, he twirled you around with a kiss in your hair, sniffing the warmth and a scent that screamed, home.

" you're home ! " You kissed his cheek, the skin under his eyes, his nose tip, his chin, the corner of mouth, twinkling as he bumped his nose to yours, warmth spreading and tingling under your skin.

" I am home." He whsipered, bringing your knuckles to his lips as he kissed each with tender and raw affection, you gaze dropped to his hands, his skin was scrapped. You frowned up at him, he exhaled softly.

" Where did you get them ? " You narrowed your eyes as he walked into bedroom, Simon shrugged it off with a hard kiss pressed to your mouth and all your thoughts vanished with the feel of his tongue prying it's way in you, his teeth nibbling softly on your soft lips, urging obscene noises from you. He placed you down on the soft bed with a delicate palm behind your neck, and held you there with his arms pinning your wrist above you head, your mouth arching up for more, more of him and his feel.

" Just a guy, nothing much." He kissed your your jaw as he left the words, trailing your skin, he never left any questions unanswered, never lied.

" Oh." You moaned, " You okay? not hurt— don't get into fights..ah," His hands slid under your shirt, gripping your soft warm flesh, " I don't want to see you hurt.." it came shaky and almost lost when Simon's mouth curved in delight, he pulled your shirt above your head, giving your wrist a break.

" ofcourse princess." He kissed your collarbone, looking deep into your eyes as he lowered his mouth to catch your hardened nipple between his lips, his eyes dazzling as you arched back, panting his name, again and again and again.

_

" Strawberry or chocolate ? " He cocked his lips, watching you with a devouring hunger, hands shuffling in the drawer.

" Strawberry...." You dazed, your cheeks warm and flushed as Simon bent down to kiss your sweaty forehead.

" I knew it babe." He chuckled, like he knew something you didn't.

Masterlist

Clingy!Simon Riley who's having a heart bloom when he see's you with Cherry in the dog adoption centre.

Clingy! Simon Riley who loves to see you play with Cherry in park and obviously gets a baby fever when he saw you with little kids.

Clingy! Simon Riley who get's only a little jealous when he can't sleep in your lap when Cherry is already claiming it.

Clingy! Simon Riley who stiffles a whine when you are not home, walking Cherry out while he so wants to kiss you, feel you and love you.

Clingy! Simon Riley who hates the worry that crosses your eyes when Cherry gets sick, hates how the skin under eyes turns bruising purple with the lack of sleep as you both sit there, cradling your little baby Cherry.

Clingy! Simon Riley who can't fuck you on the kitchen counter when Cherry is wiggling it's tail, wanting more in the clean licked bowl.

Clingy! Simon Riley who's so desperate and jealous that he has to call Soap in the middle of the night, begging him to steal Cherry.

Clingy! Simon Riley who changes his mind as he loves how soft and angelic you look with the furry little attention seeker beast snuggled to you, his family, his home, much dismay to a annoyed Soap who's bristling outside your apartment.

Clingy! Simon Riley who joins you and Cherry in bed, wrapping his arms around your waist as he kisses your forehead and then Cherry's.

Clingy! Simon Riley who chuckles softly when you nuzzle closer to him, whispering a sleepy 'I love you'

Clingy! Simon Riley who takes out Cherry for a walk when you were tired, melting when Cherry runs to lick your face as little beasty spots you on the doorstep, " We both love mama, don't we Cherry ? " He smiles, kissing your nose tip as Cherry wiggled and circled around mama and dada.

Masterlist

For my fiance @herdarkangel

" It's okay baby, leave him." You grabbed Simon's hand, too big against yours but the effect wasn't, his gaze softened when he met yours, you had seen the murderous glare he gave that man.

" But—"

" he doesn't deserve it babe, c'mon, let's not ruin our date." You hopped on your feet, dragging him with you not that you could but he simply allowed himself, squeezing your hand gently as he leaned to kiss each knuckle.

" You're an angel." Simon smiled, his eyes filled with warmth as he carried the books along.

" and you're my angel ! " You grabbed his collar, pulling him in a kiss, you were almost sure that Simon was going to kill him, but Simon didn't pick up fights, never when you told him not to, he kept out of trouble. Angel

" Ofcourse." Simon peppered, glancing at the other lane but the man who ' accidentally ' grabbed your butt was gone.

—

Simon was reluctant but it has to be done, he took your arm that was wrapped around him and placed it on the pillow, sliding away as his foot touched the cold floor, how much he just wanted to be wrapped in your warmth and smell, you looked extra angelic when you were asleep. He pressed down a kiss on your forehead, sighing deeply.

He didn't like lying to you but you were just too good of a girl, always forgiving, always nice, always angel and these fuckers, they just didn't deserve any of it. He locked the door as he made his way to his workshop, humming along a song you liked very much, thinking about making pancakes for you tommorow.

The workshop was dark with it's steel and iron, he didn't bother to light it up as he pulled a vase aside, revealing a switch he turned up, a creaking noise followed and small space opened down the floor, revealing a steep staircase.

He heard it, his heart relished as he did, the sobbing was like music, Simon descended down the stairs, a smirk plastered to his face

" Hi Bastard" He opened the lights, the man in question squeezed his eyes, his whole body bleeding with ropes too tight against his naked body.

" ple...plea.. please." He croaked, Simon made sure to keep his mouth open because how wonderful it would be to scream and scream and have no one to hear, blood brilliant.

Simon grabbed a nail, placing it between the bruised man's knuckles, he had duct taped his wrist to a table.

" oops." Simon said nonchalantly, as the man screamed with his dry throat, the hammer striking on his middle finger on instead.

" ... please...I be..g " he was howling, Simon shaked his head, looking at the nail that was yet to be penetrated.

" My girl is very soft you know, very sensitive my cupcake." He said, placing sharp edge of the nail on his index finger, looking into his eyes while the man cried back in horror, " I understand that was an accident."

" sorry...so..AHAH ! " He shrieked when the hammer hit the nail, blood splashing out.

" you touched her with these filthy fingers, didn't you ? " Simon sighed, his eyes glinted when the man broke into a cry, big tears mixing with blood as the came down his pathetic face.

" perhaps it was the left hand, don't you think ? " He perked up, the man shaked his head profusely, throat unable to form a scream as Simon shifted his gaze to the left hand, " Oh, you think so too." Simon whispered it down, revealing a box full of nails.

Masterlist

i know it's my period talking but hear me out !!! Simon Riley who just wants to spoil you <3

Like imagine him passing a bookstore and immediately thinking of the books you had mentioned once or twice, then surprising you in evening with a peck on your cheeks and a stack of books.

Like can you imagine Simon, shirtless, his muscular abs glistening with moonshine as he makes you dinner while you sit on the counter watching him with love.

Okay but how about Simon watching makeup tutorials, later having you on your lap, eyes narrowing as he applies the mascara, and groaning when you move because damn, you got him hard as a rod.

And Simon being a daddy, you need this babygurl ?! Here, this ?! Here, want new summer dresses, he got you ! Because holy Fuckity fuck— you look so cute.

Also don't get me started about gifts because he's going to spoil you so bad, chocolates and perfumes and books and albums and concert dates !!! If people gawk at a large man with his skully balaclava, walking around the art gallery with his cute little girlfriend then let it be.

how cute he gets when he takes care of you !!! Making stars and circles and cosmic love to you while you are on your periods, making you all your favourite dishes and braiding you hair in pattern like you had seen on Pinterest. Scolding you when you don't take care of yourself enough, because who's gonna hold you like him ? Who's gonna love you like him ?

Nobody. No-fucking-body.

Masterlist

Something bout' Simon being shy and awakard around you and especially not no.1 fan of coffee and cafes, so ofcourse it fell upon Soap to drag him practically while he sulked and brooded, his frown was glaring through his masked face but that was until you stood up from behind the counter, a smile plastered to your face and the way your eyes crinkled oh, Simon wasn't the one for bells ringing and soft music in the background but in that moment he knew what the chaos was all about because damn, he was such a goner, your smile was the most beautiful thing about you, and the twinkle of your eyes and the flutter of your lashes and the scrunching of your neck and...wait—fuck..you were looking at him—oh no, fuck.

“....Sir, What would like to order ?” you said, tilting your head and was it... Simon wasn't blushing or was he ? It was evident with the way Soap groaned next to him that the question has been repeated.

“Oh, he loves chocolate muffin! And—”Soap clicked his tongue, poking Ghost on his arm and un freezing him from the fucking goddamn awakening, because it surely felt like that, his heart never quite paced as it was now and let alone the heat that crept up his whole face, he wasn't about to say anything about the tug down his navel, such effect you had on him, just by the blaze of your eyes and a sprinkle of your smile.

“ —Cappuccino with the heart on !” for a fact, He didn't like coffee and let alone the heart but Simon realised how nothing mattered as long as it made you smile.

“ Thankyou, Please take a seat.” Your eyes flickered to the big man, only his eyes visible that never left yours.

~~~

“ Was that a pathetic attempt at flirting?” John propped on his elbow, nursing his banana pie, a very eccentric taste of his.

“What ?” Simon made no effort to tear his gaze off you while you catered to another customer.

“ fuck, you are staring ! Stop staring bastard.”

“ Drink your bloody coffee.” Simon reluctantly turned to his smirking cheeky face, John pushed forward the Cappuccino cup with a heart that you had served moments ago, resulting a very awakard Simon who knocked off a plate when his fingers brushed yours. Pathetic, yes.

“ So...you like her ?” John shaked his head in a sloppy way. A smile crossed his face, enough to make him bite his lips, he glanced back at you, happily taking out pineapple pastry.

“That's missus you're talking bout'.”

Masterlist

Simon's the one to take words for what they are, not that you mind but sometimes it gets so freaking cute that you just wanna tackle the big muscular man and pull his cheeks and bump his nose and kiss him hard while calling him all those cute silky names.

So it happened like that, you were out of milk and cereal was already in your bowl, one look at Simon and he was getting his keys.

“Take care, love.” You called after him, returning to your milk-less bowl and colourful cereals.

Five minutes later your phone buzzed with your boyfriend's caller id, a smile crossed your face as you picked up.

“Hello...I reached safely baby.” He said, a breath, “ I took care.” and there was dead silence except a mother scolding her toddler nearby, No, put it down...Asher put. It. Down.

“Okay babe.” you closed your eyes, stomach getting giddy, this man was gonna be the death of you, just AHHHHHHHH!!!!

“Want anything else, Cupcake ?” You can already imagine him filling cart with all of your favourite snacks, him asking was jus' mere courtesy.

“ No, just milk...wait bring ice cream too and maybe some pasta for dinner.” You are gonna treat him so right, you thought, like he deserves and just he comes back home to you, you are gonna take real good care of him.

“Also Simon baby, take care of yourself for me, right ?”

“Right...I will.” and you know he's blushing.

Masterlist

Is the killer Simon a fic or is it one you haven’t written yet?

It's actually posted, the non-pink links are of serial killer! Simon au on my masterlist.

Here's the link :

Simon gets a call from sleepy!gf while he's at work.

Simon comes home to you, with bruised knuckles and a heavy smug grin.

Simon loves you but he has his own secrets, like the man in the basement.

Here's my full Masterlist

Simon who just can't say no to you.

It has been like this from the moment his eyes met yours, a very terrible Monday morning if he hadn't met you but now that you remembered, it's the most beautiful day of both of your lives.

“Is that seat taken ?” Simon looked up at the small morning roused and still sleep laden voice, you were as knackered as you sounded, probably runnin’ on black coffee and cuppa noodles.

“Yeah.” He wasn't even aware how quickly he said it, “Yes, ofcourse miss.”

He scooted his big thighs together, trying to make as much space as possible for you and as if some divine thought struck him, he looked up — cheeks tinting with red.

“Would ya’ like window ?”

“No, But thankyou for asking.” You answered, sitting next to him and making sure to leave some space because those legs were thick and definitely his big cock needed some room.

Fuck, look away —

“Ghost...” Another man climbed inside bus, his eyes trained on you and your partner who's apparently Ghost ?!?!

“Wot ?” He said roughly, his shoulders pressed against yours

“Nothin’ old man.” The other man smirked and sat next to a Grandma who knitted half a sweater.

“Your friend?” You asked.

“ A little...Simon.” He said, “Simon Riley.”

“Oh.” You smiled, feeling blush creep up your neck and cheeks.“I like Ghost better.” you would've booed if you weren't feeling so tingly and nervy.

“You would like Simon more.”

“I would like that.” You couldn't believe you were flirting on a Monday morning.

One month later

“Ghost...” John horribly snorted, sprawling on couch as Simon paid him no attention.

“Wot ?” He asked, giving you his pinky as you painted the last letter ‘Y’ over hot pink nail polish, completing your H-E-L-L-O K-I-T-T-Y nail art, every letter on each nail.

“Nothin’ old man.” John smirked as you clicked your tongue, beaming up at Simon.

“Done !” You blew air and flashed a grin as Simon brought his hand up to examine your work.

“Done Luvie.” He smiled, bumping your nose with ‘I’ on his nail.

And you also liked Simon better.

Grim Reaper! Simon

Masterlist

prompt: ghost and you are the only survivors of a military plane crash. you spend weeks alone in the wild together. (ns/fw)

-

In the years you’ve worked as a flight attendant, you’ve never experienced a plane crash before. It’s exactly like what you would’ve expected.

Clear skies rapidly turn grey outside the tiny windows to your left and right; you notice it almost instantly because it casts a pall over the interior of the aircraft. It makes the small group of men that you’ve been travelling with sit up a bit straighter in their seats, only a few of them looking genuinely concerned. Military men often do; it’s in their nature to worry and fret. You feel it like a twinge in your gut, like something telling you that you don’t usually fly through dark clouds. 

The soft ding of the seatbelt sign comes on a handful of seconds later. The turbulence only a few moments after that.

Pilots are trained to avoid cumulonimbus clouds like they’re a harbinger of death (and they are). Even large airliners avoid crossing the path of a cumulonimbus. Your pilot should’ve known to divert and fly around the cloud, avoiding the possibility of flying through a thunderstorm altogether. The pilot’s voice crackles over the intercom for everyone to fasten their seatbelts and you notice distantly that his voice seems frazzled. 

Your hands grip the seat as you strap in. This is exactly the kind of scenario you’ve prepared extensively for, but in the face of it, your stomach tosses and turns. Practice can only hope to ape reality; it often falls short. 

From across the aisle, you lock eyes with the lieutenant in the skull mask that politely refused a beverage ten minutes ago. The plane jostles you violently in your seat as it passes through a rough patch of turbulence. Even the lieutenant, twice your size and rooted into his seat, his hands clamped around the arm rests, grunts when he’s rocked side to side. 

There’s a loud pop outside the aircraft and the plane teeters dangerously to one side. The bags in the overheads bash against the doors, the plastic squeaking under their weight. 

Someone screams. The other attendant sitting across from you is already shouting, “Brace! Brace! Brace!” The mantra bursts from his chest along with spittle and the singular, quivering note of fear. There’s not much more you can do but follow his lead, dropping your head to your knees and wrapping your arms around your legs.

Your stomach drops when the plane descends far too suddenly. You would’ve been pulled back against the wall if your arms weren’t wrapped around your legs. You have enough time to peek up briefly to see all of the other men assuming the same position, some with their heads pressed against the seat in front of them before the aircraft nosedives and there’s a sharp whistle in your ear and the lights flicker ominously in the cabin and something tears and tears and tears and—

Then it’s dark.

Your grip must have loosened because the world disintegrates after you hit your head. There’s only a faint buzz and something ice cold, something that grips you from the inside and slithers over your skin. The aftermath of a crash is so quiet for the devastation it brings.

The big one in the scary mask is the one who drags you from the wreckage, lifting you into his arms when you’re still too dazed to do more than whimper pathetically. Fear and pain and adrenaline have crumpled you up into a little ball. 

“Keep your eyes open,” he says, and maybe it’s a shout. His voice is so loud. When you open them, you nearly close your eyes instinctively when you see the gaping hole in the plane where it’s been torn apart. 

“Where are—” it hurts to speak, but you have no choice, “—the others…”

He doesn’t respond. That makes it worse. You slip your arms around his neck so he can hike you closer up his chest. Slung over his shoulder is a black duffle bag that he must have pulled from the overhead, or what’s left of them. When your head turns on a swivel, you startle at the sight of the other attendant still strapped in his seat, his neck snapped back at an odd angle. 

You turn your head away. 

“My leg hurts really bad,” you sob, fingers clutched in the sweat-matted fabric of your saviour’s shirt. 

He palms the back of your head and tips you just enough for you to meet his eyes. Something dark shutters over his face for a split second. If your eyes weren’t filled with tears, you might’ve noticed it. It passes fast though, too quick for you to register it in these conditions.

“‘Gonna be okay, sweetheart,” he says, gentler this time, rough-sounding like he’s not used to using that tone. “Gonna get us out of here and then I’ll check your leg. Just hang on to me.”

It’s hard to catalogue every moment because you drift in and out of consciousness. You feel the man shift you in his arms whenever he clambers down the side of the mountain your plane must have flown into. There’s debris from the wreckage scattered around the rocks, the other half of the plane not too far away. When your eyes blink open briefly, you see how decimated the other half is. 

There aren’t any other survivors. Only bodies. He doesn’t stop for them.

Far off from the wreckage, he sets you down onto the soft earth and rifles around in the bag he took. There’s a first aid kit with supplies that he uses to wrap your ankle, which is swollen and tender. The adrenaline crash is nearly more violent than the plane crash you just survived. It wracks through your body as the lieutenant strips your shoes and socks, gently manipulating your foot in his big hands. You notice he’s also lost the mask.

Ochre yellow and green plains spread outward from the mountains. You remember from the flight maps on board that you were somewhere over Mongolia, but the exact mountain range eludes you. This could be the Khangai or the Sayan or the Altai, but you have no way of knowing. 

“Is there a…a phone in the bag? How’s anyone gonna know we’re out here?” You sound helpless, smaller than you’ve ever sounded. 

He shakes his head. The tight ball of tension in the middle of your chest grows tighter. The thought that you’re stranded in the mountains in Mongolia, thousands of miles away from home and no way to get help is almost enough to send you into a panic attack. 

A hand cups under your chin to tilt your head up. His face up close is exquisite and haunting—weathered in the way that career military men often are, burn marks and old scars littered across the delicate skin, lips perpetually chapped, and a nose that looks like it’s been broken way more than once. You can’t look away. 

“Someone’ll be looking for us,” he says. It’s reassuring only because he says it like it’s a certain thing. “Don’t know if you saw who was on that flight roster. A lot of important men were supposed to arrive in Germany at twenty-one-hundred hours.”

You nod, tears still dribbling down your cheeks even when he swipes his thumb across to rub them away. He’s not wrong. There was a colonel on your flight after all. Dead now, hot corpse still steaming in the wreckage half a kilometre away, but he would’ve been important enough to warrant an immediate rescue. 

You go still under his touch. “You weren’t on the flight list.”

He shakes his head. “Never am.”

“But you were with them?” You remember someone on the flight addressing him by his rank. It was early on in the service, when you were still strapping down bags and doing cross-check, making sure everything was in place. But you remember, even then, seeing that there were more bodies on the plane than names on the list; you’d brought it up to the captain, but he’d brushed off your concerns. Maybe he knew the reason behind the lieutenant’s name being held off the passenger list. 

It’s all moot now anyway. 

“Can’t bring a ghost on a flight,” he says darkly, like it’s a joke. Like you’re in on it together. “Can’t put it on the roster at least. S’bad luck after all.”

It’s a monstrous joke at a time like this. Your life feels cracked in half and the scarred brute of a man that pulled you from the wreckage makes jokes like it happens to him every other day. When the sky splits later that night and pours out a lake’s worth of rain, it feels appropriate. You huddle with the lieutenant at the base of a densely branched tree and shake.

Five weeks in the mountains go by slowly. 

The shelter he builds is haphazard but meticulous, composed of various materials that Ghost scavenges from the plane wreck. A door becomes a makeshift roof. He makes you sit and wait as he collects dozens and dozens of branches, chopped down from the surrounding trees and fashioned into a lean-to. Padded with moss and leaves. 

“I can help with getting the leaves,” you protest when he catches you hobbling around and carries you back to the nest of blankets and tarps that he’d pulled from the plane. He goes back every so often to see what remains and what can be used. It’s the only time other than when he hunts that Ghost leaves you alone for even a second, preferring to be within arm’s length of you the rest of the time.

“You can help by sitting your ass down,” Ghost grunts without even looking up at you. 

You frown, fingers digging in the dirt by your feet. It’s a silly complaint but there’s never anything to do but wait. 

In the early morning hours, Ghost goes off and hunts for you, when the world is still quiet and the animals are still asleep. They’re sluggish when dawn still hasn’t peeled its pink belly off the surface of the world. Ghost comes back with a deer slung over his shoulders one week, his knife still protruding from its neck, and your stomach only twists a little bit. Not used to seeing where your meat comes from. 

There’s not much choice when you’re on your own in the elements. Every day, you expect to see a helo appear over the horizon, and you end each night crestfallen when it doesn’t. 

It’s not like you haven’t completed basic training, a prerequisite to applying as a military flight attendant, but admittedly it’s been several years and basic never taught you to hunt for your food. You did other things that seemed, at the time, inconsequential to your career path, like learning to rappel and how to wait an hour for your NCO to show up for PT in the morning. 

Even if your ankle hadn’t been badly sprained, you wouldn’t be much help. Ghost’s remarkably self-sufficient. It makes you question whether he’s done this before—whether he’s gotten stranded in the woods for weeks on end and had to learn to live hand-to-mouth. 

“Have you…where’d you learn all of this?” you ask him in the dead of night, when the wind is a shrill hiss through the trees and you cower close to him in your sleeping bag (also salvaged from the wreck, though his has a tear down the side of it).

Ghost is quiet for a moment. “All over the place. Been doing this for years, love; had to learn.”

“Anything ever like this?”

Even with the absence of his mask, it gets so dark at night that you can’t see his face. You can hear the wry smile that plays on his lips in his voice though. “I’ve had worse days.”

There’s a story there that you see like a fish darting under the water. Too quick for you to catch with your bare hands. 

You wake up with your cheek pressed against his pillowy chest most days. It’s embarrassing at first, but you learn to let it melt off you when you meet Ghost’s eyes and there’s nothing there but piercing blue. They root you in place most of the time but they never tell you to move. 

It takes a while before your ankle starts noticeably healing. In the intervening weeks, Ghost almost dotes on you, in a rough, untested sort of way. Like he doesn’t have much experiencing tending to another person besides himself for weeks on end. As the weeks drag on, it morphs into something unrecognizable, like a wounded animal healing wrong. 

It starts when Ghost insists on sharing sleeping bags. It’ll be easier for him to pull you close if something tries to drag you off in the night (and doesn’t that thought put you on the brink of a panic attack until he shushes and soothes you). It escalates when you make the mistake of tending to the meat hanging over the fire while he fiddles with the little radio he’d dragged back from the plane, and the look he gives you when you tell him that supper is ready borders on reverent. 

It gets even worse when he has you both strip your clothes off on a particularly cold and rainy night, wrapped around each other for warmth. 

“Sweetheart, you’re shaking,” you hear him rumble, big hand drawing a line down your back. You do tremble at that. “C’mon, get closer. Gonna warm you up.”

You wake up in the middle of the night when your ankle is starting to feel solid enough that you think you can manage to go off on your own to relieve yourself instead of waking Ghost up again. That’s the plan anyway. Before you’ve even managed to crawl all of six feet away from your sleeping bag, a rough hand pins you by your shoulder to the ground and the heavy, over two-hundred pound body of your companion drapes itself over you.

“Where the fuck do you think yer going?” Ghost snarls. 

For the first time in a week, there’s a moment of genuine fear. It’s like realizing for a split second that the animal you’ve let creep up behind you is a lot more dangerous than you thought it was. 

“I have to pee,” you whisper-hiss, heart still skittering in your chest.

He’s silent behind you while he mulls that thought over; you think maybe he’s still half-asleep, his body acting on instinct before his brain’s ready to take over. The tension only releases you when he finally picks himself up off you, but it’s immediately made worse when he insists on accompanying you into the woods. 

He doesn’t even turn around while you pull your underwear down and squat. Ghost’s eyes are bright in the dark, trained on you like it’s the thing that gives him purpose. 

Things change in the woods. There are people who are only one bad thing away from reverting to their neolithic mind; as the weeks go on, you see the way his eyes change when they fall on you, no longer detached but gluttonous. 

There’s a brown bear that slouches past your camp one day, sniffing around only because it’s curious, and Ghost all but completely obstructs your vision with how he shoves you behind him. He puffs up big when the bear gets too close, keeping you hidden until it snorts and ambles off, not interested in the pair of you. 

Do animals act like this? He curls you around him in sleep, legs tangled together. When you soak in the lake under the glare of the sun, he slips into the water and comes up behind you until his hands close around your waist and he tugs you closer to the edge, away from the deeper parts. It’s testament to how long you’ve been out on your own that you’re no longer unaccustomed to the feel of his hands on your bare flesh. 

His lips on your bare shoulder are a little less commonplace, but you only shiver and stare out at the mountains. 

Then one day, you look up into the sky away from the sun and there it is, a black dot on the horizon at first. You scream for Ghost, who’s skinning a fish on a damp log near you and start waving your arms wildly in the air, unbridled joy streaming out of you. He’s quick to pull his mask on when the chopper lands a few hundred yards away and two similarly dressed soldiers spill out. 

You ignore the stiffness in his body as he sits beside you in the chopper, pinning you against the side. Ignore the way he answers for you when the men start asking questions. 

What does it mean to come back worse?

“Wha’s that, love?”

“Trauma bonding,” you repeat, swallowing nervously. It’s months later, but the weeks on the mountain and the forest still haunt you. The real world seems flimsier now that you’re back in it, less real somehow. Here, no one hunts for their food. “The therapist said that we trauma bonded. And—and that’s why you won’t—”

Here’s where the words can’t seem to come out on their own. 

He sleeps in your bed these days—can’t stand to be more than a room away from you at any given time. Follows you into the bathroom when you need to clean up at the end of the day, crowding you into your too-small shower. The you from a month ago wouldn’t have been able to imagine inviting a six-foot-four soldier into your apartment, but—and here’s where your brain scrambles a bit to catch up—you didn’t invite him in. 

He lifts a brow. The mask comes off in your apartment, so you’re able to see the way his lips slip into something unimpressed. “Why I won’t what?”

You swallow. “You know. Leave.”

“Do you want me to leave, love?” 

That’s the crux of it. The heart of it. You really don’t. In the dark sometimes, if the wind rustles outside your window just right, shrill like those weeks in the forest and out on the open plains, your heart pounds in your chest until it grows so tight that you think it’ll just stop. 

“No,” you whisper in response to his question.

Most nights, you wake up drenched in sweat, still half in a dream where you turn your head and the other flight attendant is staring back at you with wide, empty eyes. Blood dribbling down from his head. Where a plane is ripped in half, grey metal strewn across a mountain and the valley below is a dark pit where you go to die. 

Then you roll over in your bed and Ghost is there, already awake and cupping a wide hand over your cheek, laying kiss after kiss across your face. Murmuring that it’ll be alright, that you’re safe. That he’s got you. 

His breath is hot on your skin.

You let him roll you over and spread your legs when he says those things. Let him be a bit filthy after being so kind to you in the woods. 

He spits on your pussy and rubs it in with a coarse thumb, chuckling when you yelp all breathlessly and squirm away. Sometimes when you fuck, he gets rough with you and slaps it, but he’s always tender with you after a nightmare, content to sooth you with his mouth on your pussy until you’re close to hyperventilating. 

“S’alright, sweetheart,” Ghost breathes, spearing you on his turgid length, barrel chest heaving when he finally crams it all in. Always a bit too big for you to take without crying. “I got you, I’ve got you. Not gonna let anything happen to you.”

It’s a new development, but it feels older than time. You could’ve let it happen in the woods and you might have, if no one had ever come. 

“Look at me, sweet girl,” he tuts when you turn your head to the side, holding your face in one hand until you have no choice but to stare at the bulk of him straining over you. He has shoulders like mountains that roll when he pushes into you. “Didn’t I say I’d take care of you?”

You don’t want to acknowledge what this is: that you found something in the woods and it followed you home.

Hehehe... gay men kissing...

Easy

I’ve been so obsessed with the idea of Ex-husband!Simon that I cannot rest. Especially if y’alls children are involved omggg the angst (and possible comfort) 🤭🤭

Never got over this scene, undoubtedly the best look

I bet that jacket is so warm and snuggly 😍⁉️

Sit down babe, don’t keep them waiting 😜

𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Actually balling my eyes out, so sweet!! 😭😭😭😭😭

Part one

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Ex-husband Simon who: Didn't leave your side when you said you were pregnant, who went to see you every day, even if those visits were after his work, in the middle of the night.

Ex-husband Simon who: Made video calls to you when he couldn't show up at your house, talking to you and the children, asking you multiple times if you were okay. Most of the time he listened to you talk about your day, he listened until you fell asleep on the other side, and he watched you sleep for a while. When he saw that you were safe and well, he would whisper goodnight and I love you, hoping that you would somehow hear it.

Ex-husband Simon who: Always found a way to go to all your appointments, just as he had done with your other times when you were pregnant. Every month he would go with you for a check-up, he could even play the tough guy, but he couldn't hold back the tear that formed in the corner of his eye when he heard the little ones' heartbeat. His own flesh and blood.

Ex-husband Simon who: Cried his heart out when he found out he was going to be the father of two girls, feeling nervous at the same time. At the ultrasound, he held your hand so tightly, his other hand stroking your hair as you watched your girls. He couldn't have been happier, and even happier that you were carrying his children once again.

Ex-husband Simon who: Almost committed a traffic accident when one of your kids called him, the little one saying that you weren't feeling well. He drove as fast as he could to your house, his hands shaking as he went to look for you. It was even worse when he found you pale, almost falling to the ground, probably a drop in your pressure. But it was enough to keep him up all night.

Ex-husband Simon who: Wouldn't take no for an answer when you told him he didn't need to move in with you, that you could manage on your own. But how? A whole house to look after, children, pregnancy. No, it was too much. You didn't have to deal with it on your own when he was around. So despite your protests, the next day he showed up with his suitcases, ready to move in with you once again.

Ex-husband Simon who: Did everything in the house, he didn't let you lift a single weight, he didn't even allow you to spend much time walking back and forth. You were pregnant, getting bigger and bigger, all you had to do was relax. The rest he did without complaint. Although he did burn the food, most of the time.

Ex-husband Simon who: Never ignored your cravings, no matter if it was late at night, or early in the morning, he would buy you whatever you asked of him. Even if it meant going out in the middle of the night to buy some random flavor of ice cream, he didn't care, as long as he could see you satisfied.

Ex-husband Simon who: Bought all the baby's utensils together with you, from the crib to the clothes, bottles, pacifiers, whatever you wanted to buy, he would go with you, and pay for everything, of course. Always buying toys for your other children, too. And he'd always buy whatever you wanted or needed, he'd never forget you.

Ex-husband Simon who: Surprised you by preparing the babies' nursery with everything you had bought, he renovated an entire room to make it fit for the arrival of the girls, and he also made some changes to the little ones' room, giving it to them as a gift.

Ex-husband Simon who: Watched you every night, waiting for you to fall asleep, keeping a watchful eye in case you needed something, anything. He was willing to help you with simple things, even if you needed help going to the toilet, if you had a craving, he was there for you. Once he saw you already asleep, curled up in the sheets, cuddled up with your comforter, he would go over to you and give you a kiss on the forehead, whispering I love you, and silently praying that you would respond with an 'I do too'.

Ex-husband Simon who: Agreed to spend the whole night by your side, comforting you after you had a terrible nightmare involving the children. He lay next to you as you asked, gently wrapping his arms around you and hugging you, kissing you on the cheek and calming you down.

Ex-husband Simon who: Felt his heart skip a beat when you told him you loved him and needed him, and that you wanted him to move back in with you and the children permanently. You didn't have to ask him twice, because he was absolutely sure that he would come back to you whenever you wanted him to.

Ex-husband Simon who: Couldn't contain the urge to kiss you, to touch you, just hearing you say you loved him, was enough to ignite a hot flame in him. In a matter of seconds he had his hands all over you, once again claiming what was surely his.

Ex-husband Simon who: Slowly pushed you to the side, spooning you from behind, his lips on your neck as he slowly entered you, pampering you with little kisses here and there. He made love to you so gently, in such a loving way, thrusting into you nice and deep, just the way you liked it. He'd be fucked if he didn't make this night with you count, he did everything the way you loved it, just to hear you begging him for more and more. He wasn't going to let you out of his arms that night.

Ex-husband Simon who: Woke up before you, ready to make breakfast for you and the children, but all his plans went up in smoke when he heard you give a little gasp, whispering that your water broke. He panicked.

Ex-husband Simon who: Knew it was your third pregnancy, but he couldn't control the adrenaline when you went into labor, it was always like the first time. He didn't waste much time and took you to the hospital, praying to whatever God up there that everything would work out.

Ex-husband Simon who: Stayed by your side throughout your labor, holding your hand while whispering sweet words in your ear, he didn't care how hard you were squeezing his hand, it even hurt, but he wanted to do the best he could to help you. It was desperate that he couldn't do anything for you, but his ears focused on the sound of crying that echoed through the hospital room, the first girl had come out, healthy and well. After some more time, thank God, the other little one came out healthy too.

Ex-husband Simon who: Cried inconsolably while holding one of the girls in his arms, rocking her while looking at her with all the tenderness in the world. She was so beautiful, so reminiscent of you. His heart beat so fast as he saw one of his little girls, his little daughter. Just as he didn't leave your side, watching you breastfeed the other little one. He tried to stop himself from crying even more at the sight.

Ex-husband Simon who: He won't leave your side, ever, not even if you asked him to. Especially now that your family was even bigger, he knew the responsibility that would come with two small children, but he also knew that every night awake would be worth it. Just as he wouldn't give up until he put a ring on your finger once again.

I just realized this is literally just Simon Riley. Now I'm thinking about Roman soldier/gladiator Simon Riley, affectionately called ghost, meeting a beautiful woman, you, and then it proceeds to jaw dropping, feral, dirty sex. Then you become his pretty pretty wife. 😚😚🤭🤭🤭

Went to the Midwest horse fair and saw some cool horses, but most of all I found the sexiest man alive 🥵

I tried to get good pictures but they weren't the best, but like my God, he's so fucking hot.

Mask link go brrrrr 😩😩😩