Ghost Simon Riley - Tumblr Posts

simon can't get over the feel of how tight your cunt gets everytime he comes back from a mission. it's not been stretched in a while, your little fingers or toys are nothing in comparison to his fucking thick length.

"shit" he curses with every thrust, "how do you get so fucking tight every time? jesus christ. just squeezing me, aren't you?"

your mouth would be dropped open, pleasure and pain mixing together, your tight pussy opening up to take him in.

again and again, rough, full thrusts that make you run your nails down his back. he doesn't even react to the pain of that, too focused on opening you up for him.

"shit. gonna have to fuck this pretty cunt every day"

he smirks as he sees you gasp and writhe beneath him, too fucked out to reply.

"multiple times a day too, yeah?"

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) 🤭🤭

I love your writing so much, if it wouldn't be too much trouble could do you something where Ghost and the reader get tattoos together

(kinda like the story where the 2 got tattoos for each other without the other knowing but this time they decide to get one together?)

If not thats 100% okay and I hope you have an Amazing day!

Warnings: None? Needles I guess? But it’s not described. Fluffffff

A/n: Sorry this took so long, my motivation has been 📉 lately. But thank you so much for the kind words and amazing request❤️ Hope you like it! Also this is technically a part 3 to my other story but can be read as a standalone.

-$-

“Would you get another one?” He asks suddenly one day as their sitting at the table, a deck of cards in hand.

Yes you know having poker be your date night activity is strange, but your relationship wasn’t exactly anyones definition of “normal” to begin with. But it was your normal. So, yes, sitting at the table on a Friday night with a group of playing cards in one hand and a take out taco in the other was your definition of a good time, sue you.

You look up from your deck at his question, he still hadn’t looked up from his, “What?”

“A tattoo. Would you ever get another one?” He questions, leaning back in his seat, eyes finally connecting to yours.

“I-I mean I’m not- opposed to the idea, if I found the right one.” You’re still not sure of the meaning of this. The question was so sudden

He hums, nodding his head. Eyes gazing back down at his cards, as if they held all the answers.

You raise an eyebrow, “why?” You drawl out.

He shrugs,“Curious.” Is all you get as response before he stands up, throwing his deck down on the table, “I win.” He proclaims in in a baritone voice, then promptly turns to step out of the room. Your eyes following him in total confusion.

They then flick down to his discarded hand.

A royal flush.

That bastard.

Shaking your head slightly, you can’t help but let a fond smirk overtake your face as your ears catch onto the sound of water pittering against the shower floor.

Your boyfriend, the man of many words.

-$-

About a week later.

“Are we there yet?”

Simon sighs in annoyance, the hand not on the steering wheel rubbing his temple, “You’re not bloody five years old, stop asking me that.”

You give him a pouty lip just for show,”But we’ve been driving forever.”

“Twenty minutes. We’ve drove for twenty minutes.”

That short?… really?

“Well how the heck am I supposed to know that, I can’t d*mn well watch the clock now can I?” You question rhetorically as you lightly tug on the blindfold secured around your eyes for emphasis.

He lightly swats your hand away,”Don’t touch it.”

You huff indignantly, but do lower your hand,”Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“No.”

“Oh come on.”

Simon huffs, that seems to be a reoccurring thing for him the last twenty minutes, “Impatient little thing.”

You could’ve swore you heard some fondness in that sentence.

-$-

Around, what you assume to be, ten minutes later, you feel Ghost’s truck gently pull to a stop. Slightly jostling the both of you as you hear the gear shift click into park.

You sit up in your seat,”Are we there?”

“Yes.”

“Oh thank gosh. Can I please take this off now?” You point towards the blind fold,”I don’t know how you wear that mask 24/7, this thing is killer.”

“It’s not that bad.” You can hear his seatbelt click and the sound of his old Ford door creaking open.

“Wait! Can I take this thing off or not?”

“Almost.” The truck shifts as he steps out. Giving a slight rock at the absence of Simon’s massive body weight.

The door shutting cuts off any response you had. For a short split second you think he’s left you, until he opens your door. Ever the gentleman.

You unbuckle and twist around, legs hanging out the door. Now how are you going to do this blind? You try wiggling your foot around, but can’t feel anything but air.

“Uh- could you like guide me to-“

You cut yourself off with a squeal as, without a word, you’re swept out of your seat. Simon picking you up in a bridal carry, one hand under your thighs, the other around your back, as you rap your hands around his neck in a panic.

“Simon-!”

“Every girl wants to be treated like a princess at least once, don’t they?” You can physically hear his smirk.

It’s embarrassing how much that made your heart flutter.

“You could at least warn me first!”

“Then I wouldn’t get to hear that cute little squeak.” He gives a deep chuckle

You’d never admit to the extent of redness that your cheeks turned to.

You’d also never admit how much you like the feeling of his large hands gripping tightly to the bare skin of your thighs. The gentle scrape of his calisced fingers being almost therapeutic. For such a large man, his hold is surprisingly gentle, always is when he’s touching you. Never wanting to bring you any semblance of pain.

Even after all this time, his touch never fails to raise your skin into goosebumps.

“Alright,” his words bring you back from your touch induced daze,”We’re here.” He sets you back onto your feet, your hands lingering around his neck a little longer than necessary.

“Allow me.” You feel his hands reach around the back of your head, fiddling with the knot.

The blindfold slips loose easily underneath his skilled fingers.

Your eyelashes flutter open now that the obscurity is out of the way. Though you’re forced to immediately scrunch them back closed as the light floods your corneas, leaving colorful spots dancing across the back of your eyelids. It’s only after a few tries that you can actually see anything then just a bright white. Vision finally clearing, you take in your surroundings, particularly the building with a big neon sign atop it.

It’s-

It’s-

The tattoo parlor?

You flick your curious eyes from the sign to Ghost. His face, the upper half that’s not obscured by the black surgical mask, almost looks, dare you say, nervous. Well, maybe not fully nervous, but, slightly unsure of himself?

“Wha-what are we doing here exactly?”

“Well-uh- I thought that, maybe we could get tattoos?”

“But-we already have tattoos?” He made the big deal of blindfolding you, and hauling your a** out of the car to,,get more tattoos. You’d accompanied him to this place multiple times, what’s different now?

“I meant like, together?”

It takes your brain an embarrassingly long time to catch on, your period of silence making Simon’s hesitation only grow.

“Ohhhhh, you mean like-like a couples tattoo.” You feel your smile start to grow as you grab his arm, pulling on it in excitement like a kid in a candy store.

Ghost’s hesitation seems to all but disappear in the face of your happiness, his eyes softening as he observed your childish antics.

“Yeah.” He finally responds breathily, before he remembers something,”I’ve gotta’ picture of the stencils if you wanna-“ He reaches towards his back pocket, though your hand over his stops him. He look up into your eyes, which are shining with love and joy.

“I’m sure whatever you have in mind is perfect.” You lean up on your tiptoes to give him a sweet peck on the cheek,”Thank you.”

You could’ve swore you saw his cheeks turn a little pink, though he doesn’t let you observe him for long before he’s clearing his throat, turning his face away.

He offers his hand to you in invitation,”Ready?”

You smile, placing your hand in his,”Yep!”

-$-

You both take turns since Ghost refuses to use any of the other artists besides Jackson. And refuses to let you use anyone else. Says he trusts him the most, with his whole identity thing and to not hurt you.

Simon won’t even let you in the room during his session, saying that he wants to reveal it after they’re both finished. He sits by your side during your tattooing, holding your hand and making sure you don’t look before it’s finished. Even rubs his hand over your arm when you wince, whispering a little “You got this princess” in your ear.

Jackson wipes the remaining ink residue from your lower arm,”Alright, looks like we’re finished!” He begins cleaning up his tools.

You and Simon turn to look at one another.

“You wanna see em’?” He asks.

You give him a deadpan expression,”No, I wanna wait another hour. Of course I wanna see!” You excitedly sit up on the bench

He fondly shakes his head, and when he speaks, you can hear the smile, “Alright, close your’ eyes for a moment.” An order you immediately comply with.

You hear rustling and then a slight ripping sound, which you assume is him tearing the bandage from his own tattoo if Jackson’s chastisements are anything to go by. Chastisements that Simon, of course, answers with a quick “Stop your bloody worrying, it’ll be fine”

You feel him grab your arm, careful around the tender area, and pull it up in front of you, placing it beside of his.

“You can look.”

You eyes flutter open, even though in the dim parlor lights you’re not nearly as blinded as when you removed the blindfold earlier, it still takes a second for shapes to register. When they do, your gaze immediately latches on to the two arms displayed in front of you. Your breath hitches.

“You like em’?” And there’s that unsureness again. Rearing it’s head in the face of your prolonged silence.

You look at him, eyes hesitant to leave Jackson’s masterpieces, “Like them? I love them!”

You basically tackle him in a hug, again, being careful with your arm, and almost fall off the bench from the momentum. Ghost lets out a little huff of amusement as he catch’s your weight with his other arm, “They’re perfect. Thank you.” You lean back enough to look at him.

He bumps his forehead lightly against yours,”Anything for you, sweetheart.”

The endearment makes you heart jump, a soft smile lighting your face. Every single thing this man does, makes you fall farther and farther in the depths of love.

“Can we please cover them now?” Jackson exclaims from the other side of the room, holding up a roll bandages.

You both burst out in giggles.

I just read your tattoos tell a Story and I got a random idea (also i love your writing) but I can see reader being friends with soap and while ghost is out on a mission (maybe solo or something) the two get a classic best friend tattoo

if you wanna use this go ahead just thought i would share

also, you dropped this 👑

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader, John “Soap” Mactavish x reader(platonic only).

Warnings: Short intense make out session at the beginning, other than that?, fluff?, some swearing but it’s sensored.

A/n: Your comment honestly made my day🥰 thank you so much for this wonderful idea!

“Mm, I missed you.” You admit, pulling Ghost in for another kiss not caring that your breath hasn’t caught up from the last.

“Missed you too darlin’. So much.” He breathes in between pecks, grip firm on your waist. Pulling you in as if no bodily contact was enough for him. And that’s saying a lot considering how much bodily contact was occurring between you. Almost no part of your entire being was deprived of his touch at the moment. Thighs pressed against thighs, stomach against stomach, chest against chest. Not even a hair could fit in the space your bodies do not fill.

Your hands hold tightly to the short locks of his hair, black balaclava being removed in the privacy of his room in the 141’s base. Simon is starting to realize just how much he loves your hands there.

His kisses begin trailing downward, first your neck, somehow immediately hitting that pulse point that makes you squirm, before trailing lower, down your shoulder, bicep, inner elbow, forearm. He’s so thorough you’d think he was trying to memorize your whole anatomy, he probably is. Until abruptly, he stops.

You slowly blink away the haze your mind has been trapped in, confused by his mouths disappearance. “Si?”

He slowly lifts your arm by its wrist, straightening up from where he was bent slightly over.

“Whas’ this? Wasn’ here before.” And that’s when you realize what he’s looking at, the tattoo, placed towards the bottom of your forearm. You don’t know why, but for a quick second you’re worried that he might be mad about the change you made to your body without his permission. Past trauma you’d guess. But a quick look at his face and a survey of his tone tells you he’s not irritated at all, just curious. Of course he wouldn’t be, it’s Simon.

With the now known knowledge that he’s okay with it, you start to get giddy. A huge toothy smile overtaking your face. All heat from the rather intense make out session completely forgotten in the face of your excitement.

“I forgot we hadn’t told you about that!”

“We?” He questions with furrowed brows, though you ignore him.

You grab the balaclava from his bed, “Here put this on.” You shove it over his head, earning a huff from him as he had to adjust it from where it awkwardly covered his eyes, “It’d be easier if I just showed you.” All of 141 has already seen his face, though you know he’s more comfortable with it on.

You grab his hand, not allowing him time for any more questions before dragging him out the door and down the hall, until you reach the door you were looking for.

Simons head turns towards you,”Why are we at Mactavish’s room?” He asks in suspicion. What had you two idiots done?

You give him a mischievous smile and knock on the door, receiving a distinctly Irish “come in.”

You waste no time in busting through the door. Soap’s sitting on his bed watching some kind of cheesy cooking show, to which Ghost gives a slightly amused smirk under the mask. He’ll definitely be hearing about that later.

“Lt., y/n. To wha’ do I owe th-“ You don’t even let him finish the sentence

“You haven’t showed him?” You hold up your arm for emphasis.

He immediately knows what you mean,”Would’ve, if he wouldn’t of bloody left all of us for his “solo mission”.”

You both know he’s just poking fun, though it still earns him a glare from your boyfriend. Soap glares back, buts it’s all in good nature. At least you think it is.

You roll your eyes, “Alright boys, lets stop comparing sizes shall we?”

You’re not sure about Ghost, but Soap blushes and turns his head away sheepishly. Ghost does too.

“Now, back to the important stuff.” You turn towards Johnny,”Arm, now.” You demand, giving him a “come here” motion.

He leaps off the bed, rolling up his sleeve as he walks up to you with a slight childish skip to his step. He holds out his arm as if it’s show and tell. You do the same with yours. You look at each other, a sh*t-eating grin on both your faces as you try to contain your child-like giggles, before turning to gouge Simon’s reaction.

He stares at your conjoined arms with that same expressionless look to his eyes. He looks back up, flicking his gaze between you two.

There’s a tense silence.

Until

“What the f*ck is that?”

And that’s the drop of water that breaks the dam. You and Soap absolutely loose it, laughing so hard you can’t see through your tears. Forced to lean on each other for support when your knees become too weak.

“Come on Lt., ya know it’s f*ckin’ funny.” Johnny wheezes in between belted laughs, lightly patting your back.

“Yeah Si!”

He completely ignores your taunts, shaking his head as if scolding children,”Idiots, the lot of you.” He says it light enough to where you’re not worried he’s actually annoyed, before turning to leave, closing the door behind him, successfully cutting off Mactavish’s, “Ah come on Ghost, live a l-“

And if he lets out a little amused huff when he shuts the door, well, Johnny never has to know.

-+-

Later that night, in the dark safety of your own bedroom, in which Simon is staying the night, you hear a slight rumble from his side of the bed. Your eyes snap open, afraid he’s having a nightmare of some sort. Wouldn’t be the first time. Slowly, as to not startle him, you turn towards him with practiced ease, prepared to gently calm him from his panic as you always do. Until you see his expression in the dim moonlight coming from your window, eyes catching on the white of his teeth.

“You’re laughing.” You state incredulously.

“No I’m not.” He defends as if you can’t see him chuckling right in front of you

You can’t help but smile, his joy infectious,”Yes, you are. Why are you laughing?”

For a second he just continues on, not answering, until he calms himself down enough to get out-,”That d*mn tattoo.” Before desolving in deep chuckles again.

His explanation gets you tickled, so, you join him in his amusement, your laughter making his worse and vice versa. It goes on for several minutes. Just as one of you start to quiet down and you think it’s over, the other will start again, setting them both off once more

Finally, you both quiet your laughs into something softer, catching your breath.

“I knew you liked it.” You both bust into booming laughter again, even louder this time.

Heads thrown back against your pillows, your laughter descended on into the late of night.

Today i play original modern warfare 2 and i finish the last mission with ghost..... that's was so painful i cry ??? 10 minutes after i see THAT cut scene so i NEED some cute flaff ghost and i sketch some 09 ghost with my face headcanon of him ( god i love him so much you don't understand)

This might be a lil far fetched but like, idk, I feel like Daryl/Ghost would listen these songs after Merle/Soap’s death.

Simon picked your engagement ring himself. He went to the jeweller, saw the ring, and immediately thought of you. He loves it. He’s always kissing your left hand. He’s so in love with you, it aches. 

When the two of you finally get married, he never stops looking at his ring. It’s a plain thick silver band, but he loves it so much. He’s just so afraid he’ll lose it. 

Instead, he wears the ring on his dog tag chain and gets your initial tattooed on him. The day he comes home from deployment, at first, you don’t notice anything different but his facial hair. Then, when you ask him to get you a fork at dinner, you gasp, “What’s that?”

“What?” he raises a brow.

You grab his hand, pointing to the tattoo. “What? Where’s your ring? What’s this?”

“Here,” he tugs at the chain around his neck. “And ‘is is jus’ to show people ’m married.”

“It’s permanent!”

“Is our marriage no’ supposed to be?” 

“But-”

“Are ya tryin’ to leave me, lovie?”

“No…it’s just…permanent…”

“Good. You’re my Mrs. ‘hat’s permanent too.”

You giggle. “Fine. I’m getting one too.”

“Like ‘ell you are. ‘M not letting you ruin that perfect skin.”

“But-”

“Lovie,” he warns. “No means no. I know how much you love me and you hate needles.” 

“Okay…”

“You could spread your legs to prove it though.”

“SIMON!”

OKAY DARLING U ATE SO HARD.

cnc w/ghost 👻 (🌽 link)

oh... if you ask simon to try cnc, you are going to get the full experience. the man himself is already a bit intimidating but he's loving to you, but if you want him to treat you roughly he's not gonna hold back.

he would wait for a moment in which you think you are alone and sage at home, undressing so you can get into bed, and when you are in just your underwear that's the moment he's going to sneak on you and you are going to get jumped by this behemoth. he would harshly grab you and manhandle you so he has easy access to your pussy. he just rips off your panties -hope you weren't wearing your favourites- and use your bra to keep your hand secured to your back.

he's got you were he wants, so he's just going to barely push down his pants -because he get off on the fact that he's fully dressed without an inch of skin showing and you are naked- and roughly push that thick dick into you. and oh is he going to be cruel, fucking you raw, hitting the right spots and making you cum again and again. and the cherry on top: a creampie to finish it off.

you messed up when you asked for cnc because he enjoyed that a lot more than he thought he would, so he's just going to 'attacking' you at the most random moments.

Barks like a dog.

boyfriend’s best friend simon

(18+ smut, fem!reader, infidelity but your boyfriends a cunt if that makes you feel better)

—•—

you don’t know how this happened. you don’t know when this happened. all you know is that it is happening, and you really don’t want it to stop.

simon’s everything that your boyfriend isn’t. has everything that he lacks. communication, understanding, selflessness; commonsense, emotional intelligence, a big cock,

the list goes on, frankly.

but here you are, your bedroom sweltering around you, swimming beneath distorted waves in your vision. convection currents radiating from your conjoined bodies.

simon’s hands were large and calloused on the soft fat of your hips, fingers toying with the taut lines of stretch marks passing onto the thick of your upper thighs. his hands gripped and pulled and moved you against him, slamming you up and down, grinding you against him.

he was leaned up against the headboard of your bed, head cocked back with dark, hungry eyes glued to your body and a coy smirk plastered across his face. the way he looked at you, gazed you, admired you as if you were some kind of prize, had your stomach in knots.

maybe you were a prize. after all, he was balls-deep in his best friend’s girl, and he didn’t have a care in the world. didn’t have a care in the world that his cock had chubbed instantly when she opened the door to let him in an hour ago.

you panted above him, thighs burning, shins pressed into the warm sheets of your bed. you were hesitant to be on top, to perch your body weight across his pelvis. your boyfriend never assured you it’d be okay, just agreed with you and fucked you flat on the mattress. simon was different.

“what? think i can’t handle myself a girl like you, eh?” simon had uttered, looking you up and down. a prize. he was also knuckle-deep in your pussy by this stage, two fingers scissoring you open. “oh, sweet girl, you have no idea.”

and now you were here. straddling simon riley, the formidable ghost that you’d seen only occasionally with your boyfriend. a recluse of a man, a mountain of a man. was always kind, always respectful.

an army dog, a government mutt. always so obedient, and so polite. well-trained and well-mannered. clearly, until he had a pretty bird like you stretched across his lap. a prize.

“yeah, ride this fuckin’ cock, baby,” simon grunted, helping you fuck yourself down onto his cock. his thick, fat cock— a cock that hit you so deep, stretched you so wide, that the joke of ‘is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?’ had died on your tongue because, holy fuck,

he could use it. he knew what he was doing. you should have guessed it with the way he spat on your cunt ten minutes into you letting him into your flat; the way he licked the glob of spit from your wet folds and fucked it into you, tongue warm and searching. you also should have guessed when he rubbed at your clit with his thumb while stretching you open on his fingers; the way he moved them at just the right pace to make you come twice in a row. now:

“s’all yours, baby. s’all yours,” he uttered, pushing his hips upwards to meet your downwards movements.

your tits bounced with each of his thrusts, the mattress creaking beneath you. the sheets were bunching, the heat in the room thick and molten. liquid, drowning you.

you gasped, air in your lungs. you were not drowning, just fucking delirious with the way his cockhead knocked up towards the plug of your cervix.

panting, you clutched at his shoulders. broad and muscular. you could feel the difference in texture where skin ended and scar began. a few times, your fingers wandered upwards, and you drew the tips through his hair. once cropped, now grown out. scruffy, rugged,

handsome. sweat beaded on his forehead, turning the lighter strands dark, sticking to his skin. between the filth he spewed from his mouth, you could hear him grunting and moaning. you wished he’d moan louder. maybe once he stopped talking it’d be different. but you weren’t sure how soon that would be.

“fuckin’— look at the fuckin’ state of you. such a pretty girl. such a pretty— fuckin’— girl,” simon groaned, thrusting up into you. the force made you hiccup around a long moan. simon smiled, triumphant. “look like a dream takin’ all o’ my cock, sweetheart. perfect little pussy letting me stretch her open, huh?”

“simon,” you moaned, and that wasn’t the first time you’d said his name tonight. but he acted as though it was.

a dog with a bone, simon flashed a wicked grin, canines showing, and redoubled his efforts in pushing his cock in and out of you, rutting against your body.

“yeah, baby, i’m here. your simon’s righttttt here,” he said, grinning, as he took one of his large hands and placed it over the mound of your belly, pressing gently and squeezing you there. he couldn’t actually feel his cock inside you, but the added sensation knocked an airy moan from your chest, your eyes rolling. simon hummed, pleased as he fucked you. “‘m reaching so far, aren’t i? so deep. bet your lad couldn’t reach up here, could he?”

you whimpered, and you wanted to whimper a ‘noooo’ but it died in transit. instead, you whimpered, like a wounded dog, as his cock hit that perfect spot inside you. it made you want to scream.

you continued to bounce against him, his thighs pressed close to yours. he fondled you, squeezed your hips while you both worked each other towards release.

“simon,” you pleaded, breathless. “oh, fuck—”

simon wanted so badly to beam with pride. but he resisted, cocking his head and watching the way your greedy cunt sucked his cock in with wet squelches at each upward thrust.

“you feeling good, sweet girl?” he asked, tone warm and honey-sweet. well-trained. then, “this cock making you feel good? he followed with an obvious lilt. mutt.

you replied with a yes, that trailed off into a high-pitched moan when simon’s thumb found your swollen clit, rubbing against it and beginning to draw small, tight circles.

“thaaat’s it, baby. sing for me.”

“siiimon,” you mewled, body tiring but stomach growing tight. bubbling hot, molten like the atmosphere of your bedroom. the knot in the base pulling tighter and tighter with each nudge of his cock against your g-spot.

your cunt was soaked around him, dripping out onto his pelvis and onto your bedsheets. making a mess.

tight, velveteen walls clutched at his cock as your climax built. gripping tight, holding him against you, keeping him with you. wet and warm and the closest to heaven a non-religious man like simon’ll ever come close to.

“beautiful,” he suddenly whispered, eyes on your face now. “beautiful girl.”

well-trained. damn, your boyfriend wasn’t even close to being this well-trained. he was more used to chewing you up like a toy, and heading off to do god knows what once he’d finished. once he’d satisfied himself.

you weren’t a toy for simon. just a prize. much different than a toy, for your information.

a toy is something you play with. a prize is something treasure. savour. and with the way simon revelled at the silky feel of your pussy against his bare cock, he intended to savour you forever.

“you wanna come?” he asked softly, but you knew the soft tone wasn’t going to last. not with the way his eyes glinted, his soft abs flexed, and his mouth curved at the corners. “can feel this pussy startin’ to make a fuss. so desperate for it, isn’t she?”

personifying your pussy. a new one, but one you weren’t entirely afraid of.

so you answered. “yes. simon, please—“

simon quickened his pace, thrusting deeper. your flesh rippled, thighs and stomach and tits moving with the sheer force of his movements. he grunted and panted, eyes drooping, fingers tight in your hips, chasing his own high too. he still had a hard-working finger drawing sharp shapes across your puffy clit.

“go on then. come all over my cock, sweet girl. show me what i’ve been missing out on.”

the tension in your body grew and grew, sweat accumulating across your skin. shiny, dewy, completely ethereal, you hurtled towards release with wind in your sails. sweating, hot, on the brink of overstimulation, you let your mind go fuzzy. you had a heartbeat in your clit. you could feel the stickiness of your inner-thighs. you could hear simon,

“come for me, baby.”

the coil snapped as if on cue. maybe you were the well-trained dog in need of a new collar.

your release rocked you off balance, and you slumped forward, ready for simon to catch you. he did, of course, leaning you against his chest as your body shook, twitched, jerked with the force of your orgasm. it travelled through you like electric shocks. an electrical current that fizzled out after a few long seconds, and left you boneless against simon’s chest.

he was close behind you, his balls drawing tight, tip leaking inside you, flared head now ruddy and red.

he moaned. “god, baby. feel so good around me.” a speechless moment, filled only with pants and— moans. simon moaned loudly, eyes snapping shut as his orgasm quivered inside him. bees trapped in a glass jar.

“just needed a proper cock to split you open,” he said suddenly, voice deep and rich. “pretty girl like you needs a big cock to keep her happy.”

rutting, in and out. desperate mutt. canines flashing, grip tightening, moans increasing. military stamina you hoped wouldn’t last all night. a working dog, too, this man. god, what a man. not perfect (you wouldn’t want him to be), but pretty fuckin’ close right about now.

“simon,” you whined, desperate.

he groaned deeply. “oh yeah, fuck, that’s it, baby. say my name— yeah, say my name when i come inside you.”

“simon…”

“that’s it, baby. that’s it. fuck, m’so close. m’so close, baby, keep going.”

“simon, please—!”

“mhm, thaaat’s it, fuck,” simon moaned, then shoved his cock as far in as it’d go (making you gasp and choke on a loud moan) and then came inside you.

you felt the heat. more heat, more liquid fire. molten. lava. you were drowning again.

he filled you, cum painting your insides as he moaned out your name, whining as his head flopped backwards, his large hands keeping you firmly in place.

then, everything stilled. your heartbeat clanged loudly in your ears, heavy in your rib cage. your puffy clit beat in tandem with it, and your hole fluttered around his cock, now still and plugging his release inside you.

for the briefest moment, as you lay against simon’s chest in the warm, sex-laden air of your bedroom, you thought of your boyfriend. the man you should’ve been doing all of this with.

but the thought was merely a linger. it flitted away, brushed aside by simon’s lips, that came to rest against your tacky forehead. he peppered a few kisses there, rubbing your hips, arse and back soothingly as you fizzled down.

“pretty girl…” simon whispered softly, hugging you to him. “my pretty girl.”

his prize.

he always thought his mate was a bit of a prick, anyway.

Hhehehehehehehhehehhehee...... Might write a FTM version of this... hehehehehehhehehehe... TELL ME IN MESSAGES IF U WANT ITTT <3

Being a prostitute for a man written down as S.R. capital, formal and little to no detail about him other than a masked picture of him. You don't know what you excepted of him but you didn't expect a behemoth to come for your services. Or well for you to go to him but hey, you get additional $500 if you do, to hell with life.

Its even odder when he just told you to sit and look pretty in his house, shushing you when you tried to flirt and rile him up, the three hours he paid for used just for him to absentmindedly grope and touch your chest and stomach.

Pulling you close to his chest and grabbing your squishy waist from above and behind. It wasn't harsh but it wasn't light, almost experimental as if he wanted to see what was comfortable with you.

"You mind getting tied up, bird?"

Asking you somewhere after thirty minutes and confining you only to lay his head on your thighs, using you as a head pillow and something for his hands to squeeze and get sat under while he sleeps. Snoring the rest of the time away until you're both awoken by an alarm he set.

He schedules another appointment as soon as you leave. Your manager tells you it was prepaid.

*smooch.*

big dicked ghost 👻 (🌽 link)

there is no denying, simon is BIG. in all senses of the world. he's tall and built like a fucking tank. and it reflects in what's between his thick and strong legs. because his dick isn't just big, it's girthy.

and his girth becomes a problem when fucking you, because a bit of foreplay isn't enough to get your poor pussy ready for what's about to come. quickies are not an option with ghost, because he has to spend a quite decent amount of time preparing you to take him.

he always starts eating you out, getting you nice and wet. and then his mouth starts getting accompanied by a chunky finger, while his lips latch around your clit, sucking incessantly. and one finger becomes two, and then three as he slowly works you open.

it may be a tedious job in some ways, but the reward is top notch. and it comes in the form of some of the best fucks in the world, with the extra stimulation coming from his with splitting you in two. and for him? the feeling of your tight walls hugging his cock.

and trust me, he's going to be balls deep inside of you.

ME. i crave this. ughh. his mask & everything, tattoos showing as he chases after you with unbridled passion—

and then ofc for my lovesick side he gathers you in his arms and kisses you everywhere 😭 bc you’re his cutie patootie

Simon Riley chasing you in a haunted house, anyone?

Thinking about the hypothetical case that you live with Simon and you’re getting ready to go to work while he walks around the apartment naked for his day off, wanting you to stay with him and not go to work. The night before you two had fun together and that's why you slept without clothes and skin to skin. You're gobsmacked sipping from your coffee at Simon's provocations, though it's not the first time he's done it. And if he gets you to call saying you're sick and stay in bed with him, he'll feel like his mission has been a success.

Felt inspired again, my mind creates fake scenarios with Simon because of the book I’m reading rn. ><

The way that this is EXACTLY how Simon Riley looks like to me.

Possessive Simon is the best Simon to me 😩😩😩

Locker Room: Simon's POV

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, possessive behavior, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), dirty thoughts, multiple creampie

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: originally for @glitterypirateduck 's Ghost Writing Challenge, this is Simon's POV follower parts ONE & Two of Locker Room.

A/N(2): Remember how I said I was in the emergency room and have been feeling like absolute shit? Well I slept for 48 hours and I felt well enough to write this. Enjoy!

Part One // Part Two

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

A bloke shouldn’t have his wank interrupted in the shower.

Simon had been in his head, his hand around his cock, stroking himself to the image of the woman he’s been thinking about for the last few fucking months.

He had heard the silence first, all the banter in the locker room ceasing. That pulled him right out of it, and in seconds Simon stepped out of the shower with a towel around his hips. Your voice drifted in, demanding an audience with him.

And he knew why.

He left that little note on purpose.

The reports are just fine, sweetheart.

Simon wanted to rile you up, to push you a bit, but he didn’t think you’d barge into the men’s locker room just to confront him.

When he appeared, and everyone cleared out, Simon didn’t expect such fire from you. He thought you would fold. That with one look you’d melt into him, but you did the opposite. And then you grabbed him by the fucking dog tags and kissed him.

Simon was done for.

The moment you left, he returned to that shower and jerked himself so fast it almost hurt. He had to have you, but Simon wasn’t going to go after you right then. He made himself wait, and that was the hardest fucking part. Simon desired nothing more than to follow you out of that locker room, toss you over his shoulder, and carry you off.

He’s glad he waited. Simon took you in your office, and yet it wasn’t enough. Not for either of you. Worse, Simon could tell that you were going to end it right then, leave everything nice and tidy. And Simon wasn’t having that.

Now, you’re here, in his home.

Naked. Bare. Skin glossy with sweat. Pussy full of his cum.

You’re fucking beautiful like this, and the sounds you make are even sweeter.

With arms outstretched against the bed, you arch your back, pushing your ass up into the air. Simon fills his hands with those perfect cheeks. He squeezes, leans forward, and gently bites, pulling forth a moan from your lips that goes straight to his dick.

You’ve been milking him all fucking night. You keep demanding more, and Simon is happy to give it. He doesn’t want to go into work. He wants to stay right here. With you. In his bed.

With your knees digging into the top of the bed, you spread them a bit, exposing your pussy to Simon. He cannot help himself when he sees the mess he’s made there. Removing one hand from your ass, Simon runs his fingers over your slick pussy. The sound of his fingers sliding through you invades the room, and it is all Simon can focus us.

It’s a gorgeous sight. A gorgeous sound.

“You want more, love?” asks Simon gently.

His gaze sweeps over your body as his fingers play with your pussy. You shiver, inhale sharply, and then moan a reply that sounds like an agreement. You’re almost twitching with need. You can’t stay still. Every part of you is asking for more, opening for him, but Simon needs to hear those sweet words on your lips.

“Tell me,” he says again, this time leaning over your body to grasp your face and turn your gaze on him. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you inside me, Simon.” You’re begging, almost pleading, and Simon will happily oblige.

Gently, Simon releases you from his hold, only to press you into the position he wants. You’re flat on your stomach as Simon runs his hands up and down your back. It’s a soothing gesture, but it’s mostly to comfort you than him.

Simon is burning beneath his skin. He desperately wants to be inside you, but he also knows that he’s exhausted you, and while you’re not entirely satiated, he doesn’t want you to push it.

His hands fall upon your hips. Simon eases them up a bit, urging your thighs apart with his knees. You comply, and the obedience is delicious to him. You’re demanding—full of fire—and yet for him, you’re melting before his eyes. It’s so different from the Locker Room and from your office.

Slowly, Simon drapes himself over you, flexing his hips back to line the head of his cock up to your entrance. The moment he starts to push in, you groan loudly, body starting to lift from the bed. But Simon relaxes his weight, trapping you beneath him. He props himself up on his left elbow and forearm. While is other hand pressed into the bed next to your waist.

There is no escape. You cannot wiggle out from under him or even buck against him. Simon likes it like this. Like you beneath him. Likes you sweaty. Panting. Begging.

Simon retreats and thrusts forward, sliding in to the hilt. Even now, you’re so fucking tight it’s smashing his brain into mush. He needs to fucking control himself, to make this pleasurable for you as much as it is for him.

He starts slow, finding a rhythm that has you moaning in just the way he likes. It’s almost a tell. Even now, Simon is reading your signals.

Simon brushes his lips against the curve of your shoulder. His tongue darts out to taste the salt. “You’ve been so good for me,” he murmurs. “Taking me well all night.”

“Simon,” you groan as he hits that sweet spot.

Simon grins against your shoulder blade. His hand slips from the bed to slide underneath your body. With each stroke, Simon stimulates your clit. He doesn’t change pace. He knows better. Soon you’re melting. Shaking. Each breath of yours quickening until it’s a guttural groan that even has Simon questioning his sanity.

You vibrate and shake. There is victory on Simon’s tongue. He slips his hand from beneath your body only to tangle it in your hair. He holds firm and then he rocks his hips faster, grunting his own need out above you until his lower-half tenses, and then he’s gasping, his release flooding your pussy.

Simon almost collapses.

He is worn out. Fucking tired. How many times have the two of you fucked tonight? At least five. And this might just be the last of the evening.

Simon runs his hand over your hip and waist only to dip to your stomach. With one fluid motion, Simon curls onto his side, bringing you to rest against his chest. Brushing your hair out of face, Simon kisses a trail from the curve of your shoulder to your lips.

You greet him with a smile.

Simon’s hand roams upward, only to lightly wrap around the front of your neck. You do not protest or push back at this, and something primal within Simon awakens.

This is not a one-time thing for him. You are his, and if that means he needs to mark his territory, he fucking will. Any man at work that even looks at your wrong is dead.

Well—not dead. But Simon will make damn sure they know to back the fuck off.

You’re his. Even if you haven’t agreed. Even if you haven’t decided anything.

You are not walking away.

This isn’t over.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath @sapphichotmess

@saoirse06 @haven-1307 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @lialacleaf

@unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower

@sageyxbabey @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah

@mudisgranapat @ninman82 @webmvie @blackhawkfanatic @contractedcriteria

@talooolaaloolla @rogerrhqpsody @sadlonelybagel @cinnabeanz @aykxz98

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @daemondoll @iloveslasher @yawning-grave81

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @azkza @ash-tarte @sammysinger04

@certainlygay @soapyreaper @hantheconqueror @dakotakazansky @jaggersinclair

@suhmie @kidd3ath @lovely-ateez @marispunk

Simon Riley fucking you like this, Simon Riley fucking you like that… okay, buy what about Simon Riley making love to you.

He can be a kind person sometimes. Just imagine it. Missionary position and soft thrusts and him moaning in a low tone. He would say that you’re so perfect and gorgeous, how long has he waited to have you like this…

He is a normal human being, he would like to experience pleasure like all of us. Some days it can be gentle and sweet and some other days he would fuck like it’s his last day on earth.

Just some intrusive thoughts I had, I dislike almost all of the hard porn about ghost in here.

STOP TORMENTING MY MAN YOU ASSHOLE

A GHOST'S TALE: "THE BETTER DEMONS OF OUR NATURE"

PART — 1, 2, 3, 4 .

I think I found the real Simon on instagram…

I have never been more tuned on and in love with a fic than I am right now. This is not fair. I deserve someone like this 😭😭😭😭😭 no I need someone like this. Anyone have any recommendations where to find a man like this

MY BODY AND MY BLOOD

or, there's only one bed. mdni.

Winter came early, earlier than it should have, before the heat could kick in throughout the middle of nowhere base somewhere in Russia. The day of travel weighed heavily on your shoulders, exhaustion seeking into your bones. You wanted nothing more than a shower and to fall into bed and sleep for the next week.

The universe, unfortunately, had other plans.

"Right," Price sighed, "barracks are full, we've got to share." His eyebrows furrowed as groans arose from Soap and Gaz, "can it, lads. You two are together, get used to it." Soap rolled his eyes dramatically, yelping as Gaz elbowed him in the side.

"You two," Price sighs, pointing at you and Ghost, "you'll be together. Rooms 142 and 143, don't care who gets who. Just show up tomorrow." You could feel Ghost behind you, hovering like some gargantuan bat. Oh god. You were going to have to share a room with him.

You're both quiet as the team heads down the hallway, Gaz and Soap's banter loud enough for the both of you. Price dismisses you with a gruff goodnight, all too eager to lock himself in his room.

"This is us." Ghost's timbre catches you off guard, and you start, head whipping over your shoulder. The lines around his eyes crinkle, or at least, you think they do, behind the mask and the paint.

"Sorry," he mutters, bowing his head, "didn't mean to scare ya, love."

Love. The nickname, however insignificant, paints your face with a flush. You try to hide it by pushing the door to your shared room open.

It's tiny, with a cramped bathroom attached by the foot of the bed. The only bed. Shit.

You laugh, a hollow, humorless laugh, the culmination of exhaustion and frustration and longing. Ghost groans, burying his head in his hands.

"I'll take the floor," he sighs, but you cut him off immediately.

"No, I'll take the floor. Where would you even fit on the floor? There's not enough floor to fit you," you snap back. Ghost glowers at you through his mask.

"You'll catch your death on the floor," he fires at you, crossing his arms over his chest. A draft blows through the room, as if to echo his point.

"At least I'll fit on the floor," you counter, mimicking his crossed arms. He stares you down, biting his lip as you stare him down right back.

"Fine," he says shortly, "we'll share. Pillow wall work for you?" You nod, moving to arrange the pillows down the bed, trying to quell the excitement brewing in your stomach. You are colleges. This is strictly professional.

You can't help but let your eyes catch on him as he strips his vest and gear, until he's left in thermal underclothes and his balaclava, fingers hesitating at the hem.

"I won't look. If you want to take it off," you offer. He snorts, toying with the fabric.

"Wouldn't work. Besides, you've seen me before. After the grenade," he reminds you, wincing as he pulls his mask off.

He's just as beautiful as you remembered, all soft hazel eyes and sharp, angular cheekbones. His buzzcut has grown out since the last time you saw him, just on the verge of being unkempt. You're staring, and he knows you're staring, but he lets you, throwing his head back with a groan. His neck arches beautifully, and you want to cover it with marks.

You're quick to shed your own gear, trying to look anywhere but his face, but you feel his eyes linger on the arc of your shoulders, the hollow of your neck, the curve of your hips. You climb under the thin blankets, curling as far away from Ghost's side as he turns the lights out.

The bed squeaks as he lays down, adjusting the pillows. He's so big he takes up all of his side and almost part of yours. He moves his legs and they brush against your knee.

"Sorry," he mutters, pulling his calf away like it had been burned. Sparks tingle up your legs.

"'S fine, Ghost," you murmur back. The bed squeaks again as he rolls over to face you, head on the pillow just inches from yours. You want to kiss him. He's so close.

"Do you remember what I told you? After the grenade?" he asks. You nod, but stay quiet as he sighs softly. His hand twitches, like he wanted to reach out for you but stopped himself.

"When it's like this," he breathes, his voice sweet, "when it's just you and me, it's Simon. Call me Simon." He's so soft, in a way you've never seen him before, and you nod, moving ever so close to him.

"Alright," you breathe, "goodnight, Simon."

"G'night, sweetheart."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

When you wake, it's freezing. Ghost- Simon- is snoring next to you, heat radiating off of him like a goddamn furnace. You curl your body into itself, but shivers rack your shoulders anyway. You groan in frustration, glaring up at the ceiling.

Simon stirs next to you, rolling over groggily. His arm brushes against yours, and he winces, thumb brushing over the skin.

"You're freezing," he whispers, cupping your hand in both of his. Your arc towards him, relishing in the warmth that emanated from him, and he smiles, soft and sweet.

"I'm fine," you mutter, "go back to sleep." You prop yourself up on one elbow, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"Don't be stupid," Simon breathes, "come here. I've got enough warmth for the both of us."

You shove the pillow wall aside so fast it makes Simon chuckle as pillows hit the floor. He wraps his arms around you, pressing your back to his chest, hitching a leg over your hip. He's so warm, heat surrounding you on every side as he tucks his head into the hollow of your shoulder.

His hands rest on your stomach, thumb rubbing the exposed skin of your stomach where your shirt has slid up. You wrap your arms around his, holding them to your chest. He feels safe.

"Better?" Simon asks, pulling you closer to his chest. You nod, sleep already creeping over you as you feel him smile against your neck. His thumb rubs soothing patterns on your skin as you slowly drift to sleep.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

When you wake again, it's still dark. You're facing Simon, clinging to one of his arms with your head buried in his chest. He's rubbing your back, and as you look up at him, his eyes are open.

"What time is it?" you whisper, stretching slightly, wrapping your arms around his neck. He glances down at his watch, toying his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Five thirty-seven," he responds, tucking an unruly strand of hair behind your ear. His hand lingers, tracing your cheek and cupping it in his callused hand. Your eyes flick down to his lips and back again.

"Simon-"

"Can I kiss you?" His voice is ragged with desperation, pupils blown wide. With a soft gasp, you nod.

"Please."

He kisses you softly, tenderly. You pull him closer, hands interlocking at the back of his neck, one trailing down to his cheek. He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours as he catches his breath.

"Oh," he breathes, almost against your lips. He pushes himself up against the headboard, a spark growing in his eyes as he pulls you into his lap.

His second kiss is desperate, his teeth sinking into your lower lip, hands tangling in your hair. You arch in his grip as his hands drift to bracket your hips, your body flushing as he pulls you even closer. Your nails dig into his back and he moans against your lips, you crave the feeling of his bare skin against your fingers even though the cold prohibited it.

You gasp softly as Simon slides his thigh between your legs, cheeks flushed as he takes you in between kisses. His hands are greedy, one slipping dangerously low on your hips before slipping past the waistband of your thermal pants.

"Can I?" he asks quietly, looking up at you from where you're perched on his thigh. His pupils are completely blown, hair messy and cheeks flushed. He looks halfway to heaven and all he's done is kiss you.

"Oh, god, please-" you breathe, burying your head in his shoulder as his hands slides down, spreading you open as well as he could before his thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles against it. You cling to his shoulders, teeth biting down on his shoulder to stifle your moans. Simon gasps, hands moving your hips to help you grind against his thigh.

"There you go," he whispers, head thrown back as you rub against him, "there you go, lovie, that's it." You whine, rutting your hips harder at his praise. His free hand dips underneath your shirt, crawling up your ribs.

"Si- si, feels so good," you moan, biting on your lip to try to keep your moans down. Simon cups your breast tenderly, pushing your top up your chest.

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous, angel," Simon swears. His lips trail down your neck, resting just above your nipple. His mouth rests open, tongue heavy on his lower teeth as the question forms on his lips.

"Sweetheart, can I-"

Three knocks echo on the door, and you jump, loosing your balance and almost colliding with the bedpost as you scramble to get off Simon's lap. Simon desperately adjusts his pants, trying to hide his raging hard on as Price swings the door open.

"Ghost, you're needed down in command," he orders, and Simon's head falls backwards imperceptibly as he pushes himself off the bed, pushing his feet into his boots. As he follows Price out the door, he makes eye contact with you, slipping his fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling back as he licks your slick off of them. He winks as he walks around the corner, mouthing

this isn't over.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

school is over and my requests deleted themselves somehow so if you've got ideas pls send them

Damn straight 😤

Back from your honeymoon with your husband Simon, one of the first places you visit as newlyweds is a pub down the street where he and his mates usually spend Saturday nights when free.

It is nothing new, a weekly occurrence and in many of those weeks, you were invited. Your phone would usually ping with a voice note from one of the Sergeants drunkenly complaining about your absence.

So you don't understand why you can't rub off the feeling that something is different tonight. You are sitting beside your husband, his hand resting on your hip, his thumb caressing your softness.

Until you realise what's different.

He keeps making you stand up to the bar to order the drinks.

They usually switch every round, every time standing and ordering a different person from the table. But tonight? It has been you, one after the other, again and again. You don't quite understand why and simply shrug it off as boys being boys and wanting to spend time together after being again.

Until you are ordering, and a man you have never met before stands beside you, leaning too much for comfort into your safe zone.

"Are you here alone, baby?" The man slurs his words.

"No, I'm here with my-"

"Your boyfriend? I'm sure your shitty boyfriend wouldn't mind if you went home with me."

He goes silent, the eerie feeling of a presence making you both get quiet. But you know it's him.

"Actually... That's my wife, ya wanker."

And you don't need to turn, to know that your beloved husband has a victorious smile on his face. Happy his little plan worked.

↓ Taglist below cut ↓

@crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @cod-z

@lyralein @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121

@spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @arbesa-mind @cmbghost

@multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles

@cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria

@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow

@hxnneydew @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger

@soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @thesinsoflust

@sodavrr @yuki2129 @idk-justkane @shanhalen @dukeofjjune

@vane28282 @dracu1ara @vivi2e @lordbugs @murder-hobo