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wttcsms · 1 year

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these eyes were made for lookin’ at you (only you) ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 5.6k synopsis simon riley didn’t ask to be a hero, but he finds himself wanting to be yours. content contains hints to human traff/icking (not explicit), breeding kink, belly bulge, size difference, pet names/terms of endearment (pretty girl, baby, love, darling, sweetheart), soft!ghost, obsessive!ghost, domesticity, mutual pining, praise kink, probably ooc!ghost but the man is absolutely whipped for you, clothed sex (his uniform is on), minor depictions of violence

He doesn’t quite consider himself a hero, you know.

He’s got a foul mouth, a sense of humor that borders between too dry or too dark, and so much blood on his hands that he’s surprised to see they’re not red when he pulls off his gloves and runs them under scalding hot water.

There will be no parades in his honor. No little boys running up to him on the streets, proclaiming that they want to be just like him. No statues to be sculpted to remember him by whenever he meets his inevitable end, six feet under. He probably won’t even be a memory after death.

And he’s come to terms with all of this, of course. It’s not like he cares — he didn’t sign up to do this shit for the glory or because he wanted to be considered a hero. He did it because someone out there had to be the person willing to do anything for the betterment of everyone.

Perhaps that makes him heroic in some sense; again, he doesn’t particularly care.

Until you.

Until one mission sends you into his direct orbit, knocking everything he’s ever known out of its place. It’s disorienting, confusing—

—exhilarating.

He doesn’t get scared anymore, but there’s something inherently frightening about wanting to share parts of yourself — of your very being, of your soul — to someone. He’s not quite able to label any of the emotions he feels for you the first time he sees you, but he feels enough to know that if he wants to save himself, he should put as much distance between the two of you as he possibly can.

(It turns out that this lieutenant doesn’t have as great of a sense of self-preservation as he proclaims.)

You cling to his arm, ignoring the way your palm digs and presses into the hard armor and tactical gear he sports. You think he might shake you off or forcefully pull you off of him, but he does neither. The soldier freezes, just for a second, and then he turns to face you.

If this is what the Grim Reaper looks like, perhaps death isn’t such an unfavorable ending. You can’t make out any physical features of your savior’s face, save for the pair of dark eyes staring right at you.

The skull mask does its job of securing his identity, but he should consider wearing goggles, you think. You’re not certain, but you think his eyes must be his most incriminating feature. You think if he gave you a proper minute to look at him, the image of his eyes would be ingrained in your memory. You’d be able to recognize him by them alone.

“Do you understand me?”

The gruff voice must be coming from him, if the subtle movements underneath his mask are any indication. He’s staring straight ahead now, watching as the rest of his team begins to usher the other girls who were stolen alongside you into large trucks. Maybe they’re tanks. You’re not quite sure.

“You must not then, yeah?” When he speaks, every word seems to be just the slightest bit rough around the edges. His accent is oddly nice; from the way he delivers his comments, though, you’re left wondering if he is, too.

He must be — nice, that is. A nice man would let you continue to grip his arm for support, even though you’re capable of standing on your own. A nice man would save you from the hell you’ve been subjected to for… Months? Has it been months? Shorter, maybe? Or longer? Time passes differently when all you want to do is die.

“I understand,” you finally answer him. You think your words must come out a little rough, too. The air in this area seems hard to breathe in, and you’re not sure when was the last time you even drank anything. You say it so quietly, you’re afraid that you’ll have to force yourself to speak up, but he nods.

“You’ll be safe now.”

Looking back, those might have just been words meant to comfort you, but you trust this masked man. You don’t know him (not yet), but the way he says it sounds like he means it.

(He means it.)

He goes by Ghost.

He doesn’t tell you why, and you don’t unnecessarily pry yourself into his business.

He doesn’t even tell you the name himself; you hear it from the mouths of the other officers, the other men who helped in rescuing you and the others.

The man who took you — the one in charge of shipping and selling the girls — won’t be giving you any more problems, now. He won’t hurt you again, isn’t even capable of touching you ever again. This is what Ghost reassures you with, and you nod, believing him.

After all, you witnessed him slice the asshole’s neck. You watched the blood spill out of his body. You were being ushered away at the time, but you still found the strength to turn around to watch him die.

You still haven’t found yourself able to detach yourself from him, and he hasn’t found the strength to shake you off just yet. Your fingers look dainty compared to the bulk of his arm, and the uniform he’s wearing only serves to add to his overall mass. You should want to put some distance between you and him; you know what men are like. You know it doesn’t take much for them to snap and change their demeanors in an instant. With the strength you’ve already witnessed and the sheer size of him, you know fighting him off wouldn’t even be realistic. But you still find yourself refusing to leave him alone, as if the evil he just destroyed will come back to life and hunt you down the very moment your savior leaves you.

It’s why you’re in a separate vehicle from the rest of the rescued girls. It’s just the two of you in the back, and the only noise you can hear is the loud huffs from the engine and the sound of tires speeding on rough terrain.

“When we return, there will be people who will come collect you and the others. They’ll clean you up and help you get back on your feet. You’ll be able to start a new life.”

A new life?

The thought excites you.

You don’t know what awaits you outside. When you were a little girl, you were still allowed to bask in the outdoors. The warmth of the sun, the feel of a soft breeze brushing against your skin — sometimes, when you were chained and in your cell, cowering in the dark, you wished that you hadn’t taken advantage of those little luxuries.

“In this life… I will feel the sun?” He hears the innocence in your voice, your question filled with longing and maybe even excitement. It was just past dusk when they rescued you; it’s now nighttime, and he feels himself wishing he had the power to bring the sun down from the sky and present it to you.

“In this life, you’ll be able to do anything you want.”

He’ll personally see to it if he has to.

You had fallen asleep by the time you reached your destination. With one mission successfully completed, Ghost finds himself with another almost immediately after, and with the peaceful expression on your face and the fact that this facility is one of the most secure buildings in the world, he leaves you—

—only to return back to the facility in a little over two weeks.

It’s not as if there’s someone waiting for him in the empty residence he calls home. Besides, it’s only natural — human, even — for him to be curious as to how you’re doing. While he trusts that you’re safe, he finds himself, in between lulls on missions, wondering how you’re adjusting.

(And in the rare moments where he finds himself fighting off exhaustion — the only telltale sign that he’s still flesh and blood and not the phantom his enemies think he is — he finds himself wondering if you’re thinking about him too.)

What did you see when you stared at him that day? He had killed a man — killed many men, actually — without mercy, without hesitation. He’s done it so many times throughout his life that wielding a weapon has become second nature to him.

Sometimes he even feels like he’s the weapon.

And again, he doesn’t care about whether or not he’s deemed a good person or a hero, but he doesn’t want to be a nightmare to you. He can still feel the ghost of your touch lingering on his left arm, the arm that you had clutched the day he rescued you. If not for the employees confirming your presence and guiding him to your room, he would be almost convinced that you’re a dream he thought up himself.

“Poor girl,” the woman leading way is telling him. “She’s been having the worst time out of all the others. I’m not surprised, hearing what they must have had to endure all that time, but the sweetheart can’t even sleep without us sedating her.”

“What?”

The low timbre of his voice makes the word sound more like a growl.

Seemingly shocked at his reaction, the woman almost pauses in her steps before continuing. “Yes, she’s been having nightmares. Thrashing wildly in her sleep, screaming the first few nights, even.” And then, almost as if she’s trying to make him feel better, she adds, “But she’s much better now. Save for a few sobs every now and then.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that. If it had been someone physically tormenting you, he would have no issue in getting rid of the source of your pain. Demons who only appear in nightmares, though — that’s something not even he can fight off for you.

When they make it to your door, the woman knocks gently, calling out your name softly, almost as if she does anything too harshly, you’ll break down.

“I brought someone here who wants to see you, hon. I’m going to come in now, okay?”

The woman eyes him almost warily as if she’s just now taking him in. He didn’t bother changing out of his usual uniform, telling the helicopter pilot that picked him up after his most recent mission to take him directly here instead. In his defense, he hadn’t even anticipated you still being here.

But you are.

He’s well aware that he probably doesn’t look the nicest, his mask serving its purpose and obscuring his whole entire face, making him entirely unreadable. If you’re as skittish as the woman claims you are, perhaps it’ll be for the best if he leaves now.

But it’s too late. She’s opening the door and never one to hesitate, he’s stepping in. The woman doesn’t follow; instead, she shuts the door, most likely ready to call for backup if anything were to happen to you.

You look at him, and then a second later, recognition gleams in your eyes.

Now that it’s not as dark, he’s able to take in every single feature of your face, from the color of your eyes down to the slope of your nose and the shape of your pretty lips. He commits your visage to memory.

“It’s you,” you breathe out, sitting up straighter on your bed. “The man who saved me.”

And if the near reverent way you greet him isn’t enough to have him reeling, the next words you say have his heart freefalling:

“You’re my hero.”

You speak to him so sweetly, in a tone so soft that the words you say wrap around him like a warm blanket. No one has ever said that to him. No one has ever spoken to him the way you do.

He swallows hard, and for the first time in his life, he’s unsure of what to do.

“Have you been alright?” He asks, and your expression falls almost immediately.

You answer him after a few seconds of silence.

“Yes.”

You little liar.

“I’m very comfortable here, but I’ve seen many of the others getting ready to travel elsewhere. The people here are kind, and they tell me they have many houses I can choose from. They’ll help me find work and…” Your voice trails off, and he watches the way your hands curl around the bedsheets. “I’ll be normal. Find a husband, make a family, forget all about this.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yeah.”

You’ll learn soon enough that he doesn’t like lying.

He moves quicker than someone his size should be able to; stealthy, too. You don’t catch his movements, but you blink, and suddenly he’s right in front of you, crouched down so he’s able to look you in the eyes.

You were right. You are able to recognize him by his eyes alone.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know.” When he speaks, you can’t help but hang on to every word. You find yourself nodding. “You’ll answer me honestly then?”

You nod again, this time a bit quicker.

“Good girl.” You hear the approval in his deep tone of voice, and you almost wish you hadn’t. You didn’t know what it’s like to be fed such praise, and you’re stuck starving for it now. “How have you been?”

“Alright. I’m happy to be here, but I—” Your voice cracks, and so does something inside of him. You look down, suddenly more interested in your sock-covered feet rather than his eyes. “Everyone else is able to move on so quickly, or they have someone waiting for them. I have no one. No one is looking for me. No one is expecting me.”

The realization of your reality finally settles in for you with your confession. You were born into that fate; the other girls who used to occupy the cells next to you were stolen. By all means, you were assigned to die there. There isn’t a future for you because you’re certain the universe did not anticipate you ending up like this.

No one is expecting me.

He understands what that’s like. It’s the reason why he’s here, because for once in what feels like forever, he finally has someone he’d like to see after a mission.

“You could find someone out there.”

“What if I leave here, and no one wants me?” The words come out a bit wobbly, and you look at him with glossy eyes and wet lashes.

You’re even prettier than he remembers.

He swallows hard, trying to find the right words to say.

(Soap claims he has a bad habit of saying the most awful things at the worst time possible.)

“That won’t happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Because after meeting you for the first time, he — the man with no regard to his own personal well-being and the utmost self-control — finds himself longing to be in your presence. He had to see you again; can’t you already see how you’re taking root inside his very being?

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Will you come back then?” When you look at him like that, all wide-eyed with your pretty lips forming a subtle pout, he thinks he might do something stupid, like—

“Whenever you want me to.”

—make a promise he might not be able to keep.

He gives you a burner phone. It’s supposedly untraceable (he doesn’t let you know about the tiny personal tracker he attaches to it; don’t worry, he’s the only one able to access your locational information), and while he doesn’t give you any explicit instructions, the only number programmed into the contacts list is his.

(That’s fine with you. It’s not as if you have anyone else to talk to.)

You know that he must be a busy person. You wonder if he’s considered a savior to many other people like you. Then innocent thoughts like that spiral into something jealous. Does he normally visit the people he saves? Are there other girls who have been gifted a phone like this?

He doesn’t message you, and you’re too scared of bothering him to reach out.

Every night since he sent you this phone, you’ve laid in bed, thumbs hovering over the keypad, debating what to say if you ever get the courage to text him. Every night, you never hit send on a single draft, and you fall into an uneasy slumber usually after your tenth attempt at a text message.

Sleeping is the worst.

Your nightmares can’t reach you when you’re in the safety of the waking world, but the moment your eyes are closed, it’s like every dark memory you’ve suppressed comes out of the shadows and begins its long-awaited torment.

The feeling of the cuffs on your ankles digging into your flesh feels too raw and real to be a mere memory. The men walking by your cell, sometimes staring at you uncomfortably long, taunting you and calling you cruel names. They’re always so explicit about what they have planned for you, but your seller will never give you up. Not until he finds someone willing to pay the high price he has hanging over your head.

You’re an untouched, undamaged good is what he reminds you. You’ll make him so much money.

But then you feel the cold, clammy grip of his on your arm and his breath on your neck, and you scream and scream and scream.

There must be cameras in the room you’re in because after the first week of nightmares, the kind workers here stop rushing to your room. If you don’t quiet in a few minutes, a male nurse will come in with a syringe and a pitying look before injecting a sedative into your veins. Artificial sleep is the only uninterrupted rest you get these days.

You wake up with your throat raw from your yells, and your skin sweaty. It takes several minutes for your heartbeat to go back to its regular pace, yet the images of your most recent nightmare are still flashing in your mind. You grab the cell phone you keep tucked under your pillow. It must be because of your panicked state of mind, but you find yourself clicking his contact.

The dial tone grounds you into reality, but before you can truly come to your senses and hang up, he answers the call.

“Hello?” Hearing his voice calms you down even more so despite the slight crackle that comes with hearing him through the speakers of the phone.

“Ghost?” You’re whispering, even though you’re certain that the walls are thick enough for you to speak normally without bothering anyone. Besides, anyone with ears probably already suffered through your fit.

“[Name].”

You don’t remember telling him your name, but it makes sense for him to know it. After all, he’s the one who visited you several days ago.

The thought that he would have to make an effort to seek you out and learn more about you is far more comforting than you think it should be.

“S-sorry for bothering you. It’s probably late—”

“Are you alright?”

“Am I… Alright?”

“Yes.” After contemplating a bit, he adds, “And don’t try to lie to me, either.”

“Are you busy?”

He’s in a safe house ten minutes away from the facility; say the word, and he can get there in three.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.”

“No, I’m not busy. Now your turn: how are you feeling?”

“Scared.” It’s easier to admit things when you’re unable to see him. Staring at him makes you nervous because you think he’ll be able to read everything on your own face. Vulnerability is never easy.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Maybe it’s the exhaustion messing with your mind, but you think his voice might have just softened, just the slightest.

“Yeah.”

He’s silent, but you think you hear some slight movement on his end.

“Ghost?”

“Yes?”

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m going to visit you. Do you not want me to?”

You’re scared to answer, too frightened that your tired state will cause you to let the raw truth slip out.

You think you’re always going to want him.

He can only visit you when he’s in between missions.

(Unfortunately for you, breaks for him are a rarity.)

He comes back to you, sometimes a little bruised, sometimes a bit more broken than when he had left, but he always keeps his promise.

Whenever you want him to be with you, he’s there.

The nightmares gradually get better with time, but you always sleep the best when he’s with you. At first, he would just sit in a corner of your room, almost impossible to view unless you focus hard on him (if you didn’t know he was there, you probably never would have noticed him at all). He eventually began to sit closer to you, somewhere near the edge of your bed. On the rougher nights, you would find yourself reaching out for his hand.

When his presence alone can’t keep the nightmares at bay, and you wake up from another bad dream, he doesn’t force you to tell him what you see. Instead, he talks. Despite his rough voice, the sound of him telling you about the mundane aspects of his day is the most comforting thing in the world. It’s like your own personal lullaby.

He tells you about his life before this. You tell him about yours, too. His gloved hand brushes against your cheek as he tucks back a strand of your hair. You lay your own hand atop his, feeling the warmth of him even through the thick leather. You tell him about your nightmares, all the darker details that make you loathe your very being. He tells you his name.

You whisper it back to him.

Simon. Simon Riley.

You say it several times, sometimes slowly. Testing out how the syllables rest on the tip of your tongue.

He likes his name best when you’re the one saying it.

The facility starts to fill up with other saved victims from missions more recent than yours. You’re free to stay here as long as you like, but one day, Simon presses a key into the palm of your hands. You don’t need him to say anything; the imploring look in his eyes, your favorite feature in the whole world, ask the question for him.

Now the two of you share a bed. His toothbrush stands right next to yours, and the former empty residence that Simon used to spend his off-time avoiding is a home. He cares about what will happen to him because every time he leaves for a mission, you send him off with a soft see you soon!.

He knows that keeping his heart cold would ensure that he would go to great lengths to see to the success of his missions, but running towards death is such a silly thing. Why would he be okay with chasing after that when he knows he can return to his safehouse hidden in the woods and find you in the kitchen humming? If anything, he completes his missions even faster now. You told him that you’ll be expecting to see him soon, and he’s not one to disappoint you.

Simon Riley knows he’s got it bad. He can’t sleep well unless his sheets smell like you. He asks if he can bathe you just to run soap over the smooth skin of your body because he’s entirely obsessed with you, every scar and beauty mark. He knows it’s dangerous, but he keeps a Polaroid of you tucked safely away in one of his inner pockets in his uniform.

One morning, nearly a year since he rescued you, you tell him you love him.

He lets you take his mask off.

You’re smiling at him, eyes shining as you take in every minute detail. You can’t believe this is a face he would want to hide from the world. Selfishly, you’re a bit pleased with knowing you’re one of the few to see him like this, completely bare. To make the moment even better, he says it back.

He loves you.

“I know.” You tell him; it’s obvious. His mask is resting in your hands, after all.

Simon rushes home after every mission to see you, his first love, his only love. He loves coming back to you when you’re barefoot in the kitchen or washing your face in the bathroom, but he loves it the most when you guide him to your shared bedroom, the prolonged distance between the two of you making your longing for him all the more intense.

He loves you all the time, especially when you’re lying beneath him completely bare, with your hands (so much smaller compared to his own) eagerly touching every inch of him you can reach. He just got back; his uniform is partially off, all the weapons left hanging by the doorstep. He’s got nothing but the protective armor and the thick fabric on him, and with the way your body is practically calling for him, he doesn’t think you’ll give him enough time to strip himself of his clothes.

“Simon — missed you so much,” is what you whine out. He knows. You don’t have to whimper it out to him because your actions (and body’s reactions) leave nothing to assumption. You’re struggling to lift yourself up to pepper kisses all over his unmasked face, dainty hands tugging at his sleeves. Your cheeks are flushed, and you attempt to rut against him, trying to get some type of friction to satiate yourself.

You’re already so wet for him that he can feel it through his uniform.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.” That’s your Simon. Always reassuring, always there when you need him. And right now, you need him so desperately that you’re soaking the bedsheets beneath you.

True to his word, you feel a gloved hand teasing your slick folds, smearing your arousal everywhere.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, admiring your glistening folds for just a second with a sort of sick fascination. He can spend hours with his head in between your thighs and your hands clutching at his hair. He won’t be leaving you so soon, though. He’ll have all the time he wants to bring you to the height of pleasure with just his tongue; tonight, he wants to give you exactly what you need.

The feeling of two of his thick fingers working in and out of your tiny hole has you moaning and writhing beneath him. You’re always beautiful in his eyes, but there’s something about you with wild hair and eyes shut from pleasure that makes you practically irresistible to him.

Everything about Simon is larger than life, and the feeling of being so small in comparison to his hulking figure should be frightening. But when he’s above you, his large fingers toying with your pussy in the way he knows you just love, you feel protected. Like he’s your shield from the harsh world outside. Inside your shared bedroom, only you two exist.

Your back arches, forcing his fingers to reach even deeper. The texture of his gloves only adds to your pleasure and in an attempt to prepare you for his cock, Simon adds another finger to stretch out your tight cunt.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” His words come out through gritted teeth, as if it’s taking everything in him not to replace his fingers for his cock. His tolerance is hanging on by a mere thread, but he refuses to fuck you properly ‘til he’s certain you’re ready to take him. Only when your cum is coating the leather of his gloves will he know.

You nod, occasionally jerking your hips in tandem with his thrusts, chasing after your high. You’re beginning to feel hotter, your pussy becoming even wetter, and neither of you can make out the words you’re mewling out. Perhaps your whines are pleas for more, maybe even mercy.

You can’t last any longer, and as his fingers curl against your sensitive walls, you find yourself nearly screaming his name as you gush around his fingers. He grins at the result of his hard work, withdrawing his fingers just to hold them up to you. His gloved hand glistens in the moonlight, and you can only watch as he raises his fingers to his mouth before sucking your essence off of them, effectively cleaning it up.

He never breaks eye contact with you once.

“Should I try it straight from the source?” His grin is teasing, the gleam in his eyes nothing short of wicked.

You weakly shake your head, already too fucked out to properly respond.

“No? I’ve been starving for your taste all those weeks I was gone, love. You don’t want to be a sweet girl and let me have my fill?” You know he’s just teasing you, but you still find yourself upset at the prospect of displeasing him.

“Not yet.” You pout, spreading your legs for him. “I wanna feel your cock.”

His grin only grows wider.

“Looks like my perfect girl’s been starving too, huh?” He leans down to give you a kiss, and you can taste a hint of your arousal lingering on his tongue. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll give you everything you want and more.”

Everything about Simon is larger than life.

The first time he ever fucked you, you had cried from the stretch of his massive girth invading your previously untouched cunt. The sensation of being filled to the brim was a foreign one, but a feeling you’re certain only he could provide. No matter how many times he’s had you, it always feels like it’s your first time taking him.

He’s whispering words of reassurance as he guides himself into your leaking entrance. Despite him working you to your peak, three fingers doesn’t begin to compare to his dick, and you find yourself whimpering over his words of praise.

“You’re doing so well for me, love. Such a good girl, my good girl.” He kisses your forehead, forcing every inch of himself inside until the tip of his cock is kissing your cervix. The pleasure of being so full outweighs the pain of the stretch your cunt has to make to accommodate his sheer size.

You stare down at where the two of you are connected, taking a sharp breath as the unmistakable bulge in your belly serves as undeniable evidence of just how deep Simon is capable of reaching. It’s always a wonder on how your tiny pussy is always able to take him, and Simon merely chuckles as he notices where you’re staring.

Using the same hand he used to coax your first orgasm with, he gently guides your hand to rest on top of the bulge. He’s smiling as he tells you, “Keep your eyes right there, darling. I want you to watch me as I fuck you.”

His thrusts are always powerful, a true sign of his strength. You’re not even sure where all his stamina comes from because no matter how exhausting his missions may appear to be, he always finds the energy to fuck you well throughout the night.

Your body’s natural instinct is to tighten around him, and the pressure has him growling as he works harder to piston his cock in and out of you. The lewd squelching noises, the smacking of skin against skin — everything is just so downright pornographic.

Your free hand finds purchase on his clothed back, nails digging through the fabric as he continues to work to bring the two of you to an explosive finish.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, darling.” He hisses, relishing in the tightness of your cunt and how your body takes him so well every time. “I don’t ever want to leave you alone again.”

You whine out for him, needing him closer even though he’s already as close as he can get. With his unyielding, powerful thrusts and your heightened sensitivity, neither of you is going to last much longer. He looks down to admire the imprint of his cock in your belly. He loves you and finds every little thing about your body perfect, but he can imagine your belly expanding to make room for his child and your tits swelling with milk. Fuck.

“Want to put a baby in you, love. Will you let me? You’ll never be alone again, not when we make the perfect lil’ family.” He grunts, and you nod, overjoyed at the idea of him wanting something so intimate. A family. Your family. He’ll give you a baby.

“Yes!” You scream out, feeling the coil in your stomach about to snap, every thrust bringing you closer and closer to breaking. “Wanna have your baby, wanna be with you forever.” The words come out sounding like sobs as you feel the tension inside of you snap.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. Going to fill this cunt with my cum, darling.” His thrusts are becoming more erratic as he gets closer to losing control. Both of his hands grip your hips, his hold on you tight as he releases into you with a deep grunt. His cum is thick and warm, filling you up so much to the point where it’s already leaking out despite him staying inside of you all in an attempt to make sure it takes.

Breathless, wild-eyed, red cheeks — the both of you are an absolute mess.

You take a shaky hand to run through his hair that’s damp with sweat, and he leans into your gentle touch. You stare at him with a reverence he feels he doesn’t deserve.

“My hero.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 #smut #lemon #one shot #drabble

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amazeingartist · 4 months

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Shark & His Diver

read mer!soap thread on twitter and was inspired

#ghostsoap #soapghost #my art #mer!soap #soap’s a lemon shark #ghost is just a guy trying to do his job and now has his own sea puppy

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top-script · 10 months

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ok but like

#tally hall #lemon demon #the scary jokes #will wood #ghost and pals #jukebox the ghost #that handsome devil #jack stauber #miracle musical #joe hawley #theres a couple of these that i guess i should listen to #also i may or may not be 14 #top-script original content

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forestshadow-wolf · 8 months

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Whenever soapghost have disagreement that they can't resolve within a day they have a mutual agreement to take it to the mats. Whoever wins, regardless of who is factually correct, is Whoever is right.

Oftentimes that means that price or gaz or the recruits are privy to see a day where soap and ghost speak to eachother in short clipped sentences, then the next day they're beating eachother up, and after that they're back to normal.

Is it healthy for their relationship? Honestly, maybe. The only time a fight has lasted longer than that is when it was about either one of their health.

Anyway their fights are definitely something to watch, it draws a crowd more often than not. Soap is fast and he's bold, not afraid to throw around his body weight. Ghost may not be as fast as soap but he's heavier, more experienced, knows how to use his body weight. Not only that, but they also know eachother's fighting style best. The dance around eachother, and more often than not they have to get creative with their take downs.

#this all started because the couldn't agree if lemon cake was good or not #they're in love okay #el rambles #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #fighting

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kkaisarion · 7 months

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to quote papa emeritus iv in griftwood, verse 1, line 1: "Suffering."

#what a week huh #lemon it's only tuesday #shitghosting #the band ghost

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lemon-illustrations · 4 months

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meet all my characters! (❁´◡`❁) Beanie the frog, Limmie the lemon, Bin the bun & Greg the ghost 💛

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sinkovia · 3 months

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Oblivion

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

NSFW (18+/MDNI)

Your Lieutenant Ghost is a constant presence in your mind, an obsession you couldn’t escape. The intensity of your infatuation has reached a point where it's become an all-consuming force, one that you can't control. You find yourself daydreaming about him during the most inopportune times—during missions, in the midst of briefings, even when you should be focusing on your surroundings. His face, his voice, the memory of his touch—all of it plays on a loop in your mind.

In the heat of battle, when the world is chaos around you, your eyes inevitably find their way to him, tracing the contours of his face, the way his uniform clings to his muscular frame. But as the missions go on, Ghost starts to catch on. He notices the subtle, lingering glances you throw his way and a knowing smirk tugs at his lips.

One evening, as the team gathers in the rec room playing pool, Ghost settles next to you, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You've been watching me, haven't you?" his eyes locking onto yours with a knowing intensity. Caught off guard, your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"I don't know what you're talking about" You laugh trying to play off how aroused you were, this was the closest he had ever been to you.

Ghost's fingers lightly brush your arm, sending a shiver down your spine and a warmth that pools between your legs "Well, for what its worth" he says, his voice deep and husky, "I've been watching you too." His teasing confession ignites a fire within you, the unspoken desire between you two growing more palpable with every stolen glance and every whispered word.

"Meet me in my room"

With that he got up and left the room, you quickly glance over to the boys, they were drunk out of there minds. Surley they wouldnt notice that the both of you are gone. Your footsteps echoed softly in the dimly lit corridor as you made your way toward Ghost's room. Each step felt heavy, and your heart pounded like a drum in your chest, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the arousal that coursed through your veins.

The hallway seemed to stretch on endlessly, the anticipation building with each passing second. You couldn't shake the feeling, the knowledge that something significant was about to happen, something that could change the dynamics between you and Ghost forever. You paused for a moment outside Ghost's door, your hand hovering uncertainly before you finally summoned the courage to knock. The sound echoed softly in the stillness, a harbinger of the unknown that awaited you on the other side.

As the door swung open, revealing his enigmatic figure, your heart skipped a beat. His presence filled the room, and his eyes met yours with a knowing intensity that sent shivers down your spine. You step inside his room and the both of you waste no time ripping the clothes off eachothers bodies.

He pushes you back and you guys fall onto the plush bed. Your body is encased by one of his arms, his other around your neck. He used his knee to spread your legs apart. You could feel his sheets become humid with your perspiration. He hadn't even begun yet, and your were right on the precipice of letting go. There was no doubt about it everything about him was consuming your being, and you were happy to let it happen. Your breaths were growing heavy as the anticipation was palpating throughout your body. He pushed your legs apart until your dripping pussy was on full display. A low groan and mumbled curses left his mouth at the sight.

You mewled as he circled your pulsating clit, flicking your throbbing bud before wrapping his full lips around it. "F-Fuck You gasped, feeling his tongue gently move back and forth to stimulate all your nerves. His grip tightened, his fingers creating indents into the plushness of your ass, keeping you in place to give you everything you deserved. He moved his tongue continuous over your clit, returning to suck it raw until you were trembling.

His mouth found comfort in your dripping hole, slurping all your sweet juices, before sliding the thick muscle of his tongue in. His hand moved from your ass to your heat, letting two fingers abuse your tender clit. The new contact paved way for a loud whine to burst through your mouth, encouraging him. Your knuckles were turning white from the tight grip you had on the sheets. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, letting the metallic taste of blood break through the skin and overtake your mouth. His tongue was exploring the wet walls of your cunt, and his eyes stared pass the loose strands of his hair watching every reaction he was eliciting from you.

"I-I'm gonna cum, Fuck" You mumbled through your moans.

He slid your clit between his fingers letting it rub every shockwave out. "Cum for me Y/n" His tongue snapped the coil in your stomach, and you cried out in pure bliss. You whined as he licked every ounce of cum dripping out of you with his tongue. You grab his chin bringing him up invading his mouth with your tongue as you tasted yourself.

You grab his throbbing length pumping it, slowly rubbing the head of his cock covered in precum at your entrance.

"Please fuck me" you whined and pushes himself inside, your wetness providing him all he needed to stretch you out. You gasp feeling how deep he was penetrating you. He groaned out profanities as he bottomed out. You moaned, as he pulled all the way out just to ram back in, your pussy was tightly taking everything he had to offer. His pace was sloppy and needy you knew he wanted this as much as you did. He groaned at the sight of your breasts bouncing off the thrust of his hips. He grabbed your hips as leverage to fuck you deeper and harder.

Slamming his eyes closed in an attempt to not cum so fast. You cried out, tears streaming down your face, Your arousal was creaming around his cock, the coating emphasizing the sound of his throbbing dick beating into your aching cunt. You heaved, any strive to calm your breathing failed as he showed no mercy. He quickly flipped you over so you were lying on your stomach, he lifted your ass up and pushed himself back on. You cried out as this new angle hit your g spot perfectly.

His hand brushed up the soft skin of your back, taking a large grip of your hair and pulling your face upward. Your moans and cries vibrated around the bedroom.

A choked sob broke through his chest, as he tensed the muscles of his abdomen to not cum. Dropping your head back to the bed, He placed his full weight against you carefully grabbing your hands to let go of the balled sheets, his large fingers encapsulated your delicate ones. With his head resting on your shoulder, you caught every pant, moan, and whimper that was escaping him. He placed a kiss into the crook of your neck and then your cheek, You turned and were ambushed by his consuming mouth, crashing his lips into yours. His strong arms wrapped around you, his hold suddenly stiffening to keep you tight against him.

He was bracing you.

The second his hold tightened and his tongue shoved its way down your throat, he began hammering his cock into your sensitive g-spot. Every moan was swallowed by his mouth, and any venture to pull and wiggle away only prompted him to follow until your lips met again, his strong biceps consolidated around you. He was fucking you deep, driving his cock into your pussy.

He was fucking you into oblivion.

"I'm gonna cum, Please don't stop" you cried against his lips. His thighs were tensing and shaking he was just as close as you were.

"Be a good girl and cum for me" He gritted through clenched teeth. His hand snaked down beneath you, knuckles brushing against the soaked spot of the sheets, and rubbed that throbbing, clit of yours. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, pushing you into pure ecstasy, as your orgasm erupted all over his cock. Your walls clamped down as you released causing him to whimper out. He rammed himself deep within you his cock spasming, jerking his cum all over your walls.

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mysterygrl20 · 1 year

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need a new bl show to watch but unsure of how spicy it is? someone made a spicy index list

🌶️ - Bell pepper - longing glances, maybe a caress and pinky touch, solid hugs, no kisses (Cherry Magic)

🌶️🌶️ - Jalapeño popper - 1 or 2 kisses, closed mouth or hidden behind camera angles, full of cheesy emotions but not sexual (Mr. Unlucky has No Choice but to Kiss)

🌶️🌶️🌶️ - Sriracha - at least 1 decent kiss, actual makeout with or without tongue, but clothes stay on (Bad Buddy, Semantic Error)

🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ - Birds eye chili - multiple solid kisses and some clothes come off, but cuts away before any pants come off and hands generally stay above the waist, it's implied that they have sex but we only see the very start of the encounter (609 Bedtime Story, Between Us, Until We Meet Again)

🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ - Specialty hot sauce - all or most clothes come off at least once, full on simulated sex happens though it can be masked with sultry background music and may or may not include an implication of climax (Ghost Host Ghost House, Cutie Pie, Long Time No See)

🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ - Carolina reaper - full nudity at some point, though junk may be cleverly hid with angles and conveniently placed furniture, these boys fuckin and there ain't no ambiguity about it, sexy sounds at full volume rather than replaced by music or voiceover (Kinnporsche, Love in the Air)

🌶️☠️ - Pepper spray - there's full on sex and/or nudity but it's not pleasant or intended to be sexy, can apply to graphic SA scenes or just the marketing campaign for Dangerous Drugs Of Sex

(the show list isn't fully comprehensive yet but a great start)

#thai bl #bl series #kdrama #jdrama #cherry magic #kinnporsche #mr unlucky has no choice but to kiss #609 bedtime story #between us #until we meet again #ghost host ghost house #cutie pie the series #long time no see #love in the air #lita #bad buddy #yes this is basically the citrus/lemon scale

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saintgoths · 5 months

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☾༺♰༻☽ᴄʟᴀɪʀᴇ ʀᴇᴅꜰɪᴇʟᴅ☾༺♰༻☽

mdni very 18+ - just nasty sex, cunnilingus, throat-fucking, rough sex, ghost self-cumming and daddy kink.

simon ghost riley.

if you dont know for a moment my account was deleted because they thought i was a bot and for that era i was on an account called @ladygoth posting the text messages with ghost series and this chapter is based on this post.

summary - you wear the skimpy claire redfield outfit for ghost again.

feedback/comments would be appreciated :)

“Just like that, let me get a good look at you,” Ghost whispered, his voice thick with gravel lust as he stalked above you, both hands at each side as his brown eyes examined and stalked each inch of your body, the skimpy version of the Claire Redfield outfit highlighting and pronouncing your body he had held himself back from devouring.

“Take off your shirt,” he commanded, his eyes steady on your breast as he had watched you carefully peel off the upper outfit, you hadn’t worn the black shirt that came with the set of clothes, you had wanted to wind Ghost up, reveal a bit of your breasts that he loved so much.

Bare, your nipples had been hard then smoothly taken care of by the man who had been above you, his warm lips clamping around your left nipple while his hand had massaged the other, you had shakingly moaned, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders while the tip of his tongue played and flicked against the head of your tit.

“S’beautiful,” he whined after pulling himself from your left breast, the movement leaving with a pop as his eyes returned to you, your face deeply flustered and moved by his sensual touch. “Let me take care of the other one,” he spoke, and he lifted his hand away from your other breast, replacing his digits with his lips, his motions smooth as he licked his tongue around your nipple.

Your legs wrapped around his waists as he gently moved his covered area against your cunt. The friction so light that it had almost sent you into a crazed state, you had wanted more, you had wanted his length and girth abusing the tight walls he had been obsessed over. “Patience,” he said and he knew, he knew you had wanted him to fuck you this moment, but he wanted to drag it out, have you upset and excited.

Though the moment you had felt his lips gently tackle the crook of your neck, you couldn’t help but push a giggle, you had then tucked your bottom lips behind your teeth as you had watched him trail his mouth lower down your stomach, his fingers now focused on the hems of your skimpy shorts before pulling them down, the hearth of your heat, tangy and sweet; had then been petted with a wet kiss above your bud and as a response your body had tightened in response.

“Relax,” he said and so you did, “Spread them wider for me, I want to see that pretty pussy,” he shared and so you did, slowly spreading your legs open, welcoming the damp image of your cunt to him. The sight of your heat had caused him to push a moan, and in a second he had begun to kiss the insides of your thigh.

“Daddy,” you whined, “I can’t take it,” you cried out and immediately, he had looked up at you, his eyes dark and aroused.

“If you want me to get into the speed you want me to when I fuck you,” he stated. “Promise me you won’t tap out.”

With your lips shuddered, your palms had found way to cup your breast, your thumbs twirling around the nubs as you had submissively looked down at him. You nodded your head, captivated with the primal look he had on his face. “Use your words.”

“I promise,” you whispered.

“Louder.”

“I promise.” You stated.

“There,” he smiled before returning his lips against your skin, his lips ringing around your pearl, sucking on and playing with the bud with the tip of his tongue, sending you through an electric shiver, your fingers gripping around your breasts as the heels of your feet dug into his bed.

Focused, he had stroked his hands to the back of your knees, greedy for your juices, the flat of his tongue had stroked upwards against your heat, his honey-like eyes focused on your squirms and yelps as you had now moved your fingers to the sheets of his cot, your fingers clenched with the fabric for your life while he had pleased himself between your legs, the muscle of his mouth had slipped in and out of your cunt, twisting your low moans into shameful high whine.

“Like that!” You cried out, “right there!” You whimpered, your legs trembling within his hold as you could feel your orgasm slowly rise to its peak, a heavy heat shadowing and curling inside your stomach, your feet clenched as he had slipped his two digits into the space of your tightness, his tongue flicking against your sensitive sex while you had hugged his shoulders with your legs.

A deep sigh exhaling from the back of your throat while your juices trickled down his chin, your fingers finding way into the curls of his dark blond hair while he continued to lick his tongue against your pussy, his self-orgasm coating his pants high on the bliss he had given you----along with the sweet nectar that had been rooted in your cunt.

It was enough, but you couldn’t tap out, you promised him you wouldn’t, but it had over-whelmed you into a fit of cries, his arms locked around your lower waist as he pleased himself with your ambrosia that he had gifted to himself.

“So good,” he whined aware of your over-stimulated cries, your body had weakened against his physique just as you released your second orgasm. “Good girl,” he complimented once he pulled himself away, standing on his knees as he had unbuckled his belt, excited by your unkempt appearance, you had noted the way his trousers had been moist, aware that he had climaxed by the taste of your cunt.

Inflamed, you had nibbled on your lips, the sight of his large length bouncing out its previous kept place had caused your used heat to stir once more. “Open your mouth,” he lightly demanded and like the good girl you were, you had separated your lips and had allowed his size to be pushed down your mouth, gagging at his width, you had found yourself wrapping your hand around his cock unaware of how Ghost had planned to fuck your throat, you had been taken by surprise when he had pushed his length further down your neck, your eyes swelling with tears as your hands moved up his thighs.

His thick fingers had moved to your hair, his grip messing the locks of your curls as he pulled back his hips and slowly and repeatedly humped his size forwards. Gagging and choking you with his width---desperately you had looked up at him, your saliva coating his cock and your chin as you had flattened your tongue to give him a comfortable route.

His grunts soft while the tip of his cock slid against the texture of your mouth’s muscle, his movements hysterical as he had chased for his second climax, “Such a good girl,” he said while his cock had repeatedly twitched in your opening with his passionate moans curving into vehement trembling whines, his body hunching forwards as he continued to fuck your throat, his thrusts becoming weaker and stiff while his heated load poured into your mouth.

His sticky load coating the walls of your threat, leaving your mouth full with his juices, and once he had slid his shaft from your lips, you had swallowed. “Should’ve warmed me,” you whispered and with his thumb against your lip he had swept his residue from your mouth and gently shoved his digit coated with his cum into your mouth.

“I should’ve?” He teasingly asked and with faux scrutiny you had pouted at him. “Don’t make that face Babydoll,” he whispered, “You upset makes me upset, turn around let me make you happy.”

Obedient, you had felt his thumb pull out of your mouth and then you had turned around, your ass facing him while he moved his hand to the edges of your hips, gently moving you up and closer to his hard cock, the curved tip of his length gently stroking against your wet heat, “Ready for me? No tapping out okay, you have to take it for me.”

Faced down, you had pressed your face against his pillows aware of the rough pressure you’d have to experience. “Yes,” you had whimpered, “I won’t tap—ah!” You cried out, his shaft expanding the tightness of your cunt with no warning, you had bit your lips, how you’ve loved being pounded by his cock and how you knew you were his, your stomach had tightened, your heat grpping around his width as he began at a slow and soft pace, building up his efforts with every push.

Your teeth gently gnawing against the fabric of his pillows, you could feel his finger press into the meat of your buttocks, possessively holding you close against his as he resumed to jerk his cock into you, his motions now aggressive and quick while he muttered disjointed but lewd words into the room. “You like that huh? Being mine?”

“Yes!” You whined, “all yours!” You drooled, your spit coating a small area of his pillow as you had loudly griped and whined in response to his harsh movements, your buttocks bruised by his possessive handprints, his paw smacking one side of your ass red while chasing his orgasm, the head of his cock colliding against the sponginess of your walls while you had arched your body, your back meeting with his solid chest, moving him to wrap his arms around your waist finding a deeper angle inside your cunt.

“So fuckin’—warm!” He grunted, “so good, roll your hips for me---just like that!” Ghost dragged, “My little slut!” He belittled, “moaning so loud for me, making everyone know you’re being fucked by this cock, huh?”

Desperate, you had nodded your head, your legs trembling as you could feel another climax build, his fierce daggers sending you into an incoherent state just as the swelled sac of his cock had slapped against your skin, he dragged his fingers to your breast, selfishly digging his digits into your boobs while his white load spilled into your sex, his face printing against the crook of your neck as he continued to release himself while resuming to fuck his shaft inside of you.

Racing after your cum, you had hysterically held onto him, the erotic sting of your juices coating his length while your squirt layered the rest of his bed, your moans pinched into an embarrassing wail once he had let you go. “Never break up with me again, okay Babydoll?” He questioned his inquire leaning more into a commanding state that had easily pressed you into an obedience gesture.

“Never again,” you promised.

masterlist

#ghost simon riley #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon smut #simon riley x reader #simon #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x you #smut #lemon

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limonjarritos · 4 months

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I like to imagine that Rody's dreams have one of three causes.

One being the most likely canon: him sensing the vibes and the narrative plaguing him with visions of his future.

Two being: Vincent staring so hard at him through his window that his desires get through to Rody's dreams.

Three: Manon's ghost projecting some sense into Rody's mind.

#dead plate #manon's ghost: maybe if i plague rody with the horrors he'll stay away from vincent- surely he'll get the message #vince: do i put lemon on him or will that muddle the results? if he kisses me after eating a lemon will that elevate the experience?#<- look at my tumblr username. i support vince's lemon preference. i will project.#rody: wow that was crazy! hope it doesnt mean anything!#limon.txt

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little-bumblebeeee · 2 months

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Hot bitches listen to music that'll send grandma into orbit

#will wood #lemon demon #tally hall #bear ghost #she wants revenge #Sub urban #Human zoo #that handsome devil #Hot bitches listen to djo as well #djo #sorry grandma

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wttcsms · 1 year

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lower your inhibitions ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 2k synopsis simon practically begs for you to sit on his face and allow him to relieve some stress; you finally give in. content contains overstimulation, face riding, cum eating, obsessed!ghost, he’s addicted to you and your pussy <3, pet names (love, baby, sweetheart), praise kink notes takes place in the same timeline/au as this fic!

You love Simon, you really do.

How could you not? How could you not fall for him? He’s the one who rescued you from a fate worse than death, the one who washes your body for you even though the both of you know that you’re fully capable of showering alone (he loves you so much, he’s constantly craving to touch you in any way he can), the one who took apart one of his honorary medals for his services and melted it down so it could be manipulated and turned into the band on your engagement ring.

(Did you know that the medal he used is the one he got from the mission where you two first met, the fateful mission where he both saved and changed your whole entire life?)

And you know that Simon would do absolutely anything for you. He whispers it to you in the dead of night, holding you so close to his chest like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. He lets you be the one who removes his mask, and if he can do something so intimately vulnerable, then you suppose you can do this for him.

This is giving into one of his latest fantasies, one that he’s been hinting at for quite some time now.

You know that his line of work is difficult at best and life-threatening all the time. You know that he bears a heavy burden on his shoulders — it’s not just his weaponry and equipment that weighs him down, but the fact that so many lives are resting in his hands. You do your best to relieve him of any stress when he gets home: a warm meal waiting for him, fresh clothes set out for him to change into, long nights where you spend all your time and energy determined to give him the reward he deserves for being a hero.

He mentions it in passing, usually when you’re so far gone in the throes of pleasure that you don’t even consciously acknowledge his little comments. Sneaky bastard; he’s been making sure it stays ingrained in your subconscious, though.

Baby, I could spend forever here. You’re certain that’s what he was groaning out the last time you had spread your legs for him and allowed him to eagerly lap at your pussy. You’re not entirely too sure, though — the only thing you can clearly remember through the foggy haze of intense passion was the feeling of him pleasuring you with just his mouth and bringing you to climax on his tongue at least twice that night.

You can only imagine what he must have planned for you tonight.

You’re sure that Simon has an insane amount of stamina as a result of his work. The only thing keeping you, his little soon-to-be housewife, still alive from all of these little entanglements is the fact that you love him enough to do anything he asks of you. So when he tells you that the only thing that’ll help him take his mind off of his latest assignment is to have you sitting on his face, you oblige.

According to him, this is a foolproof plan because only an idiot would be thinking about something else when he’s got the prettiest pussy in the world on top of him.

You could feel your face heating up at his vulgar compliment, but you’re not entirely innocent. The heat was building up towards the lower half of your body after that comment, too.

And now you find yourself nervously straddling your fiance, looking into his eyes.

“You know where you need to be, pretty girl,” His voice is already thick with arousal, and you recognize that hungry glint in his eyes. You pray to anyone out there who’s listening to pretty please give you the strength to survive tonight.

“B-but Simon—” You’re whispering, even though this house is the only residence in the area. (Thank God for that; if the two of you had neighbors, they surely would have filed a noise complaint.)

“Yes, my love?” You can recognize the teasing tone in his voice, and you can hear the smirk he must be wearing on his face.

“How am I supposed to… You know, get on your face and let you do what you want when your mask is still on?”

His infamous balaclava with the skull design etched onto the fabric seems to taunt you. It doesn’t scare you, especially since you’re well aware of who the man behind the mask truly is, but you can’t quite figure out why he hasn’t taken it off yet.

“Oh. I didn’t tell you yet?” He has to be smiling underneath the mask because your reaction to his next words is enough to have him chuckling.

“I’m not eating you out ‘til you’re so wet for me that I can feel you dripping through the mask.”

You immediately freeze up, wondering if he truly means what he just said.

(It’s Simon; of course, he meant every word of it.)

“Sweetheart, I thought you were going to be a good girl for me tonight.” The disapproval he douses his words with isn’t real — you know he’s just trying to tease you because it’s what he loves to do. Still, you find yourself nodding your head and slowly but surely making your way up his resting body before you find yourself hovering uncertainly above his face.

You let out an adorable little yelp of surprise as he suddenly grips the back of your thighs and forces you down on his mask-covered face. For a man his size, the strength isn’t surprising, but it’s his stealth and dexterity that always catches you off guard.

“Can’t wait to taste you.” His voice sounds muffled now due to the pressure being applied to his mouth, and you can feel the slight movements of his mouth despite the thick fabric of his balaclava acting as a barrier between you and him. His eyes are already deepening with desire, and you swallow hard, knowing that it’ll please him if you truly give it your all. You’ve known him for what feels like forever, and you’re engaged to the man. There’s no more room for shyness to take root in this relationship.

It’s time for you to lower your inhibitions.

Your first movements are a bit uncertain, but his groan of appreciation acts as reassurance. You move back and forth slowly, carefully grinding against the mask, and occasionally, your clit will brush against the covered tip of his nose, only adding to your pleasure and allowing you to give into your depravity without worry.

“Just like that, love. You’re doing so well for me.” You can barely make out the words he’s saying, but you give him a shaky smile as you continue to grind against him, your hands finding purchase on the pillow he’s resting his head on. You grip it, trying to hold yourself steady as you continue to buck against him, your arousal practically leaking out of you, a constant stream of juices that is soaking through the fabric, leaving a distinct wet stain on the front of it.

Simon grins at a mission successfully accomplished. Not only can he feel your arousal through the mask, but you’re so soaked for him that he’s certain he can taste you already, too.

One strong hand grips your waist, pausing your jerky movements, and you look down, blinking and trying to ground yourself into reality. You watch as he uses his other hand to tear off the balaclava, tossing it somewhere on the floor of your shared bedroom.

His chin and lips are already shining just the slightest — just how wet for him are you? He gives you a cheeky grin, and you’re still so close to him that when he speaks, his lips brush against your slick folds.

“Don’t stop now, darling. You promised you’d sit on my face.”

He’s so close to helping you get rid of the ache in between your legs, and you find yourself lowering yourself fully, your soft thighs encasing his head, and your soaking cunt landing right on his mouth. You’re already leaking all the way down to his chin, and his groans of pleasure only serve to make you even wetter.

He can’t speak right now; not when he’s too occupied with the meal you’ve so generously decided to grace him with. The room is filled with the obscene sounds of him lapping up everything you’re spilling out.

His tongue slides through your entrance with ease, and you moan in ecstasy, throwing your head back as you start to instinctually buck against his face, practically riding his tongue.

He’s sucking up your arousal, eager to please you but also insanely happy at the position he’s finally in. This is exactly what he needed: pure, unadulterated access to your pussy. Your thighs are surrounding him, and he uses both hands to squeeze harshly at your ass. The slight pain only makes you squeal and jerk up just the slightest, but he growls before forcing you back down on his face, right where you belong.

The ministrations of his tongue are entirely too much. The noises the two of you are making sounds as if the two of you are filming a porno, and you know you can’t last much longer.

Using both of your hands, your fingers curl into the thick locks of his hair, tugging just enough to him groan against your pussy, and you mewl out his name as you cum all over his face.

Your body feels like jelly; this isn’t the first time that Simon has fucked you boneless before, but this orgasm was intense. You think you can still feel some aftershocks of it, and you moan out weakly as you struggle to remain in your seated position on his face.

He’s still lapping everything up, his tongue still exploring every centimeter of yourself you have to offer him. After that climax, your poor pussy is feeling too sensitive, and every time he slightly moves his head, his nose continues to bump against your clit. You’re ultra-aware of every movement of his, extra susceptible to every flick of his tongue and the pleasure is only painfully heightened. You’re too weak to fight him off and while giving in will surely leave you unable to leave the bed all day tomorrow, you can’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop.

“Si-mon.” You whine out his name, but it comes out garbled and broken. Your mind doesn’t know how to react to the constant pleasure he’s inflicting on you and your sensitive little cunt. Your body, though, is eager to receive more of what he has to offer. It’s evident in the way your hole starts to clench around nothing every time he teasingly withdraws his tongue to force you to beg him for more. Even though you feel like you’re unable to move, you still find enough strength left in you to grind against him, rubbing your pussy and spreading your slick all over his face before you cum once again, this one leaving you all the more disorientated.

His visage is a sight to behold: cheeks are flushed red, eyes wild and dark with desire, the lower half of his face stained with your cum and arousal. You should be embarrassed at what a mess you’ve made of your fiance, but he only licks his lips. His eyes almost roll back as he realizes the taste of you will forever be on his tastebuds.

“Taste so good, love.” He gasps out. His hair is messy from the way you’ve shamelessly tugged at his locks. “I need more. You gonna give it to me?”

You’re nodding, but he doesn’t even wait for your affirmation before forcing you down onto his mouth once again.

He wasn’t lying when he made the claim that he could live in between your legs forever. After tonight, you know you’re never going to deny him the chance to prove it, though.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #smut #one shot #drabble #lemon #modern warfare 2

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tp50pi · 1 year

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#ghost trick #i was listening to lemon demon when it came to me #i rlly hope this hasn’t been done yet #it all just kind of makes sense yk like ghost and spirit phone and phone lines and everything #it connects in my head but idk if y’all get it #lemon demon

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mistyresolve · 1 year

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| Give Me One More - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count - 3.9k

Warnings/Tags - explicit, swearing, 18+ ONLY, praise, overstimulation, fingering, hj, spitplay, unprotected sex, creampie

Summary - The reader has never dealt with the heat very well. So when it’s time for sleep and they are having a hard time staying still Simon comes up with a plan to tire them out.

A/N - i am a firm believer that our mr. simon “ghost” riley is a service top, and is really in tune with his partner.

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It was the heat of summer, and it was hotter than the devil's anus. The original plan was to go out for a shopping day with a couple of friends, but it was cancelled for fear of heat stroke. In lieu of that, you stayed inside for the day and eat ice cubes on the couch while hate-watching "Days of Our Lives".

You had sent Simon a text midday to tell him he might have to pick up food on his way home because there was no way you were turning on the oven. He replied an hour later with: “Tacos.” He had also been oh so generous to bring you a slurpy too. The treat was so cold that there was precipitation dripping down the sides. Simon wasn’t able to tell you the flavour but it was a red one (chances were high it was cherry). It stained your tongue and lips that same obnoxious red. Simon had snuck a few sips for himself and he might have gotten away with it if it weren’t for the stain on his own mouth. He had a goofy grin when you confronted him, and he still tried to deny it.

When Simon disappeared into the ensuite to take a shower, you had followed him in. Steam rolled out from the glass but without being asked he turned the tap a little on the colder side for you. You squeezed a little shampoo onto his open palm and he set to massage it into your hair creating a thick lather. Extra attention at the temples and pressure points are the base of your neck. He spun you around to face him before dipping your head back into the water to rinse it all away. He placed a tender kiss on your exposed throat. Despite trying you couldn’t fight the smile back and laced your finger into his hair.

“It’s getting so long,” you commented, tugging at his scalp lightly. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it, you liked him no matter what he did. It was the fact that he never lets it get this long, knowing preferring his hair cropped for it was more comfortable under the mask, “Is it busy at work?” you asked. It would explain the hair and the tired eyes.

You knew what his job description was but never the details. It was both a security and moral issue. The relationship was a little rocky at the beginning when you were first coming to terms with the fact that he couldn’t completely open up to you. He did the best he could but some things he held tight to his chest.

Your gaze shifted to the copious scars and imperfections in his skin. Tracing a finger on a particularly gruesome slash on his bicep. He had told you it was from shrapnel, a rouge sheet of metal from a vehicle. Each time he returned for a mission you checked him for new injury. More often than not there was. Some wounds were smaller, little white lines peppering his arms and across his chest. Like little flecks of glitter against his skin. Some wounds were more harrowing. A few of them were nearly fatal. Like the angry stars that were left behind by bullets. Those ones you always paid extra attention to when you were on top of him. Running your open mouth across his skin.

His dark eyes flicked to your face as he moved to work the conditioner into your hair. You ran your finger up his arm to his lips and the little fading scar there. He’s yet to tell you where that one came from, all he’s said was that it was from before he enlisted. He pressed a kiss to the pads of your fingers.

“It’s picking up, yes,” his voice was rougher, as if it were covered in char and gunpowder. Even today the juxtaposition of your delicacy a juxtaposition to his occupation stuns him.

“Are they going to send you away?” You closed your eyes as the water and soap started to fall over your face. He quickly washed it all out so he could pull you out of the onslaught of water.

“Probably…not for long though. I’ll be speedy this time,” he flashed you a cocky smile, revealing faint lines around his eyes. The identical indents on his cheeks make you cup his face and turn it away from you. He was gorgeous, and sometimes it was a little too much for you to handle.

Once out of the shower, he let you wash any remaining black paint around his eyes with your array of skin care. Envy bubbled up into your chest for the length of his lashes. You let him smell your brand new rose toner, and he agreed when you asked if it smelt like candy. You tried to give him an overnight lip mask, but he swatted your hand away. He quibbled that if anyone found out he let you do that the damage to his reputation would be irreversible.

You padded after him back to the bedroom, and he tossed one of his shirts over his shoulder to you. You slipped into it, catching the underwear he tossed next. You give him a distasteful look. He picked the skimpiest, laciest pair he could possibly find. He had pulled on a loose pair of grey sweatpants, forgetting a shirt. His dog tags flashed as the light from the bathroom hit them. He leaned back against the dresser, resting his elbows behind him. His chosen position allowed you a view of his chest and thick waist. How many times have you run your hands up and down that body? Fingers following each ripple and dip of muscles. You eyed him as you pulled them on, slowly. Very slowly. A muscle in his jaw twitched as his brown eyes narrowed in on the action.

He made to grab at your waist when you hopped out of his reach. “It’s too hot for that tonight.”

He feigned innocence with a languid shrug, his broad shoulders raising and falling, “I wasn’t going to do anything.”

While you finished getting ready for bed he completed his nightly routine making sure all windows and doors were closed and locked. He pulled the sheets back and jumped in, holding an opening for you to slide into. He made a sound of contentment as you melded yourself against him. Wriggling a little more than you needed you.

“Careful, lassie. Play nice,” his accent grew thick as he wrestled with sleep.

“Always,” you purred before turning to face him.

Now that it was night and the sun had gone down, you half expected it to cool. To your dismay, it didn't. You shifted around the bed for an hour before finally kicking the blankets off your legs. A thin layer of sweat beaded on your chest and forehead.

The arm that circled around you, squeezed "Stop your moving," Simon mumbled into your back.

You tried to. For a full minute, you remained still but when another unbearable heat wave hits, you threw his arm off you and spread out on your stomach. Simon half lifts his head and opens a single eye to glare at you.

"You're like a furnace," you push his way from you, his body heat becoming unbearable.

"Are ya calling me hot, lovey?" There was a hint of humour coating his weary words.

"No. I'm saying that you're sweaty. The air is hot," you gasp, then add, "Are you not hot?"

"No," He echoes, "I'm about to kick you to the floor if you don't shut up,"

You groaned a "no" into the pillow. Then you felt a hand lift the hair from your neck, letting cold air onto the newly exposed skin. A delicious chill ran down your back, and a small smile grew on your lips.

"Then stop talking," his hand returned to you but this time to lift the back of your shirt. Again a cool breeze hit your back. You coo at him. Deft fingers run up and down your back, leaving goosebumps rising in his wake.

"We need a fan," you turn your head to him to find his eyes on you.

He flicked your forehead, hard enough for it to hurt and leave a red mark. You cover your forehead in shock. “Stop talking,” he says before turning away from you, “Or I’ll give you something to be all hot and bothered about.”

You freeze, considering. Then shake your head and rise from the bed. Then you kick off the flat sheet that was still tangled around your limbs and kneel on the bench that was situated in front of the window. You opened the window, leaning out as far as you could without the fear of falling out.

“Lift your shirt for me,” You hear from back within the room.

“Just ignore me some more. You did a really good job of it earlier,” You peek back into the room to see him rising from the bed. He freezes mid-motion when he sees that you see him. Then the both of you are moving. You're scrambling off the bench and making a break for the door. He nearly pounced on you, his arm going around your waist and the other around your mouth. He was surprisingly fast for his size. Then he’s lifting you off the ground, your bare legs flailing in the air, and hauling you back to the bed. Your fingers dig into the wrist of the hand covering your mouth.

Then the world is on its side as he tosses you onto the sheets. You erupt into giggles. His hands flip you so you're on your back. Next, he's kneeling between your legs, hoving over you. He lowered his face so it was mere inches from yours, his teeth flashing as he snarls, “You’d make an awful boot, you don't listen to anything I say,”

Resting your hands on his chest stopping him from coming any closer. Biting your lip you wrap your hand around his dog tags, not wanting him to leave either, “It’s too hot, Simon.” you still wrap your legs around his hips, pulling his groin closer to yours.

He tilts his head to the side, the movement predatory. His eyes were impossibly darker from beneath his silken hair. Your breathing hitched at the sight. His eyes flick to the bedroom door, his expression giving away the fact that he was devising a plan.

His hands go to your legs, removing them from around him. You’re about to object when he says, “I'll be right back,” and he vanishes out the door. You strained your ears to hear what he was doing but since he’s trained to remain unseen it was futile.

Now alone, you rise up on your elbows and take the moment to scan the room. Not a single piece of clothing was laying on the floor. The TV neither of you uses had begun to collect dust, and you made a mental note to deal with it later. Behind the TV was a small collection of pictures. Most of them you had taken yourself. Some were taken in secret and sent to you at a later date. Almost all of them were of Simon and yourself. One or two of them were of your late cat.

On Simon’s bedside table was a picture that was taken by your own mother. It was you and him sitting on the stairs to the front porch. You were looking off to something ahead of you, your hands out as you spoke animatedly about something. What you were saying you couldn’t recall now. But Simon was looking directly at you, the softest of smiles gracing his usually snarky mouth, his eyes covered by the ratty blue baseball cap. Lord have mercy, he really was beautiful. You got it framed and snuck it onto the table, he never said anything about it being there, but he never moved it from its original place. In fact, you were pretty sure he adjusted it so it was facing the bed more.

The door creaked open and Simon reentered, closing the door behind him. He with a glass of iced water. He downed half of it before handing the rest to you. You greedily finished off the rest. Ice tinkled in the glass as he placed it on the table next to the framed photo. Still standing above you he bites down and you hear the crunch of ice. A slick heat pools low in your abdomen.

“Oh,” it’s barely a word as it comes out. Suddenly shy, you shove your hand into the covers to keep from grabbing at him.

“Lay back for me?” it was hardly a question, but you still obeyed him. “Close your eyes.”

With your eyes closed you could hear him come closer to you. A calloused hand roamed to your side, lifting the shirt you are wearing up to just below your breasts. You released a slow breath, moving your own hands to his stomach feeling the hard muscle. Something cold and wet was placed on your bottom lip. You gasped, pulling back from the sensation. Ice cubes, you realize. Your chest rose and fell rapidly.

He left a trail of cold from your mouth to your neck. His own lips, cold from ice water, follow, letting his teeth drag across your skin. You tilt your head back, allowing him access to your throat. You let out a small squeak when he grabs another ice cube, this time tracing a line on your stomach. Goosebumps rose on your skin, and your eyes flew open to look at him. He was looking back up at you, analyzing every line and curve of your face.

"Better?" He said in a low voice. You hummed in response, your hands diving into his hair. "Good. Now shut yer fuckin’ mouth,"

He moves back up and puts his lips to yours, nipping at your lip. You open your mouth to him, his tongue diving in to explore you. Once again you wrap your legs around him, pulling him impossibly closer, tugging at the elastic of his sweats. All thoughts of the heat dissipated in the want of him. He pulled away from your mouth, leaving wet kisses down the length of your jaw, to the hollow of your throat, to your collarbone. It earned him a hard grind of your heat on him.

“Simon,” your voice was breathy and needy.

Then he was moving, lifting you to bring you back to the head of the bed. With his knees locking you in place, he raised above you to help take off your shirt. It disappeared into the shadows, and you were left bare to him, save for the little lacy panties of his choice. He was probably planning this from the beginning.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell” he groaned and ran a hand up from your stomach, trailing between your breasts and landing at your throat. His fingers delicately curled. You arched your back into the touch, eyelids fluttering shut. Again sweat beaded on your chest and forehead, only this time it was from a different time type of heat. Simon mumbled something as he brought his lips back to yours, but it was far too low for you to catch. The free hand drifted down the apex of your thighs, his finger digging into the bundle of nervousness there. The sound that came out of your mouth merely motivated him.

“Please,” you plead, grabbing his wrist with one hand, not to take it away but to make sure he doesn't remove it. He was silent as he worked you, little touches and small, tight circles. He wanted to observe all that he did to you.

If it weren’t for the slight tremble in his breathing you might have assumed he wasn’t enjoying this. That and the excitement shining in his brown eyes. His restraint was always impressive, but you wanted to see him snap.

Reach down between you and press your palm against the hardness hiding under his sweats. You traced the outline of his cock causing him to stumble in his movements, and eliciting an all male moan. His head fell to your shoulder.

“Slow,” he whispered into your skin, his breath fanning across your neck. Agonizingly slow you slipped your hand into his pants. He jerked at the touch. “Shit.”

He rocked his hips into your hand, timing it perfectly with his fingers. You squeezed around the head, and a dirty dirty sound escaped him. His fingers halted for a second before he could find his mind again. This time he shifted your panties to the side, dipping into your arousal, and coating his thick fingers.

“Jesus,” he muttered, looking down at his hand, “you dirty little thing. What do you want?”

“You,” you dragged a finger up this length.

“Nuh uh, tell me. Use your words,” he made a single teasing circle around your clit.

“I want your fingers inside me,” the words came out quicker than you expected them to. “Please.”

“Atta girl,” he’d be damned if he didn’t oblige you. Slowly moving a single finger inside, allowing you time to adjust. When you were ready you shifted your hips, leisurely rolling them. “There you go. Show me how you like it.”

He pumped once, twice. Added another finger. Then matched your rhythm, curling his fingers so they hit that one spot every time he dragged his fingers back out. Your hands continued with their own adventure, tugging his pants down just enough to free his cock. It knocked against his stomach, twitching when you grabbed him again. He sucked in a tight breath.

“Just like that, good girl,” he groaned. His fingers picked up speed and so did your hand. Both chasing an apex.

All you could manage was a strangled mess of words in response. You lifted your eyes to his only to see he was already looking at you. His brows taught with pleasure. Then a brash grin appeared. He removed his fingers from you, and you almost slapped him. The thought vanished when he shoved those same fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. A silent command to open up. You opened your mouth and he leaned forward to spit. The sound of it was lewd, but you revelled in it. You whimpered before closing your mouth around his digits and sucked, running your tongue underneath and between them. Showing him what you’d do if he put his cock in your mouth instead.

“Put it in,” he gritted out if only to keep from whining. He pushed your panties off to the side again, allowing you access. You rubbed him around the wetness to make the entry easier. He was big, sometimes a little too big. Any bit of assistance you had you used when it came to him. Then you guided him in, biting down on his fingers to mediate the pain. He took his time, adjusting himself so he could place one hand on your hip and the other tangling in your hair.

You moaned in unison as he bottomed out. You reached out to grasp his face, pulling it to yours to catch him in a hot open mouthed kiss. Teeth gnashing and tongues darting out to lick and breathe each other in. His fingers tightened on your hip, hard enough that little finger shaped bruises would appear tomorrow. The hand that was previously in your hair moved to your thigh, pressing your leg out and down into the bed, allowing him deeper inside your cunt.

The room was filled with his guttural moans and your deprived whines. Along with the wet slapping sounds of him thrusting into your heat. You tightened around him and took that as a sign you were close because his movements became faster and deeper. One hand slapped over your mouth because you knew this apex was going to make you scream. You were already shaking, bucking against him. Your other hand grappled at the sheets, pulling at them in desperation. He shifted, bringing his knees underneath you so your hips were elevated, and both hands were at your hips, bringing you onto him. The position made it so he’d hit your g-spot, and that was the end of you.

“Cum for me baby,” he huffed as he watched you stiffen and your eyes rolled. Your vision goes momentarily, and your back bowed off the bed. All followed by a choked sob. A hand flying to where you connected, pressing against his abdomen to try and slow his relentless pace. Before you were able to completely come down from the orgasm, he flipped you onto your stomach. “Give me one more.”

You mewed at him. His hand made a quick swipe along your cunt making you jolt and shoved himself back inside. He lifted your hips off the bed so you were on your knees. You were acutely aware of the slick that leaked down the inside of your thighs. With your ass still up for him you slid your upper half back down onto the bed, muffling your moans into the bed. He braced both his hands beside your head, the position reminding you just how much bigger he was than you. He captured one of your hand's underneath his, fingers intertwining. You used your free one to get underneath you and rub your clit. He noticed the action and lulled his forehead so it was resting on your back, his cock twitching inside of you. His own hand possessively replaced yours between your legs.

Let me take care of you, it said.

You wrapped around his wrist, in case you needed to pull him away as you were nearing overstimulation. His breath fanned across your neck, and his lips found your skin. Sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin just below your ear.

It felt like he was everywhere, engulfing you. All but one pillow had ended up on the floor, and you pulled it into your face, biting at the fabric as yet another climax hit you. It wasn’t long after you that Simon followed, his pace stuttering as he filled you. His last couple thrust harder and more desperate than the rest. He stifled a whimper and the sound of your name on his lips was like ecstasy.

“Shit,” he said under his breath. Eyes watchful as he pulled out of you, and more specifically his cum leaking out. He dragged a finger up your cunt, catching it all before shoving it back inside. “Mm’my god.”

You pulled away from his touch, even the slightest pressure right now would make you sob.

“I love you,” he turned you onto your side, his hand gentle on your skin. Skimming over your curves.

“I love you more,” you teased, pushing his hair back away from his now-damp face. Your heart skipped at the sight of him. When he was completely at ease like this he looked so youthful. Every worry and burden lifted off his shoulders ever so slightly.

“Want a wet cloth?” he leaned into your touch, before pulling away when you nodded.

He returned with a warm, damp cloth. Wiping at you as gently as he could, then moved to your thighs, and stomach. Your face heated when you realized he was covered in your arousal too. The V leading down to his manhood was glistening with it. Although he didn’t seem to care it made you a little sheepish.

“Maybe another shower,” you said, sitting up and pulling him back into the bathroom.

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