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bi-writes · 3 days

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she's so cute, the poor thing. what the fuck is he supposed to do with a pretty girl like this? (18+, a little smidge of dark!simon)

she's so dumb. she nods when he talks, says yes, simon, yeah when he asks her if he can take her home. she purrs yes, simon, m-more when he buries his masked face between her thighs as he makes her ride his covered mouth. she sings when he touches her, cries when his gloved fingers fuck her open, and she whines s-so good, simon, please, more, simon when he bottoms out into her soft cunt with all of his clothes still on.

vest strapped, thigh holsters still buckled, cargo pants still around his waist, nothing but his belt buckle open and his zipper down when he fucks you into the cushions of your couch. you're drooling, positively cock-stupid, bouncing with the rough rhythm he keeps. it's salvation, coming home to a pretty girl underneath him, and he wants to hold you hard enough to make you bleed when he grips the meat of your hips and watches your ass push back against him.

so dumb. so stupid. the prettiest girl he has ever seen, and she has no idea what it is that fucks the shape of them into her so that they will know if someone else has been here. she has no idea what the thing on top of her has done, has no idea how deranged and terrible his mind is, she doesn't know.

she never asked how he knew where she lived. she never asked how he knew which button to press in the elevator. she never asked how he knew to turn left instead of right. she never asked where he got that key, or why it worked when he opened up the door of her flat.

all she asks for is for him to fuck, please, simon--m-more!

she's so cute. she'll do just fine.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon thoughts #dark!simon

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konigsblog · 20 hours

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older boyfriend simon riley thots™...

tw/cw; age difference/gap, alcohol consumption, inexperienced!reader, corruption, authority kink, rookie x lieutenant au. MDNI 18+

;how can simon riley keep his grimey, sinful hands off of your body? so pure, like a lamb.

in comparison to your lieutenant, you're not experienced whatsoever. simon is entering his mid-forties, while you're a little twenty-something year old, fresh to the military.

simon finds your age difference slightly irritating. he'd be lying if he said he didn't get off fantasising about you, to spread your thighs and eat you out, or even fuck you into stupidity. he hates the other recruits, the ones similar in age towards you. he'll talk down on them and will threaten them not to make a relationship in the military, that it's prohibited.

although simon isn't bothered about it being prohibited. he wants you for himself, and will do anything to make sure you're available to him. simon adores how tipsy you get while out with the rest of the team, he grabs your hand and guides you to the bathroom, pushing you against the wall to make out with you messily.

his breath reeks of tobacco and alcohol, his eyelids heavy with delirium as he slides his hand between your thighs and up your skirt. it feels so wrong to be teasing a twenty year old—especially at his age—but god, you're all he can think about, plaguing his every thought and distracting him from concentrating.

it's not your fault he's obsessed with you, but he'll blame you regardless. he flips you around, your back against him, pressed against the door as he begins to lift your dress, unfastening his belt while apologising beforehand. you're too drunk to understand why he's apologising, only realising when he begins to quicken his pace, becoming ruthless with a little thing like you. his thick cock spreads your slick pussy, splitting you open with his thrusts deep and hard, his groans guttural and drunken.

you're so compliant, eager to fit simon's idea of perfection, to be validated by your role model. you wish to be like simon one day, but for now, you're his little fleshlight, serving your purpose and allowing him to use you like a sex toy.

#orla speaks #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost #call of duty ghost #ghost mwii #ghost imagine #tw: age difference #tw: age gap #tw: corruption kink

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raz-writes-the-thing · 2 days

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Still (Call of Duty Drabble)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader 18+

Summary: Simon's always paying attention. Even when you think he's not.

Fic type: rough smut

EVERYTHING: @winchxters

COD: (send an ask to be added to a tag list)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Simon is still. He's always still. But just because he was still did not mean that he wasn't paying attention. No, not at all. In fact, he was usually paying the most attention when you thought he wasn't.

Paying attention to the sway of your ass as you bend over looking for something that's rolled under the couch. Watching the way your thighs tense and un-tense when he squeezes territorially over them as another man looks just a little too long at you. Paying close attention to the reactions he pulls out of you when he flexes his muscles, or hikes his sleeves up past his elbows.

What piques his attention the most is the way your skin flushes and perspires when he puts his mask on. That balaclava underneath and the skull imagery over the top. He notices the way you watch as he paints over his visible skin before he puts the layers on top. Watches as you bite your lip lustfully at him in his uniform- off on another mission. You were worried about whether or not he would return, of course. But he always did. He'd never leave you.

He makes a mental note of your reaction to the mask the first time you see it, and leaves it at that- with you none the wiser he's clocked onto your thoughts.

That is, of course, until he returns and fucks you deep and hard into the mattress, one gloved hand pressing your tummy down while the other holds your leg against his shoulder and plows into you.

You're sure you're crying out with pleasure, unable to help yourself, but you can't hear it. You can't hear anything but the grunts of his pleasure and the slap of his balls against your tight ass. You can't see anything beyond those socket holes of his mask, eyes glinting at you from underneath.

He fucks you ragged- just a toy for his pleasure. Just the way he knows you fucking like it. He likes it, too. Likes to watch you become absolutely cockdrunk for him, drooling over the sheets as you beg to be choked or manhandled. His pretty baby.

He uses you to get off, roughly thumbing at your clit to make you tighten around him when he gets close. He acts like it's just a coincidence that you cum for him this way, and you find the emotional detachment that much more attractive. You know better, though. He's making you cum because he's a gentleman. Well, that, and he loves the look on your face when he makes you squirt over his hips and navel.

He cleans you up after, wiping you down and forcing you to drink a glass of water. He pulls his gear off and crawls into bed for cuddles. Something that's not rare but not super common either.

Then, when he's sure you're comfortable and content, he will allow himself to fall asleep against you.

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cloudofbutterflies92 · 1 day

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Sweet boyfriend Ghost (dividers by @chloekistune )

Sweet boyfriend Simon who the first time you met sent Johnny and Gaz forward to test the waters to ask for your phone number

Sweet boyfriend Simon who the day you moved in together prepared a candlelit dinner

Sweet boyfriend Simon who, when he's not on a mission, always shows up on his motorcycle in front of your workplace/university to pick you up

Sweet boyfriend Simon who, when you have to choose where to go on holiday, always makes you choose

Sweet boyfriend Simon who during his missions always tries to bring you souvenirs in the places he goes

Sweet boyfriend Simon who whispers sweet words to you during love, reassurances of how you are the most important thing in his life

Sweet boyfriend Simon who spoke to your parents before asking you to marry

Sweet boyfriend Simon who when you said you were expecting a child or wanted to adopt a child he burst into tears because he has always wanted a boy/girl and a family

And now he is there, Sweet husband Simon in your children's room telling stories to make them fall asleep and you feel like the luckiest person in the world to declare yourself Simon Riley's wife.

Tag: @chloekistune @alypink @graveyard-party666 @statichvm @themotherofhorses @priceseyes @cassietrn @onehornedbeast @justasmolbard @kikiharinezumi @starryylies @cyberghostdraws @kaitaiga @moosch @yourluckyoswald @illmetbymoonlight @caelums-fate @ohgeesoap @valyrra @hookhearted

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eiraeths · 19 hours

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making a ghost cosplay and just finished 3d printing his mask

the supports carcass is a little,,, it’s fuckin something

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #call of duty ghost #ghost mw2 #mw2 ghost #ghost mw3 #ghost mwii #ghost riley #ghost simon riley #ghost mwiii

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yawnderu · 7 months

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Sex Pollen — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

girl dinner since my König sex pollen has over 900 notes♡

"That's it, love..." Ghost growls out as he pushes your hips up and down slowly, your warm, wet cunt engulfing his thick dick as his hips thrust up to meet you halfway. Your womb is already full of his cum, yet Ghost is unable to stop, each orgasm seemed to just be making his cock harder and his balls tighter. Being all the way inside you felt too damn good.

"So pretty like this, sweet girl... like you were made to take my fuckin' cock all the way inside that tight little cunt." He muttered between clenched teeth, trying his best not to cum inside you yet. For the first time in his life, Ghost was willingly having sex, and oh God, he can't believe he has been missing out on this. His thrusts were slow and deep, making sure to put your pleasure before his, hitting all the right spots with his fat cock.

"Ghost...—" His name being moaned out by you felt like music to his ears, his eyes narrowing slightly as his grip on your hips got tighter, pushing you faster up and down his dick as your tight walls gripped him, a mix of your cream and his cum coating his length, making a ring on the base of it. Though his face was concealed by the balaclava, you can see his expressive eyes focused completely on your face, basking in the pretty faces you make when you're cock-drunk. You already forgot how many orgasms he's pulled out of you, yet it all feels too damn good to ask him to stop, even when your cunt is abused and fucked-out.

"Fuck— angel, let me cum in you." He pleads for your consent, just as he did the last four times he came inside. "Want to fill you up so good, baby, please." Ghost's eyes roll to the back of his head as you give him your approval, groaning and grunting as he begins to thrust harder and deeper into you, his gloved hands pulling your hips all the way down so his cock is completely inside you as his thick, warm cum fills your womb up.

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ghouljams · 3 months

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The thing is Ghost would be proud to be yours. Proud that you've got a metaphoric collar on him. He'll never get used to it, but he sure as hell loves the feeling of it. Loves coming when you call, loves standing beside you, loves that you're always there when he reaches for you. He's awkward with it sometimes, doesn't have the right script, the right cards to play, but you never seem to mind. He loves you all the more for it.

Call him a dog, call him whipped, call him whatever you want. You're his, and he's yours and that's all that matters. He doesn't want to feel like his father when he's with you, doesn't want to ever make you walk on eggshells. If that means wearing your collar he'll do it, he'd do anything for you. He'll be your dog if that's what he needs to be to love you and keep loving you.

That's not to say he's a doormat, he has teeth, he just doesn't bare them for you. He's still dry and sarcastic, still hauls you over his shoulder when you start arguing with someone bigger than you, still sets you over his lap, still fucks you hard and deep until you're sobbing his name. But if you stop by base to drop off lunch and let a "good boy" slip he wears it with pride.

He is a good boy. He's your good boy.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley cod #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost mwii

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blingblong55 · 3 months

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therapy, maybe? -Simon Riley

R/N: we're dating, of course I'll ask to wear your clothes

Ghost: we're dating, of course I installed tracking apps in your phone so I can see where you are at all times because I'm afraid my enemies are going to kidnap you

R/N: are you being serious?

Ghost:....no it's for the video *camera cuts*

R/N: we're dating, of course I love when you get sick so I can baby you

Ghost: we're dating, of course I gave you that necklace that has a tracker in case you realise you have tracker on your phone and the necklace also has a camera and its not because I don't trust you but because my family was killed and now I fear you're next

R/N: Simon- *camera cuts*

#cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #mwii #ghost cod #incorrect call of duty quotes #cod incorrect quotes #incorrect cod quotes #simon riley cod #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #ghost mwii #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader

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teyamsatan · 6 months

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➸ ʀɪᴅɪɴɢ ʟɪᴇᴜᴛᴇɴᴀɴᴛ!ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴀʀɢᴇᴛ ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ

pairings: simon "ghost" riley x female!reader

a/n: i wrote this for the "praise/degradation" kinktober prompt and it could fit both jake sully and ghost so i decided to publish it for ghost. is it self-plagiarism to just copy paste it and post it for dilf!jake, too? asking for a friend

warnings: pwp under the cut (18+ mdni), pet names (doll, love, princess, kid), implied age gap, slight degradation, some praise, semi-public i guess??

wc: >400 words

ghost masterlist (x)

“Feels… so… good… fuck!”

Bouncing on your lieutenant's cock in a hidden bush after excusing yourself from target practice was not on your list of things to do today, but then again… it never was. But you just couldn’t help it, not when there he was, so fucking hot, giving orders, showing trainees how to shoot all the different guns in the army's arsenal, not when your underwear was uncomfortably sliding against your swollen folds, dripping in slick. The people will be fine practising on their own for a while, right? After all, the target was right there, all they had to do is… aim at it… right?

“Fucking hell, kid…” Ghost's voice was gravelly and low, the thick accent mixing beautifully with the gritty groans that escaped him as you twitched around his length with every thrust that threatened to bruise your already aching cervix. It was maddening, the pace he set, the way he couldn’t help but buck his hips upwards to be even deeper in your tight, soaked pussy, the need to be closer, to feel you, to fill you, ever present and ever growing.

“You look so good taking my cock. So good.”

The best you can do in response is a faint moan, so focused on maintaining the pace he set, thoughts overflowing with how good he felt, how much it all was, how when he pulled the mask slightly upwards and captured your nipple in his mouth, sucking while circling your sensitive clit with his thumb, it all made tears prick at your eyes painfully and free flow down your face as the orgasm drew closer and closer with each passing moment.

“Couldn’t even wait 'til the end of practice, could you? My desperate, needy slut. Always have to have all your little holes stuffed, eh?”

HIs words always had such power to bring you to your knees, or to your orgasm, the feeling overtaking all of your senses, white noise all you were able to see and hear as he continued abusing your convulsing cunt.

“Squeezing me so well, gonna make me cum all over this pretty pussy. But I’m not done yet, love.”

It took no effort on his part to pull you off him and manhandle you in a new position, barely managing to hold your own weight on all fours, so spent and overwhelmed from the onslaught of sensations he was so good at eliciting in you and for you.

“Come on, doll. Face down, ass up. Gotta make sure to fill you up until everyone on that field knows how much you like being fucked until you’re dripping from all sides.”

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honestlyhiswife · 6 months

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i like to think that Ghost is actually softer than he lets on. It’s only natural for him to be defensive, what if somebody uses information about him against him?

But when Ghost truly knows that he can trust somebody, I think that he turns to putty.

Putty in the sense that, he’d mold himself for them, to accomodate them in his life. Making sure that he covers the corner of the table when you bend down to pick something up. Watering your plants that have mysteriously not died in 3 months. Restocking your favourite sweets.

While it may take a long time, his caring tendencies last a long time as well.

in addition:

He thinks you’re oblivious to all this, that you have no idea what’s going on. In reality, you play the part of being oblivious because you know that he enjoys caring for you in subtle ways since he hasn’t mustered up the strength to do it boldly.

Purposefully leaving the Sunday newspaper for him so he can do crossword and sudoku. Eating new sweets so you have an excuse to feed him some. Giving him a really quick peck on the cheek before leaving.

In the end, it’s the small, sweet nothings that amount to everything to him

#honey has the mic #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost mw2 #cod mwii #ghost cod #ghost mwii #cod mw2 #ghost call of duty #i’m so sad i wish he was real #wish he was mine #i was listening to night shift while thinking about him #ghost headcanons #ghost hc #ghost x reader

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bi-writes · 8 hours

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what you want you cannot find. so you let someone else find it for you. (18+, dark!simon x curvy!fem!reader, arranged marriage)

you don't really know what you were thinking when you answered the ad. it is many things, maybe, why you chose to apply. why you were grateful to be chosen.

the loneliness, it aches. you cannot find yourself in anyone else, you cannot find the thing that should move you and hold you. you cannot find what it is that should ignite what is asleep, the thing nestled between your ribs that feels like it beats to a rhythm that you cannot hear.

the bitterness, too. there is something sour that you taste. there is acid under your tongue, something rotten between your teeth, and you wish for anything that you would stop tasting it because it reminds you of how alone you are, how alone you'll remain, the inevitable thing that you wish you weren't but that you unfortunately are.

it is the thing you cannot die for because there isn't anything to die for. you live, and you breathe, and you exist, but there isn't anything there. this is nothing that makes you want to gnaw on your own flesh, there is no life you would take in sake of another, there is no purpose to your existence except the hope that perhaps there is still time to have what you want more than anything.

but you don't know what you want. you don't know because everything that you thought you wanted, you do not want any longer. you never feel anything with other men. they are beneath you. they maim what they shouldn't. they complain about things that they can fix. they stare at a problem head-on, with the solution at their back, and they chase their tails. they do not know their right from their left. you hate them. but you want it. you want something. you want one of them, but you don't know which, so maybe if you don't choose, you will find what it is that you don't know you're looking for.

you're alone in the room. they gave you a bouquet of white roses. you hold them nervously between clammy palms. you wear a silk white dress that skims the floor, fabric falling soft over the curve of your waist and gentle along the swell of your cleavage. your hair is loose, and there is a short veil over your head, covering your face.

you stare at your handler. he's dressed in his military fatigues, tactical vest still strapped with the Union Jack across his chest. he has introduced himself as captain john price, and he is the one who arranged for your arrival. he is the one who told you to wear white, and he is the one who gave you the roses.

captain john price is rugged. captain john price is kind. and captain john price is not what you want. you are grateful that you are not yet disappointed with your match.

the door opens behind you. you straighten your posture that extra inch when you hear his heavy gait. there is a pause as the door shuts behind him, and you see his captain nod to a figure that you cannot see. his boots hit the floor low, and you swallow when the sunlight that comes through the window is blocked entirely by the size of him as he stands at your side.

the vows are short. you say your i do first, soft voice that hits his ears in a way that makes him nearly purr. when it is his turn to say i do, your eyes sparkle. he speaks in such a low voice, a Manchester accent that makes your toes curl in the white kitten heels that you wear. a drawl that you can feel in your chest, an accent that ticks a corner of your brain you did not know was there.

"you may kiss your bride."

you turn away from the captain. you tilt your head to look up at him, and you let out a soft breath when you realize the sheer breadth of this man.

he is barely a man. he must be something else. he is dressed all in black, and he wears all of his gear. his tactical vest is stocked well, magazines tucked into their pockets, a grenade dangling from one strap, a handgun tucked into its holster on his chest and around his thick thigh. his belt is heavy with more, knives in sheathes, devices in their places. even without all of the weight, you know the size of him won't shrink.

you cannot see his face. he covers it with a mask, one that resembles the front face of a skull. it is dirty. you aren't certain if it is blood or soot or dirt. maybe it is all of that and more. you cannot see his eyes through the veil either, but they are dark, and they are intense.

you keep your eyes fixed on his as he lifts your veil. the delicate fabric settles over your head, and you see him without obstruction.

there he is.

it is like seeing a man for the first time. it is like being in the presence of the dream you've always had and could never remember.

he tilts his head to the side, curious. he is seeing your face for the first time, too. soft eyes. glossy lips. the curve of your mouth. the untouched skin of your cheeks, the unmarred flesh that you wear. he follows the line of your throat to the peek of your tits dressed in silk. you are a present wrapped in luxury. hand delivered goods, of the finest quality.

his bride. his wife. something he will have forever. he does not know if he has ever been able to say that about anything else. he's never had anything except for his life. nothing except for himself has ever belonged to him, but even now, not even his life is his own, it belongs to someone far away, someone in an office somewhere, who moves the chess pieces of his world around, where he cannot do anything but follow.

you stand on your toes to get closer to him. he thinks for just a second you will ask him to remove his mask, but you don't. you cant your head, and you kiss him over the mask, sticky gloss leaving a light imprint on the fabric. you settle back onto your heels, and your breath hitches when one of his gloved hands comes to settle at the dip of your waist.

"she's all mine now, eh, cap'n?"

you blink, your eyes still on his. you don't move, and you don't say anything. you wonder, if you could see his face, if he would smile.

"all yours, simon."

you let him drag you closer, shuffling on your feet until your hips press against his. your back arches gently as he uses both hands, gripping you around the middle and feeling the soft flesh underneath your silk dress. he is a rabid dog, his next meal at his fingertips. she is his, and he wants to take her home. if his captain was not standing at his back, he knows he would take you on this very floor.

she is mine. she is mine. she is mine.

he has studied your picture. he has memorized your name. he has been waiting for you. he is too awkward to leave base. he is too quiet to attract birds, birds that matter, birds that sing. he is too ravenous to be anything but permanent, he isn't capable of the mundane, of casual. it is everything or nothing at all, and at the sound of permanence, he foamed at the mouth.

at the thought of something to keep, he was blinded. when beasts lose control, they call their keeper, and he had none. this change could be good. this change would do him well. when he ignores the order of a commanding officer, he will bend to yours, because he is bound, wrapped, tied to you with something invisible that weaves between his bones.

you do not know what you were before, but you know what you are now.

you follow after him. he turns to leave, and you let him lead. your heels click as you walk, and when it is hard for you to keep up, you reach for his hand. he grunts when you do, but he doesn't push you away. you hold wilting roses in one hand, and you clutch him in the other. recruits and privates stop to salute or step out of your way, and they stare when they see a trailing angel behind their lieutenant, a pretty girl in a pretty white dress with a veil fluttering against the breeze as you try and keep up with your husband's long strides.

the door he stops in front of is plain and unmarked. he fits a key into the lock, turning it and opening it, and he invites you over a threshold that no one else has ever stepped over. you stand on the other side, holding the roses to your chest. he turns when you don't follow him inside. you get a glimpse of him as a whole, the man that he is, big and menacing and taken. you wonder if he will wear his ring under his glove or if he will put it on the chain that holds his dog tags.

"is this where you live?" you ask. you stay on the other side, looking in, a little timid as you stand there.

he nods, silent. he crosses his arms over his chest, and you admire the bulge of them, the paint of skeleton bones along the fingers of his gloves. you look him up and down before smiling a little.

"is this where i will live, too?"

he shakes his head, a no.

"can't have a thing like y'here," he murmurs. "boys'll eat y'up."

you tilt your head to the side.

"i find that hard to believe," you quip. "do people often eat what's yours, lieutenant?"

he snarls, narrowing his eyes. "no one takes wot's mine."

"then what are you so afraid of?"

"that 'f y'r 'ere, i won't get any fuckin' work done."

you break out into a big smile, pearly white teeth flashing, and he clicks his tongue at your reaction. he reaches up and lifts his mask, pushing it up until it rests over his nose. his nose is crooked from being broken so many times. his face is scarred, as if someone took a blade and carved out the skin and muscle. a deep one stretches from somewhere under the mask to his lip, where it looks as if the skin was haphazardly stitched back together. another long jagged grey streak comes over the line of his cheek down his jaw, as if someone tried to peel his face off.

he grins. it's ugly and unsettling, as if he sees prey that he knows he will catch. your own smile does not fade. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you want to taste him. beast, bear, killing machine, the boogeyman, a ghost that haunts, you do not know exactly what he is, but you know, immediately, that he is what you have been searching for.

you do not know him. you do not love him yet, but you will. you are sure of this. you are sure that he is missing piece. he will fill the spaces that you have always felt hollow. he will scratch a place in your head that has always itched. there is something in his eyes, you're not exactly sure what it is, but you can't wait to discover it. you can't wait to explore, to indulge, to lick the salt of his skin and know that everything he is has been waiting for something like you.

you did not choose him, but he chose you, and now you see it clearly. you see this thing, and you know the truth of what's been hiding from you all your life. the curtain has been taken down. the veil is off. the walls are invisible.

"come 'ere," he says lowly. "won't ask so nicely next time."

you drop the flowers onto the floor, crossing the doorway. you kick the door shut, hearing it click, and he comes closer, until you can feel his breath fanning your nose.

"will you love me?" you ask, wringing your hands together nervously. "do you think maybe...do you think maybe that's possible?"

he licks over his teeth, humming. he leans down, knocking your chin up, and your breath hitches when he licks up the side of your jaw, taking in a whiff of your perfume and the sweetness of his bride.

"what a stupid word," he mutters, biting at the curve of your bottom lip. "meaningless. love. bloody hell."

"w-what...what?"

"a meaningless fuckin' word for the things i would do for ya," he continues. "the things i would kill. the heads i would step on. the sorry fucks i would get rid of...just to see y'smile."

your eyes flutter. yes, yes, yes--the unconditional devotion. the terrifyingly beautiful reality of through sickness and in health, until death do us part.

"is it really that easy, simon?" you ask. his gloved hands slip over your throat, sliding low and skimming the silk of your dress before he cups both sides of your ass and squeezes, drawing you closer until you are uncomfortably pressed up against him. his gear digs into your softness, sharp edges cutting into you, but you ignore it as he begins to draw up the skirt of your dress. "is it really that easy to say you'll do all of that for me? isn't it...it's wrong, isn't it? to do those things for me?"

he laughs. humorless, condescending. as if that is the stupidest thing you could have ever said.

"'s olright, swee'eart. gonna take all those ideas outta y'r pretty lil' head."

you relax when you feel his gloved hand under the hem of your white lace panties. your eyes shut, and you reach forward and grip his vest for stability.

"christ..." he hisses. "y'r soaked..."

you are. you have been since you first laid eyes on him, on everything he is. you know why you are here, and he knows why he is here, and that is because there were two people so desperate to find one another, that they let someone else choose. the gods, fate, whatever they want to be called.

matched by design, together by choice.

you lean forward and kiss beside his lips, and you whine when his big fingers slide between your folds, soft on your clit before he fits two fingers inside of you. his gloves are warm, and you wet them easily.

"wot a good girl," he breathes. "knew y'were the right one."

"y-you did?"

"could see it in y'r eyes, dove. could see wot y'needed. could see it plain as fuckin' day. dyin' inside, just like me, aye?"

you shake your head.

"n-not anymore...not anymore..." you gasp, and he tsks as he steps backward, the weight of him heavy as he takes a seat on his perfectly made bed, bringing you with him. you fall into his lap, unafraid to because you know someone of his size can carry you easily, and he hums as you spread your thighs apart. you straddle him, pressed up against the gun holstered to his chest, and you moan softly against his scarred face as he fucks you open with three unforgiving fingers.

"not anymore," he echos, baring his teeth as he pumps his hand. the squelch of it is filthy, but it isn't enough. he wants you to soak his arm, his thighs, his bed, let the slick of you stain him from the outside in. "not anymore. not as my wife."

you scramble. you rip the veil out of your hair, untie the corset of your dress. there's a naked angel in his lap, perky tits and soft figure, giving way to the gorgeous place you keep hidden by white, wet lace. the place that is his, the place that belongs to him, a pretty pussy that will keep him satiated until he breathes no longer.

after he tears apart his enemy, he will have you. after he tastes the blood he desires to see run, he will have you. the adrenaline, the fire, the shout of every order and the sound of their cries, it won't exist anymore in this place, he knows it.

"y'll never want for anythin'," he mutters. "y'll never be lonely. always get wot y'want...wot y'need...wot y'deserve..."

you reach up and cup his cheeks gently, pressing your mouth to his as you ride his fingers eagerly. you want him, you want this, you want all of it, even if it isn't what's right. but something brought you here, right into his arms, and this is what you deserve.

he's not even human, you don't think. he must be something else. with how good he makes you feel, with the sheer precision that he rocks his fingers into you, the way he smiles, he must be made of only something synthetic, something not organic.

you feel so small underneath him. he tosses you onto the bed, your head hitting the pillow gently. you giggle, and his grin widens. he has a warm pink tongue, and it's between his teeth, and you giggle again when he moves his head from side to side, staring down at you. he's studying you. you assume he has seen photos of you, but this is his first time seeing his bride for all that she is. soft, pretty, unscathed by war. at least on the outside--but on the inside, you are not as you seem.

there's a parasite in you. something that slithers behind your eyes and settles in that corner of your brain that only he can touch. he knows that feeling well. he feels it every time he is in the field, and he feels it now, with you. he chases this tick when he works. it knocks his senses just right, makes him feel good and big, like the reaper that he really is. he can be this with a rifle in his hand, and he can be this without it, with the weight of his wife in his hands.

you smile, biting your lip, and you spread your legs for him. his eyes fall between your thighs, and he chuckles. he brings his gloved hand up to his mouth, the one that smells like you, and you watch as he slips it inside, sucking on it for a moment before he uses his teeth to take both gloves off.

he bends, still in all his military glory, and he sticks his tongue out, licking a fat stripe up the seam of your cunt, using one thumb to pull the puffy lip apart and suckle on your clit for just a moment.

you gasp, arching your back, and he stands to his full height again, laughing.

"oh, y'taste sweet," he purrs. "y'taste good. hard t'believe i'll have this cunny for m'whole fuckin' life."

"believe it, baby," you coo, and he sighs. he nods his head, reaching low, gripping himself through his cargo pants and squeezing his cock. you follow his movements, watching him pay special attention to the tip of him, running his finger over where you guess the slit is as he watches you squirm. "why are you so far away, simon? don't you want me?"

he laughs again, smiling wide, and he nods.

"course i want ya, swee'eart. who wouldn't want ya, huh? who wouldn't want this?"

you meet his eyes. the question is a sound one, but it never mattered that you were wanted, what mattered is that you never wanted. not really. not until now.

you watch him as he reaches for his zipper. he undoes it easily, unbuttoning his pants and shoving them low. they won't go very low, thanks to the holsters around his thighs, but it's enough that you watch his cock stand at attention, the red tip of him leaking down the sides, making the bulging vein on the underside of him shine.

you whine a little, and he growls happily, watching as you cup the swell of your tits and squeeze them in anticipation. perfect, perfect, perfect girl, practically a mail-order bride that checks every single fucking box.

he grips you by the thighs, yanking you to the edge of the bed. you whimper when he slides the tip through your folds, letting it catch at the entrance before smirking down at you.

"'s big," you hiccup, and he tsks, shaking his head.

"y'can take it, swee'eart," he murmurs. "y'r a riley now, luvvie. y'know what tha' means?" you shake your head, your eyes a little watery, and he smooths a hand up your sternum, gripping you around the throat gently. "gonna find out...gonna find out how well a riley takes wot they're given."

"simon--"

"'s alright, luv, we'll start nice, yeah?" he breathes. you grip onto his forearms when he feeds you his cock, slowly, and your back bows at a sharp angle as you squeeze him for everything he is. "fuckin' hell...yeah, just the tip, yeah? oh, good girl..."

good girl, yeah...i'm a good girl--

you cry out, digging your nails into him when he mutters fuck it and bottoms out. his palm flattens just under your belly button, a choked groan leaving him as he presses down, a rush of something fucking glorious running down his spine. it's a high--he's so fucking high, as if he is popping fucking pills.

"feel me here, yeah?" he drags his hips back, smoothing a hand further up your stomach until he paws one of your tits, squeezing it firmly. you nod, sliding your hands up his arms, fisting the fabric of his mask at the base of his neck. you feel him everywhere, you feel him in your chest, running down your spine, you feel him in your mouth and in your head, and it feels so good, it feels so so so so good.

"yes--yes!" you gasp. fuck, he's huge, he's putting a shadow over you. you're naked, bare underneath him, and his gear rocks with every thrust, and it's filthy because you wonder if he worked, you wonder if he didn't even change before he went to marry his perfectly-picked bride, you wonder if he got off the tarmac not even an hour after killing his target to go and take what is his.

how long ago was it that he last fired his weapon? the gun on his chest, did he use it before he saw you?

i bet he did. i bet he used it. i bet he smoked the cigarette that i smell on him, and i bet he came here, and then he married me, and now he's all mine, and he's fucking me six ways to fucking sunday--

you think you're drooling. your lips are wet, and with every smack of his hips against yours, you feel a little more trickle down the side of your face. you're moaning, gripping his neck, pulling him further down on top of you. you want him all around you, you want him inside, you want him to come every day wearing this terrifying fucking uniform and to fuck you so stupid, you forget everything except for the name he has given you.

you want to know nothing except for his name. simon. riley. simon. riley.

you want to know nothing except for what you are. his wife. his wife. his wife.

it's so hard to remember to breathe. his hands grip you tight around the hips, and he's losing momentum, hissing, letting out choked groans as he brands the shape of his cock into you. he never wants you to forget what he feels like--he never wants you to know anything except for him, for the rest of your life.

"simon--" you whine, and he smirks, reaching up to hold your face in one big hand, keeping you still as you chase the grind of his pelvis against your puffy clit. "simon--!"

"tha'sit, luvvie...yeah..." he nods, "look at me--look at me," he leans down, a big weight over you, suffocating you, "good girl, yeah..." he clicks his tongue, "cum f'me, swee'eart. cum f'y'r husband, yeah?"

you lean up, chasing after him, gripping onto the sides of his face as you kiss him hard. it is the first time you really kiss him. slotting your mouth over his, slipping your tongue into his mouth, the sting of your wedding ring cooling his warm face as you taste him for the very first time.

it is gone. the bitterness that you always taste, the acid and the sourness and everything that always is so unpleasant under your tongue, it is gone when you have him. he takes it out of your mouth completely, and you chase after this just as you chase after the harsh grind of your clit against his pelvis.

he is carrying you. you're lifting, coming over some kind of sweet, exhilarating euphoria, and you're blinded by it, by the feeling, by him. you want more, more, you want it all, and he said you could have anything you want, that you'll never need anything ever again, he said, he said, he said--!

he laughs when you come. he swallows your moans, hisses when you soak his pants. you are the prettiest thing he could ever hope for, the personification of the things he does not deserve and could never have, and it is selfish that he has taken you this way, but he does not fucking care.

the things we cannot have are the sweetest, the most desirable. and simon is nothing if he isn't a thief.

he is nothing if he doesn't just take what he wants. he likes to think that perhaps he adopts the "ask for forgiveness, and not for permission" philosophy, but he does not ask for forgiveness. and he has never asked for permission.

"please--simon--" you gasp, looking up at him. your eyes are wet, and a few tears wet his hand around your face. "please--inside me, please..."

"'s olright, luv--" he grunts, pumping faster, his pretty little wife just begging for him, for more, and how could he say no to that? "easy, baby...i'll give it t'ya, don't worry, fuck--" he hisses, "lieutenant's wife gets woteva she wants..."

"please--inside--" you choke. "simon, inside, i-i want it inside--"

fuck, that is all he needed. he nestles deep, pressing his hips to yours, and you kiss him once more when you go blind again. a second high, when he stuffs you full. just as you should be. just as you always should be.

"yeah, fuck--" he breathes. "tha' wot y'wanted, yeah? nice and full, good girl..." he licks his lips, standing up straight, and just when you think he is pulling out, he yanks you back towards him, cum leaking down your thighs as you cry out from being so sensitive.

"simon!" you gasp, giggling, and he grins, patting your ass gently before pulling out. you let your knees fall onto the cot, swallowing hard as you watch him tuck himself back into his pants and zip them up. he brings the mask back down, and you watch as he slips his gloves back on. "hmm..."

he tilts his head to the side, sighing as he watches you settle there. something warm settles in his stomach, something satisfied.

"like havin' y'in my bed," he says lowly. "look nice there."

you smile, and he holds out one hand, beckoning you to sit up. you do, slowly, a little shaky as you try and compose yourself, and he leans down and kisses you through the mask. you close your eyes, humming, leaning into his touch.

"so i can stay?" you ask, and he chuckles.

"mmm...y'r so cute, luvvie..." he rumbles. "a doll, yeah? can't say no to ya."

you look down at the ring on your finger, a solid gold band complete with a precious diamond. you will have to get used to this--you are his wife, you can ask things of him, and you don't think he'll say no.

you look up at him when he tosses something at you. an army green shirt of his, and you slip it on, letting the fabric fall, and you lay back down in his cot as he moves around his room. you lay in comfortable silence, watching as the thing that calls himself your husband looks for files on his desk, adjusts the gun strapped to his thigh, shuffles his boots across the linoleum. you are mesmerized by what he is, and you haven't known him even a day.

you don't believe this is your vision askew. the honeymoon phase. the sugary sweet moments in time at the beginning where nothing is wrong, where all is well. simon riley is a practical man. he does not lie. he does not do things he does not want to do, and he does not say things he does not want to say. he is not in the business of comfort and ease, that much is clear to you.

simon riley is practical and resourceful. you think maybe he counts his words. that he doesn't say more than he has to. waste his energy on things that don't require it.

his wife. i'm his wife. his wife.

"why..." you swallow. "why...why did you pick me?"

he pauses as he stands in front of a locker. when he opens it, you see shelves of personal weapons stashed away, handguns of different sizes and shapes, knives of differing steel, toys that with a small push of a finger could destroy whatever building they went off inside. you don't flinch, don't blink, don't feel fear. you don't know why, but you just don't. you don't think it's possible.

he doesn't look at you as he surveys what lines the walls of it.

"just knew y'were the one f'me, swee'eart," he mutters. he shuts the locker, and the lock clicks. he comes closer, twirling a small blade between his fingers, and you don't cower away when he flicks it towards you, holding your chin up with the sharp tip of it. he hums appreciatively at this. "in all honesty, had no idea really until i saw ya, 'f you'd be mine."

he bends down, leans close, and you follow the curve of the blade with your head, keeping your eyes on his. there is no timidness in your gaze, and for that, he beams under the mask. perfection in one woman.

"and what would you have done if i wasn't the one?"

he shrugs.

"would've killed ya, luv."

"just like that?"

"just like tha'."

the tip of his blade drags, sliding up the length of your throat, along the line of your jaw. your lips part as he traces your mouth with it, and you tilt your head to the side as you trace the edge of it with your tongue. he leans forward more, pressing his forehead to yours, and you can see where the eye-black around his eyes fades into his pale skin under the balaclava. you see yourself in those eyes. the you that you have been waiting for. the you that you have missed for your entire life. the you that has been hiding, too scared to come out, too afraid of what might be said if someone saw the real you.

she had not been hiding. just lying dormant, in someone else, waiting for you to come home.

you smile, big, and simon presses his mouth to yours again through the mask, kissing you there, growling from deep in his chest, a purr that only emanates the contentment and the relief he feels because he has found that thing to live for. it is so easy to die. it is so easy to give oneself for what they believe. it is not hard to give the best of yourself away, he knows that.

what he has never been able to do is find something that will keep him alive. he has only ever lived because he found dying pathetic. he found it cowardly. but the alternative had been just as unforgiving, just as unfulfilling. but not this. not you.

you will make it difficult to die. you will make death a challenge. and when he eyes that smile, this one that you give only to him, he is happy to be given this new objective.

"but don't worry y'r pretty head about all tha', luv."

you give him those eyes, and he drinks it all in, all that you are. finally, finally, finally--

"until death do we part, yeah?"

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konigsblog · 3 days

Note

Stepmom reader with stepson simon, lactation kink with a touch of somno?

y’know he's just a single creep perving on his sweet stepmother... 🍼

stepmom!reader x loser!perv!stepson!simon riley. stepcest, somnophilia, non-con/dub-con, lactation kink, manipulation & guilt tripping. dark fiction — DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT MDNI 18+

photo credit: @ave661 🕸️

you feel inclined to be nice to simon despite his perverseness. simon riley will use manipulation and coercion to get whatever he pleases. he refuses to get into a relationship, not bothering to put himself on any dating apps. he sulks and waits for you to sympathise and pity him, offering him a blowjob to cheer him up.

simon spends the majority of his year away at deployment, and god, he can't hold himself back from raping his poor stepmother, groping your fast asleep, limp body. you're stupid for leaving yourself vulnerable. simon doesn't waste a second, he's been dreaming of those titties, fantasising about your milk against his tongue and the familiar, comforting taste.

his calloused and scarred hands grope your soft body. you're left home alone under his perverted gaze, with simon eyeing you up like you're a meal, and he's a starved man. although there is some truth to it; he longs to feel your gummy cunt around his walls once again, unable to hold himself back from easing inside forcefully and brutally.

he plays with your hard nipples and watches as they weep, wet and glossy with your milk running down your breasts, your chest rising and falling with your face confused when you're awoken. you stumble over your words and attempt to protest against him, your attempts futile as simon pleads with you, yelling at you through tears for being selfish, for not allowing him to fuck your pretty cunt for the first time in ages.

you know your husband will be infuriated with you, that it's a lose-lose situation. if you're cheating on him with his son, you'll be thrown out. if you deny simon of your love, care, and affection, then he'll divorce you within seconds.

you need his wealth and care, keeping quiet so your stepson won't snitch on you.

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pokechbi · 9 months

Note

Hi, I hope you’re doing well. Can you do a cockwarming with Ghost please. Maybe he’s doing paper work or something and reader just can’t stay away

Hi Anon! Thank you sooo much for the request! So sorry it took forever, these past couple of weeks have been insane! I hope you enjoy 💗💗

🎀Cockwarming Simon🎀

- Simon Ghost Riley x Fem Reader - 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI! - WC: 1k

When Simon worked, he worked. Absolutely nothing could pull his nose out from those damn papers sprawled about his desk. When he caved himself in his office, absolutely nothing could distract him. If you weren’t bleeding or on fire, he’d continue scribbling away and pushing through his paperwork as if you didn’t exist. You never felt hurt though, because you knew his job as a lieutenant was demanding. You’d seen it first hand as his private. But that never stopped you from trying your absolute hardest to distract him.

You were particularly bored and frustrated on this day. You’d cleaned the house from top to bottom, made dinner and tried busying yourself with watching TV. But nothing could take your mind off of the beast of a man upstairs who could satiate your thirst. It drove you insane. He was just up there, hiding away and hoarding that third leg of his that you couldn’t seem to get enough of. You lie on the couch, picking at your cuticles and biting the skin on your lips annoyedly. You grunt, sitting up. You didn’t know how you would do it, but you’d find a way to pull his focus from that damn work of his. He could spare some time for you, right? You knew it would be no easy feat. But you were determined. Hell bent on getting him to fuck you right there on his desk.

You tip toe up the stairs, the pads of your feet sticking to the hardwood floor. You stifle a giggle as you creep past his office quietly. You enter your room, an idea lighting in your head. Why have I never thought of this? You think to yourself. You start with your pants and underwear, sliding them down your legs and stepping out of them. You then take the hem of your shirt, sliding it over your head and throwing it to the ground. The cold air on your breasts causes your nipples to perk up. Now completely naked, you make your way downstairs, quietly making a cup of coffee for Simon. You giggle and chuckle to yourself as you pour the hot water into the instant coffee, stirring it. You make your way up the stairs with the steaming mug in your hand, trying not to spill it on your skin. As you approach his office, you feel your heart rate rise and your fingers tremble. You open the door slowly, grateful that Simon never locked it when you were home. The embarrassment you would feel if he opened the door, seeing your naked body holding a cup of steaming coffee, was one you never wanted to experience,

“Simon, I brought you some coffee.” You say, the smile evident in your voice. You hold back a giggle, approaching him. You see him pause, keeping his head down on his work. You bite your lip as you approach him. You set the coffee down, away from his papers. You place your hand on his back, stroking his neck and running your nails up and down his scalp. He sighs, letting out a soft groan. He moves his head away from your hand, chuckling under his breath.

“Don’t do that, love. Gotta get this work done.” He says, his voice stern. You don’t let up. You bend down, hugging him from behind. As your breasts make contact with the soft fabric of his shirt, you feel him tense under you. You smile, letting out a seductive chuckle. You kiss his head, running your fingers over his ears. You press your nipples into his back, wrapping your arms around his neck. He looks to the side, his eyes grazing over your naked body behind him. You smile at him, your eyes locking on his lips. He licks his lips nervously, the paperwork in front of him seemingly invisible now.

“You fuckin’ minx.” He says, his voice now a breathless whisper. You yelp as he turns in his chair, wrapping his strong arms around your hips and pulling you onto his lap. He wastes no time in crashing his lips with yours, the taste of him swirling on your tongue. You moan into the kiss, feeling his cock grow hard under your bare ass. You wiggle in his grip, grinding against him. He groans, his lips parting as he grows harder under you. He reaches under you, unbuckling his jeans and sliding them down the slightest bit, still kissing you. He palms one of your breasts, taking a nipple in between his fingertips. He squeezes it, a jolt of electricity running through you. He continued kissing you hungrily, grunting and groaning everytime the swollen tip of his dick grazed against your bare skin. You move to straddle him, your feet hanging off the sides of the chair. The chair creaked and groaned under your weights as he shifted, lifting you up.

“Since you wanna be so goddamn greedy, you’re gonna sit and wait for me to be done.” He says, the sternness of his voice causing a warmth to bubble in your clit. You feel a wetness accumulate between your legs, the yearning for him growing stronger by the second. You mewl as he lines himself with your entrance, pushing you down onto his cock. He doesn’t give you a second to adjust, fully bottoming out inside of you. You dip your head into the crook of his neck, bucking your hips forward. Your clit practically weeps for friction as you grind your sensitive bud of nerves against his pubic hair.

“Fuck, lovie. So goddamn warm. So tight.” He whispers, adjusting himself. He leans forward, picking up his pen and clicking it open. You whine, looking back at his paperwork. “I told you. You’re gonna have to wait. Wanted to be greedy, huh?” He teases, smacking the sensitive skin of your ass with an open palm. You continue whining and moaning as he stays hard inside of you, your walls pulsing and weeping for any kind of movement. He holds you down with one hand, filling out his papers with the other. You relish in the feeling of his cock inside of you, keeping you on the edge with every slight movement. He chuckles at your neediness, shaking his head.

“You just wait until I’m done here. You’re a dead woman.” Your heart speeds up at his words, knowing you got yourself into something that seemed to be more than you could ever handle.

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 8 months

Text

Simon has one favorite piece of clothing you wear and of course when he's having a rough day, you just have to wear it for him.

Simon was all stress and tension, tight shoulders, furrowed brows, and pursed lips. He had just come back from deployment and had not fully decompressed yet, having a harder time of it this go around. Usually a day was all it took to get him to slough off the burdens of his job, yet this was day two and he was still not feeling himself. You wanted to do something to help him release all that pent up emotion, and you knew just how to do it.

Something that he just couldn't resist.

At the front of your closet you found it, his current favorite piece of clothing you owned: a flirty little floral number that he had bought last time he was in. The moment he saw that dress on you after having spotted it sitting on that rack in the store, the way it hugged your curves like it was made specifically for your body, he knew you could not go home without it.

The fabric was soft, cut incredibly short, and low cut enough in the front that it left barely anything to the imagination... exactly what you needed it to do.

You slipped it on, the only thing you slipped on, and headed back out to the living room where he sat in the oversized cushioned seat idly messing around with his hands as some show played in the background on the TV.

As you casually stepped into the room, his eyes fixated on you as you walked closer towards him, a little extra sway in your hips as you moved.

Squatting down to your knees before him with your hands splayed across his thighs for leverage, you kept his gaze locked within your own as you pushed open his legs a bit more so you could crawl between them and into his lap. You arched your back as you moved up until you were able to wrap your arms around his shoulders, your breasts pressing against his chest.

"Hi," you smiled playfully. With gentle fingertips you combed your fingernails through his scalp at the back of his head while you rocked your lower half lazily back and forth between his legs to keep your knees from getting stiff.

Those brown eyes began to sparkle back to life.just as they always did whenever you were around. "Hi back," he smirked; it was clear that you were up to something, though he didn't know what yet. "And just what do ya think you're doin', luv?"

You shook your head back and forth. "Nothing," you said, feigning innocence by diverting your eyes coyly before looking back. "Just thought I'd look nice for you is all."

You had peaked his interest and he raised a strong brow as his hands found your hips. "Is that why you have this thing on?" he asked, pulling at the fabric of your dress. "Cause you've got my attention; you know how much I fuckin' love that little thing."

"Exactly why I put it on," you smiled. "Maybe I'm trying to take all your attention, make you forget all your cares."

That one line made his cold heart skip a beat; you were always doing little things like that to please him and fucking hell did he enjoy it. Simon's hand captured your chin in its grasp suddenly and he firmly pulled your face into his so that he could press a kiss to your soft, moist, inviting lips. It was instaneous the way he melted into you, his shoulders relaxing the moment your lips met, as if everything else in the room had desolved except for you and him.

"God, you are a pretty fuckin' thing, aren't you, sweetheart?" he breathed against your mouth. "Always remindin' me how fuckin' lucky I am."

He released your chin and moved down to your back where his fingertips drug across the length of your spine down all the way to your ass and back again is slow rotations.

"Mmmm..." you hummed into his sculpted shoulder as you rested your head there while he touched you.

Shit like that made the ice he built around his heart to keep him sane during missions melt. "You like that, yeah?" he asked with a smirk as his rough hands traveled down lower until he got to the curve of your ass where he cupped it in both of his hands.

"Aren't wearing any panties?" he said with surprise as he cradled your bare bottom covered just slightly by the very edge of the dress hem before he slid his hand under the fabric to massage the bare skin. "Fuckin' hell, sweetheart."

You chuckled as his touch sent shivers up your back. "Thought maybe you'd want to play with me, if you aren't busy that is," you said against the crook of his neck before your lips connected repeatedly with the flesh there as you held the side of his head against your palm. "Why don't you let me help you unwind?"

Jesus Christ how in the hell was he supposed to say no to that? His touch became more greedy and firm in response to your offer. "You keep sayin shit like that luv," he growled, "and I might just have to fuck you until my mind is empty and your legs are numb. Come on, come 'ere."

Offering his open hand, Simon pulled you up so that he could move you into his lap so you could sit on top of those full thick thighs. Your perky breasts sitting up high in the front of the dress hit his vision, immediately making his head woozy. "This, this right here is already making me forget every fuckin' thing."

It had been a hot minute since you had been showered in his unique brand of flattery and you couldn't help the warm, red flush that flood your cheeks at his words. You turned your head, embarrassed that even after all this time you'd been together he could still make you blush.

"Don't you look away now sweetheart; you just keep looking at me with those pretty eyes. Don't gotta be shy 'round me," he purred as he guided your head back, "not when I'm about to have that pretty little dress layin' on the ground. Or maybe... shit, I'll just fuck you in it."

Again you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him close. "Whatever you want," you said. "Use me."

Damn, you did always know the right words to say to make him come alive. "You are just too fuckin' good to me, luv," he sighed.

He was a lucky, lucky man indeed.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simin ghost riley #ghost simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost #ghost modern warfare #ghost mwii #simon riley x you

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httpsghostie · 9 months

Text

Three's a Crowd

bro I have no words for what I've just written it's pure filth I can't stop wont stop I need them internally

I'm not sorry for this

Summary: a situationship between your lieutenant and your colonel that leads to obscene measures.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: smut, Simon 'Ghost' Riley x female!reader x König, unprotected piv and dp sex, kinda cuckold (?, light spanking, dacryphilia, praising/humiliating, lots of pet names, breeding kink, choking, no use of y/n

masterlist

NSFW under the cut

You didn't know exactly how, but you ended up in a situationship between the colonel and your lieutenant, none of them knowing about each other.

Ghost was never the jealous type, at least that's what he said. But some things changed when he heard your voice when he was passing in front of König's room.

"Scheiße, baby." He moaned. It wasn't so loud, but since Ghost had keen senses and was practically merging his ear with the door, it was loud enough for him to hear. He was startled, how could you do this?

For a brief moment, he felt insecure. Was he not enough for you? That's why you had to find someone else to give you pleasure? But you've always told him how it was good, how he fucked you just the way you liked it.

Lieutenant 'not the jealous type' Ghost.

Ironical.

But that feeling changed when he was pinning your face to the mattress, ass up, his cock abusing your hole. He held his phone up, filming how your ass jiggled when he thrusted hard inside you. Your arms were tied behind your back with his belt, and he held them before pulling out and jerking himself off, coming on your ass, cum dripping down your big lips.

And, well, that video was 'accidentally' sent to König's e-mail.

She lets me cum inside.

Ghost could not fucking believe the answer he read on the phone. He expected König to back off, but apparently König had the same expectations.

He couldn't confront you, and the idea of sharing you with his superior was slowly driving him nuts. You noticed he started fucking you rougher, he'd shoot videos of you two having sex saying he needed those to remind him of you. Of course it was weird at first, but you could trust him, or so you thought.

On the other side, König was also a bit different, the man was once calm, always taking his time with you, but he started to enjoy being meaner. He'd either deny or overstimulate you until you cried on his girthy and long dick hitting your cervix.

One day, while gagging on König's dick, you noticed him eyeing the locked phone on the bed, beside him. Without stopping, you reached for it and opened the camera, placing it on his large palm. He looks down at you, confused, and you give him a cock drunk smile. He didn't want to ask to film you, so this was pretty much convenient for him.

That was the first video he sent to Ghost in response to him fucking you senseless.

He was speechless. His cocky demeanor vanished as he tried to come up with a snarky response. Nothing could've prepared him to see you drooling on another cock. Unintentionally, the sight of you sucking another guy's dick made him hard. He had to excuse himself out of the meeting because he had a boner. It was funny, he felt like a teen.

But you noticed how both of them were different towards you and each other. They weren't used to talking before, and now it seemed like they'd punch each other's faces whenever they met in common rooms. König assigned difficult tasks towards Ghost and the thought of them knowing about your situationship terrified you once it crossed your mind.

You thought about confronting them, explaining the whole situation. They were both excellent in bed and they provided you with different feelings. König was soft and caring and Ghost was… well, Ghost. But you knew you could lose them two, even though you didn't have an established relationship with them.

One day, the task force is all drinking together, playing truth or dare. Gaz is dared to do something obscene, and he playfully moans like a girl.

Aye, sounds like the lad in König's room.

You choke, spitting the whiskey coke out, the soda gets out from your nose and your eyes get teary from the gas. They all get quiet when they look at you and you fake a laugh, of course Soap had to say that.

They soon forgot about the awkwardness and went back to the game, but Ghost was eyeing you like a prey. You purposefully avoided them since you all joined for the party, and he and König sat on opposite sides from each other. You sat in between Price and Gaz, you all in a weird circle.

Meeting room. Now.

Your phone buzzed as you received a message from your Lieutenant. You read it from the notifications and looked up, but he was already gone in the darkness. You come up with an excuse and get out of the common area.

When you walked in, the phantom was standing right across the table, you could only see a glimpse of his eyes. The lights were off, but the room was lit when he started typing the digits of his phone password. He slowly stands up and walks towards you, your legs already trembling with fear. The phone is left on the table right in front of you, displaying a video of your fucked out face while sucking a dick very different from his.

"Simon, I can expl-" you try to say, but you're cut off as he grabs a fistful of your hair and buries your face on the cold wooden surface of the table.

"Y'know why I brought you here?" He asks, holding your wrists behind your back. "So everyone can see who you belong to." You feel him restraining your hands with one of his hands, and the spare one unfastened his belt and pulled his pants down just enough to expose his already hard dick.

At this moment, you thank yourself for wearing sweatpants, because they were easily pulled down from your body. He lifted his mask and spat on your pussy, then entered you with his full length, not giving you time to get used to his size.

He fucked you desperately, grabbing your hair again, making you look at the looping video on the screen of his phone.

"You're such a fucking little slut." He groaned. "You're so desperate you need two fat cocks?" You felt ashamed, your face burning, not knowing if it was from the whiskey or the embarrassment. The door made a locking sound and you jolted, but Ghost's grip didn't let you give a look. "Like what you see here, Colonel?" He asks in between breaths, you squirm and try to move but he holds you in place. Soon there was a figure across from you, sitting on the empty chair and manspreading.

"If you fucked her good enough she wouldn't come to me." He said in that thick German accent.

"You're really petty for a second option." Ghost holds your throat from behind, choking you and forcing you to look at König. You can see König's dick getting hard, it wasn't easy for him to mask that due to his size. He got up and slowly walked around the table to get to you.

"How does he feel, schatz?" König grabs you by the chin, blue orbits finding its way into your soul. You couldn't even babble an answer, Ghost was fucking you brainless. Your eyes could only look back to König and your head could only nod. He lifts a bit of his hood and gives you a kiss, his lips containing the warmth you needed to melt.

"Kneel." Ghost demands you as he pulls out. You do as you're told, but in order to comfortably be on your knees, you pull your pants back up. They don't seem to care. König takes his belt off and folds it, running it from your chest to your chin, lifting your head.

"Be a good girl, ya?" He says as he pushes his pants down, his dick bouncing up as he releases from the boxers. Without even noticing, your mouth was already open and your tongue was laying flat. König brushed his pinkish, leaking tip on your lips and tongue, the familiar salty taste of his precum invading your senses. He pushes it in your mouth, fucking it slowly. Your hand travels to Ghost's dick and jerks him off as he watches. "Like what you see, Lieutenant?" König chuckles.

Ghost was going to give him a sarcastic response, but his head fell back when you started to suck him off, your hand now on König. As you expected, Ghost wasn't so gentle, so his hand grabbed your hair and pushed your throat down his length. You soon became a drooling mess, taking turns on each throbbing cock in front of you.

Your jaw became sore, taking just one of them was already hard enough. You felt a pressure against your pussy and looked down, König's boot was grinding against you. You groan, sinking your weight on his foot. The more you gagged around them, the more he'd move.

"Didn't I tell you were just a fucking whore?" Ghost pulled from your mouth and tapped his cock on your tear stained cheeks. "Getting off his foot, huh? So desperate." As if it was possible for you to get any wetter, you felt another wave of arousal moisten your panties.

He got you up and almost dragged you to the sofa in the corner of the room. König followed just behind. Ghost sat down and made you kneel in front of him, and König positioned himself behind you, large palms roaming your small body and gently pulling your pants down again. He aligned his shaft with your soaked pussy and in one long thrust he pushed it deep inside you.

"Just so… fucking tight." You hear him whimper as he bottoms out. Your eyes are locked with the masked man in front of you, that's slowly jerking himself off at the sight of you being filled by someone else. "Gonna have to tear this pretty pussy apart." You clench around him and he starts fucking you.

Ghost gently pulls your face closer and lifts his mask, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips. You could only moan, in hope no one else could hear it. Your lips were now connected on Ghost's member, eagerly sucking him off. Your moans sent vibrations down his skin and he groaned whenever you gagged.

König's cock was buried deep down your walls, he felt an incessant need to slam his hips into yours and make you a moaning mess, so he held your hips in place as he thrusted hard into you. One of his hands travelled down to your clit and started rubbing circles, easily making you orgasm around him. He felt his climax getting closer, but he didn't want this moment to end just as quick. When his pace became erratic, he pulled out, slapping your ass.

He got up and sat down beside Ghost, who got up and pulled you to his arms, holding you firmly in the air. Your legs were pushed to your chest, the back of your knees held by his veiny forearms. He entered your used hole and started slow, but it didn't last long and he was soon bouncing you up and down his length.

König watched as you took Ghost entirely, thinking about how tight you'd feel with another cock inside you. He gets up and walks behind you, brushing his tip on you.

"Do you think she can handle?" König asks with genuine concern.

"She'll take it and thank you for it, isn't that right, bunny?" Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders, your face buried in his neck. You manage a small nod before feeling another monstrous cock entering your abused hole.

How that fit was a story for another day, but your pussy was happy to be filled by two men. The pain started to go away and you moved a bit to signal them to go. They managed to keep the same pace for a while. König let you lay back on his chest as Ghost held your legs, they pushed deep down into your core.

"Look at you, taking both of us." Ghost mumbles. "Such an obedient little pet."

"Such a good girl, liebe." König moans in your ear.

They kept fucking you until you felt empty again. Emptier than ever. Your pants were taken away from your body and König pulled you on top of him as he sat down on the couch, already making you sit on his shaft. Ghost came behind you and you felt a humid finger entering your tight little hole.

"Simon-" you moan.

"Shut up." He puts another finger in.

"Too much."

"You've taken it before and you're gonna take it again like the good slut you are, understood?" You slowed down on König and felt another finger inside of you, stretching your butthole. You couldn't help but whimper at the way he was using you. "Don't stop fucking her." König holds your hips and starts thrusting harder.

Ghost replaced his fingers with his aching dick and you've never felt so good, so filled. He waited a minute before moving, giving you a bit to adjust. But goddamn it you were tight.

As soon as the pain went away, he started to move, gradually going faster. König was a whimpering mess below you, moaning german praises in your ear. In little to no time, you found yourself being railed once again.

"Can't take much more." König whimpered, digging his nails on your hips. Ghost landed a sharp slap to your ass and towered over you to reach for your clit, he stimulated you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, trying to memorize your scent.

Your legs trembled as you felt your high approaching faster and faster, and you fall on König's chest, trying to muffle your loud moans.

"That's right, baby, be a good girl and come for us." König holds you close, reaching a new spot. That's what it took for you to squirt all over their dicks. Crying at the non stopping thrusts.

"Always have to leave a mess, huh?" You're still squirming as you hear Ghost say. "Fuck, you're so pretty when you cry."

König also feels his orgasm approaching and with a few more thrusts he can't hold it anymore.

"Gonna fill your cunt with my cum." He moans, holding your chin to look at him. He comes inside of you, but he doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. He keeps on slamming his dick inside your cervix and pushing his cum inside you, making the tears fall out of your eyes. He becomes a whimpering mess as he overstimulates his dick in your pussy.

Ghost also can't stop thinking about how good you feel, and how bad he needs to cum inside you. He slips a hand in front of your body and squeezes your breasts. It was enough to electrify his body and sent shivers down his spine. With just a few more erratic thrusts, he spills his seeds in your hole. He pulls out, kissing your back through his mask. König finally pulls out too, his dick red from the overstimulation. You collapse on his chest, losing consciousness.

"Truce?" He asks Ghost, who's getting dressed.

"Truce."

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