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#simon ghost riley fanfiction
konigsblog · 3 days
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riding simon riley's thighs... 💦
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you can't deny that simon is tempting. you feel drawn towards him when you're horny, your stomach tightening with euphoria despite not being in a relationship with him. it's just a silly work crush, you continuously tell yourself.
although simon notices your lustful gaze and the delirium causing you to rub your soft thighs together. fuck, he'd love to bend you over in front of everyone and fuck you until you're a shaking mess, mercilessly driving his broad, thick hips into your tight rear. he has to focus, you're just a little distraction in need of some release, looking so pent up and tense around simon.
you can smell simon's cologne on his clothes, the scent familiar and prominent, your face forced into the crook of his nape. he's working on reports while guiding your hips back and forth. you barely even remember how you got yourself into this position, just a dumb little private getting off using your lieutenant's brute body. you can feel simon's bulge, palming him over his military-issued trousers gently, the outline of his boner causing your cunt to drool with pleasure.
simon's firm grip leaves indents along your tight ass. you're barely coherent as you babble out something stupid, begging for permission to come through whines and mewls. you're so obedient, always looking to please him. simon wonders how far he can take it, until he turns you into a cock drunk, whiney fleshlight for him to use 24/7. you leave a wet patch along his thigh from your damp panties, trembling with ecsasty as your orgasm rushes through your tired body.
he'll make sure you take care of the mess you've created, by spreading his muscular thighs, guiding your head down his lengthy cock instead this time.
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bunnys-kisses · 3 days
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werewolf!simon 🐺 (bc happy 3,000 followers to me <3)
you met because you were lost in the woods while camping. it wasn't your fault that all of the trees looked the same! but it led you into simon who led you back to his cabin so you could call the park ranger! simon even made you some tea before he called the land-line.
park ranger johnny or 'soap' said that the truck was out of service so it would have to wait until tomorrow. "you can be a gentleman, right simon?" he laughed over the phone. simon grumbled in response, this wasn't going to be the best idea.
it was the full moon after all.
simon allowed you your personal space as he went about his cabin. he even allowed you to use his bed for the evening. you told him that you were fine on the couch! the issue was that the bedroom could be locked from the outside, usually for his own protection. but tonight it was for yours.
"um... mister simon." you said, "i'm sorry that i'm intruding so much."
"it's alright." he got up from his spot in front of the fireplace. he walked past you and rubbed your hair as he went by, "the woods aren't a safe place."
"i was told only deer hang around here."
he chuckled, "you should be more afraid of men." he went to the nearby kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. he opened it with ease and took a sip, "man destroys."
"well." you stepped forward in a daring move, "you're a man and you're taking good care of this place." you swallowed, "i don't think the entire species is doomed."
he chuckled and took another sip, "i'm not a man."
you stilled, "so like an alien."
he put the beer down and pulled away from the counter, "more beast than man. every full moon, beasts like me roam the woods. sometimes we get a little hungry."
"so you would've eaten me?" you swallowed, you balled your fists just in case you had to make an escape.
he approached you, but you were frozen still. instead of touching you with force, it was so gentle. his thumb was dragged down your cheek, "no. i don't hurt pretty things. but i would've snapped my fangs at anything that tried to come near your tent. so for your sake, stay in my room. so i can't hurt you."
you found the courage to touch him back. your fingers dragged down the scar on his face, "but what if they come too close to your home?"
he smiled a little, "i'll give you my shotgun."
you swallowed, "well.. mister simon. maybe i need your protection?" it was better that you had a familiar face around the cabin instead of leaving it all up to chance.
he cupped your face, "i could hurt you."
you shrugged a little, "i'd rather you hurt me then some other man."
he brushed his thumb across your cheek, "well. then i guess i have to be on good behaviour then." then leaned in to kiss you on your forehead, "but i'll need to cover you with my scent."
you were soon stripped, you realized that simon has no sense of modesty. eventually you were tossed on the bed like you were a bag of potatoes. and simon pressed his weight onto you.
you pressed under a man who could easily snap your bones. but instead, you were doing weird beast-esque skin to skin contact. he rubbed up against you.
"mister simon." you squeaked.
"it's just simon."
"are you sure i can't just wear some of your clothes." they would fit.
"nah. gotta get it right into the skin." he said gruffly as he continued to snuggle against you. you didn't know what scent he was putting on you. all you smelt was old spice and aftershave.
usually for simon, he would've been pent up by now. the day was slowly waning. but he found himself getting tired. the usually sharp werewolf was turning into a metaphorical mush. it was like he felt safe in your arms.
the comfort of simon's bed plus your time hiking left you feeling drowsy too. it wasn't long before you both fell asleep. you didn't even feel the man turn into a wolf.
you simply turned to your side and get comfy against the thick hair that covered you. it was like sleeping under one of those expensive shag rugs that rich people had.
that paired with the weighed allowed you to sleep soundly as the full moon passed the sky. you were a relaxing force to this werewolf and you didn't even know it.
the next morning, johnny came by to pick you up but instead found you under the enormous weight of one simon riley. he was soundly snoring and the ranger just chuckled to himself.
"i'll come back later so you don't ma head off."
(this could be expanded on later. i'm calling it the 'howlin' for you' au aka the werewolf au)
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gloomwitchwrites · 11 hours
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Still in love/obsessed ex-husband
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A still in love and obsessed ex-husband can be answered in various ways. I thought I'd make this one a little loosey goosey and stretch the definition of "ex-husband" here a tad bit. I also split "still in love" and "obsessed." My personal HC about these characters actions around those two phrases will certainly vary.
Anyway, here are four quick drabbles on the topic (And thank you for your patience as I fulfill requests.)
Find the Imagines & What If Series Masterlist HERE
Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): reconciliation, fluff, light angst, suggestive themes, swearing, marriage, strained and established relationships, stalking
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
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John Price
“I still have it.”
“Have what?” you ask.
“Your wedding dress,” answers John.
“I told you to return it. And the ring.”
John shakes his head. “Couldn’t bring myself to do it. Still in my closet.”
“You don’t want to.”
“No.”
“Why?” you ask.
“You know why, love.”
You sigh. “Did you sign the papers?”
“No,” he answers automatically. “Why would I? When you’re clearly still in love with me.”
“John.”
“You promised me an army.”
“I’ve given you three,” you murmur, thinking of your children with him.
John smiles, and you melt. “We can make number four right here.”
John "Soap" MacTavish
“What’s this?”
“Nothing.”
“Show me.”
You keep your hand behind your back. Johnny grins down at you, one eyebrow raised. Johnny is fast, snagging your arm and bringing your hand into the light.
His gaze drops to the diamond on your finger.
“You still wear it,” he breathes.
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh, love. It does.” He steps closer, one warm hand cupping your cheek.
You lean into him, not wanting to admit out loud what still holds true in your heart.
“You still love me,” he teases.
“And?” you prompt.
He draws you close. “And I still want you.”
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
“Signing this won’t change anything. You know this.”
Kyle is right and you hate that he is. Grasping the back of your neck, Kyle threads his fingers through your hair. Twisting. Gripping. Arching your neck.
He draws you forward, lips nearly brushing over yours. “You know I’d burn everything down for you. Walk any distance. I will never be rid of you. Never.”
Kyle’s words are searing. They sit heavy in your chest.
“Do you not feel the same?” He shakes his head. “I don’t believe that.”
The divorce papers are scattered across the kitchen table.
You swallow. “Shred them.”
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Ghost is a wraith.
He watches from the shadows. He knows your every step, who you talk to, and what your day looks like. He has always known. Even before you called him husband—and before that boyfriend—Ghost learned your habits.
He sits. Waits.
You glance over your shoulder with no idea how close he is, trying to find his in. Because he will. He will have you.
The current boyfriend will disappear.
Just like the last one.
Because Ghost made it happen.
All he needs is time and then, he can put his ring back on your finger.
Taglist:
@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior
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Incubus reader with anyone you want oc or cod character
I'm not picky
-💬
CW: Starts out with non-con vibes (kinda), mention of torture
Incubus!Reader who sees Simon "Ghost" Riley in a strip club (the 141 were there for a mission) and thinks "Ah, a military man, he's easy prey." So you follow him from the shadows and sneak onto base because traveling into people's dreams is just so much easier when your bodies are closer together.
And you wait until the dead of night, when he falls asleep. You slip into his dream, wearing the most revealing robe with nothing underneath. You prepare yourself to give him the wettest wet dream ever, only for you to realize that he's having a flashback.
You see flashes of his time with Roba, being tortured. You feel the fear wafting off his dream self in waves, tainting the entire horny vibe that you had going on. He's so deep in the flashback, unaware of your presence.
And your cold, sex-driven heart melts with worry. You've never worried about mortals before, you've always took what you needed from them. But it's not so fun when they're not able to enjoy it themselves.
"Shh," you murmur, quickly using your dream manipulation magic to shift the dream into a better one. You shift the dream until you're both standing on a beach, calming waves pushing and pulling against the shore. "It's okay, you're safe."
Ghost stares up at you in shock, still feeling the fear he had been moments ago. But then he relaxes, realizing he is indeed safe. He doesn't question why you're there, he just runs into your open arms.
You've never comforted someone before, but your arms wrap around him so tightly. You cradle him close to your chest, having switched from the revealing robe to clothes that covered most of your skin. "I'm here, we'll stay here until you feel better."
And so you do stay, you stay in his dreams the entire night. Every time a flashback tries to creep into the sanctuary you created for him, you gently shift the dream back to the beach. You hold Ghost in your arms, his ear pressed against your pec to listen to your heartbeat.
When morning comes and he's about to wake, you leave the dream first. You wake up and you give one last look at Ghost before using the shadows to disappear.
Maybe you'll meet him again, maybe you won't. But you did good, for the first time in the centuries you've lived. And that's given you an odd feeling of power, a stronger power than sex has ever given you.
Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)
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rileyslibrary · 3 months
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After suffering a gunshot wound, you wake up in a hospital bed with Ghost sitting by your side. Unfortunately, the effects of anaesthesia leave you unable to recognise him and, worse, confuse him with someone else.
A/N: Fluff. Based on a request I received a while ago. Hope you like it, anon!
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A machine on your left beeps rhythmically. The taste of something metallic lingers in your mouth, and the iodine smell stinks your nostrils. Your eyes open slowly, but the bright ceiling light forces them shut again. You lick your lips and attempt to swallow a couple of times. Dry. Your mouth is dry. You need water. Your hand moves towards your face, but a low, raspy voice advises you against it.
“Careful now,” it says, and a hand gently grabs your wrist. “Don’t pull the IV off.”
You turn your head towards the figure beside you and squint. It’s a man, but your blurry vision doesn’t help you identify him. Your eyes travel to your wrist and focus on the closest part of him: a skeleton’s hand.
You try to shake your hand off his grip, but it turns out futile. Frustrated, you give up and raise your middle finger at him.
“Not my time yet,” you declare. “Fuck off.”
“Pardon?” he asks.
“Not ready to go yet,” you reply, tucking your middle finger in your palm and lifting it back up again. “And also, fuck off.”
The man releases your wrist, placing your hand gently beside you. He clears his throat and leans forward. Though your vision remains blurry, you spot what looks like a human skull with a hood over it.
“How are you feeling, love?” he asks, his tone softer.
“How am I feeling, love?” you repeat. “Did Hell improve their customer service?”
“I’m not-” The man begins but pauses. He sighs, shakes his head and rests his elbows on his thighs. “Never mind.”
“Where am I?” You ask.
“Hospital.” He replies. “You took a bullet.”
Directing your attention to your body, you feel a dull throb in your chest. You wince as your fingers brush against the bandages.
“You are joking.” You reply and slap your hand on the bed. “Why? How?”
“Well,” He says and tilts his head to the side. “You exchanged a few shots with the enemy, your gun ran out of bullets, his didn’t, and here we are.”
“My gun?” You ask, shocked. “I have a gun?”
“Several.” He nods.
“SEVERAL?” You shout. “Why would I possibly need several guns?”
“It’s your job, love.” He replies.
“My job is to have several guns?” you ask. “And shooting at people?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he explains, “but it’s mainly for defence.”
“Well,” you shrug and wince at the pain. “Doesn’t look like I’m that good at defence—especially for having several guns.”
“I was really worr—”
“Water,” you interrupt and gesture at your mouth. “I need water.”
“Doctor said it’s not the time for water yet,” he replies.
“Why?” you ask, pretending to check a non-existent wristwatch. “What time is it?”
“No, love,” he replies and muffles a chuckle. “Doctor said you need to wait until you have some water.”
“You throw the ‘love’ thing a little too freely,” you mumble, licking your lips and lifting your index finger. “I’d be really careful if I were you.”
“Really?” he asks, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Why?”
“I,” you say and point at yourself, “got a boyfriend, thank you very much.”
“Oh,” he exclaims and tilts his head. “Is that so.”
“Yup,” you nod. “And he can kill you.”
“Can he?”
“Can?” You say, and a smug smile forms on your dry lips. “He will absolutely, one hundred and a thousand per cent kill you.”
“Is he that good?” He asks.
“I mean,” you shrug, motioning at the bandages on your chest. “He’s much better than I am.”
“Oh wow,” he exclaims and leans forward. “Is he as good of a boyfriend as he is a shooter?”
“Far from it,” you reply, letting your hand fall to your side.
The man doesn’t speak. He doesn’t seem that comfortable all of a sudden. He shuffles in his chair, trying to find a better position, and when he does, he clasps his hands together.
“Go on,” he finally says. “Spill it.”
“Ok, so,” you begin, “first things first, he doesn’t listen to me when I want to vent, and whenever he does, all he says is nonsense.”
“The lad gives you solutions,” he snaps, “and you call them nonsense?”
“I don’t want solutions, man,” you reply, shaking your head. “I want him to just listen to me.”
“Even if the solutions he provides are literally the answers to your suffering?”
“Even then.” You confirm.
“Gotcha,” he nods. “What else?”
“Oof,” you sigh, “how much time do you have?”
“I’m immortal,” he reminds you, “plus the next reaping is in five hours.”
“Oh boy,” you reply. “Business not going that well lately, huh?”
“Not many deaths to take care of,” he spits. “I guess some people could use some serious training when it comes to their aim.”
“Speaking of training,” you say, “he’s always at work and never spends much time with me.”
“The guy’s trying to spend as much time with you as he can, for fucks sake!” he shouts, throwing his hands up. “He even lied to get you on his team!”
“How do you know he put me on his team?” You ask.
“I keep a close eye on him.” He replies.
“What did he lie about?”
“Your precision in aiming,” he jokes and motions for you to continue. “Next one.”
“I can’t think of anything else,” you reply. “Other than he doesn’t say how much he loves me.”
“You’re having a laugh now, aren’t you?” He says, and his tone feels almost threatening. “He’s showing it to you daily; offering advice, keeping you close to him, even risking the possibility of being accused of nepotism for crying out loud! He doesn’t need to say it as well for you to know it!”
“It’s just nice to hear it sometimes,” you sigh and twist a thread from the bed sheet. You turn your head slightly toward him, and he lowers his head to the ground.
“How about you?” You ask. “You have a girlfriend?”
“I do,” he confirms.
“Shut up!” You shout, widening your eyes and immediately closing them back again. “Where did you guys meet?”
“Hell,” he replies. “Right in the pits of it.”
“How is she?” You ask.
“Perfect.” He states.
“Bullshit,” you murmur. “No one’s perfect.”
“She is to me.” He says, shrugging.
“Do you love her?” You ask.
“Absolutely,” he replies, nodding slowly. “One hundred and a thousand per cent I do.”
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simonrileysfavteacup · 2 months
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Simon Riley whose insomnia is so bad that when you first start sharing a bed together, he gets a wink of sleep. Not that he gets more than that any other night but still…
You’d be lying next to him, fast asleep, curled up in his arms. He’s almost there. Almost asleep. So close…
And then you shift. And he’s wide awake again. 
Staring down at your sleeping body that shifted an inch closer to him. That took him out of his beauty sleep. 
Almost. 
He could be asleep and you’d shift around a little, he’d still wake up and look over at you. Eyes narrowed to see if you were awake. 
When he’s asleep and you get up to grab something, he jolts awake as if on the battlefield, ready to rip a head off. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Gonna go get a glass of water…and maybe some sleeping pills for you,” you tease, heading to the kitchen. 
But when he finally does get used to sharing a bed and his insomnia lessens, be ready for his loud loud loud ass snores.
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secretlovezz · 3 months
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Simon Riley who just needs to stare at his girl for a while after coming home from a four and a half month deployment.
His gaze is stuck on you, darting around looking to see if anything changed. He needs to memorize everything. He's watching the way your eyes meet his every once in a while to make sure he is still listening to what you got up to while he was gone -you smile every time you look at him-, he's watching the way your lips move as you speak, lips opening and closing while you talk, tongue touching the tip of your teeth when you say certain words. You have him absolutely mesmerized with every one of your movements.
God, he missed this.
He missed watching and listening to his girl.
His girl.
His one and only.
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diejager · 5 months
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Hiii,I really like your story about Ghost x bunny!reader.Can you please do moreee🥺🥺🥺💖🐰
Needy Bunny Cw: heat/mating cycle, breeding kink, rough sex, mating press, doggy style, unprotected sex, PinV, tell me if I missed any.
You clawed at the sheets, hips bucking back, rutting against the heated palm of his scarred and calloused hand, fingers filling you so well. Your bed smelled like him, something familiar you associated with comfort and safety, gorging on his rich and powerful scent. He smelled like blood and gunpowder, itching you sensitive nose, and the soft tone of something woody —an addictive bourbon and calm sandalwood.
You crooned softly, burying your face deeper into his many shirts, mask and blanket, all infused with his aged scent and sweat, masking you in his scent, drowning in the delicious smell of him. You were clouded by a primal need, to be bred and nurse little kits in your stomach, you didn’t have any sensible thought inside your head, all you wanted was to smell like Ghost and bear his kits by becoming his.
When thrown into the throes of your heat - vicious and unforgiving - you became dumb and needy, wandering the halls of the base for Ghost and pawing at him until he brought you to his room. The moment he closed and locked the door, you were naked and kneeling on his bed, face down on his pillow, drooling over the musky cloth and ass up, showing him how wet and needy you were, cunt winking and clit throbbing from the cool air in his room —it helped with the warmth you exhumed from your heat, body burning so much calories to sustain you during it.
You were deaf to Ghost’s degrading words, uncaring by how mean his words were or how rough he was, all that mattered was that he was using you, his fingers straight as they drove in, hitting your g-spot. Slick dripped from his wrist, your sweet cunt oozing it, transparent and salty fluid tasting sugary on his tongue, his mask rolled up his nose to press the flat of his tongue against your twitching nub, swirling around it wile he pumped you with three, thick fingers.
You whined when he pulled out his fingers, tongue pushing into your hole and slurping down your slick, swallowing your sweet cum in gulps. He drank up your little mewls, sound more like a cat than a bunny, his hand roved over your thighs and around the swell of your ass, spanked red from acting like a little whore in front of other men, and grabbed your snowball-like tail, harshly pulling on it to get a reaction out of you. You yipped loudly, back arching and trying to get out of his tight hold on your sensitive tail, the twitching ball stuck between his fingers even as he pressed the round head of his cock against your clenching hole, tip nudging your entrance —teasing you.
“Please-” you wailed, sobbing for relief you knew that only he could give you, something to fill you up and keep you full until this heat passed. “Ghost, please-”
He kept you still, one hand on your hip and the other still tugging at your tail, he drove in with a sharp snap, thrusting his whole length in one, rough go that had you keening, loud, whorish sounds slipping from your tongue as your eyes rolled back, walls squeezing him as you came. He was warm, cock snugly sitting inside of you, he was as heavy as he was thick, the girth covered in veins and the base in trimmed, musky hair.
He took a few experimental thrusts, rough and unsteady, before he bottomed out completely, heavy balls slapping your engorged clit. Ghost set deep and hard pace, his sculpted hips snapping against your sensitive ass, using his grip on you to hold the pace, plunging in, the leaky tip of his uncut cock slamming into your spongy cervix, veins scratching at your clenching walls, frenum piercings, three starting from the base up rubbing you deliciously.
With how high stung you were, body shuddering and cunt spamming with another upcoming climax, it didn’t take you long before you came a second time. Bursting with a cry, legs kicking and trembling beneath you, you bucked your hips against him, pushing him deeper into you. You were squirming so much so that he had to turn you over, manhandling you from your presented position to a mating press, bent in half with your legs hanging from his broad shoulders, taking him again and again - even as you came twice or thrice, coating him in your juice, his navel and balls wet down to his thighs - until he had his fill.
“You want a kit, is that it?” He growled, forearm pressing down on your throat without putting any lethal force, simply to hold you down, to keep you restrained to your nest, “Don’t worry, bunny, I’ll knock you up, yeah? Put a little rabbit in that cunt of yours, breed you nice and deep.”
Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan
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konigsblog · 2 days
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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 🕸️
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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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bunnys-kisses · 12 hours
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"the bounties & death au" (a modern gods au)
a/n: 'sunlight' by hozier is burned into my brain
god of death!simon has been locked away for centuries, not able to return to the surface of the earth after being casted away into the shadows of the underworld. but once he finds himself free, in the countryside of england.
the world feels and looks different than what he remembered. it even smelled different. but the familiar grey sky of england loomed in a familiar way. the only thing in the distance was a small stone cottage with smoke coming out of the chimney. his legs felt weak, but he managed to make it to the cottage. it had been so long since he walked, after being chained on his knees. to walk again felt like being a newborn deer.
who was he to see on the other side of the door, was none other than you. you looked scared and quickly closed the door. you squeaked, "no one's home! please leave."
simon was a bit confused, his eyebrows knitted together as he knocked once more. he said in his low voice, "i know yer in there. please, let me in."
"are you going to kill me?" "no." "are you sure?" "i need help, i have no interest in killing ya." he lit up when he saw you open the door and look up at him.
you took him in but told him that he had to sit at the chair in the kitchen and not move. you knew it was a risk but, there was something familiar about him that you couldn't quite put your finger on. (you'd later recall when you felt close to death after the death of your previous boyfriend).
but simon is kind, you find it comforting to speak to him. he was calm and didn't move from the chair. when he moved as he ate, his movements were slow as to not scare you. simon thought of you like a rabbit. small and delicate, easily nervous.
the first act of kindness he had received in a long time was you sharing a meal with him. the gods didn't need to eat, but the warmth of the stew you made had him feeling warm.
you were an author who had stayed out in the country for some time in order to get a break from the weight of being in the city. you remarked that london was beautiful, and while simon had no way of imagining a city that big, he knew it was nowhere as beautiful as you.
he wouldn't make a move until your last night in the cottage before you headed back to the city. you said you'd drive him wherever he needed to be, but he said he had no home.
you asked him why and he said, "the place i came from. i cannot go back to." and while he hunched his shoulders, you reached up to him and allowed him to stay with you. you had grown to feel affection towards the man, even if you had many more questions about him than answers.
but that night, you shared wine together. you were all over him, your smaller body up against him. when he held onto your ass so you wouldn't fall over, you moaned. you giggled and told him you hadn't been held like that in a long time.
and for the first time in eternity, as simon thrusted into you, he would worship you rather than people worshiping him. as he held your hands onto the bed while you made love, he wondered if it was possible to build a shrine to you. to allow others to worship you the way he wished to do to you.
"you make me feel alive." you whispered in his ear.
an exhale left simon's lips, he then kissed you deeply once more. as you moaned into the kiss and wrapped your legs around his waist, all simon could think about was that he understood why humans were so desperate to get into the heavens. because if it felt anywhere close to how he felt next to you, he would scramble to get through the gates.
his little human, his little fruitful bounty <3
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Fallen God!Ghost
This is a masterlist of all of the Fallen God!Ghost Drabbles. This reader is gender neutral.
Ghost's Fall and Meeting You
Putting Ghost in His Place
Ghost Slowly Getting Feelings for You
Lesson Learned
Home Again
This is a complete list and will most likely not be expanded upon!
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rileyslibrary · 4 months
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You burst into the office and slam the door behind you. Ghost jumps from his seat and looks up from the paperwork he’s been filling out. His eyes widen as you sprint towards him.
“What the f-”
“Just play along,” you interject, dragging a chair and plopping down. You grab two sheets of paper from the pile next to him and snatch the first pen within reach.
He keeps staring at you dumbfounded before managing to utter something.
“Can you at least-”
“Nope,” you cut him off while focusing on the papers and nibbling on the pen. “No, can’t do. You need to trust me on this one.”
“Define what ‘this one’ is.” He demands.
“Shhhh,” you hush him, waving your hand dismissively and glancing over your shoulder at the door. “He’s coming.”
“Who’s com-”
The door swings open, and footsteps approach. They settle beside you, and a hand slams on the desk. Ghost looks at the hand, then upward.
“Captain,” he says. “What brings you in-”
“For the love of everything you hold dear, Simon, you better not be involved in any of this,” Price warns. He slams his hand on the desk again and looks at you. “Why were you running away from me?” He asks.
You stare at him with furrowed eyebrows before removing the pen from your mouth.
“I wasn’t running away from you, sir,” you reply, pointing the pen at Ghost. “I was late for my meeting with the lieutenant.”
Price turns towards Ghost, seeking for an appropriate answer. The lieutenant sits up straight on his chair, clasps his hands together and motions with his head towards you.
“Very punctual, this one.” He says.
“Cut the crap, Simon,” Price orders and turns to you. “What were you doing inside Bravo Unit’s barracks last night?”
“Bravo Unit has barracks?” You ask Ghost. He shoots you a side-eye and raises one eyebrow.
“Stop playing dump and answer the question,” Price warns and points at Ghost. “And don’t look at him—he’s not covering for you this time.”
“How about you start from the beginning, boss,” Ghost interjects. “What happened?”
“Someone broke into Bravo Unit’s barracks last night and stole every inch of toilet paper they had,” Price says, looking at you, then turning to Ghost. “And not just toilet paper, mind you! Kitchen rolls and tissues are gone as well.”
“Tsk tsk tsk,” Ghost murmurs, shaking his head. “Such an inconvenience.”
“Inconvenience, Simon?” Price whispers, leaning on the desk. “The entirety of Bravo Unit had to wipe their ass with parchment paper this morning.”
Ghost brings his hand to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. He lowers his head and takes deep, laboured breaths. Price is already fuming, so you decide to intervene.
“I was never inside Bravo Unit’s barracks, sir,” You state. “I just happened to walk through it once.”
“Oh, I see, I see—you walked through it once,” Price repeats, nodding. He removes something from his pocket and slams it on the desk.
“The instigator left this behind,” he states, looking back and forth between the two of you.
You and Ghost look at the garment on the desk—it’s a skull balaclava that once belonged to the lieutenant. He gave it to you last Winter since your ears and nose tend to get cold during patrol.
“Now,” Price states, “would you care to brief me on who this belongs to?”
“Hm,” you murmur, setting the pen and papers on the desk. You pick up the mask and start examining it. You look at Ghost, who stares at the mask with his eyeballs threatening to pop out of his face. He shoots you a deathly stare, and you redirect your attention to Price.
“That looks like it must be the lieutenant’s,” you reply, lifting the balaclava next to Ghost’s masked face. “With the skull and all—it’s a perfect match, actually.”
You both turn to Ghost, whose expression has transformed from utter disbelief to an inexplicable calmness.
“Indeed, that looks exactly like the one I lost,” Ghost confirms, taking the mask from you.
“Is it now?” Price asks in a high-pitched voice, tilting his head to the side. “Do me a favour and smell it for me, Riley.”
Ghost does exactly as he’s told. He brings the mask close to his nose, sniffs it, and nods. “Yup,” he confirms. “Smells exactly like me, too.”
Price sighs, takes a bottle from the pocket of his cargo pants and slams it on the desk. “So you want me to believe you use ‘Magnolia Blossom with Moroccan oil’ as a shampoo?” he asks.
“I’ve got dry hair.” Ghost shrugs.
“You should try coconut oil instead,” you suggest to Ghost, “it’s cheaper.”
Price kicks the chair next to you, and you both turn to look at him. He presses his lips together, and a red flush creeps on his neck, threatening to reach his head. He opens his mouth to say something, but you stop him.
“Why did you go through peoples’ stuff without their permission, sir?”
“Oh, I wasn’t going through anyone’s stuff,” Price explains. “You just were dumb enough to ditch the balaclava right behind the barracks. The detection dog picked up on the smell and led us to your stuff—it was a perfect match, just like you said.”
“You had sniffer dogs involved in this?” Ghost asks.
“I had to.” Price replies. “Pair the parchment paper with a day full of training, and Bravo Unit developed the worst rash they had since wearing diapers.”
A chuckle escapes Ghost, and he tries to silence it with his hand. He takes quick gasps of air, and you try to retain your laughter, too.
“Please tell me you’re not laughing!” Price shouts.
“No, boss,” Ghost says and wipes his tears, “It’s just so-”
“-sad,” you say and wipe your eyes as well. “It’s so sad.”
Price looks at you, then at the lieutenant. Now defeated, he sighs and throws his head back, shutting his eyes.
“I’m done with both of you.” He says, lifting his arms and dropping them to his sides. “I expect all toilet papers to be returned today. And as for you, you are responsible for cleaning Bravo’s toilets for the entire month.”
“For the whole month?!” You shout and wince at the idea.
“Be glad I didn’t make you wipe their asses as well.” He shouts as he walks to the door and slams it behind him.
Ghost recovers from the laugh and directs his attention to you. He tries to be serious but his teary eyes betray him.
“That was a hazardous operation you did back there,” he says.
“I didn’t do anything.” You reply, still vouching for your innocence. “But whoever did it taught Bravo Unit not to mess with our thermostats again.”
Ghost shakes his head. “I just happened to walk through the barracks once,” he says, repeating your earlier statement. “What were you thinking? Who walks through barracks?”
“I don’t know,” you reply, shrugging. “Ghosts would be my guess.”
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You stir awake, sighing as you roll over to face your sleeping husband. You sit up, fixing your stretchy shirt over your very swollen belly. You pat Simon’s side. “Si? Si! Si!”
He groans as he wakes up, rolling over and shoving his head into his pillow. “Go back t’ sleep.”
“I want a big mac.”
He groans louder. 
“Please, Si? I’m super hungry. And bubby keeps kicking.”
He sighs, “Look ‘t the time, lovie.”
You almost tear up. 
When he notices the frown on your face, he sighs again, getting up. “Which one is the closest?”
You smile, almost jumping with joy as you lean up to press a million kisses to his cheek. “The one on 42nd.”
He leans down, kissing your belly and your lips before heading off to get dressed. 
He returns 20 minutes later, a bag and 2 drinks in hand. You practically moan at the smell as he hands you the bag. 
“I love you,” you moan as you take a bite of your burger. He chuckles, eating his own. “Bubby loves you too. He’s kicking every time I take a bite.”
“Bet ‘e does.” Simon kisses your belly as you stuff a few fries in your mouth. “Lovie?”
“Yeah?” you ask with a mouth full. 
“Do ya think he’ll like me?”
“For the millionth time, my love, you are nothing like your father. You’re far too kind and too amazing and too sweet. He’s going to love you. Just like I do.”
He chuckles, “Love you too.”
He leans down, kissing your belly. 
“Both of ya annoying little buggers. Always fuckin’ hungry.”
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secretlovezz · 6 months
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Simon coming home to you cuddled up into yourself on the couch, reading a book that looks like it has at least five hundred pages (he doesn't know how you do it), and wearing his clothes.
You're wearing his clothes.
You're wearing his clothes.
Something surges through his large frame and he realizes just how in love with you he is, how much he adores having this domestic life with you when he returns home. His hands start to shake and suddenly he's moving quickly to discard his boots from his feet and his jacket from his broad shoulders.
You look up from the pages you had been briefly lost in to see your lover as he walks closer to you. Your smile is bright at the sight of him and he swears his heart starts beating impossibly fast in his chest, you always made him feel like a teenager falling in love every time he was close to you.
"Hi baby," Simon tries to hide the way his lips twitch upwards at the sound of your voice. You close your book move it to the side and reach your arms out toward him. His shoulders shake with a silent chuckle at your grabby hands aimed at him.
When he reaches you he practically melts into your body. You're devastatingly warm against his cold exposed skin and he audibly groans at the feeling of being pressed against you.
You wordlessly move your hands to the base of his neck to remove his balaclava then run your fingers through his hair making an effort to scratch at his scalp which only has him groaning again.
"Ya look good in my clothes," He whispers into the crook of your neck his lips brush gently against your skin and it makes you shiver.
"Mm knew you'd like that," your voice is filled with amusementand you smirk.
His head pops up to look into your eyes and he glares but the smallest of smiles grace his scarred lips.
"Don't go teasin'," you laugh a soft laugh and he relaxes back into you.
He loves this, just being with you. It makes everything worth it the hours of grueling work just so he could get home to you, his little dove.
And for some reason, seeing you in his clothes makes it all the better.
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