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#simon riley x reader
ghouljams · 2 days
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Regency!Ghost won't take your virtue before you're married, but he will eat you out.
He'll spend the long hours of the night and the short hours of the morning with his tongue lapping between your folds and his lips sealed around your clit. He'll drag his mouth over your sopping slit and dig his fingers into your soft thighs to keep you spread open for him. A slow and gentle exploration, a treat for doing this properly, for making a proper woman of you like you deserve. It's for him more than it's for you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't wiggle his tongue against your clit or push his thick finger into your tight hole, easing you to the edge of orgasm just so he can slurp at the mess you make.
He's obsessed. The noises you make, the short breaths and soft whining moans, drive his crazy. He finds his trousers soiled with come one too many times after he's worked you through orgasm after orgasm. Your legs shake under his tight grip and he refuses to leave your pretty pussy until it's puffy and aching from all his attention. You can writhe and wriggle all you like, but he'll keep holding you where he wants you, keep lapping his broad tongue over your slit and spelling his name on your clit. Oversensitive? You can take it lovie, just let him have this yeah? Let your man enjoy you, he's being so good not taking what he really wants, you can deal with an orgasm... or ten
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yawnderu · 1 day
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You can never take the military out of a man. Not when that man lost so much thanks to it, giving it his very own soul to serving the Queen and saving the world. Not a single thought about retirement ever going through Simon's head, fully accepting and embracing the idea of dying on the field, of having a warrior's death, fighting tooth and nail until someone gets lucky enough to finally put him down— until you came along.
Simon Riley is a proper lad now, well in his 50's and on his fifth year of retirement, strands of grey adorning his dark brown hair, a thin layer of fat covering his bulging muscles that seem to be getting bigger by the years, never one to stand still for too long and secretly loving the way you praise his body like he's a God.
He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, another deep moan dragging its way out of his throat at the way your hand wraps around his thick cock with a vice-like grip, your warm tongue circling his leaking tip, his salty precum mixing in with your saliva.
“Like tha', baby.” Simon whispers, his hand wrapping around a fistful of your pretty hair the moment you lick a teasing stripe over his bulbous, pink tip. His free hand quickly replaces yours— something you're too familiar with after being together for so many years, your hands resting on his thick thighs just to feel the way his muscles ripple beneath your soft palms.
“Open your mouth.” It's not an order, it's a plea, his gravelly voice becoming slightly whiny with each deep groan leaving his lips as he wanks over your face, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath he was forced to take. Your lips part with no hesitation, the warmth of your breath as your tongue pokes out of your mouth is what sends him over the edge, ropes of thick, hot cum landing in your mouth with an accuracy that could have surprised you if you weren't too busy being enthralled by your husband.
Simon looks like a fucking painting, the light coming from the ceiling giving his bulging muscles the perfect shadow, his thin lips slightly parted and a light stubble adorning his pale cheeks, half-lidded eyes staring down at you with blown pupils as he mindlessly smears his hot, creamy cum all over your face with his sensitive tip, just as enamoured as you are.
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bleuu-moon · 1 day
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I need to write something about ghost getting rid of a body for his sweet little neighbour who accidentally kills a piece of shit man and has no idea what to do
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angelltheninth · 2 days
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Hi ! I’m not sure if you still take requests for CoD but if you don’t then feel free to ignore this! But if u do could I plz request/get your opinion on what it would be like cockwarming konig and ghost. Not at the same time, but like what each would do because reader is being needy (and maybe annoying) and they’re busy doing something for work but reader is just so impatient so they start to tease them or SOMETHINGG IDK,, I can’t stop thinking about it. Love your writing btw!
I'll never dtop writing for CoD don't worry.
Pairing: Simon "Ghost"Riley, König x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, cockwarming, size kink, clit stimulation, teasing, nipple play, overstimulation, neck kissing
A/N: Wanna highlight some of the differances between these two big men.
SIMON
Keep you still with his big arm but tells you to keep clenching around his cock. You're so tight around his dick and he didn't even do anything to you, he's just sitting there minding his own business. He won't touch your pussy no matter how much you beg, but he can touch you in other places. You feel him smile as he kisses hit the back of your neck, hot and intense but there's no sucking.
The only harder stimulation is that of his fingers pinching your stiff nipples and then pushing his fingers into your mouth to make them wet, slowly tracing them back to your breasts. It's enough to make you come, of course but it's not from what you wanted, it's not from him fucking his cock into you so you're not happy yet.
KÖNIG
You couldn't even keep your legs closed long enough for him to finish cleaning and putting his gun together. How are you so impatient, so needy, so wanting of a good hard fucking. This isn't exactly what you had in mind though, not him still cleaning his gun while pushing his cock deep into you, the tip right against your cervix while you grip the table for balance. Don't expect him to be nice this time.
One of his fingers is constantly rubbing your clit in small circles, tight and deliberate to keep you coming around his dick for as long as it takes him to finish his task, not easy when he has to take constant breaks. But this is what you signed up for when you wouldn't leave him alone, to be overstimulated almost to the point of passing out and crying.
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st4rymoon · 2 days
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𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 • Simon Riley x Fem Reader
- smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, choking, rough sex, pet names, language
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Simon overestimated how much control he thought he had when it came to you. He swore to himself that he’d be gentle, fuck you gently into his brand new sheets he bought specifically for this moment.
But he should’ve known better, you sure did.
Simon had you on your back, chest to chest as he fucked himself nice and snug into your fertile womb. Strands of your hair messily stuck to your face as Simon’s heavy hand laid wrapped around your throat, hips thrusting into you at such a brutal pace the wind got knocked out of you with every slam.
Your nails dug into his wrist as he began to fuck you at an angle that had his weight making the bed creak. “Si- Simon” you panted as his arms now cradled your head, the fresh breath of air making you let out the prettiest moan.
He had you caged between his arms as his cock nudged at your gummy cervix. “Fuckk” Simon grunted under his breath, head flying back at the feeling of your cunt hugging him in a vice like grip. “I lov- love it so much I love you si, si oh m-“ you were mumbling nonsense and Simon loved it.
He hummed in acknowledgment with a condescending tone that had you purring in pleasure. “Mhm, mhm, I know bunny, jus’ let it out” he cooed as you clawed at his shoulders. The dumb fucked look on your face made Simon chuckle, he wish he could’ve snapped a photo.
Tears streamed down your face as you came around Simon, the orgasm feeling like an out of body experience as he whispered into your ear “you always take me like a fuckin’ pro, my gorgeous pretty girl” he purred.
“You jus’ want me to make you a mama huh? Don’t worry, shh shh don’t worry” Simon cooed as you began to nod with tears pooling down your cheeks “w- wanna make you a dad- daddy” you drunkly hiccuped.
That was all Simon needed to insure his promise. His cock twitched inside you as he spurt thick white ropes into your messy cunt. His hips slowly fucked his cum deeper with each steady thrust, mouth agar as he let out a heavy moan.
Both of you clinged onto each other as you took a deep breath. Simon pulled out of you carefully, making sure he didn’t let any of his work slip out.
You buried into Simon the second he plotted beside you. Your face nuzzled into his neck as his hands pulled you into a bear hug “you’ll be the best mama” Simon whispered before your eyes began to feel droopy.
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simonzmama · 2 days
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your fingers dig n tug into his pretty shoulder length locks, head falling back slowly as the back of your skull presses into his feathery pillows, eyes rolling back with it.
a soft groan can be heard from the man between your legs, his fingers digging dents into the hot fat lining your plush thighs. his tongue suckles at the swollen nub of your clit, fingers teasing your sweet cunt open.
simon hisses when you fist his hair in your palm, nails dragging deep into his scalp before you’re pulling and dragging his mouth further between your legs.
his palm slides up your belly, letting his fingers squish at the thick skin before he’s tapping at the valley between your raising breasts.
you peer down at him slowly, jaw falling open as you stare down at him with your wide, sparkling teary eyes.
“up, need it up, mama,” he breathes out against you, his warm breath raising goosebumps over your shaking legs, nipples perking up.
your hands shake, fingers stuttering over the back of his head as you pull his hair up to the round of the back of his head. your hands threaten to fall, the locks of his blonde hair tainted dark brown with an essence you don’t need to question.
his tongue swirls, flicking and teasing your clit as he smirks slyly. his fingers hook between the crease of your ass n thighs as he spreads you further, tongue delving into you like dessert.
your back locks, arching up as you fight to get his hair tie wrapped around the wavy strands of his hair, soft whimpers rolling off the tip of your tongue. n when you finally succeed, your head’s hitting the bed, vision dizzy as you almost slip off that sweet euphoric edge.
“that’s it, mhm, thank you, baby.”
thank my segzzy lil mutual for dis one 🙏 womens got some head 😉
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moondirti · 2 days
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simon sees a familiar face. (AO3 mirror) tags: darkfic. ghost x nude model! reader. (given a stage name but no discerning characteristics.) violent intrusive thoughts. objectification. rough sex. marking. dacryphilia. possessiveness. dubcon photo sharing.
It's the slip of her skin in his periphery. Moisturised, gold shimmer body glaze. Tucked up against the bar and nursing a negroni in both hands, her dress riding high up on her thigh. Sticks out like a sore thumb in a pub like this, where seedy men come to drink their woes away. Just a little too clean, prim and perfect polish. Pretty enough to make his teeth hurt.
He has to do a double take before he can be sure. Where he would know her calves, those hands and varnished nails, anywhere, he can hardly believe it until she turns a quarter angle and her face comes into full view. Lips he's seen perked up and glossed into erotic O's. Eyes so often half-cast and sultry, lined in kohl, that it's odd to see them wide like this; looking around, searching for something.
Yeah. Simon knows her. Knows her like the grip of a gun, the rip release of a hand grenade, the flat lining of barrack cot mattresses. Knows her so well that his cock chubs up in an almost pavlovian response, fat and heavy and leaking already, like a bloody sixth former seeing a pair of tits for the first time. In all honesty, this might just be the equivalent for a man like himself. Aching jowls, frothy lips. Ageing, dirty beast – thrown the most delectable fucking bone.
Because it's her. Cut straight from the centrefold of his favourite magazine and pasted a mere four feet away. Just as alluring, as provocative as she is in the poster he'd gifted Johnny on a deployment birthday. The object gracing every page not adhered together with dry cum. The one thing that gets him – and frankly, every other mutt on the task force – through long missions.
He throws back the last of his bourbon and slips his mask back over his chin. The haunt is emptier than usual. He assumes the big guy by the doorway is responsible, no doubt hired to follow her around and scare the creeps away. Simon must count as one – if his intentions, latched like filthy claws in his stomach, are anything to go by – but he's also bigger. Bolder. Probably has tattoos that outlast her bodyguard's experience in the field. So he takes his chances as he stretches up and prowls up to where she's sitting.
"Selene Harlow." It's a stage name, of that he's certain. But he has nothing else to call her by, not having fallen short of searching for her true identity. She's good at keeping herself safe from perverts like him. A good fucking girl, if not a little minx.
"Only on the clock." She smiles softly, dipping the orange peel in and out of her drink. It looks untouched, glass sweating onto the bar top. He thinks of holding her head back by her hair and knocking the concoction down her throat. "You don't look like my date."
Simon makes a sound. "No' your usual type, then?"
"I didn't say that." Her dress is low cut, bandage tight. When she breathes in, he devours the way her chest heaves out of the material. Begging to pop free, or else be ripped open right here. He can't imagine she would be opposed to being stripped in public. Not with her breasts plastered on a million different publications, issues displayed in the illicit material case behind every gas station counter.
"Well, he must be soft in th'head."
She shrugs. "Don't sound so surprised." Simon wonders, if he were to press his thumbs down onto each collarbone, how much pressure it would take to snap them in place. He's always liked the delicate arch of her shoulders, the swan-like column of her neck. With how he fixated he is on them now, he can hardly place the dejection in her voice. "Not a lot of people wanna go out with a girl who does what I do. It was only a matter of time before he found out."
"Can' be too pissed at him, a'suppose."
"Hm?"
"His loss is my gain."
"Aha." A flash of teeth. She turns on the bar stool to fully face him, and her knees knock his. Soft fucking legs, plush like a chew toy and he knows– he knows what they look like completely nude and spread open. But nothing could've quite prepared him for how different it is to see them in real life. To see her – real, fleshly, blood full – and not be able to take. Have to hold himself back despite the way he's pumped himself raw to her arse almost a hundred times now. He lost the plot some time ago. His mind must think of her as his. "Is that what this is?"
And what is this? Simon doesn't have a name for it. All he knows is the way his head itches, the tantalisation crawling in his skin. The sheer self-restraint it takes not to pocket her home and chain her to his bed. He wants to dig his teeth into her cheek.
Instead–
"Could be."
"I think that's up to me." She crinkles in a wily little smile and he chuckles because it's funny. Funny because she takes him to be a good man. But with the way her bodyguard is eyeing him from across the room (fucking muppet), he knows that's not the quality he's projecting. There's the urge to crack a sick joke, something about clipping a bird's wings, just to see her pick up on the rot he carries with him. "You military?"
"Tha' obvious?"
"Hm, no. Wild guess." She straightens her back and the vague gesture she makes with her wrist is enough to drive him up a wall. It sets a timer, ticking time bomb, in his brain that'll detonate if he doesn't get his nasty old hands on her waist. Thirty seconds on the clock. He can never be patient when it comes to sweet things. "Your... stature. And I tend to be popular with servicemen, anyway. What's your name?"
"And why do you wan' to know my name, bird?"
She flutters her lashes, pointedly looking down to where he's bulging in his jeans. Bird is right. She shines like one with pretty feathers, begs to be plucked, because why else would mother nature create things like her if not to appease men like him?
"Figure you'd want me to moan it later."
And it's like watching one fly into a cage on its own accord. His blood boils hot and thin, flooding his head until his eyes strain with something ferocious. "Why wait." Simon says. He can't wrap an arm around her waist fast enough, scooping her from her seat and wrapping her tight against his side. Tight enough that, if she changed her mind, she wouldn't be able to flap her way out of it. "Name's Simon, and there's a bathroom 'round back."
It's nasty. Depraved. Graffiti lines all four walls and it's no coincidence that the one he pins her up against looks the filthiest. Something in him craves to see her degraded (the same part that marked a picture of her in black ink, chicken-scratch body writing proclaiming her as his), brought down to the same peg that he occupies. Beasts with too much baggage stored in their marrow. Humans, men, with moral compasses that skew a tad too far left. Animals. Animalistic.
"I don– Don't usually do this..." She breathes, excuse stuttered through little whimpers as he mouths at her jaw. Maybe she's afraid of living up to her name, or whatever image Selene Harlow projects. Not a prostitute, he can almost hear her say. Tastes the fear of misconception, sour on otherwise tart skin. He hums and tugs her breasts free with one, scarred paw.
"Doesn' really matter, bird. Were fuckin' made for it." He squeezes the two mounds, pinches knotted nipples and rolls them between his fingers until she cries. Her voice breaks in little bubbled sobs – starts crying so fast that, christ, it must be some sort of record – and he aches in his trousers. Ready to burst if he doesn't bully his cock into a hole soon, just like she's been ready to be unravelled all night. "Made to be mine, yeah? Bloody 'ell, jus' look at you."
Frayed little tapestry. If he weren't so mad with lust, he'd obsess what drove her to this point. What brought her to some shitty pub in Manchester to meet a good for nothing lemon. Why she mewls and completely melts into him when he slaps her tits, just to see the way they jiggle. He's an ugly bastard, definitely punching just by breathing the same air as her, and yet she's so perfectly willing. Flaying herself open, skinned alive. Gasping selfish gulps of air when he finally pulls off his mask to sink his canines into her shoulder.
He's so used to seeing her posed, perfectly still. To have her like this, a trapped worm underneath him, feels like concentrated lightning on every artery. Overstimulating. Paralysing. He never thought he'd see the day where she exposes herself in motion: folding her dress up over her wide hips, slipping soaked panties down to her ankles.
(In fact, he vividly remembers brooding over an interview her magazine had added to the corner of a cover page, once. Selene Harlow tells all! Answers inquiries on video pornography and more!
I don't think I'm the right person for that sort of scene. Not much of an actress, I'm afraid.)
Not that her feigning was ever a concern. Simon knows the giddy gossamer over her eyes can't be artificially replicated. She's too clumsy, too amateur in the way she readies herself for him. Used to doing all this prep in a frilly dressing room with apathetic staff members directing her. Sways a bit on her heels and holds onto his thick forearms as she widens her stance. He stands until she's steady, then drops to his knees in search of the star of this show.
And the sight is as much a bludgeon to his self control as seeing her for the first time was, trigger for the feral mongrel that barks and chomps on his ribcage. Her cunt is just as perfect up close in this grimy bathroom as it is well lit, professionally oiled, and printed on coated paper. A little fuzzy, swollen enough that it flowers open for him on its own. Shyly inviting him to dig his nose right under her clit and inhale, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the scent of her, undiluted. Salivate blooms around his teeth.
When he flattens his tongue against it, she tries to find purchase in the roots of his shorn hair. Nails scrambling along the buzzcut until she forfeits and clamps her hand behind his ears, head thrown back to knock against the wall. If he were a nice man, he would spend hours buried between her legs. Sated by licking her slick from its source, like a kitten given a bowl of cream. Would make her cum until she forgets how to keep quiet, until she screams his name loud enough for the world knows their muse is off the market now.
But if he were a nice man, he wouldn't be defiling her here. He would've taken her out to the Greek place that never seems to have room for him alone, and then back to her apartment, where he'd drop her off with a chaste kiss and a promise to call her tomorrow.
So Simon combs through her lips once, twice, three times. Coats her in enough spit to be able to shove two fingers with little fuss, and scissors them apart. The little thing stretches to accommodate his ministrations immediately, clutch swallowing him up to the second knuckle and sucking around him when he spreads her hole for his leering eye. It's cute – so fucking cute how she clenches and keens and cries. Neck arched up above him. Apple of eden, blank canvas. His fingers leave her cunt as he rises to bite into it.
(Truthfully, she could've done with more prep. She wasn't lying when she said she doesn't do this often, whatever this is. But the way silver pebbles brim on her lash-line makes his chest twist, the dog rearing on its haunches, ready to pounce – and he thinks he'd like to see her babble in pain as he splits her open on his cock.)
"Gonna take you home after this, y'hear? Fuck you well 'n' good, all proper like. Fold ya over a mattress and print my cock on your guts, birdie. Never let you forget it. "
"S-Si! Simon, please. I n-need..."
Ichor beads in the shape of his teeth, streaking oxygenated red down her throat. He makes a mess of it, smearing it across the marred patch of skin, and brings the fluid up to her face to rub it into her cheek. The type of marking he'd reserve for his third or fourth going with someone – if anyone ever lasts that long – but is absolutely necessary right now. Here, with her. Technically their hundredth something time together, if he were deranged enough to count the various times he'd spent himself over her spreads.
But nothing can supersede the truth of the matter. He streaks blood along her face and licks it off in a show of merciless possession. Pretty things like her get plucked off streets and ruined everyday, despite her cynicism on her value, and he can point to at least three other men by name who would slaughter to be in his place. Best to stake his claim now, clamp a collar on the exotic fowl he pulled down from the sky.
"Need wha', hm?" His tongue laps at her cheek, laving over the contour of her nose and swiping right under her eye to catch the tears that freely fall. She winces when he gets too close, hands faltering along his waistband.
"Your... d-dick. Please, please. Just wanna be fucked, Simon."
He plants a rough kiss onto her mouth, all teeth and tongue, and finally ladles himself free of his jeans.
Just wanna be fucked.
Daft, silly girl.
She should've chosen anyone else.
It takes a bit of pressure to feed himself into her cunt, pinning either leg to the sides of his hips as he guides his cock toward the opening. If she was putty before, she's positively liquid now, boneless rag doll slumped onto him. Dead weight. Letting him take control of this fight. Content to do nothing, slack-jawed and empty eyed as her hot walls come to embrace him completely. Her breath halts, the air recalibrating to just the sound of his ragged grunts, and he considers it an invitation to wrap a fist around her neck.
"I'll do more than jus' fuck you, pretty thing. Won' ever let you out of my sight."
And he means it.
It's impossible to withdraw completely from her – vacuum sealed too tight, too good, around him. So he fucks in short thrusts instead, snapping his pelvis back, only to shove forward once her legs begin to flail about. It's brutal even by his standards, rough in a way that supplants pleasure with pain. A small pity surfaces when her lip trembles, discomfort wringing her darling face up like a dish towel. Wet and pathetic, but he sneaks his free hand down to knead at her swollen clit anyway.
Like oil, it slips and hardens, tense enough that he knows she won't last long if he keeps it up.
Simon feels his own release encroaching. Unfurling at the base of his spine to form something cruel and primal. His vision tunnels to fixate on her – not the filthy bathroom or the lewd squelch of her pussy taking him in. Not the banging on the door by a customer desperately needing to piss, or otherwise, her bodyguard concerned at the choked screams carved from her lungs. Just her. Little bird.
The howling in his head doesn't stop, but it sure as hell quiets down when she soaks the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. Squirts, off-white fluid gushing from her and trickling onto the tiled floor. His movements grow stilted, off-rhythm, at the sight. His want grows claws and scales, grows wants that have wants. Beastly. He sees red.
"N-noghonbirfcontraahl." She gasps, suffocated still by the fingers pressing crescent-shaped scars beneath her jaw.
"Don' give a shit." He growls, then cums.
(Really, he doesn't. To see her swell up with his child is just one more added temptation, carrot on a stick. He bucks like a rabid animal and bookmarks that thought away for later.)
His seed doesn't stay put when he pumps her full of it. It gathers and drips out of her, undeterred by the barrage of his softening cock. When he pulls out, it draws milky treks down her legs. There's the instinct to shovel it back into her, tape her lips shut until the spend takes; but as he pockets her panties and helps her readjust her dress (after polishing himself clean on the expensive fabric), he finds he quite likes the thought of parading her around like this.
"C'mon," He nips her earlobe. "let's walk you home."
Simon does end up making good on his promise. They hardly get any sleep that night, sweating on every available surface her flat affords. By the end of it, she's so tuckered out that he has to lift her to bed. Hardly cognisant as he strips to his boxers and sidles up right next to her.
What doesn't escape her notice, however, is when he pulls his phone out to snap a picture of her like this. Fucked to oblivion, puffy pussy oozing about three loads worth of cum.
"W-what are you–" Stuttered. Panicked, like a pet that has at last realised it's been caged.
"Shhhh, birdie. You're my model, ain't you? Let me show you off, yeah? Won' let it get into the wrong hands."
"Promise?" She whimpers, tucking into his broad chest. She isn't in the condition to give her proper assent, but he takes it anyway, kissing both eyes and carding his fingers across her scalp.
"Promise." He mutters, then sends the portrait off. "Jus' to men like me."
Sgt. Garrick: ?! Is that Capt. Price: Christ, Simon. Someone ought to muzzle you. Johnny: I don't believe you. Johnny: Pick up my calls. Johnny: SIMON.
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writersdrug · 20 hours
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Simon Riley x DogSitter!Reader pt. 4
<- Previous
Warnings: Cursing, caught half-naked (don't get ya knickers in a twist, it's not by Simon), possessive behaviour, pining
A/N: Good morning! typed this up last night, wanted to post it but Tumblr mobile hates it when I try to edit my drafts. but I cracked open my computer and got it finished! enjoy the day! xoxo
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"You need to stay still." You said quietly, your hands gently laying on Riley's stomach as she lay on her back. Her eyes flickered between you and your hands curiously with a nervous look on her face. Her tail swished, brushing with a whoosh against the unkempt grass of Simon's backyard.
"Good- play dead, good..." You slowly removed your hands, placing them against your thighs as you knelt next to her. "And stay-"
As soon as your hands left her fur, she twisted back onto her feet and sat upright. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she panted, looking at you for the next command.
"No!" You cried, holding the sides of her face and pointing her snout towards you. "You just had it! C'mon, we've got to get this down - need to show off your skills at the dog park, yeah?"
You flopped down on your back and raised your arms in the air. Riley took a few steps back and stared at you - her toe was pointed in anticipation. She had no idea what you were doing.
"Like this-" you said, "Play dead." You rolled back onto your knees, giggling at the flabbergasted expression on her face. "Really- it's easy, let's give it one more go."
You guided her to lay down again - she huffed, seemingly annoyed with whatever it was you were trying to do. She let you roll her onto her back, her legs awkwardly sticking out straight. You tutted and bent her paws at each ankle.
"Good. Sta- stay." You said as she tried to wiggle up. You kept your hands on her belly again, and she boredly looked at the blue sky above.
"Good, Riley. Play dead." You slowly sat back on your haunches, and she managed to stay put. She looked at you upside-down as you fished a few treats from your pocket.
"Stay..." You cooed, holding the treats up to her muzzle. "Good. Play dead."
She gently lapped up the treats when you opened your palm, chewing noisily and looking back at you for direction. She remained on the ground, feet pointed in the air and her tail still.
"Ok, Riley." You said, and she scrambled back onto her feet. "Now, let's try again. Play dead."
She looked at you, tilting her head in confusion. You could see the gears turning, and your skin was nearly on fire with anticipation. "Play dead." You repeated slowly, pointing towards the ground.
Sure enough, she sank to the floor. When she saw the excitement growing in your eyes, she rolled onto her back, letting her legs relax above her.
"Good girl!!" You squealed, rubbing her belly and her face and showering her with kisses - she groaned and yapped, hurriedly getting back up onto her feet.
"Oh, you're so good, Riley!" You exclaimed and handed her a few more treats. She scarfed them down in a matter of seconds as her tail thwapped against the ground.
You felt proud of her - and of yourself. You'd never really considered yourself an actual dog-sitter before. But now, after this achievement, you felt like the dog-sitter.
"Mitchell had better watch his sorry ass..." You stated, standing up and brushing your hands on your thighs. You paused when you felt something cold - you turned to look over your shoulder, and sure enough, your entire back and rump were covered in mud. You sighed, looking back down at where you had laid in the grass. There was a decently sized mud puddle, with the perfect imprint of your torso and backside.
"Oh, for Christ's sake-" you grumbled, trudging back towards the house. Riley hopped through the doorway and made a beeline straight to her water bowl. She lapped up the water messily as you toed off your sneakers, leaving them by the backdoor. You closed the door behind you and groaned as the damp fabric clung to your skin.
"Just my bloody luck." You murmured. You began peeling your clothes off in the hall, starting with your socks, then your sweatshirt, then your top. You were just about to shimmy out of your jeans, when you heard Riley whine.
Turning around, you saw her walking- no, limping, to her dog bed. She groaned as she shuffled around, scratching at the fabric, before plopping down onto the plush cushion.
"Y' feeling alright, girl?" You asked, and she turned her snout towards you. "Time for some medicine, hmm?"
You padded into the kitchen, grabbing her medicine from the counter and popping a pill into your palm. You stole a jar of peanut butter from Simon's cupboard and scooped a spoonful, shoving the pill into the sticky glob and heading back to the living room. "Don't worry-" you said, holding the spoon down to her as she licked it greedily. "I won't count this as one of your daily cookies."
You felt a chill against your bare back - you looked up, noticing that the AC vent was positioned right above Riley's bed.
"Well, that can't be good..." You grumbled. You quickly ran and snagged a worn-out blanket (decorated with bones and tennis balls, most likely from when she was a puppy) from the hall closet, before returning and draping it over her. She let out a wary groan as you tucked in the edges, cocooning her in a layer of felt.
"Need t' make sure you're not too chilly-" you said, securing her under the blanket. "That cold doesn't help your leg, does it?"
She made a content sound and sank her head down onto the cushion, making you chuckle. "There, isn't that much be-"
You stood back up, your sentence interrupted by your own panic. The mailman was outside the front window, staring right back at you. He was frozen, eyes wide with a shocked flush on his cheeks, as he was putting the mail in Simon's box.
In a fit of horror, you glanced down at yourself, being met with the sight of your shirtless torso and jeans. You shrieked in embarrassment and ran into the hall, quickly throwing yourself into the bathroom and slamming the door behind you.
Riley tilted her head as she watched down the hall, the sound of your "Fucking hell!!" Echoing from beyond the bathroom door - she flopped hear head back onto the cushion and sighed.
------------
The cot groaned and creaked beneath Simon as he dropped himself onto it. He tossed his duffle bag on the floor next to him, letting his arm hang over the edge for a moment. His entire body ached - he had let himself relax too much on his time off with Riley, and had nearly forgotten just how rough this job was on his bones.
"Never thought we'd be back 'ere, eh?" Soap said, trudging into the small dorm. "Alejandro said we're always welcome on 'is base, but I ken he meant other circumstances."
Simon groaned in agreement. "Brings back memories, eh?"
Soap scoffed. "If ye say so, LT. Rott'n ones, that's fer sure."
"A' least it's over."
Soap grunted. "Gonna celebrate with a cup o' joe." He said, rolling out his shoulders with a pop. "Need me t' grab ye some?"
"Thanks, but no thanks. Like to try n' get some sleep 'fore we head home."
"Suit yourself, LT." Soap said, before he left Simon alone in the dorm.
He sighed heavily. Simon was lying to himself if he thought he was going to get any sleep. During the entire mission (save the parts where he was snapping a bloke's neck, or planting bullets in bodies), he couldn't stop thinking about Riley - which was also a lie. Truthfully, he couldn't stop thinking of the both of you.
Were you treating her well? Did you end up using his shower? Did you remember her medicine? Did you use the throw blanket when you slept on his sofa? What did you two do all week? What did you do all week?
It was hard to realize that he'd only seen you in person twice, with the way that he was constantly plagued by you. You and your overly-bright and bold personality. He wondered if you'd be there when he gets back home, or if you'd-
Oh, right. He'd be home tomorrow night. He'd forgotten to text you. He quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed up a message.
coming home tomorrow evening. it'll be late. don't worry about being there, but if you are, that's fine.
He hoped you would be there, he thought, as he sent the message, letting the phone drop onto his chest.
Not a minute had passed that Simon had fought with his own mind, when his phone buzzed. He pulled the screen back above his face and opened the message from you.
Glad to hear you're back safe!
Buzz
If you are actually back, I guess I don't know where you are...
Buzz
Anyways, that's fine! I'll walk Riley around 7 pm, she's good after that until bedtime
Buzz
Of course, you know that, she's YOUR dog after all, lol
Buzz
Get back safe! And I mean get HOME, not just wherever you are right now!
He stared at each message as it popped up, one after another. You must type fast - and god, were you annoying... but he didn't hate it. He should hate it, he'd hated every other person he'd run into with your attitude. But he felt the depth and the honesty in your words, even over text. It was aggravating him, but instead of stomping your sparks out, he wanted to hide them in his dark corner, where no one else could see just how bright you were.
Shut the fuck up, he thought. Man whore.
He began to reply to your message, thick fingers struggling to tap away at the tiny screen.
How are my girls?
Fuck- backspace, backspace- Christ, that was a close one.
How's my girl?
Send.
He groaned, staring at the screen, hungrily waiting for you to respond. He thought of the sound of your nails clacking away on your phone. What would you say? "Good"? "Fine"? "She's sleeping"? He wished you'd go on another tangent, stringing him along in a conversation where one message hardly had anything to do with the last.
Buzz
You sent a photo.
Simon's chest felt tight with anticipation - he hurriedly clicked on the image to make it bigger.
It was you and Riley, both lying on the couch. You were curled up against the arm of the sofa, wearing your pajamas and tucked under his throw blanket with a book in your hand. Your hair was down, and a bit damp, too. Riley was cozied up to your side, her snout resting in your lap. The both of you looked up into the camera - you, with a sweet, soft smile that nearly put Simon in cardiac arrest.
Doing good! I think she likes it when I read to her!
Simon exhaled heavily through his nose. You read to the dog- of course you fucking read to the dog. Why was that attractive? Why was he so warmed by your matching daisy pajamas? By the mug of tea on the coffee table (in his mug, which made it worse)? By the way Riley was so comfortable around you?
How were you doing this to him - infiltrating his brain so easily, consuming it like a weed? A beautiful, elegant weed?
He groaned and laid his phone on his chest, rubbing his eyes. He let his palms linger over the sockets for a moment. Something must be wrong with him. Simon was never so easily distracted by anything, let alone anyone. Had he gotten soft on his time off? Was this some sort of pre-middle-aged hormone cocktail that was controlling him? How the hell was he supposed to snuff this flame out? He could never request your services again; but as soon as the thought entered his head, he threw it out. He'd keep you, if not for his own selfishness, then for the way you were so excited to have the job in the first place. This would have to be a project of self-discipline. He would have to figure out how to-
"Steamin' Jesus- that's who ye got watchin' Riley?!"
For a moment, Ghost nearly came out and landed a punch to Soap's gut. But Simon simply jolted, catching his phone right before it slid off onto the floor.
"Bloody- fuckin' hell, Johnny." He grumbled.
"Bloody fuckin' hell indeed-" Soap agreed, trying to swipe at Simon's phone. "Pull 'er up again, lemme see-"
"Bugger off." Simon warned. He sat up on the edge of the bed and pocketed his phone.
"Awe, this why ye dinnae want te talk 'bout 'er earlier?" Soap said with a playful grin, collapsing onto his cot on the opposite side of the room. "Been hidin' tha' pretty thing all te yerself?"
"'M not hidin' anythin.'"
"Then lemme see- might snag 'er number, too-"
"No you won't, Johnny."
"Why not?"
"Because y' don't need a bloody dog-walker."
"Maybe not, but I could always use a lass, eh?"
"She is off limits-" Simon said, narrowing his gaze at Soap, "- n' there's not gonna be another word 'bout it."
Simon laid down and rolled to face the wall before Soap could utter another word. He heard Johnny scoff, followed by the sound of him removing his boots.
"Dry piece of shite, ye are..." he grumbled.
Despite his instinctual reaction to Johnny's instantaneous attraction to you, Simon was a bit shocked with himself. Again - you weren't his. The only tether he had to you was strictly monetary and contractual. He even imagined that you might be pissed, having a client treat you like they were your bodyguard. He needed to figure this out and de-root it from the source, before it got any worse.
But... if he allowed himself to entertain the idea, just this once... Would it be such a bad thing? To attempt- to convince you that he wasn't so horrible a person, really- if you could just see past his hard, outer shell, built up from years of trauma and blood. Who knows how long it would take you to see him as a decent person, but he could think about the logistics later. It wasn't against the law to date your pet-sitter, he just had to make himself believe that. Maybe you were just the perfect amount of sunshine that could melt the iciness within him.
With a glance over his shoulder, making sure Soap was minding his beeswax, Simon pulled his phone out of his pocket. He gave your picture a long, favorable glance, before he sent you a final message for the night.
keep reading to her for me, and tell her I'll be home soon. thanks again.
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Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae @cum-tea-and-towels @boystepper @definitelynotaclown @your-wifes-boyfriend @ghostslittlegf @bossva @poppingaround @yannvi @katzykat @mileyraes @chocolate-noodles @jupiternighties @sadlonelybagel @rorysbrainrot @identity2212 @pricescontroversiallyyoungerwife @reevesdriver @kingshitonly @ghost4love @lilyofhoon @xxkay15xx
Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! It might need to be a reblog at this point lol
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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 2 days
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[Rambling Something in Few Sentences - Angst version]
TF141*Reader, I promise there will be a fluff version I promise. I know I love to make these men suffer esp Simon Riley I just can’t help 😖
Hey everyone fluff version is out omg :D
Price
“May I have the pleasure to dance with you, Love?”
“Of course, John.” He watched your glistening eyes contained endless love for him.
...
“May I have the pleasure to dance with you, love?”
“...”
He watches your photo, lights up a cigar, starts the music on his player, and sways to the music alone in the house that used to ring with your laughter.
Soap
“Stop drawing me, Johnny, you already have tons of sketches of me, draw something else!”
“Journal is for the beautiful things, aye? how can I not draw when the prettiest lass is beside me?”
...
“Why I never see you draw people? Soap?”
“Because the most beautiful person doesn’t exist now, there’s no meaning to draw people anymore.”
Gaz
“Hey babe, time to get up for breakfast!” He yelled from the dining room, only to hear your hoarse and languid voice coming from the bedroom.
“ten more... minutes... come wake me up... “ He smiled to your response, and took a look at the clock, reminding himself to go find you later.
...
“Babe, time for breakfast!”
“...”
“Shit” He stares at the breakfast for two people placing on the table, curses under his breath.
“always remembered to wake you up 10 minutes later, always forget you aren’t here anymore.”
Ghost
“Talking to a doll is fucking stupid.”
“Hey, it’s a daily ritual for good luck, okay?” He stood there, huffed out a laugh when you gave the shark plushie a kiss. “Bye sharkie, wish me luck, We’ll be home soon!”
...
“Hi, sharkie.” He wakes up when the sunlight pours into the room, and what he sees first is the shark plushie lying beside him.
Brushing his teeth, brewing a morning tea for himself, he comes back to the bedroom one more time before he leaves the house.
“Bye sharkie, wish me luck, I’ll be back soon, yeah?”
The necklace you used to wear after he gifted to you now is secured around the shark’s body, reflecting the sunlight and shining when he speaks softly to it, as if answering him for the sharkie, and you.
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ghouljams · 1 day
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Does anyone want to hear about android!Ghost's dick? No?
OK well I wanna talk about it so...
Starting off strong with the "he doesn't have one" argument because what use does he have for one when he's literally built for active duty? Well. First of all who build a robot you can't fuck? Second of all shhhhhhhh.
As it stands he doesn't have one. Not that he doesn't want one or wouldn't use one but the military can be so stingy... so obviously he's gotta enlist his favorite mechanic to make him one. Which is a fun in person request to make. Just showing up to your workshop and telling you he wants a dick while you studiously do not look at his crotch. You can feel him smirking when you ask what he plans to do with it. (He'd get by pretty well with his fingers and *redacted* but nothing beats dick)
So you gotta design a dick for this guy, take measurements, get input, spend hours agonizing over the neuropathways and how you're going to link this in to his synthetic nervous system. Plus like... are you gonna make this thing come? You probably should. If Ghost is going to be using it he should get something out of it.
So now you have to design an orgasm program. Which is easier said than done because how do you quantify that, and how do you code it, and most importantly how do you test it?
Well you test it by hooking Ghost up to the computer and setting the program to run, watching him stiffen and arch his hips into the feeling, swearing in that low mechanically filtered voice as he humps the air. Fuck he looks good. UNPROFESSIONAL THOUGHT. OK you stare at your screen and run a few more variations, asking him to describe each one and rank them. Great orgasm locked and loaded, now you have to set up trigger scenarios.
Which also means when you actually get the android dick to a solid prototype you have to call Ghost in and install it. You reserve the day, clear it with Price (new parts testing, custom made, you tell him. Giving no other details. He doesn't ask) and keep a fire extinguisher and a kill switch nearby while you tell Ghost to... jerk off.
And then you watch him stroke the gorgeous, big, cock you custom designed for him with thick, deft, fingers. And you wait for the orgasm program to trigger. And hope that nothing glitches and he doesn't rip your beautiful masterpiece of a dick off, and also that the come you designed actually comes out at the right time. So you sit there and watch him, press your thighs together and try not to shift in your seat even though you can hear the click of Ghost's cameras as he watches you watching him.
You don't wonder what he's thinking about. You don't focus on the grunt of pleasure he lets out. You do tap at your screen to check the sensitivity levels on the synthskin you used. You do reach to make sure he isn't squeezing too tight or stroking too rough and end up with lube based come spurting onto your face.
Which you suppose means it works.
Which means moving on to partner trials, and your hand tentatively wrapped around Ghost's fat cock. You don't remember why you made it so thick, but it doesn't help the ache between your legs. You try to keep a professional look on your face as you reset the program and start to stroke him with much gentler fingers. You ignore the come staining your face until Ghost swipes his fingers through it and pushes those same fingers into your mouth.
You end up on the workbench with him, grinding your clothed cunt against his firm thigh as you stroke his cock and he pumps his fingers into your drooling mouth. Mutter all manner of filth to you. Greedy whore, desperate piece of meat for him to fuck now that you've made equipment for him. Aren't you a smart little toy to make him exactly what he asked for, and so big too. "That what you want love," he asks, "you want a fat cock to split you open? Look'it you drool, probably tried it out before you stuck it on me."
Even if you didn't you can't say you didn't think about it, didn't drag your fingers over the dick appreciatively. All the scaling in the world, trying to make sure it would look right, fit right, on Ghost's body and you still made it with your preferences in mind. He knows it too. That's why he reminds you what a cock hungry toy you are. "All cooped up in here with no one to show you your place," you drag your tongue along his fingers, work your cunt against him, hope you leave a wet spot on his synth skin, hope he can feel you through the coveralls, "bet you dream about one of your bots holding you down and giving you what you deserve."
You can try and shake your head but he just holds your cheeks, twisting the fingers in your mouth to accommodate. Ghost makes a noise, a sort of clicking sound you can't parse, and tips his head. "Can't lie to me, deserve better than I could give ya, but now?" He pulls his fingers from your mouth and fists your coveralls, pulling purposefully at the material, "Now I've got all day."
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shotmrmiller · 2 days
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can i get keeper!simon whose only purpose is to the forgotten graves in the small town he resides in. he moves through the moonlit cemetery like a phantom, taking great care to only step on dew-kissed grass (a small yet impactful detail you've noticed). he wears a mask; not of cloth but something solid, firm. you've heard rumors, that it's to shield himself from the gaze of the dead while others say that he's a dead man himself, hiding decaying flesh and exposed bone.
every night, you watch him with a burning curiosity from your window that fogs up with every quiet breath.
his steps are measured as he approaches a headstone, placing his lit lantern on the dampened soil before brushing away fallen leaves and moss, revealing faded names. he reaches into his waistband and brandishes a knife with a blade the length of your forearm. it gleams under the full moon's silver light as it slices through the ivy that's begun to creep over the tombstone.
his solitary path leads him toward the leaning blackened oak tree with branches that resemble skeletal fingers, eventually melting into the shadows, completely out of sight.
you sit straighter on the windowsill, elongating your neck to see if you can get a glimpse of the man, or thing, that walks with the dead. nothing.
(he sees you, however. oh, how warm you must be with the glowing hearth behind you. how comfortable you must be in your simple, long-sleeved night dress.)
pretty little poppet. haven't your parents told you that curiosity killed the cat? or maybe he'll keep you for himself, a reward for all his hard work. grave keeping isn't for the light of heart, after all.
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ladygoth · 3 days
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Some of these ghost fics be funny because it’s actually corny as hell to be wearing a Balaclava mask to bed imagine trying to kiss him and this is all you see
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Y/N, standing on a chair: The floor is hating Simon! Soap: *jumps into Price's arms* Price: *climbs onto the table carrying Soap* Gaz: *lifts his feet off the floor from his chair and continues scrolling his phone* Ghost: *lies down on the floor* Y/N: NO-
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dmitriene · 1 day
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simon riley loves himself a chubby girl — being a big man he is simon addicted to the feel of weight against him, as well as the softness, plushness of the supple flesh, and he isn't small by himself at all.
he's got a lot of muscle mass, a wide body with a small belly and wide palms that will fit perfectly on your body, he's ready to swear he's just going crazy when he sees the chubby girls, and you've come to him at the best time to knock a man to his knees before you.
simon is gentle and caring — all the best for his girl, he can't keep his hands to himself, he can't stop carrying you in his arms like a princess and moving mountains for you alone, he even learned to cook, no matter how difficult it is, just to please you with your favorite treats.
and he especially loves you in the bed, with passion and tenderness, stroking the supple skin and every fold and your pudgy belly as if you were about to shatter like a marble sculpture.
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simon treats you like one, too — calloused and rough, wide palms caress every hollow and stretch mark that forms on your skin like tiger stripes with a tenderness that makes you shudder, fingers greedily, almost possessively gripping your rounded ass and digging in before moving to your waist.
he caresses, kisses, whispers sweet words of affection that slip past his thin lips with rumbling purrs like — “fricking hell you pretty, my beautiful girl with such a perfect, mind blowing body„ and you can't even muster anything harsh against yourself, tell him he's not right, because he is, you're a goddess to him.
a goddess with a sweet, fat pussy that he likes to devour with you sitting on his face, your body is literally limp and occasionally trembling with small convulsions of pleasure while simon's crooked nose fidgets and rubs against your clit, his wide tongue flattens against your weeping, fluttering cunt.
you drown his face in your honey like sweet slick and creamy cum, letting it dribble past your folds against his lapping tongue that already curls deeper again — simon won't let you off till he pulled at least couple of orgasms out of you.
because he likes to see how you look when he folds you in missionary, to see your glossy and half lidded delirious gaze, your body feels even softer, limp after all that he's done with his tongue, emptying you completely and leaving only mess and pulsing need in your puffy, clenching pussy.
so simon will fuck you nicely, stuffing you full of his meaty cock as you'll cunt grip him tightly, sucking him balls deep and he wouldn't even mind — harsh rolls of his hips leaving you gasping and mewling into the thick air, skin glistening with sweat as he toys with your pretty, rounded tits and cups them as gently, while rearranging your insides.
he'll make you cum again and again, fill you with his potent, creamy loads just to see how it dribbles out of your gooey cunny, making simon's every new thrust squelch.
and he won't stop fucking his pretty girl into the mattress, with his slightly pudgy stomach rubbing against your belly — until you squirt all over the sheets and shake against the sheets, vision whitening out as your cunt clamp and pulse around his fat length, with simon grinning smugly.
✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.
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celestialwhoree · 2 days
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If there's one thing that Simon loves about coming home from deployment, it's being able to absolutely spoil his girlfriend rotten. There's nothing quite like coming home with a pay check lining his pockets, and a sweet little bird chirping to him about the newest lipgloss, lingerie set or outfit she's seen online, trying to be subtle in the way she asks him to buy it.
Who's he to say no? Honestly, so long as he can follow her dutifully around Sephora, carrying her little basket and getting a good look at her ass, he really can't complain. Equally, he's more than fine with being a walking lipstick tester, making sure all of her chosen products are as transfer proof as the packaging claims them to be.
Admittedly, he does have to steer her away from the pet store, following a series of bunny related incidents which don't get brought up anymore. Thankfully, the Le Creuset store is only a couple of shops down, and have just restocked the pink, heart shaped Dutch oven she's been pining for, but absolutely cannot justify spending two hundred and something pounds on. He can though. He'll let money trickle through his fingers like sand so long as it means seeing her happy.
Lucky for him, she just has to express her gratitude for him buying her all of those lovely things. Said gratitude obviously expressed in bounding out into their bedroom as he sits reading the news in bed, wearing nothing but some little lace and silk teddy, which he can't wait to sink his teeth into.
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a little something to apologise for my absence 🤭
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shadow4-1 · 3 days
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I'm just imagining having to break up small fights between the 141.
They're rare, but they do happen. Usually when tensions are running high and things aren't going as they're supposed to. Occasionally it's because they cross each other's boundaries, but for the most part it's just men being men.
Soap and Ghost squabble the most, but it always comes from a place of concern. It's usually just hushed growls, and face to face glares. You usually just clear your throat and raise a brow. Both men tend to huff and walk off. Sometimes, if they're really mad at each other, they'll push at each other. You know better than to get in between them, but you call out to them and they stop. They never hurt each other, and that's pretty nice, actually.
Gaz and Soap on the otherhand, get much more physical. It's not bare-handed hits, but more wrestling, headlocks and grappling. It's like watching two brothers get into it over the TV remote (you've seen them fight over a PS5 controller, so not far off). All you have to do is raise your voice, grab whatever their fighting over, or just sit and enjoy the show. Eventually they tire themselves out. If they're actually mad at each other it can turn into a fistfight, but they usually look to you to break it up before it gets to that point.
Price and Soap is the worst. It's extremely rare, but when their tensions boil over, it explodes. Soap has some authority issues, and if Price forgets/ignores that it tends to get heated. It starts off as grumbles and growls from Soap but quickly turns into yelling and disobeying orders (obviously Soap has his reasons, but he goes about it the wrong way). If Price has had enough of Soap's infantile behavior he tends to snap (any of you acting like fools makes him embarrassed). If words are exchanged, well, it'll turn into a fight. Price always wins. Soap takes a couple days to recover his ego. But you try to jump in before it can get there. Only once have you actually had to get in between them and it was kind of terrifying. The only reason they stopped yelling at each other was because you had a hand on each of their chests and talked in a slow, calming fashion.
They'd all be fine without you, they'd figure out their differences. But with you around, they lean on you. Something about the way you guide social interactions just helps them breathe easier. You make an excellent mediator.
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