#ghost riley

[leafavleo]

GHOST who spits a lot. Like any other guy, that really doesn’t care what others think about him, he spits on the ground from time to time, earning a smack on the shoulder from you and a quick scolding. He couldn’t care less, but keep talking, pretty mama.

He doesn’t hear you complaining when his spits on your needy pussy while he eats you out. He loves how much you squirm and moan when he has you underneath him, assaulting your cunt with his tongue to the point where you don’t even remember the last time you were dry down there.

As he spits on your pussy, he catches a glance of the way your eyes roll to the back of your head, how much you’re holding that cry of pleasure.

Ghost doesn’t stay cheap when he has you on your knees before him. The soft look in your eyes, the lips parted and tongue out for him to see how willing you are to take his cock and worship it.

“Stay like that.” He says, a throaty voice that makes you press your thighs tighter.

He grabs your jaw, tightly enough to hold your head back and keep your lips apart. He leans over you, collecting the saliva in his mouth before spitting it right onto your tongue, grinning.

That’s not the only things you’d be swallowing.

[starboye]

olderbf!simon who only gets manicures to fuck you better, he knows you hate the feeling of his rough hands and poorly clipped nails fucking into you but you just don't have the heart to tell him so with a little help from the boys he starts getting manicure more regularly

first time he went he tried explaining what he wanted but failed miserably so he just said it period point blank "i wanna finger my boyfriend better" and the lady just knew what he needed

he was a little skiddish at first but he calmed down to the nice feeling of his hands being delicately taken care of after so long of his rough job, once done he was pretty satisfied to see you face turn to one of enjoyment as his fingers curled inside you

making his pretty birdie moan out just from his digits rubbing against your gummy walls, your back arching, begging him to go deeper and deeper to the knuckles

[agendercrisisx]

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝙶𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚢

Ship: Simon "Ghost" Riley x female!reader

If there are any mistakes they will unfortunately not be corrected, because I'm too tired to read and this is what has been served. <3

Warnings: SEX! Porn no plot at alllllll, nipple play, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, switch Ghosty, desperation, reader-insert, reader gets fucked... and cum a lot of cum and creampie.

Summary: Ghost has been away on a mission for way too long and you miss him more than you can handle. This is pure smut, no plot.

Word count: 3880

Your legs are hugging each side of Simon’s hips, his hands are placed on either side of your waist, holding you firmly in place. He is slowly pulling you back and forth on top of his aching crotch, pulling soft whimpers from your lips every time one of your sensitive spots grazes him. The pair of boxers he is wearing is the only thing separating the two of you, the only thing any of you are wearing. You had dropped most of your clothes the moment he had stepped through the door. His jacket and boots were the first to go, and then he was almost ripping the clothes of your body. Not that you were wearing much.

You had waited for his return, hoping he would be sent home a day early. Hoping for his immediate arrival home. You were desperate. You needed him, and your hand was far from enough anymore. Not even the toys Simon had bought for you, to “help” while he was gone, had any effect. You had been pent up for days, and not a dropped had spilt. You were more than desperate to see your husband again. Touch him. Feel him. Fuck him. And as his gaze had met yours, you realized how pent up he too was.

He had quickly picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder. Ridding you of your remaining clothes on the way to your shared bedroom. His movements were gentle as he had put you down on the bed, but you knew that his soft and gentle touches weren’t going to stay like that much longer. You were right, they hadn’t.

His grip tightens and the rub of his clothed dick, against your sensitive pussy, is almost already too much. You knew you were pent up, but to this extent? You were so addicted to your husband, and he you. A groan escapes his lips as he presses you down on him, while he grinds up into you. A whimper falls from your open mouth, and he is quick to pull you down to swallow it whole.

His cock is painfully hard and not long ago you could clearly see a spot, from where he was dripping precum. Now everything is soaked, and it is entirely your fault. The moment he had laid his hands on you, your whole body had set into breeding mode. Your breath turned short, your face red, your legs shaky, your nipples hard, your pussy wet, and nothing or no one could stop you from climbing the mountain, that is your husband.

“Mhm… Need, need you…” You take a shaky breath, in a desperate attempt to calm your voice enough to utter the words. “… You in… inside. Please… Oh please. Simon, please.” Your voice is dripping with need, and the words falling from your lips are barely understandable. But Simon understands enough.

“Anything…” A groan falls from his lips as you press your hips harder against him, it isn’t even intentionally, your body moving on its own.

“Love, gotta… oh fuck. You gotta… let me breathe…” His breaths coming out raspy, letting his head fall back into the pillows. He is trying to compose himself enough to get inside that pretty pussy of yours, but the way you’re grinding against him, has his mind blank. He can’t think about anything but you, and how good you make him feel. He is even more pent up than you, you at least had the time to make the worst go away. He hasn’t touched his cock in eight days, the last time he came was in you, right before he left. Just the thought of you while he was away, made him nearly dizzy. Price had to pull him out of his own head several times, but even on missions his mind always found you. Your soft skin, your smile, the way your eyes light up when you see him, your voice as you tell him about your day, the way your hand feels in his, your mind-numbingly beauty, the way you say his name, your moans, the whimpers he can pull from you with just a finger, the way you feel around him, you, you, you. You. Always you.

He can’t think anymore, his thoughts always filled with you, are mush. He can only register how good you feel, nothing in his mind. And he isn’t even inside, he is going to bust the moment his cock touches your sweet cunt. He needs you so bad. He needs you more than water. More than the air he breathes. If this was his last moments on Earth, he would die happy. Nothing more than you fills his senses. Now he just needs to fill you.

His muscles are flexing painfully, his whole body on edge, every nerve feels like it could snap, his entire body pent up, ready to bust any second. His hands are clenched by his side, his legs cramped up, and first as a soft feathery kiss is laid on his inner thigh does he realize your weight is missing. You aren’t sitting on him anymore and his underwear has been removed too. He tries to lift his head to look at you. But his body doesn’t move.

Another light kiss on his inner thigh, makes his body tense to a point he thinks it’s going to break. Whimpers and groans are leaving his lips like a waterfall, and drool is running slowly down his chin. His chest is covered in sweat, his dick is twitching almost violently, and his teary eyes are clenched shut.

You plant a last kiss on his thigh, just besides his balls and another whimper leaves his lips. He is sensitive. More sensitive than you think you have ever seen him before. It’s been years since you were separated for so long, normally it’s just a few days and you can both barely handle that. It has been over a week, you get pent up when he doesn’t touch you for a day. This is nothing short of torture.

Simon throws his head back in a silent cry, as you nose lightly grazes his ball. You bite softly down on his inner thigh and a moan slip past his lips. Normally he wouldn’t make a sound, he doesn’t like being vulnerable, but his mind is so blank he can’t even seem care. The enjoyment you get from the sounds he makes, is clearly shown in slick dripping down your thighs. The sheets under you already ruined, and you haven’t done anything.

You’re sitting on your knees between his thighs, you press your legs apart so your throbbing cunt can rub softly against the already soaked sheets. You whimper at the contact and your mind fall numb for a few seconds, before a soft gasp can be heard from Simon and you mission becomes clear. You must help your darling husband, he seems so tense, he needs relief, and it’s beyond clear that he can’t handle that himself.

Your lips brush his pelvic bone, and your lift yourself up on your elbows to have full access to his leaking cock. You grind your hips against the bed, and your moan mixes with his groans. You lean down to softly kiss the tip of his aching cock, you push your tongue out, and you softly kitten licks the tip.

No more than two grazes in, and his body cramps up. A delicious groan is pulled from Simon’s lips, his hand finds your head on instinct, as he takes a good grip in your hair. He pulls you back to his cock and a last soft kiss to the tip has him cumming undone. His body convulses and string after string of hot cum, falls over your face. Your mouth opens, trying to catch as much as possible. His hips are bucking into the air and his dick is twitching relentlessly. His mind is only filled with pleasure and no coherent thoughts is anywhere near him.

As he finally unloads it all on you and the bed, his lips stay open. Short, shaky breath leaves him, and his chest is falling rapidly. You let a hand run along his thigh, and his desperate sighs is more than enough to make you keep going. He always came so much and so many times, when he comes home after deployment. And you aren’t going to stop, when you know just how much your poor husband need this special treatment.

Your mind is almost as blank as Simon’s, but you desire to keep your husband cumming and happy is stronger than any lust could ever be. Your pussy is going to be second priority right now, it’s your darling husband’s sweet turn. You know how many loads he has in him normally, if he hasn’t cum his entire deployment, and he normally doesn’t, then he needs more than a single measly orgasm, a lot more.

His chest is rising and falling rapidly, and soft moans are escaping his swollen lips. He must have been biting them as he came, he does that sometimes, trying to keep his delicious sounds concealed. Not that he did a very good job this time.

“Gon’ make you cum’ again, pretty boy.” It’s more to yourself than him, but soft whimpers come from your husband. Your face is rubbing softly against his crotch, you let your tongue slip out running along his balls. Slowly pulling one into your mouth and sucking softly on the sensitive flesh. Simon’s hand is flung over his face in a desperate attempt to keep his flustered face hidden from your hungry eyes. You pull your lips off his balls with a ‘pop’ sound following, and a grin spreads on your lips.

“I love you soo’ much. Gon’ make you feel al’ good.” Muffled sounds can be heard from your husband, but his arm covering his face makes it hard to make out if he is saying something or if it’s just more pathetic whining. You wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, finally getting to put his sweet cock in your mouth. You wanted that for days, you missed his cock, his taste, him. You missed him so much. And what better way to show him than let him cum in your throat?

You pull your lips off, to lick a long strip up the underside of his cock. Before lapsing your lips back on his leaking tip and getting your first good taste of your darling husband. A mix of cum and precum was running down and the salty but sweet taste got your own body tensing, close to your own high. His hips are bucking into your awaiting mouth, letting his own body fight for the sweet relief of your lips. You swirl your tongue around the head and a soft moan leaves your lips. Simon groans at the added vibration from your sweet voice.

“Got’a… need’… baby… fuck… just… please… I need…” His soft voice is finally coherent enough for you to make out the words, even though there is no meaning behind them. Every word interrupted by a groan while you move you lips up and down his hard cock. It hadn’t softened at all after his first orgasm, and his movements were more than desperate.

“You got’ to speak up.” Not that your words were much more understandable than his, but it was so rare to see him like this. You needed to remember every moment of it, save it in your brain like an exceptionally good porno. Needed to save every whimper, every moan, every soft sound slipping past his bodacious lips, every damn movement. You needed it all engrained in your brain, like a light picture.

The view from his crotch up was godlike, his abs perfectly laid out before you, shiny and covered in sweat. The bumps of muscle sprawled out before you like a meal, and you are nothing, but a woman starved. You keep your attention on his cock, but the need to lick his abs. Taste the sweat on his hard stomach, kiss along the scars and feel his abs tense as you nibble at his skin. The urge to ride his abs, grind you swollen clit along his broad stomach, and make yourself cum just by grinding on his muscles. You know he would love it. He loves watching you, your every move, studying you, memorizing you. You could put on a show for him to remember.

Maybe take a hold of his soft pecs, the muscle on his chest jiggly and delicious. His chest was nothing short of breathtaking. Simon is a fucking baby, loving to suck on your chest, nibble and suck on your sensitive nipples. And as the sweet wife you are, you decide to repay the favour. You lick his tip a last time, before lifting yourself up. You press your chest against his stomach and groan escapes his lips, one of his large hands move to tangle into your hair. Your lips wrap around his nipple and a soft pull can be felt in your hair. You smile and as your teeth softly grazes his hardened bud, and the sweetest groan leaves him.

His grip tightens and he pulls you up so his sore lips can come in contact with yours. He is aggressive but in a sweet way. Pushing his mouth so firmly against yours, that for a moment your teeth touch. His tongue dominating and in control. You body is pulsing, clamping around nothing but air and occasionally when a breeze flows through the room you can truly feel how wet you are. A dripping mess for him, a river of desire for him and only him.

A light touch against your clit, makes your body collapse. You press your face against his neck burying yourself as a moan leaves your lips. His finger circles you again, slowly dipping down to collect some of your wetness to make the glide over you easier. As he comes back up and softly pinches you. A loud whimper escapes your lips, while your body desperately starts humping his hand. Fighting for any sort of friction, to make that awfully lust differ.

His lips find your neck, tracing his tongue along your jugular and planting a kiss right below your ear. He must have composed himself, because soft words leave his lips and you cum in an instant. The way he says, “cum for me darling,” has your entire body convulsing and cramping. You moan and whimper into his neck, biting down on the muscle of his shoulder. You pussy contracting around thin air, but begging, begging so desperately for his cock.

 “Please, ple’se, ple’ce.” Your words are hard to distinguish, and the letters warps together into a blur. But he understands it. More so from the way your body moves, the way your head falls back into the pillows, and the way you so desperately reach for him. He knows. He knows you so well. Every movement of your body is underlined for him, he has looked and studied them a hundred times over and he is sure of every twitch.

A smirk grows on his lips as a single digit of his snakes its way down your fragile body. His nail softly scratches the skin of your stomach as you grow more and more impatient. A whimper falls from your lips, and you buck your hips into the air to get his attention. His eyes find yours and he chuckles. Removing his finger from your stomach to set his hand down beside him. He lifts himself from the bed, to move down between your thighs.

The slightest moment of control seems to fall from his grasp as he sees the wetness dripping from your desperate pussy. His eyes light up and his tongue peaks out to lick himself around the lips like some starved animal. He falls to his elbows, his face now just inches away from you. He can smell you, the meal he is so desperate to taste. His eyes surveying your soft flesh, hungrily looking at your bare cunt. Inspecting your pussy.

The smile on his lips is soon gone, as his head is roughly pressed between your thighs. His tongue darts out to taste you, running along your tight walls, eagerly licking up everything you have to offer. Your screams and whimpers are not of short, as he grabs the back of your thighs with his hands and pulls you even closer. Pressing his nose against your soft bundle of nerves, while his tongue explores your insides. Your hand desperately reaches for anything to grab but finds nothing other than the soaked bed sheet. You moan, and as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, your hips buck into the air pressing even harder against his face. He laughs and the small amount of vibration is enough to push you over the edge.

Your high hits you like a wave, your body contorting and contracting in a mess of limps. You pussy doing anything to find back to him and his so sweet relief. Your hands finally finding something to hold and taking a firm grasp in his hair. You moan while you push his face against your cunt, milking every last drop of your orgasm from his sweet tongue.

You fall breathlessly back into the pillows, taking a moment to catch your breath. But not a second later, you whimper as Simon once again comes in contact with your pussy. He knows you are not done. You know it. But the orgasm that had just rippled through your body had taken its toll. But he and you was fully aware that if he just slightly pushed into you, you would be back on top of him etching him to move.

His finger runs slowly up, a gasp leaves you as his finger glides over your aching hole and another one as he just barely touches your clit.

“You gon’ give me another one. Need ‘nother one luv, come one darlin’, please. Need you to cum for me, y’know just once more. Please sweetheart, just once. Just cum for me once more, I’ll do wa’ever you ask. One time? I’ll make it worth your while.” The tone in his voice always made your knees weak, but with a slight hint of him begging for you to cum. Him begging? No one would believe you. But you know and that is enough. That the big strong sergeant is begging for you, saying he will do whatever you ask. With the fact that his digits are pushing into you, stretching you out, and your pussy is eager to welcome him.

Two of his fingers finds that sensitive little spot in you, and a gentle nudge and another soft whisper from him. “I’ll let you on my cock if you cum again, hmm? Promise to fuck ya’ real good luv.” You nod your head and bite down roughly on his shoulder. A groan escapes you and your body cramps in an instant. The heat enveloping makes you lightheaded, and the pulsing of your sensitive pussy makes your heart beat even faster. You cum around him in a sweel of cuss words and praise. Your body pulling him closer to you in anyway possible, wrapping any part you can around him.

Your mouth agape and legs falling apart, the view in which from Simon sees you is astounding. His beautiful wife, spread open for him. Whimpering at any soft contact and begging for him to touch you.

Your eyes find his and the lust in his makes you crave the sweet taste of him even more. You need him more than air to breathe.

“You are such a good fucking girl for me.”

His hands roughly grab the fat of your thighs and pulls you into his lap. Your still twitching pussy rubbing against his throbbing cock. His hands move to feel the soft ski of your waist and gently rub his thump against you lowest rib. The few seconds of gentleness is quickly overthrown by his own his eagerness to feel you and you no longer remaining self-control.

Before you realise you are pushed into a pillow, his right arm holding him over you as his left is helping him push the dripping head of his cock against your eager pussy. You whimper at the soft contact and a scream of pleasure rips from your chest as his slams into you. Filling you to the brim. His pace is set, hammering into you as he pulls your legs to rest on top of his shoulders. Letting his cock hit you at a new angle, a different string of sounds leaves you as you get used to the girth of your husband’s cock.

You clamp down around him as another orgasm is ripped from your body. Leaving you shaking as he continues the bruising of your cervix. His gaze meets yours and his eyes has a faint haze to them, he isn’t thinking he is running on pure adrenaline and lust. He is only thinking about the way you feel around him, the way you squeeze and moan. The way your hands are gripping at the hairs on his neck. The way your legs are pulling him closer. The way you bite down on his shoulder to keep yourself mildly composed. He only thinks about you.

“You feel so good luv’, can’t last long like this.” His words are a mess between heavy breathing and whimpers. You nod and pull him closer, your hands pulling his chest against yours. Running your hands up to his shoulders and down to his biceps to get a grip as his movements speed up.

He is so close, he can’t control himself any longer. His movements getting sloppy and unprecise as his body tenses.

“I’m gonna fill ya’ up yeah? Be a good girl for me and take it.” His words are followed by grunts and the feral movements of his body is all you need to know. You pull him tighter against you, whimpering against his ear and nothing else is needed for him to come undone. Groans falling from his lips, his body contracting and convulsing as he pushes harder against you. His head falling against your shoulder as a last string of cuss words escapes him.

…

"Dear Y/N L/N Riley,

Your intimate relationship with the Sergeant, Simon Riley, is to be none of the officers’ concerns. But as of late, a law of the state has been broken.

As the laws dictate, all destruction of government property is prohibited. As official, Sergeant Riley is defied as such, therefore the damages that have come to the Sergeant is classified as a crime.

You will not be incriminated for this instantaneously, but this shall refrain from repeating.

Regards, Captain Price

-don’t let this repeat Y/N, we cannot have Ghost running around with love bites on his neck in uniform."

Your cheeks are burning. You would have never guessed them to send a letter regarding sexual intercourse with your husband. But this only taught you one thing. Don’t leave hickies where others could see.

I've had this is my drafts for months and I just never pulled myself together to finish it. But now I finally did, the ending is a bit rushed but I would rather write something than nothing. I hope you liked it.

[ghost-askblog]

oy, Simon. Got a new pack of ciggies. Cya’ out in 10? need some company for a while

-currently crippling soren but as @johnprice-asks

affirmative, sir. 10 mikes.

want me to bring anything?

[o0chiyami0o]

Second chance:

Pt 1. The Saviors

Lil warning before we start

Listen uh, I'm making a series because uh I want to. Judge me or not, I have a K9 dog with me(totaly a dog). But anyway other that I'd hope you all enjoy this lil series of mine, the reader have a bit of personality and hit of same backstory from a character, I'm not gonna really reveal who I was refering to but I'd love for you lots to keep guessing 'till someone guess it right:). Also, I'm not good with their accents so I might just slip in some the words I know, sorry.

Everything is dark and you can't even see a thing, is your eyes even open? Are you even alive? You keep asking yourself that. Your lungs feel full as if water were filling it each time you tries to took a breath.

Soft murmured can be heard but from where? You can barely make up the words they're saying "Poor soul" "Barely reach late twenties" "lord forgive this soul". And some you couldn't make up, soon the soft murmured became more louder and the voices adds up.

Your eyes finally flutter open only to meet with blinding white light as you can't feel yourself breathing, yet here you are, awake but the blinding light make you second guess it "Poor soul, it's not your time yet. I'll bring you back there but not at the same place you use to be. Be as brave as you're before." the voice say, sound so soft and soothing but something about it make you feel unease.

Before you could quest whoever's voice was it, you soon felt like yourself falling. The blinding light is no longer in view as you find yourself in a what seem to be a bulding with a gasp escape you once you feel yourself breathing again.

"What.. the fuck" you breath out as you clutch into your chest, everything felt so wrong and different as your eyes flick everywhere. The sounds of people yelling, screaming, gunshots and more chaos. Just what the hell is happening here? You ask yourself as you stand up on your feet before a groan escape you, everything hurts.

You look down at yourself before took a notice the bruses and wounds on your body which make your eyes widen 'What happening?' You repeat in confusion, you didn't have time to think before the door, that already broken anyway, kicked down by a male "Captain, foun' someone" he say, talking to the mic that were resting on his ear.

You took in his appearance, a soldier, what you can see from his uniform as his hair.. is somewhat unique for a soldier. Whatever it is, make you tense up once you saw his uniform. "Yer okay, bud?" He ask as he approach you, clutching the gun he holding while he keep his guard up.

You just continue to stare up at him, your mind telling you to fight or run but you remain still with body tensing. One time you're drowning and the other time you're here. Weird.

"Gee, could use a medic, kid" he say as he crouch down in front of you. Kid? You ask youself, this man doesn't seem to be older than you in any thought. "Come, let me help ya" he says as he put away his gun and carry you up in his arms. An arm behind your knees and the other behind your back.

"S'tense, wha' happened to ya, Lass?" Ask the man as he keeps his focus straight, running toward what seems to be a helicopter. His question remains unanswered as you keep your guard up when he steps into the vehicle only to meet four other men with the same uniform as his.

The sight make you tense up even more than you should which make the man who holding you took a notice of it "found 'er still breathing in one of the building. The other already left with the others suvivor" the man explain to his team as he sit down on the barely enough space in the vehicle.

"This is why I told 'em to check every building even there's no call out for help" mutter a man who sitting across from you, seems to be the oldest if you take in his appearance but look can always lie. "The medic is busy, let 'em be" say another man who offer you a sympathic smile.

The man who still holds you in his arms shift slightly to help you have a comfortable position while all of you fit in the small space "we're going" a gruff voice say from the pilot seat before the helicopter start do lift off from the ground.

"S'tense, where did ye find 'er?" Ask the man from across of you, tilting his head slightly as his bear shifting every time he start talking "one of the broken building, colaps as soon we leave. Lucky 'er" say the man who still holding you in place, giving his teammate a grin.

"Lass look traumatized" say the other man, who give you a softer gaze as if trying to help you ease up, that didn't help thought. "Wouldn't imagen wha' happend there, the town were turn upside down by tha' maniac".

That gets your attention as your gaze flick to the man who just talk. A maniac? Surely they just being overzealous but nothing is impossible to you anymore.

———

You can't remember shit. You're now in a medical room where they tend your wounds and bruses. They ask you your name, you say your name to them but it feel wrong to say as if it's wasn't even your name to begin with.

When the medics leave the room to let you heal, you hear the door of the room being open to reveal the man who save you "how 're ye doin' lass?" Ask the man as he approach your bed. Staying silent as you look up at him while laying down on the bed "not much of a talker are ye?" He ask, after a while he notice you're not going to answer him.

He soon called out your name with a grin on his face ",heard they called ye' that" he say as your head nod comfirm his words which make his grin widen when he knew you're not fully ignoring him. "Call me Soap, Bonnie" he say as he watch your expresion, wich to his supprised, you let out a short laughter.

This fact make him tries to pull out more of your laughter from you by making some jokes in hope to ease you up, some were so bad that manage pull out a louder laughter from you.

But soon it come to an end when one of the nurse tell him to leave you to heal, you watch him walk out of the room as he give you a grin before leaving the room.

You now left alone in the medical room, you glance to your side to find an open window that reveal the night sky. You look outside from your bed, looking at the stars as you still confused what will happend next since you know nothing of this place neither how you got here.

The stars held no answer for your questions as you found yourself slowly falling asleep, maybe tomorrow will answer at least some of the questions that have been flooding in your head.

[ryuzakemo128]

Ghoap x Female Reader

Content Warnings: Female reader is Italian and speaks Italian. Swearing. Cursing. Insults thrown around. Reader talks about their wealthy family ties. Philosophy talk about death and what it means to accept death. Car accident in somewhat graphic detail I guess?

Note: If you want more of this type of thing, let me know, and I'll whip up a part two in a heart beat.

Note 2: Camion is Italian for 'truck'. At least, I think it is. But please correct me if that is incorrect.

You were still unconscious from the car accident, you weren’t the one who caused this forsaken mess, and yet you were the one who suffered the consequences of somebody else’s actions. Doctors said you suffered greatly, but then again anyone who was railed by a camion would have.

The term ‘suffered greatly’ is absolutely vague and at this point? It felt almost deliberate. Who knew when you would wake up? Let alone wake up at all? The nerves bundled up inside the both of them. Unsure why they had insisted it was safe enough for you to go there alone.

As the rain hammered down upon the asphalt road. As the camion came beside you inside the car that was small enough to be crumpled with too much ease. You didn’t see it coming. Not that you would have now, would you? It wasn’t like you could predict the future and considering the past is set in stone. It wouldn’t do any good trying to change what already happened.

“I will not be subjected to your lack of taste. Nor do I expect you suffer from my own tastes.” You told them months ago about Italian opera and how much you enjoyed it. “Either way. What you need. You shall have. No strings attached and no favours required.”

You are far too ‘selfless’ sometimes. According to them. But you loved them for what they did for themselves rather than what they did for you. What good is assistance if they can’t hope to help themselves.

“Hey, I will not have you speak negatively about yourself or wishing death upon yourself either. Neither helps you and nor will it help you heal either. Just because can doesn’t always mean that you should. You told me that once and I think it should be said to you too.” You gently scolded them once.

You showed them your AGM-1 carbine, your Italian Bullpup Carbine, once, “Its nice. I quite like it.” You said to Ghost one afternoon. “Its one my favourites. Along with the Barrett M8A1 I use.”

Soap hasn’t stopped pacing around the hospital waiting room. He was sure you would be dead before the two of them got to start dating you. Couldn’t have that now can they? But much like life itself.

Moments like these aren’t fair. Ever. You told them life shouldn’t be taken for granted. Cherish the time you have now and mourn the people you eventually leave behind. You knew this more than most people. You studied it in subjects like Forensics Anthropology, Forensics Pathology, Thantology, and Archaeology.

“Death cannot be cheated, nor can it hope to be delayed. To think you can do just that is beyond naïve. Hopefully idealistic in the act of thinking humans could ever dream of immortality.” You told them once. 

“Unless you are like my lineage, I doubt your family is going to have their own homegrown cemetery attached to their own churchyard. ‘Can’t have the ‘common folk’ get anywhere near our dead or something like that.” You added in.

When you do wake because death had decided it wasn’t quite your time to leave the earth just yet. Denying you passage to death’s cold embrace. How long would it take for you to get used to your new arm you wonder.

Ghost still remembers hearing about your favourite flower being ‘Lilly of the Valley’. Shocking him because they were light coloured flowers and the total opposite of your aesthetic. You said it was because of the fact life gave them such light colours to such delicate things. It was your mother's favourite for a while, along with flowers like sweet pea.

You didn’t like them until she passed, and thereafter? Loved them completely. Roses were fine. You weren’t going to turn away from them completely. But the sentimental value from the light pink lilies were far more than any dark red roses could offer. It was like comparing a sunrise to a sunset. Both were beautiful, one had a taint of sadness captured in it that you found absolutely charming.

“I find them prettier than I did when I was younger. Perhaps it was because my mother valued them so much? I can only guess that was the reason I took a liking to them.” You told him looking back at him from looking out the window. The rain hadn’t stopped pouring down from the look of things.

You continued speaking after a brief pause, “Though I do remember bringing her red and white snapdragons on Mother’s Day one year. I didn’t think it would affect her so much, until she said she had chosen them for her wedding bouquet. Her mother-in-law hated it, said it clashed with the ‘atmosphere’ and yet she decided to go with it.”

“You should have seen her, inside of white, she wore a midnight blue with silver embroidered stars along the fringes of the veil and the dress’s long train. Like she was walking straight from the depths of the sky. I said it was like the moon was loaning her its stars in the attempt to woo her into staying with him instead. In her refusal he gifted them in remembrance.”

You didn’t speak about your family’s ludicrously magnanimous volume of worldly goods, nor did you want to. Why would you?

How do you put in plain words to someone that it was reaped by taking care of the dead? You know you didn’t have anything to be embarrassed of. But in what way does someone go about telling loved ones their family’s legacy lies inside the act taking caring of the dead or the ones about to die?

Even though it was your mother’s side who dabbled in such things and not your father’s. Your father’s side were the more pompous kind of rich, lavish, extravagant and excessive with their wealth. It was your mother’s side that was more grounded, more in touch with reality. Creating the overture combination of a rich girl with the heart of someone who knew of suffering.

Though parts of your furniture does seem odd. Like the Marc Held for Prisunic Moulded Fiberglass Bed, c. 1966. You had decided to place a waterbed mattress to it, just because you wanted to make it feel older.

The black silk sheets and crimson silk pillowcases were the things inside your bedroom. These things? They made it feel more 70's. You liked that era, you also loved the 60's and 80's. Which despite the gothic shades, tones and colours. It was like you were trying to hold onto a piece of your mother.

They didn't know how to cope when they first heard you were in a car collision with a camion, you weren't going too fast. You weren't intoxicated. You weren't high. You were just driving back home after a rough case, and fate decided it was time to throw you curveball. A fucking curveball no one saw coming.

Soap slept in your bed that night, inhaling your scent from the silk sheets and clutching your whale shark plush. The heavy blanket draped over him. The fur blanket made from real deer fur. You told him it was made from the first deer you hunted with your grandfather months before he passed.

You had killed it yourself. You remarked it was your grandfather’s way of making sure you respected the animal you slaughtered. Use every part otherwise its murder and not hunting. A beautiful blanket which has lasted longer than most things you bought. In colour it’s a deep, rich brown, almost auburn in the right lighting. Soft to the touch. Eerie to think it once was a creature roaming the forests freely.

When you woke and Ghost had been in the chair beside you the whole time? “What……what time is it?” you asked like you had rolled out of bed.

“Two in the morning. You’ve been asleep for seven days and eight nights.” Ghost answered calmly. Knowing the doctor told him to keep the excitement to a minimum.

“I don’t know why, but I jumped, panicked a little, thinking I had to wake up for work.” You mumbled, you are still completely out of it from the amount of morphine inside you.

[geneviveleocardius]

simon riley’s guide to things that turn him on

• if you’re wearing your glasses—the ones you say don’t look good on you but he adores—you’re getting fucked

• if you got a tan, your new skin tone? god, you’re getting fucked

• if you’re exhausted and all sweaty, you’re getting fucked

• those times he hides your underwear after a night together, and when you wake up the only option is to wear his boxers—you’re getting fucked

• you and johnny together, i don’t think i need to explain

• when you’re working out, you’re getting fucked

• when you kiss his mask

• watching you do your precious skincare routine, only for him to make a mess of you right after

• the way you body changed during pregnancy

• the size difference between you, among other things

[sweetnothingtm]

inspired by this video ♡

thinking about biker!simon who meets you one night when your car breaks down on the side of the highway, and you can’t manage to get a tow truck out so late at night - so of course he offers you a ride.

he’d pull up beside you and immediately notice the way you’re pouting and huffing in frustration, whining over the phone about how you’re all alone in the middle of nowhere - and how you can’t afford to call a cab, so surely a gentleman should help a poor girl out. and then simon is sitting on his bike with his arms lazily crossed in front of him leaned forward, killing the engine as he asked you what was wrong.

biker!simon would slip off his gloves and lean over the hood of your car as you meekly explained how you really should have changed your oil sooner - and that you really hate to be such a bother, but could you get a ride home?

he’d tell you that a pretty little thing like you shouldn’t even have to worry about something like this, that he could take you home and make sure you’re all safe and sound - and you think maybe he’s hitting on you, but you’re so shy and maybe he’s just being courteous. strangers normally offer to teach you how to change your oil and that next time they’ll make sure to bring an extra helmet - right?

biker!simon would pat the seat behind him and mumble something along the lines of how he usually rides fast, so you’ll have to hold on tight. biker!simon would offer you his jacket and zip it up for you, practically groaning at the way you bite your lip and avoid his gaze - but that damn helmet is so daunting, and how are you supposed to focus when he smells like pine and tobacco?

you would anxiously say that you’ve never ridden a motorcycle before, how it’s just too intimidating - plus you’ve never met anyone who owned a bike. biker!simon would be smirking under his helmet and humming in satisfaction when your arms tighten around his waist as he weaves between lanes.

biker!simon would hold your thigh the entire ride home - and is it just you or is he gently squeezing your leg while talking about how you’re being such a good girl and that for your first time riding, you’re doing so well?

and when he drops you off at home, biker!simon has his hand rubbing up and down your thigh as his bike idles in your parking lot. he would talk about how he’s so glad to have helped out, and how he’d love to pay for the tow truck - it’s the least he can do when you’ve been such a princess.

even though you insist that it’s just too much, and how you really shouldn’t be accepting such gifts from strangers - he’s done more than enough, and is there anything you can do to make it up to him? but then biker!simon is dismissing your concerns with the wave of a hand, telling you that he’s more than happy to help a doll like you.

biker!simon says something about how you don’t need to be strangers, that you’re just such a sweetheart, and how he’d love to take you out sometime soon. you’d smile sweetly to him and feign consideration for his offer - despite the fact you’ve already made up your mind when you were trying to memorize his tattoos and the way that he’d glance over his shoulder to check on you throughout the drive.

he’d help you off his bike and walk you to your apartment because he wouldn’t want you to get into any more trouble tonight, right? when you shamelessly type your number into his phone, biker!simon is pulling off his helmet to reveal a balaclava that hides nearly everything except two dark eyes and the cocky smirk plastered across his lips. and you’re mesmerized by the way he lowers his voice and leans down to speak to you, one hand gripping his helmet as the other sits on your lower back the whole walk to your apartment.

the next day he’s leaning against his bike outside your building, a cigarette dangling between his fingers as you shyly rock on your feet and stutter over a thousand thank-you’s - and he’s so focused on the way you rub your thighs together and bite your lip that he almost misses when you say that you really can’t thank him enough for everything, and that you really do plan to make it up to him.

[leafavleo]

GHOST likes to gentle fuck you when you’re sad. Your eyes full of tears because you had such a bad day and everything made you upset. Your soft, plump, salty lips meeting his, because he can’t let you go to bed sad.

He’s gently spooning you from behind, holding your hips and thrusting slowly in and out. You don’t even have to move, he has it all figured out.

One of his hands wander to your bare breasts, gently squeezing and caressing there. His warm breath hitting the back of your neck as you feel his muscular body pressed tightly against yours.

You can’t even remember why you were crying earlier, because how well Ghost is handling you. You reach your hand behind to grab his arm as you feel the sweet peak of releasing coming.

“I knew you could do it.” He whispers, his tone low and raspy as his lips do not leave your sweet, soft skin even for a second.

Your sniffles earlier turns into little moans and gasps of pleasure, his cock so gently penetrating your insides, making sure that no tear will left your eye anymore, but it’ll roll down your leg.

[starboye]

simon who you meet after decided to go to a rugby game and choose a seat right next to him, the big burly man who was dressed in all black and barely talked, you tried to spike up a conversation with him but he only responded with little answers so you just went on with watching the game

you don't know how but the announcers must have thought you and simon were dating because next thing you know you look up and the kiss cam is on the both of you and all eyes are on you, you tried to tell them that you guys weren't dating but they didn't listen so you did the next best thing

you leaned over and gave the mans cheek a little kiss making the crowd erupt in cheer before the camera moved onto the next person, simon was stunned to say the least, his face blushing under the mask and glancing over to you for the rest of the match all the way up until it was over

calling out to you before you turned to leave "aye do ya 'ave a pen" and for some reason you did, grabbing the pen and writing his number into your forearm and handing you the pen back "give me a call sometime" he'd say before walking off, i guess he likes you or something

[sai-int]

this struck something in me

The room is dimly lit, as it always is when you have sex with Simon. Shadows dance along the walls as he drives into you with unrelenting precision. Your back arches off the bed, lips parting in whimpers as his thick, throbbing cock hits that devastating spot deep inside you over and over. His hands grip you firmly, grounding you as your vision blurs, your body trembling under the sheer intensity of him. The air between you is electric—raw and consuming.

But then, just as you’re both caught in the heat of it, his low, gravelly voice rumbles softly against your ear.

"Y’know," he mutters, deadpan, "if I keep fuckin' ya this good, reckon y'might end up snorin' as loud as y'did last night."

You freeze for half a second, your brain short-circuiting before a laugh bursts out of you, completely unbidden. You try to hold it in, but it’s no use—you’re shaking with laughter, gasping for breath as Simon's thrusts slow to halt, watching you with the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes.

You manage to choke out between giggles, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He doesn’t respond immediately, just tilts his head with a dry, unimpressed look, though the tiniest smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Just making conversation," he says plainly, as if he hasn’t just shattered the mood entirely.

"Still with me?" he asks, his deep voice a low rumble as his hand cradles your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. You manage a nod, your breath shaky, and a flicker of satisfaction crosses his face.

"Good," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours. "Now behave."

The words barely register before he thrusts into you again, slow and deliberate, pulling a gasp from your lips as your vision blurs, the intensity making your legs quiver.

mlist | @machveil thanks for the inspo

[oceantornadoo]

this is nasty because i’m insane

bank robber simon riley known as the ghost because of how quietly he slips in and out of vaults. always minimal injuries to innocents with big paydays. he works alone or with a crew called the 141, and he’s never been caught. doesn’t matter how many cameras, guards, door locks or silent alarms, he always gets away. with the amount he’s stolen, people speculate he could be living like a king for generations.

he can’t, unfortunately, because he has a bird who loves shiny things. his little magpie squeals at every new necklace, shiny bracelet, diamond ring. she fucks him better when it’s a rare piece, letting him do whatever he wants, whichever hole in whatever order. doesn’t matter if he’s the one robbing, one look into those pleading eyes and he’s on his knees.

so no, ghost the bank robber cannot retire, because he has a magpie at home who won’t stop until every bank is empty.

[ghost-askblog]

Fuck @jeanzoriley-cod she's a pick me I swear. You have to agree with me yeahd?

hop off anon and talk to me like a real person yeah? if you're gonna insult someone at least don't be a bitch and hide behind anonymity.

go ahead, luv. i can wait.

[certifiedyapperx]

imagine you’re dating ghost and no one knows. the two of you have kept it a secret on your end and his just for your protection— because ghost knows what could happen if someone finds out, how someone might try and target you to get to him, or worse, given his line of work.

but then imagine that he’s on a mission, interrogating some piece of filth ready to decorate the fucking wall with his brain matter when the guy says “you know what, simon, killing me would be the biggest mistake of your life.”

immediately ghost would pause, eyes narrowed, though his hardened demeanour wouldn’t fade much, he’d just blankly stare at the prick like “oh yea? n’ why don’ you tell m’ why.”

the shit-eating grin that would crawl across that fuckers lips would have ghost ready to kill him right then and there, but then he’d say “reach in my pocket. pull out my phone.”

id like to think ghost would have absolutely none of this assholes bullshit, not at all entertained by his theatrics. i’d like to think he’d just press the muzzle of his gun to the fuckers temple within an instant, all teeth barred and ready to get it over with when the guy would add,

“your girlfriend is a fucking beauty, isn’t she?”

everything would pause. ghost, time, the world, air, the universe itself—the life that would drain from ghosts face would almost be enough to make his alias a reality. his heart pounding in his throat, his fingers fucking trembling as he immediately reached into the assholes pocket to find his phone—a picture of a woman tied up (face not in view however) lighting up on the home screen. there’d be no thinking rationally, no thoughts in ghosts head except for making sure you were fucking okay. he’d do whatever he’d have to do, kill the guy, leave him strapped there, whatever—he’d be out of that room in two seconds flat and personally flying the helicopter back to your house calling you nonstop every fucking second until you answered.

“hello? si?”

he’d wait a second before answering. taking everything in. background noises, the inflection of your voice. it sounds calm, maybe too calm? he’s grasping his phone so fucking hard it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered between his fingers.

“princess,” he breathes, fighting with everything in him to keep his voice steady. “see any birds today?”

though it was a genuine question, it also was an established one. ghost had set up a series of questions for a situation precisely like this. if you said blue jay, it meant you were fine, at home, as usual. if you said crows, it meant you weren’t.

“oh just the usual blue jays, si.” he could almost hear the smile on your lips. “everything okay? i miss you.”

ghost would exhale a shattered breath. “i’m coming home.”

and then he’d show up, not all but a few hours later, hands still trembling slightly, heart rate still struggling to regulate. it was too much, reminding him too much of his past traumas, he knew he needed to find better protection for you, but that was a conversation for another time.

he’d come in the house, barely even taking the time to shut the door behind him, almost frenzied again, relentless, unable to relax until he could finally lay eyes on you. and then, the second he did, he’d just pause and look at you, all messy hair and pyjamas still on, in the kitchen cooking breakfast for you both since you knew he was on his way.

and he wouldn’t say a goddamn word, he’d just come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you so tight you’d hardly be able to breathe, his face buried in your hair and his heart thumping at your back. you’d feel the pain the fear the anxiety radiating off him and you wouldn’t try to say anything because you knew he needed this, you knew he needed to see you, hold you, feel your pulse stable and alive. you knew he just needed a moment to breathe.

and so the two of you would stand there like that for a while, and then he’d take a big inhale and spin you around to face him, pulling up his mask to plant soft kisses on your jaw.

“i love you so fuckin’ much.”

[call-of-duty-incorrect-quotes]

Soap: You’re 37? You look younger!

Ghost: I let a demon possess me in exchange for eternal youth.

Soap: Haha, you’re so funny, Lt.

Soap leaves

Demon inside Ghost: You gotta stop saying that, mate. Someone is gonna believe you.

Ghost: I’m getting tea.

Demon inside Ghost: Oh, with biscuits?!

[ebodebo]

hey, so…bull rider!simon??

more bull rider simon

“You come to wish me luck?” Simon purred in your ear as his hands gripped the back of your thighs and his body pressed onto yours, stabilizing you against the wall of a rundown dive bar’s back room.

“You’ve gotta be as dull as an ox if you think I’m here for any other interest than self, Beef-head,” you hiss as his fingers dig into the fat of your thigh, etching closer to slide your panties off.

“Beef-head, huh?” He murmurs against your neck as your hands fumble with his buckle, unclasping it before sliding the zipper to his pants down.

“Seems fittin,’” you prompt, as your panties slide to dangle around your ankles. He slips his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion. You slip your hand between the two of you to gently tug on his painfully erect cock.

You lean closer into him, lips barely grazing his temple. His sizzling breath fanning across your cheeks as you stroke him. “I bet this one gets taken care of when you’re tourin.’ Huh?” You tighten your grip around him; he releases an anguished groan, fingers digging deeper into your thighs.

“Ah—fuck,” he whizzes as one of his hands releases your thigh and instead braces against the back wall.

“Ya—I bet you find a pretty girl who's just jumpin’ at the chance to touch ya in every city,” your fingers move quicker on their volition, “you don't even have to try.”

If Simon didn't know you, he'd assume you were doing what everyone else does: stroke his ego, but he knew you.

You were majorily fucking with him.

“Fuck—don’t tell me you're—ah—jealous, babydoll,” Simon murmurs, his tone is dripping in arrogance. You let out a dry laugh, tugging his cock slightly harder, making him groan.

“Come on, Beef-bead. You know I don't have to do a damn thing before your comin’ up to me beggin’ for a taste,” you drag lips down his temple to his busted lip. “Beggin’ for a feel of me.”

He quickly moves his hand braced onto the wall onto your face, pulling your lips roughly onto his. He tasted of blood and Nicorette, which did nothing to tamper your reclusions.

Your teeth scrape against each other as the kiss becomes more fervent with each passing moment. The air is now dense and burning with desire.

His hand moves from your cheek to his erect cock still in your hand, cheekily pulling your fingers off to push himself inside your soaked cunt.

“Shit,” you wheezed, fingers digging into his shoulders. His hands wander, gripping your waist impossibly closer, back pressed tut with the cracked walls behind you.

“You’re right—fuck—been waiting to come back,” he pants as he increases his pace. “Just to get a God-damn look at ya,” he spits.

It’s almost pathetic. Almost.

“Suppose this ain’t half bad,” he brashly says. You find a slight smirk pulling at your lips at his quip, though your humorous expression quickly dissipates almost as fast as it came when he plows into you.

You lean your head into his neck, nipping at the flesh, then quickly soothing it with a swipe of your tongue. “Damn firecracker, you are,” he groans into your hair.

When you feel his impending orgasm nearing, you swing your legs down, easing his cock out of you. Slight regret passed through you at losing contact, but you would finish yourself later.

Simon hisses, gripping his cock, attempting to regain any ounce of stimulation, but to his dismay, it had passed.

“If I know one thing about you, champ, I know you don't like it easy,” you pant out. “So I’ll be damned if I let you think for a moment you got it easy with me,” your eyes lock to his.

You’re surprised to find his face paler and eyes smokier. Though they weren’t filled with anguish, it was more admiration.

“I didn’t get to finish last time, so you don’t get to finish this time round,’” you say, pulling your jeans back on and buckling your belt.

“Suggest you find one of your buckle bunnies to help ya out—with that,” you gesture to his now half-erect cock splayed out.

You reach into your back pocket, grasping a five-dollar bill, pushing it into his chest because you could at least give him enough to cover an ice pack.

He grips the money, an irritated smirk playing on his lips. As you leave, you approach the door, dipping your head to avoid catching attention.

You hear Simon murmur a faint, ‘Firecracker, my ass, that's a whole damn bomb.’

You smile because, well, karma is karma.

a/n: come on yk thanksgiving brings out all the freakies hence this!