#ghost riley

[punkkture]

on the way back from an undercover mission where you and simon had to play lovers as a married couple, attending a gala to get intel on enemy buyers.

you honestly don’t know how you ended up like this. maybe it was the far too many drinks you had and the simple way the glittering dress bunched up around your waist.

simon’s feet firmly planted on the backseat floor of the car while his hips were harshly thrusting up into your dripping little pussy. you’re drunk whines and moans fed his every movement.

“ah- ah- s-simon!” your voice would squeal out every time the fatty tip of his cock would graze past your sensitive spongy spot and right into your cervix.

your back moving against his chest, his breath being felt against your neck.

“baby you’re so tight . . i would’ve fucked you sooner if i knew your little pussy was this pretty,” he groaned.

he was so big. oh god you were just creaming around his thickness. every thrust making little drips of your slick flow down his shaft and leak into his suit pants.

the very best part was how price didn’t even mind. he didn’t bother to ask any questions when simon and you nearly stumbled into the backseat of the car making out.

it was only a matter of time before he pulled over to join in. . .

[mccutcheon121]

This is great and also so relatable to both 😂

Soap: I used to think it was big of me that I didn’t hold grudges but then I realized it’s the ADHD.

Soap: I simply can’t remember what happened.

Ghost, taking his knife out: Don’t worry. I do.

[ang3lc]

Crush

from this post, 90s small town vibe, badboy!simon riley x reader, suggestive, drabble, directly inspired by crush by ethel cain

In a town that reeked of sin and silence, Simon Riley was the kind of trouble you prayed wouldn’t find you—and the kind you couldn’t stop chasing.

Your town was small, the kind of place where everyone knew everyone’s business, but no one ever talked about it. The streets were long and empty at night, the dust from the day hanging thick in the air as the stars flickered overhead, muted by the heavy blanket of heat. The houses were old, the paint peeling in spots, with porches creaking in the wind, but no one ever bothered to fix them. It wasn’t a place where anyone expected much, and that’s probably why it felt like it was on the edge of something—something both familiar and foreign, something that pulled at you even when you told yourself you should leave.

Life moved slow here. The days bled into one another with a kind of quiet resignation. People got up, went to work, did their jobs, and kept their heads down. There was no room for anything else, not in a town like this. No room for dreams, no room for anything more than survival. That’s why it was easy to slip away unnoticed, easy to find yourself on a back road in the middle of nowhere, waiting for Simon.

Every time you drove past the gas station on the corner or walked by the diner with its cracked windows, you could feel it—the weight of the place settling into your chest, suffocating you slowly. It was like being trapped in the gravity of a world you didn’t belong to, stuck between what you were supposed to want and what you couldn’t stop reaching for.

And then there was Simon.

He wasn’t like everyone else. Not by a long shot. He was something different, something dark and elusive, always lingering just out of reach. You couldn’t explain what it was about him that made you feel like you had to keep coming back, but you did. Every time he showed up, every time you ran into him in the dark corners of this small town, you felt like you were both caught in mess bigger than you could understand.

He lived in the shadows and you were the perfect flower to pluck away and out of the sun. There were nights when you could’ve stayed in, could’ve locked the door and tried to forget him, but you never did. Every time you thought about walking away, you found yourself back at the edge of town, waiting for him to show up, to take you somewhere you knew you shouldn’t go.

He always would. He'd pull up to the edge of the road, the headlights illuminating you like a deer. You'd slip out of your house, your heart pounding as you walked toward his truck.

He never had to say a word when you climbed into the passenger seat. His presence filled the space between you, heavy and silent, like the air just before a storm. The night was thick with tension, the weight of everything you never said hanging between you, thick enough to choke on. You could feel it, the way your chest tightened, the way your stomach twisted with nerves.

He glanced at you, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “Why d’ya keep comin'?”

The tension between you and Simon had been building for weeks—months, maybe.

The town whispered things about him, things you couldn’t ignore. He was trouble, dangerous. Everyone knew it. His dad was on death row and his brother got the hell out of dodge. His family was permanently besmirched. You knew it was true. Every time he’d show up, you’d remind yourself how much better you’d be if you just let him go. How much easier it would be to stay away.

But then you’d find yourself waiting for him anyway, and you’d try to talk yourself out of it again. Pretend. Pretend you didn’t care. Pretend you didn’t feel the heat between you two, the gravity that pulled you back in, no matter how much you tried to fight it.

And maybe you thought it was better to lie, to tell yourself that he meant nothing to you.

“‘Cause I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to.”

The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, and Simon didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. His eyes said it all. Dark. Searching. Like he knew exactly what you were saying without needing to hear it. Like he was asking himself the same question, but didn’t know how to answer it.

Simon’s hands were on you in an instant, pulling you close, crashing into you with a hunger that you couldn’t escape. There was no hesitation, no gentle buildup. Just the sharp, desperate need of two people who had been circling each other for too long, both afraid to make the first move but both too far gone to stop now.

His lips were hard and insistent, teeth and tongue and the taste of his last pack of Marlboro Reds dancing on your lips. You didn’t pull away, didn’t try to stop it, because you knew. You knew this was the only thing that made sense anymore. His hands dug into your plush skin, tainting it, leaving marks that you wouldn't care to hide. Everything else—this town, this life—faded away as you got lost in him.

When you both pulled back—your chest heaving and his eyes heavy with something you could only assume was lust—you knew everything had shifted. He would never let you leave the way you came.

But you didn’t want to leave. Not anymore.

You knew one thing for sure: good men died too. But Simon? He was no good. Still, you'd rather be with him.

mlist | @midazolam-mami @rainyrambles-overcod @angelrissa @serialkilluh-1996

[sataniccrucifix]

This was supposed to be a muscle practice/study but...things got weird.

I have a new drawing for tomorrow about (the band) Ghost, be ready.

[pentrologram]

advent calendar - day twenty-one

Your soulmate loves you.

reaper!simon/dead!reader

a/n; i adore this man. part one here!!

You're damp soil and cool rain to him.

He adores you. He's loved you since you brought colour into his dull world since you've come along. He doesn't know how much time has passed, but he does know that having you as a companion in his previously bleak existence has to be the best thing to ever happen during the time of mortals.

While you don't accompany him when he works, he has built a modest little home for the both of you. It's someplace where he can sit down and calm his racing mind, someplace for him to curl his weary bones around you whenever he felt exhausted or figured you could use some company.

As for the souls he guides, he had built them a cabin for them to wait in while he was attending to you. He had finally found something more important than work and finally had the opportunity to realign his work/life balance after a millennia of having no priorities at all.

All of that to say you're a breath of fresh air; damp soil and cool rain. He adores you and he'd do anything for you and he thinks you would, too.

He watches from the doorway, silently, as you sit quietly and read. He hadn't known what books were before he met you, but you'd brought up all kinds of entertainment you had in the living world.

Books had been easy to find. Just by stepping out of the veil, onto Earth, he'd come across a vendor that sold him books of all kinds. The shopkeep had taken one look at his face and shook in fear, so he dropped two golden coins onto the counter before leaving.

When he had given you the books- cheap, dime-a-dozen erotica books- you had giggled.

"Where did you get these, Si? A gas station?" He merely blinked at you in response.

"Are they not good?"

"Well. I'll still read them. It'd be nice if you could find Barnes and Noble next time, or something."

(When you're asleep later that day he sneaks back out past the veil to find the Barnes and the Nobles that you told him about. He leaves with an armful of books with pretty covers and a specific title that interests him- Little Women. You have a range of titles, since he's not sure what you liked.)

Now, you look up, since you had been nose-deep in one of the books he brought to you.

"Oh, Si. Hi." Your arms open for a hug and he willingly steps into them.

"Hello. Is the book good?"

"Yes, thank you. I was only joking, you know. You didn't have to." Your voice is soft with affection and it makes him want to kiss you.

"Of course I have to. Surely limbo isn't where you thought you'd be spending the rest of your time. I want to make it worthwhile.

"Si, anywhere with you would be worthwhile."

"You shouldn't say things like that. I could take you to the ends of the universe," he deadpans, making you laugh and then sigh, threading your fingers through his hair, a shockingly blonde colour you can't imagine getting bored of.

"Mhm. Love you."

"I love you, too."

[alkalineapparition]

Dark Signs

Ghost x Reader

Chapter 3- Following the blood trail, frothing at the maw

"Knew you'd come for me."

And oh, how those words tug at the atrophied strings of his heart.

"Course I did."

Your fingers trail up till they're gently tugging at his mask. "Slaughtered them all?"

"Yes," the reply is simple, to the point. He's no interest in hiding what he's done here, what he's done for you.

"Good."

That's his beautiful, terrible girl.

18+ MDNI

[leafavleo]

GHOST uses to workout quite frequently, because of his job in military. He never admits it loud, but he likes to be in good shape. He likes the glances that you’re sending him when he’s taking off his shirt on purpose to present you his muscular back, covered in black ink tattoos.

There’s only one thing that he hates during his daily routine — push ups. He doesn’t know why he dislikes to do that workout, it’s just happen. He prefers other exercises, but while he’s at home, without the gym equipment, it’s just what’s left for him to stretch those arms muscles more.

But fortunately, recently you’ve got an idea of how to make this workout more pleasant for him. You find yourself on the floor, underneath Ghost while he’s grunting and sweating. It’s not what you think it is, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t making you feel in a certain way.

You like the view from down there. He’s shirtless and the only piece of clothing that he wears are the grey sweatpants. The way he’s looking and sounding makes you want to wrap your legs around his waist and just keep him down.

“Don’t try to give up, because you’ll squish me.” You giggle once Ghost makes another push up, giving you a quick kiss in meantime.

“Not gonna, doll.” He says back in breathy tone, pushing himself back up. He grunts again and lower himself down, giving you another kiss.

You make this exercise quite enjoyable for him.

[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.”

[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!

[anythingneverythingnstuffs]

Imagine living nextdoor to Ghost

Imagine only hearing about him from your neighbors down the hall, since he was still deployed when you moved into your apartment

Imagine *finally* seeing a new car pull into the parking lot, and thanking the gods that today was baking day so you had freshly baked cookies for your neighbor. They were still warm, too

Imagine waiting about thirty minutes after he gets home before you knock on his door, a small tray of freshly baked, still warm cookies in your hands

Imagine Ghost opening his door to see *you*, a strange woman he's never met before (even though you had been living there for months at that point), smiling and with a tray of cookies in your arms. You didn't even flinch at his mask

Imagine introducing yourself to him, your smile never faltering as you tell him your name, looking right into his eyes

Imagine him stammering out his own name, telling you that you can just call him Simon, and by the way, are those cookies for him?

ugh just imagine

next

[punkkture]

only his

you were just being sweet, its not your fault he took it the wrong way. but you should be grateful that he was doing this for you . . he was just trying to keep you safe.

part one ⋆.˚ part two

simon riley x f!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: 18+ , kidnapper!simon , taboo material , degradation, age difference , size difference , implied ddlg dynamics , pet play , sadism , simon is mean asf

c.ai bot

“you are home sweetie.”

you dont know why but that made it all ache even worse. made it ache worse than when he put the collar around your neck - than when he forced you to sit on his lap and drink whatever roofie he had mixed. the tears came out harder as you laid on the floor by his feet.

simon’s shoulders relaxed a little at this. his rough hand came up and started to brush up and down your back. feeling the ridges of your spine that were a little more prominent as the weeks had passed. his hands working in an attempt to comfort you instead of grabbing you.

“theres no need to cry. i’ve kept you for a reason. its not like i’m going to kill you.”

heart picking up, he could see the shift in your demeanor. how you were teetering between that docility and the true emotions you wanted to let out. he knew he won when he heard the shakiness in your voice. “what’s that supposed to mean?” your lips spoke. even if your words held threat, he knew he was on the right path with the way you pulled your tone.

his dense fingers continued to move up and down your spine, giving gentle and methodical touches as they went. his face held no expression. “it means you have the privilege of being mine. you should be grateful.”

your skin shivered and created goosebumps at his touch. not sure how to react to it. it was all so scary. you didnt know what to say back. how were you supposed to feel grateful in a moment like this? he took you from your life.

simon had to figure this out. he had to figure out how to get you to crack. to crave him and yearn for him. looking at him like he was a protector. because whether you saw it that way or not, he was. he is your protector.

he wanted nothing more than to have you give in. to stop struggling and start asking him to hold you. to start seeing him as a sanctuary, a safe place to come home to.

his hand finally stopped those gentle movements he used to draw you in. those fingers coming around to the side of your face. cupping the length of your jaw and turning your head to look at him. your heart and mind are completely tense and rigid, but your body shows no resistance to him. obedience could be led by a hair.

“say thank you.”

your eyes struggled to meet his. but when he gave a warning tap to your cheek, your pupils full of fear and exhaustion, looked up into his. he looked calm, at peace. “why should i tell you thank you?” you breathed out shakily and quiet.

those fingers adjusted the grip on your face, feeling the warm skin heat his cold fingers. his eyes narrowed, cold and callous. deep, dark, and genuinely never ending. not being able to see where his pupils started or stopped. to you, he always looked like a predator that was completely dilated. you were the little bunny for dinner.

“because i say so. youre mine now, remember that, puppy. be thankful im keeping you instead of selling you to the highest bidder. do you understand me?”

your lips twitched and a small gasp threatened to escape. but all that came out was a small shudder. your eyes were still stuck on his. he was being serious, you could tell. “y-you’d sell me?”

god he loved that voice. simon could’ve groaned at that little whimper in your voice. such a timid little pet.

his grip loosened a little bit as his hand moved to caress your cheek. his touch caring and kind, a complete contrast of his words. he sighed. “only when you piss me off enough to do so. im not in the market of pawning the things i claim, unless they're really ungrateful,” his eyes narrowed again, “are you ungrateful sweetheart?”

simon’s eyes watched your face. watched how you processed everything. how you took it all in. he knew you understood he was being genuine. he was serious enough to actually kidnap you, of course he would be insane enough to sell you. his hand continued to caress your soft skin. he was waiting for your answer.

that expression of his changing from cold and callous to a hint of annoyance. he was starting to get impatient - the answer wasn’t that complicated.

“i said, are you ungrateful?” he asked again.

the frustrated grip and raised voice snapped you back into reality. simon saw the way your eyes focused back onto what was in front of you. “no! no . . . im not ungrateful.” you quickly spoke back. you didn't want to be here, but you’d rather be here than some beaten down warehouse that was turned into a human auction house.

feeling his hand drop from your jaw, release that tight grip - his demeanor shifting of that into a carer again. a satisfied smirk appeared on his cracked lips. his fingers brushing back some of your hair.

“then you should say thank you, puppy. because you have a lot to be thankful for.” he spoke in a much calmer tone.

those eyes boring into you felt like they were starting to burn your skin. “thank you.” your voice is timid and quiet, speaking out of fear. the smirk on his lips grew into a bit of a smile at your response. “see? that wasn't so hard was it sweetie?” he teased a bit, his thumb moving to your bottom lip. rubbing against it and slightly pushing down to examine the pink skin.

　 　. ⋆ ✴︎ ݁ ˖ ˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ . 　

days have passed.

simon hadn’t softened any. it's been two weeks of gruff and agitated energy surrounding you. but today for some reason he seemed to be in an even worse mood. his voice louder and more rigid. those occasional sweet touches he gave were nowhere to be found. he was on edge, it was written all over him, in everything he did. his eyes cold and narrowed at everything, his voice snapping at any word spoken to him. he was pissed, and for no good reason at that.

you seemed to try and figure it out. there were bags under his eyes. he looked exhausted. you both were. it almost was like a standoff between two enemies. constantly. you were on edge, still and taking in his every breath. analyzing the tone of it and the deeper meaning of all his words. hoping to not anger him.

simon hasn’t been able to sleep since you arrived - and the only thing his body seemed to want, was you. tense muscles and breaths that were slicing the air he stepped in front of.

you sat on the floor of his living room. watching him pace around like a caged animal. he was acting like a damn rabid dog. he kept you right on the brink of decent. thrown into a pair of his boxers and one of his old long sleeve military shirts. that black leather collar still rubbing against the soft skin of your neck. the long leash cording down and around your body like a snake.

thankfully, he had been a little more lenient with keeping the leash so closely attached to his hand, but that didn't mean he would take it off.

this was frustrating. you were frustrating him. those sweet innocent eyes that were looking up at him like he was a monster. that angered him. he was your savior. my god he was saving you from all those awful sins the world harvested. a groan crawled its way up and out of his throat, stopping his pacing movements.

“come here.” he stated. not like a request. just a command. like you were his dog.

the brain in your head was working on primal intuition. when you are put into a scary situation, your body will do whatever it needs to to survive. so your eyes fluttered up to his face and then back down to his neck. it was scary looking him in the eye, you don't look rabid dogs in the eye. you don't look simon riley in the eye.

feeling the leash clank against your skin as your legs twitched to help you stand. they were getting weaker. your body was starting to reject what was happening to it.

he raised his hand and pointed to the floor in front of him. “no. not like that. crawl to me. you don’t deserve to walk on those legs of yours.”

his voice rang into your ears like how baby bunnies would react to hearing thunder for the first time. paralyzed and frozen in fear with eyes that looked up into the clouds with a sense of caution and longing that the sky wouldn’t do that again - naive hope that the universe would apologize for its outburst of anger.

but just as your body was frozen, the flash of lightning came, accompanying the thunder.

simon’s hand came out, wrapped tightly around the leash and pulled you down to the ground. the yanking of the leather forced you to your hands and knees. your eyes looking up to him - that baby bunny praying to the sky - looking up into those deep and irritated eyes. he was above you, even when he was crouching down the height difference was still prominent. creating a never ending power dynamic that shivered your soul.

he was stressed, he was angry, he felt sleep deprived. he was always watching over you. always making sure you were still here, he needed to put this outlet to good use right now. so on edge that even the small things like how the coffee table looked was making him mad right now. he needed to let off steam. something - someone to give into.

his feet planted themselves onto the ground in front of you. his hand coming to the top of your head, grabbing a fist full of your hair as he lowered himself to your level. you gasped at the sudden contact. shaking and soft hands gripping onto his forearm. your scalp starting to burn from his angered grip. he crouched down, his breath against your neck.

“you make me so goddamn frustrated.”

little frantic breaths picking up and making you panic more. “i-i didn't do anything?” your brows furrowed into a pathetic and worried curve. his lips moved closer to your ear, his fingers tightening around your hair. “you're making me on edge, and it's driving me up a wall.” he spoke.

your eyelids blinked in confusion. then why am i here? why is he keeping me here? just let me go!

“then why am i still here?” you breathed out, quiet and docile.

those cracked lips of his moved from your ear to your neck. they gently nipped at the skin before he spoke again. “because i don't want to get rid of you. you may be a pain in the ass, but i need you.” his mouth started to tenderly press and nip at your neck. leaving sticky open mouth kisses.

your body stiffened. but he had been so rough and sharp the last couple days, you hated to admit the sweet and gentle touches almost felt welcomed. it was better than him hitting you and tying you to a pole in the basement. simon’s voice wasn't as icy as before his commands. your soft hair in his fingers and the warm feeling of your skin against his lips helped calm his aggravated mood. it was like the perfect dosage of oxycodone. calming and relaxing him just enough to barely blink his eyes all the way closed. just enough to get him to not be so pent up about tomorrow's worries.

you started to feel safer almost. in this moment in time, it could’ve been worse.

“why?” you spoke after a couple seconds of silence.

“why what?” simon asked in between sucking on your neck. one of his hands pulled your hair a little bit again, forcing your head up towards the ceiling. he needed more of this soft warmth. “why don't i want to get rid of you, or why do i need you?” his teeth gently nipping into the side of your neck and making a small mark. chuckling to himself when he had to pull the collar out of the way so he could really get to the spot he wanted.

“both.”

it wasn't often he talked to you like that. wasn't often he treated you as human. so you took the wins where you could. letting his warm lips and teeth move against your body. trying to keep your voice steady. it was like walking on a frozen lake where you weren’t sure how thick the ice was.

he continued suck and bite at your neck, making sure the area was nice and bruised - marked as his.

“because you make me feel something i haven't felt in a long time, puppy. and because you’re mine. and i don't like to share my things. especially the ones i worked so hard to get.”

a soft wince escaped your lips when his teeth bit a little harder. his lips pulled away, giving a gentle kiss to the spot. you could’ve sworn you felt his thumb caress the hair his hand was so tightly holding. it was sweet. it was affectionate. and he was having an actual conversation with you. not lashing out and teasing, mocking or degrading.

this was new. this was human. one of your hands going to his chest, resting there as if you were asking him to be more gentle. his body shivered at that strange acceptance from you.“why me?” you said softly, asking the question you had been wondering.

the unfamiliar and strange energy between you two was making simon happy. very happy. all those times he was angry and awful to you just made his soft touches so featherlight and desirable. it was making him relax. his teeth let go of the spot on your neck, his tongue gently soothing over it.

after he made sure the spot would leave a deep bruise, he pulled back a little. his eyes looking down at you on the floor, gazing up at him. it warmed his heart and made him smile a little. even he thought about your question for a second. he sighed, and then answered. “you just are. you were sitting in that little library just . . . existing . . and i felt something inside of me break. that was it. you were mine. you still are and forever will be. this is where you belong and i hope you come to accept that, my puppy.”

your eyes looked into his. your neck started to ache from how he was angling your head back. but there was a sense of hope in your eyes. hope that he was human, he was showing you he was human - for a moment if you could pretend the leash wasn't around your neck, this would almost feel normal.

you licked your dry lips, always so cracked now from breathing and panting through your mouth. the seasons cold weather nipping in through the windows . . . but its alright . . he never let you get too close to those anyway.

simon could sense the fear in your breath. the shudders past your pretty lips. those little flutters of caution your eyelashes would blink. this was working perfectly in his favor. if he was brutal six out of seven days, your body would learn to crave that seventh day. it would learn to want him and need him to survive.

in the same sense of how people needed religion. they need faith in something to keep going. one way or another, he was going to figure out how to be your faith.

his gaze softened. his hand letting go of your hair, coming to gently brush against your face, a thumb running over your cheek.

“i know i make you afraid, but thats okay. you wont be afraid forever.” his face came down to lean close to yours, his voice a low tone. “you’ll get used to it. you’ll get used to me.”

even a dog held in captivity for years would still yearn for a soft pet, a good treat the second the opportunity was given.

　 　. ⋆ ✴︎ ݁ ˖ ˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ . 　

it was the next day and you both had gone through the motions of what a normal day was so far. he woke you up early, because he got up early and he needed you to constantly be at his side. he of course had you in a little dog cage when it was bedtime. or anytime he had to go out, which wasn’t often.

a metal dog cage with plush little pink blankets and frills, that attempted to make it more welcoming, adorning it. he always kept two locks on the metal links off the door - so you would never be able to get it undone yourself. but even if you did, he kept it all located in his basement. the only thing down there being your cage and a couple storage bins.

simon knew what he was doing. of course he did. he had been plotting this for months. since the second he saw you and that air was sucked out of his chest he’s been preparing.

in all honesty, you looked forward to bedtime. you were finally left alone to have some thoughts to yourself. and it’s not like it was pitch black down there. he didn’t leave the light on, but the outside lights from the backyard somewhat illuminated the basement.

you were asleep up on the plush mat, a warm fleece blanket wrapping around your cold frame. legs curled up since you couldn’t stretch your legs in the cage.

“good morning puppy,” he calls down the basement stairs. turning on the light and finally getting you out of the dark.

your eyes blinking awake in the harsh light. hearing his footsteps come down the stairs and a few keys rattling. he chuckled when he saw your head bump up against the top of the cage.

“did you sleep well, my dear?” he asked, those dark eyes looking over your form before he crouched down to unlock the padlocks on the cage.

you were tired, mornings were never your thing, especially not with how early he got up. your messy hair nodding along with your head as you gave him a simple answer. cold hands rubbing your tired eyes.

“we’ve got a big day today . . .” simon started while opening the metal door. your ears perked up at his words, sleepy eyes blinking awake and a soft grumble from your lips as he pulled on the leash, getting you out of the cage and into his lap.

“you’re gonna meet some of daddy’s friends today . . . and i trust you’ll be a very good puppy, right?”

ᡣ��� tag list: @vanillarosekiss @pearljwm @redroserabbit

teehee thank u guys ily

[soleilapproves]

You’re eating fruit and your friends can’t stop watching. (Ghost and Soap)

Notes: suggestive, crack fic.

main masterlist

One would think that the two men were on the battlefield with the way they were intently staring at you.

Simon was focused on the way you’d take a bite out of your apple, lips wrapping around the curvature of the fruit as your teeth sunk into its crisp flesh.

So pretty and plump. Like an apple

Johnny was too busy staring at the droplets of juice that were trailing down your chin. He could almost taste the tartness as he imagined himself licking you clean. He had to bite his lip to keep himself from moaning when he saw you lick your lips to clean up the stickiness left behind.

You then disposed of the apple and grabbed a banana. Simon’s hand immediately latched on to his thigh. He began to shift in his seat as he watched you take a bite of the banana.

However, you didn’t chew the entire thing and kept a morsel of it in your left cheek, too distracted to chew because you were on your phone.

Simon’s fingers dug into his thighs at the sight.

He felt like a dog in heat.

Johnny began to imagine his own-

“What are you two fuckin’ idiots doing here? Get back to your work stations!” Price barked as he walked into the base’s lounge area.

But Simon and Johnny were too entranced by you to respond.

Confused, Price looked in the same direction as them to see what was so interesting.

“Oh.” The captain breathed out with a slight blush.

_

part 2 (no smut :/, but lots of kissing)

[guppybibi]

Girl Dad!Simon who had to get his newborn baby girl taken away from him because he was practically drowning them in his tears. (He denies that it ever happened now)

Girl Dad!Simon who went dead asleep after the delivery, it was unintentional of course, he wanted to help you as much as he could but his body just dropped on it's own. The worst part was is that he basically missed all of the baby's 'firsts' although he managed to wake up just in time for the first nappy change.

Girl Dad!Simon who spends a little bit too much of his free time staring at his daughter. It only worsened when you guys finally got dismissed from the hospital, you tend to find Simon crouching by the crib and watching the baby's every move pretty often. It's like bird watching, he says when you ask him.

Girl Dad!Simon who sobbed more than his daughter during her first day of school, was going to say the most melancholic goodbye but she just excitedly runs off to school and leaves her dad hanging.

Girl Dad!Simon who refuses to miss any important event in her life, no matter how small it is. Will literally call during a mission so he could see his daughter's piano recital.

"Simon? Why do I hear gunshots??"

"Don't mind 'em luv."

"How do you even have your phone right now??"

"Sneaked it."

[ghostsprincess]

I can't stop thinking about Ghost being a better boyfriend than your ex, even without establishing that title....

This is a continuation of part one.

warning: mention domestic abuse

💀

Simon was there every night you worked. You never gave him your schedule, but he'd show up and settle onto one of the stools like clockwork. Soap often joined him, and while they carried on like always, you knew Simon's gaze lingered on your body. You could practically feel the weight as you took drink orders and pulled pints. It wasn't unwelcome. In fact, it made everything easier knowing you weren't alone if your ex dared show his face.

When your shifts ended, Simon would walk you back to your new place. The one time you insisted he didn't need to do that, he grunted and said, "What if I want to?"

You didn't mention it again. Instead you got into a routine of giving him a fifteen minute warning when your shift was going to end, and you'd head out into the cold night with him at your side. He was mostly quiet while you chatted about whatever was on your mind. When you'd ask him about himself, he'd reroute the conversation back to you. Then he would wait while you unlocked your door and stepped inside.

You always had the urge to invite him in, but you were taking up so much of his time already. And what would you do with him anyway? This hulking military man with kind eyes? 

You thanked him and gave him a little wave before ducking inside, and you knew he always waited until he heard the sound of your door locking before he left. 

"Y' alright, love?" he asked one night when you were starting to feel particularly good about yourself again. Your split lip had healed which required less makeup. You felt stronger for having left your ex in the dust. You were wearing a new top that made you feel sexy.

"Yeah. I'm alright, Simon. I feel really good, actually."

You served him a drink and refused to let him pay. You really ought to make him stop tipping you at this rate. He was doing so much for you and getting nothing in return. He was doing all of the boyfriend duties just as he had promised, but he never so much as touched you other than the occasional hand hold.

What if you wanted more?

He broke into your thoughts as he said, "I can tell. Ya' been smiling more. Almost ready to go?"

Tonight you felt like you were floating along the dirty sidewalk with your hand tucked in Simon's massive paw. He was keeping you warm without doing anything, and he listened to your nervous rambling as you tried your best to work up your courage. But the two of you reached your front door all too quickly.

"Get inside," he said, voice deep and tender in spite of the command. "An' lock up."

When he started to pull his hand away, you didn't let him. And you didn't budge when one of his eyebrows inched higher. "Not quite yet," you whispered, toe tapping the cement step you were standing on which put you slightly closer to him in height. "I have to tell you something."

Simon's lips pressed together in a tight line, and his chin dipped in a slight nod. "I need to tell ya' something, too. Just don't want to."

"What?" you asked immediately, the lightness you'd been feeling instantly replaced with a lead brick inside you.

"I'm leaving. Late tomorrow night. Not until after I make sure ya' get home from the pub."

"Leaving?" you whispered, heart pounding faster. He was in the military. Some sort of special mission involvement. You knew that much. And you could read between the lines to know that someone who looked and behaved like he did was probably about to risk his life, not for the first time. "Simon, where are you going?" you asked with tears in your eyes even though you figured he wouldn't be able to tell you.

Simon shook his head, his lips curling into a soft smile. It was a rare sight, and it made you dizzy. "Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be worried 'bout me." You wanted to tell him you would be. You'd worry nonstop until you saw him again. You'd come to rely on him, but mostly you liked how you felt when he was around. "There'll be someone to walk ya' home from work every night. I can promise that."

You wanted to lean in and kiss him, but instead you threw your arms around his neck. He was so solid and warm, and the scrape of his facial hair on your cheek was somehow comforting. "But I'll see you tomorrow, right?" you asked, voice breaking on a sob.

"I'll see ya' tomorrow, love."

He didn't move an inch as you extracted yourself, and the sound of his receding footsteps could only be heard once you'd locked yourself inside.

💀

Part three