#riley hill

[ebodebo]

The Bewitching

—thinking about roommate!simon riley seeing you in your halloween costume… MDNI

"Where's your sexy roommate anyway, babe?" Your friend, dressed as a sexy witch, purred from her spot on a stool around the kitchen island. You had invited two friends over to spend Halloween with you since your roommate, Simon, had to work.

"He, uh, had to work," you say, taking a sip of your wine. Your witchy friend's eyes widened as she carefully dipped a pita chip into some hummus.

"On Halloween?" She gawked, pushing the chip into her mouth, eyes wide. You also take a chip and swirl it around in the hummus before shrugging.

"Seems so," you say, inhaling the chip. You turn to pull open the fridge, reaching for a bottle of champagne. Once you turn back, you see your other friend dressed as a sexy police officer, head slightly titled in confusion, her eyes carefully observing your costume.

"So, what are you supposed to be? A sexy nurse?" She questions. You raise your brows, perplexed that she couldn't tell who you were.

"You're kidding, right?" You urge, waiting a minute before continuing to see if she is joking. She shakes her head no, pursing her lips. You shake your head in disbelief. "Debs, I'm one of the nurses from Silent Hill."

"Should've gotten Simon to dress as pyramid head," your sexy witch friend instantly says. You flick your eyes to hers to see a smirk spreading on her lips.

"Oh, please," you laugh out. "Over his dead body would he ever willingly dress up." You take a sip of your wine, stalling when you hear the sound of a familiar truck pulling into the driveway.

"Oh, looks like your big guy is home," Debs winks. You roll your eyes, set your wine glass down, and head for the front door. You step out to see Simon searching for something in his truck.

"Hey," you greet. "What're you doing back so early?" He doesn't avert his attention from some loose papers he was scanning over.

After a minute, he says, "Price had a Halloween thing for his kid." He continues sifting through loose papers. "So, here I am," he dryly says, eyes still focused on the papers.

"Okay. FYI, the girls are inside—" You start before he interrupts, finally turning around to face you.

"If you want, I can just go to a bar, or—" He abruptly stops, eyes wandering down your body, taking in your costume—which included a very provocative dress. He swallows deeply as his eyes sweep over your exposed thighs, up to the deep dip of your breasts on display.

"Simon?" You prod, trying to understand why he has stopped speaking. He drags his eyes up to look into yours.

"You—what are you supposed to be?" He lazily questions.

"Um, a nurse," you say; he tilts his head to the side.

"Never seen a nurse look like that," he sticks his tongue out to wet the seam of his dry lips. You feel a sudden rush of embarrassment.

"It's from a—a game," you quickly say, rocking back on the heels of your feet. "It's kind of stupid," you turn your head away from him, trying to hide some embarrassment from his gaze.

"I like it," his eyes shamelessly drag down the length of your body. You flick your eyes back to him, offering him a small smile, noting the way his eyes become darker as the seconds pass.

"Ya?" You're shocked that you managed to get a word out since your mouth had turned to ash. Dry as a bone.

"Mhm," he hums as he takes a step towards you. You swallow hard as he steps closer to you, close enough for his fingers to graze the hem of your dress, tugging it down gently so it covers a little more of your thighs.

"Simon," you breathlessly say as you feel his fingers graze your bare skin.

"Dress ridin' up a little high," he murmurs, though he doesn't take his fingers away from you. He looks down at you, taking in your lazily closed eyes. "Have you gone out yet?"

"Wha—no. Didn't really want to," your tone is a little wobbly now as his hand slowly skimmed under your dress. You release a shallow breath.

He tilts his head back slightly. "No? What is it you wanted to do then?" He continues his movements, skimming his fingers up your thigh, slowly maneuvering between them. You find yourself gripping his shoulders. "Huh?" He tuts.

"I don't—I don't know," you choke out, dropping your head slightly as his hand grazes your cunt over your already wet underwear. You find yourself pushing yourself into his palm.

He leaned in closer to you, his hot breath grazing against the shell of your ear. "Did you want me to see you in this little outfit?" He whispers. You lean into his words flowing in your ear. "You knew how badly I wanted to touch this pretty pussy. Didn't you?" You let out an involuntary moan at his words, tightening your grip on his shoulders.

His pointer and middle finger slip into you through your underwear, grazing your clit. You find yourself rocking against his fingers to get more friction. "Ah, fuck. That's it, pretty girl," he groans, moving his fingers faster. "Keep fucking my fingers—just like that."

He pulled you closer onto him with his other hand, gripping your ass tightly to get you more friction. You leaned your head into his chest, moaning as his fingers continued to move in you.

"Fuck, baby. Look at me—look at me," he commands. You flick your head up to look him in the eyes; his mouth is slightly parted from panting. "Just like that," he pants, watching your mouth agape as he coaxes your orgasm, making you come in your underwear.

He holds you up as your body spasms, gifting him with the sweet mewls you spew. Once your orgasm subsides, he grips one side of your soaked underwear, slipping it down your thighs and tucking it into the pocket of his cargo pants he wore.

You look up at him, doe-eyed, before you look around in horror. "Oh my—you just, you just fingered me in the front yard," you frantically say, taking a step away from him. His lip quips at your genuine anguish.

"I know. I was there," he monotonously says. Anxiously, you bring your hands to thread through your hair. Your eyes widen even more.

"Oh my—my friends," you exclaim, whipping your head to your house.

"Guess you'll have some explaining to do," he casually says.

"Fuck you," you remark.

"Hungry for more already?" He smirked, pulling you by the arm closer to him so you rested flat against his body.

"No—you know that's not what I meant!"

a/n: happy almost halloween! take my treat to u all! divider!

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[tearsofastraeax]

simon is the type of guy to come up behind you while you're standing in the kitchen, his hands traveling over your hips right to your ass, his hands grabbing your cheeks and giving them a squeeze

"hmmmm, that ass," he sighs into your neck.

"simon....", you chastise him, clearly busy, your hands full, the water nearly overcooking, and the heat from the stove making you sweat.

you notice him step away a bit, but his hands don't leave your ass, giving it a little jiggle instead.

you hear his breathy laugh behind you, "sorry, babe, but these cheeks were calling to me, they miss me"

[toshidou]

can't stop thinking of domestic ghost learning how to crochet after he sees you practicing, large scarred, battle worn hands working away with a crochet hook and wool; not missing the way your eyes go fond as he joins you on the couch to crochet by your side. trying to suppress your giggle at the soft sounds of his frustrated grunts when he tries (and fails) to tie the slip knot for the 5th time in a row before he turns to you with a blank expression, arms extended in your direction.

what starts as slowly mastering little granny squares quickly evolves into working on whole projects; clothes, hats, face masks, stuffed animals. your house slowly fills up with both yours and his creations. although it's something you mostly do together, it wouldn't be uncommon for you to come downstairs as the sun rises only to find Simon hunched over a ball of wool, clearly awoken from a night of terrors and craving comfort from the repetition that crocheting provides.

he'd inevitably have to leave for deployment, but not without laying out a new cardigan he'd made just for you (a way he can keep you warm despite the thousands of miles that might separate you) or a little crocheted plush of himself, fitted with its very own little mask; even giving you the option of dressing it in either combat gear or his go to black hoodie and jeans. it leaves you teary every time, clutching his new creation to your chest and nuzzling the soft wool into your cheek, always knowing that his hands were made for more than just war and death.

and if the day comes you finally bring a child into the world, you better believe he's making them an entire wardrobe that matches the clothes he's already made for the two of you; holding the completed tiny garments up whilst you try your absolute hardest to not burst into tears at how small they look, knowing they're so lucky to have a dad who's going to love them so, so much.

[hamishlinklaters]

MIDNIGHT MASS (2021) dir. Mike Flanagan (in/sp.)

[itsallgoodmann]

i fear i have a very specific type (desperate men)

[thejacketscloset]

Soap is extremely good at math, but his methods for getting his answers confuse Ghost to no end. He goes through added steps to equations Ghost would never even consider, he somehow factors and simplifies at the same time. Despite how complicated Soap's process seems to be though, Ghost has yet to see him be wrong.

Ghost asks Soap about his process once between missions. They're relaxing on base and Soap is going over his formulas for his demolitions, looking for any improvements he could make. Ghost gets another glance at his nearly illegible equations and forgets to hold his tounge before it's too late.

"How in the bloody hell do you make sense of all of that?" He grumbles out, sounding more confused than anything.

Soap glances over to where Ghost is peeking at his notes, and he offers a genuine smile.

"Ah dunno'. Just kinda clump together the things that make most sense." Soap answers. He points to a specific part of his notes as he speeks, but it does little to make them any more clear for Ghost.

Ghost hums and considers the answer for a second.

"Well it's impressive, Johnny. Lord knows I couldn't do all that."

He hardly thinks the praise is anything special, but then he's looking back to Soap's face and he's just beaming at Ghost, and damn if he can't fight off his own smile.

[the-palelady]

the job was hard. it always was. never got any easier. ghost’s mind would buzz with static after missions. a buzzing so loud he could hardly hear the engines of the plane as it took off, headed home.

he’d sit in a daze for the full extent of the flight, eyes mindlessly flitting across the dark clouds and city lights that sat below.

was it always this loud? the engines, the chatter of the people around him, the gunfire?

the high pitched humming continued even as he stepped off the plane, his large, gruff body slipping in and out of crowds of people as he gathered his luggage. ghost couldn’t even hear the crying of a baby that sat nestled against its mum nearby. didn’t move a muscle when someone began raising their voice at a worker when their flight was delayed.

but he did flinch at the sound of someone’s luggage smacking against the ground, the wheels of the suitcase clicking against the marbled floor far too loud for his liking. an echoing pop that reeled him back into a world of blood and dust, gunshots and screaming.

when had his clothes become so tight?

he turns and grabs his things, the static burrowing further into his mind while he rushes towards home.

home is where he’s safe.

home is where you are.

home is where you’re nestled up on the couch, a throw blanket covering the extent of your soft legs, a book or mug occupying your hands. sometimes he would stand in the doorway of your shared home, watching as you’d giggle softly or smile down at the pages of whatever you were reading, free hand idly kneading the plush fabric of your blanket.

home is where you run out to him while he sits in the living room, a smile spread wide across your face when you do a little twirl, showing him the clothes or shoes you had bought that day asking what he thought. you looked perfect in everything, of course.

home is where you sit in front of him at the dinner table, rambling about your day, even asking about his own. you tell him about the butterfly you saw today that you swear was the “biggest you’d ever seen” and—oh!—you can’t forget to tell him about the sale the store was having so you bought him more of his favorite tea.

home is where the buzzing comes to a full stop.

your quizzical expression is always the first thing he sees. the second is the smile that takes its place, spreading from ear to ear as you come to realize who it could be barging in at such an hour. you turn on your heel from where you stand in the kitchen.

simon’s job was demanding. from the very beginning you had accepted that. you saw the storm that had flashed behind his eyes when he awoke from nightmares, saw the way his mind and body strangled each other when he didn’t think you were looking.

so you gave him the peace war would never offer.

his tired, amber eyes softened when your voice drove out the sounds of radio chatter, explosions, death.

“welcome home, si.”

[terreurihardlyknowher]

Midnight Mass + Reductress Headlines (pt2)

[waningdials]

SAVE ME PYRAMID HEAD AND GHOST X READER 3SOME SAVE ME…

they’re both so big and they’d be so rough and mean 😭😭 they’d pull your hair and spit on you, your little cunt burning at the stretch of the both of their thick cocks <33

the two of them are both so possessive, their hands gripping you hard enough to bruise to try and prove a point to the other

you come out the other end all achey and beaten up, a mix of cum streaming down your legs :(

[stileslittlebanshee]

[friendlyfangs]

happy Pride from Silent Hill !!

also this wip from when i was coloring because orange & blue :)

[if-i-look-straight-look-again]

the way midnight mass spent all of seven episodes showing us what faith and fanaticism looks like only to remind us what true faith looks like in the last five minutes of the episode, by showing us the people singing, the sheriff and his son praying at the beach and the monsignor and his love holding their daughter. the way the one who believed that she was the most faithful and righteous while actually being evil was the only one who didn’t make peace with her own death and tried to cling to life with claws and teeth.

they really said faith is not about idolatry, or blind belief, or even a big guy in the sky, it’s about community, and love, and the people who forget that and allow themselves to believe that they’re better than others will find themselves alone in the end.

[thebookbutterfly]

I can’t get over the idea of girl-dad!Simon Riley showing up to work with pink glittery nail polish on his fingers, because his little girl wanted to paint his nails.

This man kills people for a living but saying no to his daughter is something he just is not capable of. The thought of getting rid of her hard work? Unacceptable. Ghost would 1000% put down anyone who said anything about it.

Over time I think the 141 would just get used to him showing up with a new, equally outrageous, colour on his fingernails or another sticker somewhere on his gear. All because she missed him and “Wanted daddy to have it because it’s good luck.” They know by now that anyone who so much as looks at them the wrong way has to offer up their life as forfeit.

Also, Ghost bringing a sheet of stickers in one day for the members of 141 because somehow his daughter figured out that her uncles don’t get any good luck stickers so she decided to fix this. Everyone gets a sticker and no, Ghost will not be taking any arguments.

I’m weak—

[carveredlunds]

"What's lovely is, you know, Riley was my altar boy, and so there's just like this deep caring between the characters, but he [Riley] doesn't know. But trying to help someone with the weight that they carry, that's all." — Hamish Linklater on Pruitt and Riley, in his interview with Gold Derby's Luca Giliberti

[itsallgoodmann]

i am so normal about him (HIS SMILE????)

[the-palelady]

i need to see ghost dressed as pyramid head for halloween

“shite’s heavy. get it offa me.”

anyways carry on.