#simon s. salty

[cactyswhy]

man these really smile my friends

birthed by me and the clowns @yogurrrttt et @pertabor

[citruscloudd]

Smiling friends but they have to solve another murder

[paul-simon-juggling]

Just uploaded this TV segment about S&G featuring a short interview. It's a bitter one. Check it out!

[hmvw2015]

Two Little Spices

Out on a date this evening. UwU

[pierogi-png]

"and me ketchup heehee" new vocal stim for the week

[msk29fan]

Salty's thoughts ( Smiling Friends)

I totally thought Salty's was the expy of McDonald's until I saw Season 2 and James requests MacDonalds in the most abusive way possible.

Is it confirmed that it's a chain?

Maybe national? Maybe regional?

The fact that they Mascots and the FDA took a deeply negative interest in their menu suggests that it's a chain rather then a local favorite of Charlie's.

[yawnderu]

You can never take the military out of a man. Not when that man lost so much thanks to it, giving it his very own soul to serving the Queen and saving the world. Not a single thought about retirement ever going through Simon's head, fully accepting and embracing the idea of dying on the field, of having a warrior's death, fighting tooth and nail until someone gets lucky enough to finally put him down— until you came along.

Simon Riley is a proper lad now, well in his 50's and on his fifth year of retirement, strands of grey adorning his dark brown hair, a thin layer of fat covering his bulging muscles that seem to be getting bigger by the years, never one to stand still for too long and secretly loving the way you praise his body like he's a God.

He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, another deep moan dragging its way out of his throat at the way your hand wraps around his thick cock with a vice-like grip, your warm tongue circling his leaking tip, his salty precum mixing in with your saliva.

“Like tha', baby.” Simon whispers, his hand wrapping around a fistful of your pretty hair the moment you lick a teasing stripe over his bulbous, pink tip. His free hand quickly replaces yours— something you're too familiar with after being together for so many years, your hands resting on his thick thighs just to feel the way his muscles ripple beneath your soft palms.

“Open your mouth.” It's not an order, it's a plea, his gravelly voice becoming slightly whiny with each deep groan leaving his lips as he wanks over your face, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath he was forced to take. Your lips part with no hesitation, the warmth of your breath as your tongue pokes out of your mouth is what sends him over the edge, ropes of thick, hot cum landing in your mouth with an accuracy that could have surprised you if you weren't too busy being enthralled by your husband.

Simon looks like a fucking painting, the light coming from the ceiling giving his bulging muscles the perfect shadow, his thin lips slightly parted and a light stubble adorning his pale cheeks, half-lidded eyes staring down at you with blown pupils as he mindlessly smears his hot, creamy cum all over your face with his sensitive tip, just as enamoured as you are.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A bout of insomnia keeps you awake, so you decide to go for a midnight walk. To your surprise you find that you aren't the only one still up as the sound of the shower running in the communal bathroom catches your attention. Who is it and what are they doing in there? Why does it sound like your lieutenant and why is he moaning your name?

Word Count: 5.6 k

Warnings:

Hot water from the shower runs in snaking pathways over the bulky muscles of the lieutenant’s back as he leans himself against the wall, his forehead resting on the bit of his forearm that is propping his body up while his engorged cock is tightly locked in his clenched fist. Furiously he strokes the length with eyes closed and mouth agape, grunting deep and guttural the tighter he squeezes around that throbbing appendage as he desperately works to ease the ache that has kept him from getting sleep yet another night in a row. 

The military base is hunkered down for the evening, most of the personnel fast asleep as he should have already been, but his mind is too full of thoughts…thoughts if you… that sleep is unattainable at this point unless he does something about them. He knows the risk he’s taking doing this in a communal space, but he hopes that it’s late enough that no one will be around to disturb him until he’s done.

It’s been another long, rough day of having to watch you from afar but not touch, follow you with his dark, hungry eyes while knowing he will never get a chance to taste your sweetness, and he needs a release before he does something foolish. Never has another gotten under his skin the way you have, never has he struggled so hard to keep his desire from consuming him whole like he has to every single time you are near, and lately it is becoming near impossible. 

There's only so much that even a trained professional can take before all that self-discipline goes right out the window and he is reaching his limit with each passing week. If this keeps up he is bound to slip up somehow, you will notice, and he cannot let that happen. He can’t do another desperate sleepless night and be sane enough to face you again the next day, so here he finds himself. 

Behind closed eyes he recalls the images from earlier during training of you sparring with one of the other recruits. The way your body moved and contorted as you took down your opponent, the sweat that glistened and rolled in large drops down your chest and into the top of your shirt, the look of cocky determination in your eyes, and the heavy breaths you took through parted lips was enough to set him off something bad. His hands had to be firmly crossed over his crotch even after you had finished and walked off to hide the stiffy he was suddenly sporting so it wouldn't draw attention from any wandering eyes. 

God, the way he wishes it had been him that was pinned beneath you on that mat instead of the recruit that you took down and makes him stroke even more furiously. Why can't it be your sweet, soft pussy he is thrusting into instead of his rough palm? He’d sell his soul to Satan himself just for a moment spent in your bliss.

Lt. Riley braces his feet wider in the shower to steady himself as a wave of pleasure surges through his limbs and nearly knocks him over as he continues stroking. There is so much sloppiness in his rhythm now; he’s getting closer and soon he’ll be able to think more clearly… at least for a little while. 

“The things I'd do to ya, sweetheart,” he mutters to the vision of you in his mind’s eye, the need overwhelming every sense until he can’t see straight. “Fuck, I just want tha chance ta make ya come. I’d make bloody sure ya would only ‘ave eyes for me from then on.”

His teeth clench behind his parted lips as a bit of salty precum dribbles out of the tip of his cock only to quickly get washed away by the water raining down over him. Fucking hell, this is a problem that doesn’t seem to have an end in sight; this isn’t the first time he’s had to jack off to get a moment of peace and he knows that this will only be a temporary fix. There’s only one thing that can satisfy him for good, but it is the one thing he isn’t allowed to have.

At least he tells himself over and over that you’d never give him the time of day and so he keeps his agonizing distance. So, as the rest of the world around him slumbers, he has to do what he must to get by…and even though he thinks himself the only one awake and trying to work out demons under the cover of night, he couldn’t be more wrong.

At the other side of the barracks, you stare up at the dark ceiling of your room just as you’ve done for the past hour now. You have tried to relax your limbs, clear your mind, close your eyes, but no matter how hard you push yourself, sleep keeps evading your grasp. Why? You know the answer plainly even if you don’t really want to accept it. 

His eyes had been on you again today, Lt. Riley’s. That intense dark brown gaze that always makes your pulse race each time you catch it lingering had been plastered on you even before you stepped up to your sparring partner during training earlier. It was as if he was trying to bore a hole through your body the way he wouldn’t look away. The ache that settled itself in your core at his undivided attention nearly distracted you enough that you about lost the fight and now that you are lying in the dark with nothing to keep you occupied it’s all your desperate mind can focus on.

Does the lieutenant even know what his attention does to you? Would he care even if he did?

What would he think if he knew that just his gaze alone makes your body burn, how you can’t ever seem to get enough of the way you can so easily capture his focus, how it fuels all of your fantasies and daydreams until it’s impossible to be in his presence without your breath quickening and feeling that familiar ache between your legs? Goddammit, if you had your way you would have those eyes glued to yours as he thrusts inside and makes you his for the first time, but you know that’s not a possibility.  

No, it’s got to be pure coincidence, something entirely innocuous, a superior surveying the progress of one of his soldiers. He is the unofficial second in command around here, of course he would need to take account of those that are under him. You’d have to be a fool to think it’s anything more than that, that someone as experienced and weathered as him would ever go for an underling like you, but it doesn’t change how it makes you desperately want to get closer to the serious and intimidating officer.  

Why does the one thing you want have to be so fucking far out of reach?

Your heartbeat is starting to race again and your fingers are too sore to go another round down below, so you give up with a sigh of defeat and get up out of bed; if sleep isn't coming then there's no point in lying here to only get more frustrated that you can’t let those salacious fantasies go. 

Maybe a walk will tucker you out enough that sleep will stop avoiding you, at least it’s worth a try. Better than lying in the dark trying to stroke out the overwhelming thoughts, trying to imagine the feeling of his weight pressing you into the mattress as his cock stretches you out. No, staying here is only going to do more damage. Slipping on some shorts with your tank top and grabbing your shoes, you head out of your room and begin your trek through the barracks headed towards the outside. 

You pass by the quiet rooms of your sleeping teammates, nothing but silence filling the halls that causes each soft step you take to sound louder than it should. Room after room passes by the same as the last as you make your way through the long stretches of hallway. All that's left is the showers coming up on your left, then the doors to the outside and you’ll be free to mosey about in the cool air while the music of the night gives you something else to focus on. 

But it isn’t the crickets, frogs, and other nocturnal animals outside that you hear now, nor is it those of the nightwatch making their rounds. It’s something else that grabs your attention.

The closer you get to the communal bathrooms, the more your ears pick up noise out of the stillness. At first it is only the distinct sound of running water hitting off the titles that cover the floors, but soon you catch the muted echo of a voice reverberating inside. Whoever is in there it sounds like they are in distress and curiosity gets the better of you. It's probably nothing, but it's best to check just to be sure. You'll pop your head in, make certain everything is alright, and then quietly leave without anyone knowing. 

Silently you creep up to the door and slowly creak it open so that the hinges won’t squeak and give you away just in case your worries turn out to be unfounded. The ambiguous noises become more clear and you realize it is the heavy masculine grunting of someone in the shower. It takes you a second to place why that sound is so familiar, but after a few seconds it finally clicks and you become embarrassed to have stumbled upon this private, intimate moment.

You move back from the door and almost let it fall closed when you catch the person inside saying something unexpected. Under the sound of the shower head running and heavy panting you swear that you hear the voice moan your name and instantly you are frozen in your tracks, unable to leave as planned.

You know that particular voice. 

Shit, you've heard it so many times over the course of your stay here that it is permanently burned into your psyche. The voice repeats the same and now you are sure that it is your name being moaned and a shiver runs up your spine. There is no mistaking it now that you detect that recognizable thick British accent. 

It's your lieutenant, that masked enigma himself, Simon Riley.

Instantly your cheeks feel like they are on fire as he repeats it again this time in more of a whimper. Is he really…? This has to be your overstimulated mind playing tricks on you. And yet there it is again, his deep voice grunting your name with more urgency as if he is intoxicated by the way that it rolls off his tongue and suddenly your head is spinning so that you aren’t immediately aware of what you’re doing.

Stop, you hear your inner thoughts swirl around the chaos inside your skull. What the hell are you thinking? Why are you going inside?

Even as you internally ask the questions, you can’t stop your feet that seem to have a mind of their own now and force you further inside the empty bathroom and over to the source of all those delicious sounds. The countless restless nights, the endless cravings for his presence that leave you desperate, the infinite amount of times you’ve touched yourself to the thought of him…your body needs this and it isn’t going to let you walk away until you see for yourself if this is real. 

If there is a chance…

The grunts come faster now as the lieutenant is about to blow when something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. There is a shadow on the other side of the curtain that hadn’t been there before, a dark mass of a figure standing stock still just outside the thin plastic veil hiding him from the rest of the room. His blood runs cold, anger taking hold as he is forced to stop and confront whoever it is that has decided to disturb him with their presence. 

Who the fuck could be up at this time at night anyway and why now when he was nearly finished? He pulls back the curtain in one swift, irritated motion just enough to poke his head out and confront the bastard, but to his surprise who should be standing there then the one person he doesn’t need to come face to face with in this intimate moment. You stare back at him with wide eyes brightly shimmering in the fluorescent lighting overhead. 

“The fuck ya think you’re doin’?” he barks harshly, flustered by the awkward position you've found him in. “Do ya know what fuckin’ time it is? Ya should be down for tha night instead a skulkin’ about. I suggest ya get out and head back where you're supposed ta be.”

You hear the jarring response: should move, leave, follow his order, but you can't. The sight of the water glinting off his husky chest, beads of condensation sparkling through the light brown hair covering his sternum and down his abdomen, is too delicious a sight for you to pull your eyes from. You always knew that the lieutenant was a mass of muscle, it’s clear even through his bulky tactical gear, but to see it all in the flesh is another story. How are you meant to walk away from all that tantalizing, slick, heated skin?

Without even thinking, you step in closer. “I …don’t want to go.” 

“What?” The question comes out as a surprise.

You swallow. “I said I don’t want to go,” you reiterate.

You wrestle with yourself on what to do now that you’ve gotten here as he stares back at you in confusion, sensing how the air has suddenly seemed to shift all at once. Do you reveal the truth and tell him everything, including that you heard his desperate pleas? Will that be enough? Or do you do something else entirely? What if he rejects any advances just to save face? 

“What're ya…?” he starts to ask, only to lose the end of his sentence as you move in until the thin plastic curtain is the only thing keeping you apart. 

Screw it, you’ve come this far and that throbbing ache between your legs is ruling your actions now. This is a terrible idea, but that is the only type available at this time of night. Your heartbeat is in your ears as your gaze locks to his and your fingertips grab at the hem of your tank top to slowly drag it up over your torso and pull it off the top of your head. The skimpy bit of fabric hangs idly from your hand almost sweeping the floor as you stand there bare chested staring back at him. 

If this doesn’t make your intentions clear, then nothing will, and hopefully the temptation is enough to sway his actions.

Simon tries to inhale, but the wind has been knocked from his lungs and he can’t seem to get it back. Composure is his calling card and yet right now being in control isn’t an option anymore, not with the way you look like the most perfect treat he’s ever laid eyes on. He releases a shuddered breath that he didn’t know he was holding onto. There is a heat in his chest and it’s spreading through his limbs like a wildfire, ready to consume all the common sense he has left. Watching that hardened man break gives you new found confidence and you find your voice amidst the dibilitating rise in your blood pressure.

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” you manage to say without faltering. “Not after what I just heard.”

Fuck, he really has been found out.

“Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you can’t take your eyes off of me, sir?” you continue, the truth spilling out like the water from the shower. “You might think yourself slick because of the mask, but I swear whenever we’re near each other I can feel your gaze lingering on me. It’s not the same one you give the others, this one is different… and do you know the worst part?”

You let the question hang in the air for a moment even though Lt. Riley doesn’t even try to answer it; he can’t, he’s too overwhelmed. “The worst part is that I can’t get enough of it.”

The lieutenant’s vision is tunneled in on your sweet lips as he listens to your words, the desire to grab you and drag you to him spreading throughout his limbs at your confession. A few stray droplets of water drip down from the cropped tips of his dirty blond hair and hit the top of your shoes as he struggles to speak.

“This is a bad idea, luv,” he says as his final attempt to give you an out. “Ya should go ‘fore ya do somethin’ ya regret.”

You shake your head. “The only thing I’m going to regret is leaving. I can’t take another sleepless night. And it sounds like you can’t either.”

As you speak, you quietly slip your feet out of your shoes and toss your shirt haphazardly away and it crumples to a heap on the ground. “I need you… so bad. I can’t take it anymore. Please, don’t send me away.”

That’s it, all sense is completely gone as Simon Riley is no longer in control of his actions, not after hearing you plead for him to take you. Ripping open the curtain all the way, he silently pulls you into the shower and shoves you back into the tiled wall. Your big doe eyes peer up at him as the water mists from the showerhead above you and trickles off your eyelashes. 

He watches the droplets collect and sparkle like diamonds as they fall onto your delicate cheek, his bare chest heaving up and down laboriously with each panted breath as he takes in all he can now that he has the chance. His large hands glide over your arms as he truly contemplates the consequences of his actions, but there is no reprimand, no amount of punishment in this moment that can make him fight off the brunt of his attraction.

You stand in his presence only able to look on, mesmerized by finally being able to take in the enigma you’ve only rarely ever seen in bits and pieces and never this up close. Goddammit he’s handsome. All those stark, chiseled features, the light covering of brown stubble along his jaw, those brilliant eyes that are even more gorgeous now that they aren’t shadowed in his mask steal your breath away. Old, faded scars are speckled across his visage and trail down the length of his body, but even those take nothing away from his looks. 

Husky, bulked out muscles from years of hard physical labor, outline and glistening with water meet your gaze the further your eyes travel. The sheer girth of his body is enough to make your mouth salivate as you wait in anticipation for it to be molded into you, dwarfing yours in comparison. 

“Wanted this for so fuckin’ long, luv,” he breathes as his sight drifts down to the beautiful pair of naked breasts nearly pressing into his chest, bringing you back from your supor as you admire. “I need to hear ya say it, that I can ‘ave my way with ya.”

Anything, you’ll say anything to break that short, agonizing distance between you. “Fuck me,” you say, lips left parted as you wait for him to take the lead and break the tension.  

There is a ringing in his ears as if the entire world has suddenly fallen silent as the brunt of his suppressed desire floods immediately to the surface, overwhelming everything in a blink. Without a word he urgently cups both of his palms around either side of your head just behind your ears, thumbs resting along your jaw so that he can draw your face to him as he leans down into your face. He has to kiss you now; the need is suddenly so strong it’s like he is choking on it. You barely have a second to take a breath before he crashes his lips on your own.

He captures those soft bits of skin over and over again in desperately feverish waves, stealing the balmy air from your mouth to sustain the connection so that he doesn’t have to break it just yet. The last thing he wants to do is destroy this overwhelming magnetism that draws you both together and by your way you grab onto the meat of his hips to pull him tighter to you, he knows you feel it too.

Has anything ever felt more euphoric than the way your full, soft pout feels? Has anyone ever tasted as sweet, has he ever been more instantly hooked on the sensation of someone else’s mouth pressed to his? He can’t remember anymore. There is nothing else outside of you in this desperate moment. 

Releasing your face, his rough fingertips follow the curve of your spine down to roundness of your ass where he grabs handfuls to massage. So absorbed in your taste, the feeling of your lips, the heat of your breath, that it takes minutes for him to realize that there is still a barrier between your bodies: the shorts now damp from the shower still hopelessly clinging to your hips. They have to go as they are very shortly going to get in the way.

“Wanna get these fuckin’ things off,” he murmurs against your lips as he pulls the fabric down, miserably removing his mouth from your own so that he can help you step out of them. They are quickly tossed past the shower curtain and before they even can hit the ground he is harshly pressed back against you once again to steal your mouth and devour your kiss. 

Your moistened bodies slip across each other as the pressure builds and the movements become more desperate, him pushing his hardened cock into your pelvis as he grinds against you and shoving a thick thigh between your parted legs to give you something to hump. He fills your mouth with a muffled groan as the silky lips of your pussy connect with the skin; it’s better than he could have ever imagined it feeling and he cannot wait to get inside and be constricted by your walls squeezing around him, but there’s a little more he has to explore first.

Patience, he’s going savor this moment like it’s the only one he’ll ever get.

“Tha’s it,” he encourages in a short burst, trailing his lips down to your jaw towards your throat as you roll your hips hard to catch your clit on the muscle. “Fuck, ya do need it bad, don’t ya? I wanna hear it, tell me how bad you’ve needed it, luv.” 

Those hungry lips reach the side of your neck and start to suck, puckering the skin into his mouth and you struggle to remember how to talk through the sensitivity hazing your thoughts. “Everytime I have to see you… f-fuck…  can’t sleep. Have to keep … uuughh… t- touching myself for relief.”

His mouth continues to trail lower and lower down the contours of your body, leaving warm, moist kisses along the skin of your collarbone and over the side of your chest. “Keep going,” he orders.  

You gulp down another moan as his burning lips lock to your breast, suctioning to the areola while that agile tongue flicks over the very tip of your nipple until it’s stiff. God, your tits are like heaven, so soft and juicy as they fill his mouth.  His hand palms over the other breast and begins to play; he won’t leave that one to not receive any attention.

“Can’t…focus,” you stammer, “can’t think of anything except you. Begging into the dark for you…to take me…to make me yours.”

“Think ‘a my cock a lot, luv?” he asks amused as he switches sides and takes the other breast into his hungry mouth.

The heat in your face makes your cheeks feel swollen. “I…do,” you admit as if you both aren’t already naked and humping each other. 

“Wonderin’ what it would feel like?”

“Wanting it inside me,” you add.

His hand leaves your chest and moves between your bodies to grab yours and bring it down to wrap around the girth of his shaft. “It don’t ‘ave to be a mystery anymore, sweetheart.” 

Goddammit, he’s big. You’d barely had time to register the look of it before his mouth was plastered to yours and though you can feel it grinding into you, now that it is in your fist it makes your breath hitch. “F-fuck…” you moan as your hand slides up and down the length.

Simon’s cock twitches as if in response to the ache in your voice and you can feel its heartbeat. The thrill to know you have a strong grip on such a man as the lieutenant, that it is you he wants, it’s you he needs, that his cock is hard just for you makes you grind against him with eyes closed trying to make yourself come.  

“Gonna stuff ya full,” he groans from the pressure you apply as you continue to work him. “Stretch out your sweet pussy.”

“Yes,” you whimper. “Please.”

The steam billows around your conjoined bodies, condensation enfolding you in a layer of mist as if you’re stuck in a dream when he finally emerges hastily from your chest with lips puffy and red from the suction. He rips your hand from around him as the pressure has almost reached the point of no return and aggressively he picks you up as if you weigh nothing; he’s stronger than you realized to be able to lift you almost effortlessly. 

“Put your legs ‘round me. Now,” he barks sharply and you do as you’re told. He braces your back up against the wall for leverage as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and his sight drifts down between your bodies. 

“Ready for me?” he asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question. 

A nod is all he is going to get, the inside of your mouth tasting like copper as you bite your cheek to keep quiet as his swollen tip slips through your petals to find the opening, rubbing up against your swollen clit. Your slick coats his cock, a clear sign that he’s good to go. It takes him only a moment with a slight adjustment of his hips to align with his target.

“Deep breath, sweet girl,” he says as he raises his gaze to peer back into your eyes and with a thrust the fat tip pushes through the threshold of your aching, throbbing core, stretching it wide as it takes him in.

Instantly you choke on the moan that stuffs your mouth full and you have to clamp your lips shut to keep it from escaping. The lieutenant does the same, but you can feel the bass vibrate through his chest as his steel-like grip digs harshly into your waist.

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he says breathily through a lustful chuckle, fighting off the urge to blow his load before he’s even gotten all the way in, “but ya can take more, can’t ya?”

Another nod, more enthusiastic this time and again he thrusts past the tip down his veiny shaft and reaches the base. You can’t hold it in anymore, the way his cock fills you so full makes you lose yourself. Eye closed, you can’t stop the loud moan that you let out and the sound reverberates off the walls of the cramped space until it is amplified. To think you were ever going to satisfy yourself with only your fingers when all of this was waiting for you to discover seems almost comical now.  

The lieutenant’s large hand rushes to cover over your mouth. “Gotta be quiet for me. Don’t need anyone comin’ in and ruinin’ this. I’m not done with ya yet, luv; gotta make ya come for me first.”

The shine in your glazed-over eyes gives him your answer and he removes his hand with a nod as he knows an even better solution to keep you quiet. He leans back in and his lips pull yours into their secure embrace before he risks slipping in his tongue to wrestle with yours; can’t make much noise with your mouth so full.  

There’s no way he is going to calm down enough now to stave off his orgasm for much longer and so with your mouths connected he starts to thrust, dragging himself nearly out of your core before slamming back up into you. Every thrust strikes up into your pussy shoving him in as deep as he can get, your body shaking from the force as your back is dragged up and down along the wall. The moisture on the walls keeps the friction low so you can move easily with his percussive hits into your body.

So fucking wet, so goddamn tight, how is he meant to not fall apart? Simon can’t help rutting into all that goodness like an animal hell bent on capturing every bit of pleasure he can. Lost in the feeling his rhythm wavers, but breaking from your mouth and taking a few deep breaths he gets himself right back on track. As he bucks wildly up into you your arms hold on tightly around the back of his neck and you notice how the muscles tense with each of his strong thrusts. 

“Need ya ta come for me… need it so goddamn bad…” 

There is no hiding the desperation in his words. He has to know that your body belongs to him now, that after tonight you won’t ever even think of straying from him. You’re his, his, and after all the agony he’s endured before getting here, he has to make sure of it. 

That burn deep in the muscle starts to shoot through his thighs, but he doesn’t slow and the more he works the more that warmth gathers in the pit of your stomach. You’ve dreamed of moments like this for so long it becomes overwhelming: the feeling of his skin against yours, his cock buried deep inside you, his honeyed words conveying everything you’ve wanted to hear; it’s euphoric.

You whimper and quickly breathe it out. “Fuck, gonna come.” 

“Tha’s it, sweetheart. Almost there,” he coaxes, secretly knowing that at any moment he is going to come too. “Jus’ let go and come for me. Let me feel it, pretty girl.” 

It’s there, it’s so close. That sweet release is within reach. “A-ah…fuck… almost there…”

“My good girl,” he grunts, “come on my fuckin’ cock.” 

Your heart is beating out of your chest as the pleasure builds until all at once, like the flick of a switch, your core contracts and all of that intensity explodes in a blast of warmth that flows through your limbs. Leaning forward, you bury your face in his shoulder and whimper as you ride out that wave of ecstasy.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groans behind clenched teeth at the feeling as your core constricts around him, sending him over the edge. 

Wrenching his cock out as fast as he can, he angles it up between your bodies. You regain some composure, enough to instinctively reach for it to stroke him the rest of the way through. His hot, milky cum dribbles onto your stomach in short bursts while his upper body twitches as you work out all you can. Finally, he falls in against you and places his hand on top of yours to force you to stop.

The sound of the running water conceals the sound of your combined breathing as you both come back down from that high and he can set you back on your feet carefully. Back on solid ground you both just stand there quietly taking in the moment and all that just happened until the lieutenant breaks the silence.

“Think you’ll be able ta sleep now?” he asks as his fingertips caress over the heat in your cheeks.

You nod with a smile spread across your lips. “But I’m not sure about tomorrow night,” you say with a glimmer in your eyes. “Might be up again.”

Biting his lip he tilts his head away as he tries not to show how much it excites him to hear you say that, rubbing his hand over his head to slick back his short hair. “Well, we can’t have that,” he says. “Right now, though, I got a mess ta clean up.”

There is one last, deep kiss waiting for you before he gently pulls you under the showerhead to wash away the evidence of what happened here tonight. As he watches the water run down off your delicious curves and flow down the drain, he realizes that this is going to become an even bigger problem than he had before… but fuck is he ready for it.

[moondirti]

simon forcing your jaw unhinged and hooking two thick, salty fingers behind your molars to keep your mouth open, thumb pressing up on your top row of teeth. warns bite n and i’ll pluck em out, all low and coarse, voice deeper than it usually is. to be expected for the hour.

your body’s wedged between the bathroom countertop and his heavy body, struggling for air as his stomach crushes into your sternum. he’s in only his boxers — the usual sleep attire. you’re in nothing at all; though you’re given an old shirt to wear overnight, he insists you take it off for this part of your routine. doesn’t want it to get messy, he says. what you know is that he prefers to feel your bare tits heaving against him, nipples caught in the steel wool coils of his chest hair. as good as dead, like little flies in a spider trap.

the sun’s barely up. through the open door, pale blue light douses the bathroom in a similar hue. your eyes water, and the image blurs to one of wet dawn and the shadow he casts above you. you see his free hand working something, hear the run of tap water, smell the minty fresh dollop of toothpaste before it hits your teeth. the tears slip down your cheeks, and he comes into focus again. focused. cruel. face more scar tissue than flesh. the one that runs through his upper lip gives the impression that he’s always sneering, but you can glean what he looks like amused by now. his eyes are too narrow to be anything else.

brushing your teeth for you. considerate. he works in fast, rough circles. brutally efficient. there’s a metallic aftertaste to the bristles he runs along your gums. you must be bleeding. it’s harder to breath with the intrusion in your mouth. you spread your legs wider, giving his body more space to move. perhaps naively hoping it would be away from you. he only carves in closer.

there’s a hot mass pressing into your inner thigh now. simon makes sure to get the back of your mouth, polishing around your molars. he must be really into it; what, with the way his hips match the rhythm. grinding into your leg at the same tempo he cleans the backs of your teeth with. you’re like a little rag doll to his whims, manhandled by the hand anchored in your mouth. it pulls your body closer, tilts your head up higher.

your neck aches. there’s a ringing in your head. one of your hands acts against your will, clamping around his sturdy wrist for purchase. his erection has pushed up closer to your cunt. it’s mortifying when you’re shoved up on top of the counter to discover you’re radiating heat and slick — an especially stark reality as you press down onto the cool granite surface. inadvertently, you lean into him. a gurgled whimper escapes you. as if to exaggerate the sound, simon grabs the tip of your tongue and drags it out of your mouth.

it’s not at all necessary to brush your tongue the way he does. with as much aggression. your clit catches the mound in his boxers the same time the brush strokes the back of your throat, and a messy gag sends tributaries of watery toothpaste down your chin. you’re moaning like the whore he insists you are now; holding onto him like you were the one to stick out your tongue.

it doesn’t get easier to withstand the rough sweeps of the toothbrush, now clutched in a tense fist — you gag and spit and cry and make a mess all over, just like he said you would. but the cock humping into your similarly weeping pussy helps just a little bit. you must soak through the cotton of his underwear with how good it feels, grinding your hips up and down all over his length. the waistband rolls down with the motions, and you catch the gleam of your juices matting his happy trail in the low light. your eyes roll to the back of your head. you tuck your nails into the flesh of his forearm. he brushes your tongue until there’s more toothpaste running over your lips and down your neck than there is in your mouth.

you convulse in his arms until you’vs wrung the last dregs of your orgasm from your frame. simon hardly waits for you to finish, collecting your hair to pivot you over the sink basin.

spit. rinse out. he wipes the front of your mouth off with a towel, then runs a thumb over your canine to check if it squeaks. your lashes feel crusty with the dried remnants of your tears. it hardly matters when he bends down to tuck your face in his shoulder, lifting you off your feet. the bruising pinch he gives your ass meant to mean: we ain’t finished.

[dmitriene]

there's something in the way simon gaze pierces through your back that makes heat churn in your belly, adding to the way his calloused fingers feel as they slip down your sweaty spine, gathering small droplets of saltiness, before sliding further down to your plopping ass.

he loves watching, studying the way your back tenses and arches a tad bit, presenting to his dark eyes the way your flesh jiggles, pretty cunt drooling with sweet slick all over his pubic hair, as you release high pitched moans that make simon purr affectionately.

simon's palm swallow your asscheek, stroking across hot skin with all his callouses and watching the way you arch deeper, beg more of his touch in every little whimper that leave your lips, making simon only imagine if your eyes glisten in desperation right now, before he settles his touch on your hips.

he squeezes at the flesh there gently, rubbing brief circles until he lets his fingers dip in your flesh to help you bounce faster, making his stiff and veiny cock glide deeper, bumping against your spongy spot with shallow thrusts, making your breath stutter with chocked out moan.

there's grounding warmth behind your trembling body, simon's sturdy chest pressing against your back and helping you lean against him, body going lax with tumbling whine past your lips, as his breath tickles behind your ear, pressing a small kiss with rumbled praise — “that''s it, bein so good for me, luv, let' me tak' car' of yau now„

main masterlist. quidelines.

[ink-n-shadow]

hey beauty can i ask for us being the first time of ghost pls? lyyy ty💗

[ FIRST TIME ] 𝜗𝜚 the one where it's your first time with ghost

𝜗𝜚 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), first time sex, unprotected sex (pls wrap it before you tap it/get tapped), gentle!ghost, slight praise kink, size kink (if you squint), mega unedited

the first time you have sex with simon would be filled with shaky hands and absolutely searing kisses. for a man so used to flings and casual hookups, something about fucking you—the person he could see himself marrying someday—made him question his abilities in the bedroom immediately.

he’d treat you like glass, gently spreading you out across the black satin of his bedsheets with a strong hand stretching across your stomach. normally, he’d want to throw his partner around, push and pull them into just the position he wanted. but he was afraid of breaking you, pushing you too far, shattering you into a million pieces.

so he would settle for gently nudging your limbs apart, waiting patiently for you to let your thighs fall open and nosing against your cheek until you let your head fall to the side and let him nip and lick at the salty skin of your throat.

but the way simon kisses you would be the exact opposite of his touch. it would be hot, heavy, and downright filthy. he just couldn’t help but want to completely devour you, scarred lips parted to lick desperately at the seam of your mouth as his hands gently cradle the hinge of your jaw.

his tongue would map out the inside of your mouth from roof to floor, swiping against teeth and gums to savor the taste of your spit—of you—and sear it into his memory. he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from nipping and tugging on your bottom lip, a deep growl ripping from his chest at the breathy whines it pulls from you.

simon wouldn’t stop kissing you even as he notched himself deep within your gummy walls, using his tongue as a distraction from the way his thick cock stretched you out almost past your limit. he wouldn’t fuck himself all the way into you, both because he knew it would take a lot more prep to get your body able to take him completely and he knows wouldn’t last 3 seconds nestled inside of your tight hole.

so he would settle for gentle, shallow pushes of his hips, downright whimpering against your spit-slicked and swollen lips at the way you gripped him. panting out soft praises of “fuck, y’feel s-so fuckin’ good,” “s’like you were fuckin’ made to take my cock,” and “move your legs up. ‘round my waist—just like that, lovie. f-fuck, makes you even tighter, swear.”

simon would be a gentleman and only cum after you, using his fingers to pinch at your stiffened nipples and toy with your arousal until he felt you clench around him. only then would he spill inside of you, unintelligible growls and broken whimpers leaving his lips as he practically melts on top of you and pins you to the mattress, softening cock still buried inside of you and stickiness dripping down your thighs.

[audisive]

♪ PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY.  sad girl alternative

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: you've had a bad day, simon's there to fix it.

tags: comfort, crying, self-indulgent, fluff

  Your head laid on the skin of his arm, your face pushed into the comfort of his chest. The sharp edges of your earrings – your favorite ones, he recalls – sank and dug into his skin meanly, but he couldn't care less. As disgusting as it sounds, it could not compare to the way his heart ached to protect your own when he hears you take sharp inhales just to exhale with a sob, sniffles occasionally there to accompany your weeping. It was anything but his priority with the way his arms tightened around you and the way he'd hoped it would be enough to ease your worries and take your pain away; pass it onto him if you must. Anything to make you feel better.

Oh, the things he'd be willing to but could not do to instead receive a painfully unfunny joke from you in the place of your sobs. He settles on wiping the tears off your face, knowing how it makes you feel when it dries and sticks to your skin uncomfortably. The small droplets were everywhere and increased with every passing minute, but he took the time to wipe them off one by one. Had you not been in agony, you would've been in awe at the way this gigantically scary man was being so gentle with you; it was one of the best reminders of how his heart belonged to you and how well he'd taken care of your own.

Simon holds you forever – at least that's what it feels like – and whispers sweet nothings into your ear to distract you, even just for a little bit. "'S fine," he reassures you, each word filled with promise and not an ounce of doubt. "You'll be okay, y'hear me? I got you." It's warm, and he still faintly smells of gun powder, mixed with the well-used cologne you'd bought him for his birthday last year. You don't pay any mind to the smell of tobacco lingering; you know it's not his.

You've long since learned – all thanks to him – to refrain from apologizing for your show of vulnerability and emotions. It leaves you guilty, still, eating you up at night with the knowledge of his uneasiness when it comes to emotions, but for him, nothing's better than learning to get over his fears with his one and only love. Love always makes us do things we don't want to, right?

His arms found the way to wrap themselves around you heavily like a weighted blanket hours ago and have continued to stay. It serves as a comfort for you, along with his words. In his sweater, his arms, his bed, his room. He's all you can see and all you can feel, but you're not complaining, and neither is he.

You calm down after a moment, letting your breathing grow steady while the wet spots of tears in his sweater dried up. Simon Riley hates to see you cry, but damn it if he can't be the one to comfort you.

"There's m' pretty girl," he whispers in that charmingly rough yet gentle voice of his, looking down at the way your lashes glisten with salty little tears when you find the strength to press your cheek to his chest instead of burying your face in the warm surface. "Feelin' better now, sweets?" He's so terribly sweet to and with you that you think you might cry again just because. You barely even nod, but you know he notices; he always does.

"Y'wanna talk about it?" His hand plants itself onto your back; it gives you a sense of stability. Everything about him is so large in a way that engulfs you whole, and it would terrify any sane person. Perhaps you aren't, not anymore, but you found the warmth and comfort of your home in him. He kisses your forehead without so much as a pause when you shake your head. "A'right, we'll jus' stay here, then."

And stay, you do, cuddled up against him. It doesn't take long before all the crying takes its toll on you, your head starts to hurt, and your eyelids start to give up. Before you know it, you're pulled into the deep depths of unconsciousness. It's too early into the night; you've skipped two meals, and you've worked yourself near death. You know full well that you'll wake up with a raging headache after crying yourself to sleep, too. You'll wake up too early in the morning; your muscles will be sore, and you're still starving. You might as well pass out immediately after waking up.

Still, you sleep at ease and without worry. Why would you not? Simon will be there to fix it. ♡

  divider by @cafekitsune !

[diejager]

may i ask stalker!simon taking advantage of his sweetheart with a gun? 👀

Stalker!Simon, hmmmmm :)

Surprise Visit

Pairing: Stalker!Ghost x reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, stalking, gun, obsession, rough oral sex, blowjob, face fucking, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1k

You’ve walked this path multiple times, every night and every morning, over and over again. You knew this path like the palm of your hand, having taken it all your life. Granted, you had changed street from time to time for a change of normalcy, but it was always the same block or side of the city you took to get to and fro work and home. You were comfortable with your little life, slightly bored by how inactive you were, but you wouldn’t trade it for any kind of trouble.

So it was a surprise - was it truly? You’d grown so comfortable that you stopped keeping your guard up - when you were toughly pushed into your apartment the moment your locked clicked open. You tumbled in, eyes widened and ready to scream out for help, when the man covered your mouth, pressing his weight on yours. You shook, fearfully breathing through your nose as the door closed behind you, your only escape blocked by a heavy mass over you, hand clamped around your cheeks and holding you down. 

You hear him shush you, a deep, baritone voice that cooed at your teary eyes, his small praises at your frightful expression. His words dripped with adoration, a sickly and dark affection that made your skin crawl. You should have looked before opening your door. You should have been more caution in a world where both men and women prowled to attack one another, those disgusting and desperate ones that would do anything to get a taste. If he wanted money, you’d give it all to him, you valued your life more than—

“Stay quiet for me, love, ” he rasped, his hot breath hitting your ear, feeling your side before he slipped a hand under his jacket, “Behave, yeah?”

He pulled a gun, the dreadful click of the safety acting as a warning to you, a deterrent to stop you from acting out —from misbehaving. He cocked his gun rather than repeating his words and you nodded hastily, or as best as you could with his bruising grip on your face. He turned you around and peered down at you from his crooked nose, his dark chocolate eyes seemed almost black, a devouring pit that drew your eyes to his. Gun pointed at your head, he motioned you to your knees, kneeling between his spread legs, running his other hand through your mess of locks. 

“Good girl, ” he groaned, pulling you to face his growing bulge, his cock tenting the seams of his pants. He ground against your lips, rutting your face with low huffs and pants, hissing when your nose nudged it, “Pull my cock out.”

You swallowed down your hesitance when you caught the red gleam in his eyes, shaky hands palming his jeans for the zipper, pulling his pants down his hips and watched the wet patch growing on his grey briefs. He grunted at your slow pace, impatiently pressing the muzzle to your temple and only loosening his hold on your hair when he cock bounced out, the heaviness of it making his length hang between his thighs. 

“Suck.”

Having no choice, you licked your dried lips to ease your anxiety, wrapping them around his leaky tip and running your tongue over his slit, tasting the salty tang of his pre. Your stomach rolled in disgust, the threat of food and stomach acid running up your throat screaming louder in your mind. Willing yourself to finish this quickly, hoping he’d leave after you gave… gave him a blowjob, you sunk further down his length. Staring up at his masked face, locked between his legs with his skull-painted mask and dangerous eyes.

He was thick and veiny, the burn of it’s throb churning your stomach as you took in more and more until you almost choked. He huffed at your inability to take more than half of him, narrowing his eyes at the tears running down your cheeks when he abruptly thrust down your throat, head thrown back at your choke, throat swallowing around his twitching head. 

“Fuck, ” a low moan slipped from his tongue, his hips moving back and forth, taking in your desperate cries and gagging while he took from you, “Always knew you had a hot mouth. Bloody tight.”

You could hardly breathe with the rough drive of his hips, ramming his cock so deeply that you could taste him on the back of your throat and in your guts. You could fight and struggle, but wouldn’t be able to stop him, to escape his treatment or run away when he had a hard grip on your head, a gun in his hand and blocked the door. All you could do was cry and take it, appease him in hopes that he wouldn’t kill you if he was satisfied.

And it seemed he was, taking such a liking to your tear-streaked face, swollen lips wrapped around the girth of his cock and nose buried in his messy bush while he took and took, bartering your throat until it’d bruised. He came down your throats with a few more thrusts, staring you down his nose while he slipped as deep as he could. You choked on his heady cum, roped spurting from the tip and filled your stomach with an uncomfortable amount, it was hot and bitter, and there were so, so much that it spilled from your lips, dripping down your chin and staining jeans. 

You gasped when he pulled out, somewhat happy that you had swallowed his cum. You cough and sputtered, folded at his feet as you sobbed, babbling pleas to be let off now that you’d fulfilled his sick fantasy. He only crouched down, running his hands through your hair like he wanted to comfort you, tenderly petting you for the favour you did.

“You did good, love, ” he praised, a chuckle rumbling off his shoulder, proud and gleeful. He even put his gun away, “This stays between us, understood? You can keep our little secret, yeah, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes, ” you rasped, signing your soul away to the devil in a balaclava.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[eccentricallygothic]

Depraved Old Men! Simon Riley | John Soap MacTavish | König

To help you keep track of the pairs; | Simon & Angel | Johnny & Petal | König & Darling |

Find Part I here.

Warning(s): Noncon/Dubcon, orgy, spanking, unprotected p-in-v, dick riding, anal, missionary, dacryphilia, dark behavior, licking, pinching, biting, age gap, Stockholm syndrome vibes, toxic forced relationships, hair pulling, Sir kink, Daddy kink, size kink, praise kink-ish. MDNI.

A few long months after the first time, when Johnny had forced it into being cut short after only the girls playing amongst themselves on account of not being in favor of the men touching each other's lovers, the ‘meetup’ is at Simon's house today.

It was only recently that the men got into discussing this proposition, as Johnny had been extremely hostile to the idea until König had ‘innocently’ shared his living room's CCTV footage of that night in the group chat. And just as intended, the action had eventually started a conversation about the possibility of such an activity once more. Since the Scot had straight up refused to participate, the other men had carefully reeled him in by dismissing him with, ‘a little humoring yourself never hurts anybody’ until they eventually succeeded in bringing him to an agreement through a very elaborate, slow and cautious process.

And now…

“It's okay, love. You're doing so well for me” Simon cooes, rather uncharacteristically if you ask Angel, as he wipes away Darling's thick tears that keep bubbling out of the corners of her eyes, shaking sideways down her face and hitting the glass table with light pats. “I've got you, Sir's got you~” her smaller body slides up and down the surface with small squeaks from how Simon is gently fucking into her since she's too small and sensitive for a rougher pace, the monstrousness of his girth causing her tiny pussy to clench with each deep thrust. “Tell me” Simon kisses away the salty nectar of her grief. “Do you like what you see?” He is holding her throat in his hand that is nearly twice its size, the rough pad of his thumb grazing against the crevice that has formed between her jaw and neck from how her head is angled upwards to look at Petal clamped around her husband's dick. 

“Ah! You're so big, Daddy! Oh, my God!” Even though Johnny had agreed to this out of his own supposed free will, the way his little girl is moaning and praising König is doing a good job at stirring his ire. “Oh, oh! I am gonna cum again!” Petal shakes as her limbs spasm upon König's mountainous legs that are built like stone, the disks of his muscles shifting under her legs with each thrust he gives her to help her keep bouncing because his cock is too much for her to ride all by herself. 

“Give it to me then, pretty girl” the humongous man rasps in his strong accent, muttering out a thread of incoherent foreign curses before he latches his balmy mouth on one of Petal's hardened nubs, the harsh sucking of his mouth causing his cheeks to hollow as his fingers connect to her sensitive clit. “Mmm… I swear you get sweeter by the second” her back arches at that and she throws her head back, letting out blood curdling moans as her body goes through another nerve shattering orgasm.

As if that is not bad enough for Johnny who has always been a possessive man especially with Petal, the fact that König now demands her to tell him that he's the best cock and orgasm she's ever had in her vulnerable state where Johnny knows her small mind will say whatever she is being told, the stoic way in which Angel treats him with almost an indifference to his cock pumping in and out of her tight pucker fills him with a kind of rage he is not sure he has felt ever before. 

Johnny's hands roughly fish under Angel's body to hoist her up and more pliant to his hold by her tits from where he has her bent over the couch to face Simon fucking Darling deep and intimate with König making a fleshlight of Petal on the side so the pairs form a sort of a triangle, ironically. 

Angel's breaths are heavy and her skin is shiny with sweat, she wouldn't be breathing through a gaping mouth and her skin wouldn't be clammy to his touch if she wasn't. But the stubborn way in which she feigns a disregard for his painful defiling of her perfect ass while holding up a defiant chin to Simon to deny the men their depraved satisfaction unlike the younger girls riles Johnny up to do worse.

And so he crushes Angel's nipples between his fingers before thrusting into her so hard that she nearly doubles over from how his tip hits her guts. “Think you can get away with this shit, can ya?” His accent is so rough in her ear that she can barely comprehend it. “You think I can't break through this tough bitch shit of yours, eh?” Emotion breaks onto Angel's face for the first time ever since she had been ordered to relieve herself of her clothes before being told to bend over.

She cries out from how Johnny snatches her earlobe between his teeth and sinks them down into the tender skin before he grinds it back and forth between them. Her arms helplessly flail at her sides and she blindly claws behind her to try and pull him off. But all she can do is bounce in the air while her ass cheeks clap against Johnny's cock, his fingers cruelly stretching her nipples past the limits of their flexibility and his teeth torturing her into pleading for mercy.

Simon glances up at her from Darling's devastated form. Their eyes lock and though he isn't one to show much emotion, a hint of a smirk plays at his lips. Good. Johnny is finally figuring it out. Angel is not one to back down easily. She has a thing for making it hard for herself and who are they to deny the thrill that she throws their way herself? Despite her rigorous training with Simon ever since he decided her for himself, she has managed to retain her pride. 

And that cannot do.

She must be taught her place. And if Simon is not the one doing it, then who better than his best mate?

Darling turns her head away from her unfaithful husband when he forces yet another orgasm out of Petal. And Simon is right there to swoop in like a knight in shining armor. 

“Oh, you poor little babe” the baritone of his low voice mixed with his accent is like the finest cool malt sliding down a parched tongue. “So cruel to a sweet little thing such as yourself, isn't he?” Darling's bottom lip wobbles in what just may be the most innocent way Simon has ever seen. A fresh batch of tears wells up in her eyes as she struggles to keep her arms folded above her head in the way she had been initially ordered to do. 

Simon lets his warm hands take hold of her sides before he rubs them back and forth to comfort her, his lips capturing hers in a soft kiss and he squeezes her tense hips. The action causes the younger girl to whimper into his mouth, the man's collecting of her legs around his waist making his dick slide in so deep that it hits her deep in her cervix and she cries out.

“S- Sir!” Darling whispers, her face contorted from the painful pleasure. 

“What do you say we show him what he's missing out on,” he catches one of her tears in a delicate kiss on her cheekbone, hot tongue darting out to collect its remainder from her lash line in an elegant swipe next. “Hm?” The vibration of his hum drums into her quivering chest as she pants for breath. There is such a difference in their sizes that whilst she lays on the table, Simon kneels on the floor and still it is her who hangs upwards where his thick cock pumps in and out of her sopping pussy. 

Simon loves it. Because he knows she doesn't mean to, he is aware that this is more devastating to her little mind than it will ever be pleasurable enough, it is clear that she only takes the deep, intimate fucking with the pliance that she does because she doesn't have a choice; he can feel her fear of him. And yet, she milks him with each thrust, whimpers with each pinch and squeeze, moans into every kiss. 

Unaware, unwilling, but still wanton. 

Darling does not have Angel's unwavering will and challenge, nor does she have Petal's stubborn and brattiness, no. In fact, she is the sweet naive wife who accepts what hubby says as the supreme truth. To question or speculate is not in her nature; holding her own against authority a sin to her small mind. 

There is not much that surprises Simon, but when she slowly nods after examining his face with a vacant gaze and her parted mouth closes so she can let out a meek little, “Y- Yes, sir…” The older man nearly bursts into her right then and there.

“Very well, then” he traps her mouth in his in a deep kiss before letting his tongue invade her warm oral cavern at last, his bigger hands lifting her arms from above her head to wrap around his mountainous shoulders before he coils the hair at the back of her head around his fingers and pulls. The action elicits the expected whine out of her and she finally cums, indicating to Simon that he is in since she had been too out of it to let herself loose to his touch and cock before now.

Only one dilemma remains now.

She has come without his permission.

And being out of control, Simon does not appreciate.

. . .

I appreciate and humbly request your feedback as it keeps me motivated. And reblogs help circulate my work <3

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Hello helloo! I've a request but I hope it doesn't sound weird.. There is such a tradition in Turkey, maybe you know, or heard about it. Women add salt to their fiances coffee to show that marriage is not always sweet (during their unofficial engagement ceremony among their family and friends, Turkish coffee is served to everyone). Soo, I was thinking about it, what would ghost/könig/soap do if their s/o did it to them? Like their s/o sees a video about it and decides to try. I think that would be funny ehehe

Hi!! It's not weird at all! This one was a fun one to write. Hope this is what you were looking for!🙃❤️

Warnings: swearing

------------------------------------------------------

Ghost/Soap/König's Reaction to Reader Pouring Salt in Their Coffee

Simon "Ghost" Riley-

You and Simon had been together for years before he'd popped the question. In the years you'd been together, you'd never once pranked him.

Scrolling through your phone one day, you came across a video of a Turkish tradition where the bride puts salt in her groom's coffee, and he has to show no indication that he didn't enjoy it. You knew at that moment you wanted to try it on Simon.

He'd just gotten home from running some errands, so you decided to make him a coffee to "help him decompress".

He smiled warmly at you, and graciously accepted the coffee. "Thanks, love."

You bit your lip to hide a smile, and simply nodded your head. You watched his face scrunch up in disgust as he took a sip of the coffee.

"Bloody hell, what's in this?"

You faked a sad expression. "What do you mean? It's just coffee."

Simon took in your expression, and a frown formed on his face. "Love I- I meant no offense it's just. It's salty?"

Unable to hold up the facade any longer, you busted out laughing.

Simon was beyond confused at what was going on. "Babe?"

"I watched a video the other day, it's a Turkish tradition that the bride puts salt in her groom's coffee, and he has to not make a face. I thought it would be funny to try." You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing further. "Your reaction was priceless."

"Glad you found it amusing, love. Now come try a sip of this shite yourself." He held the cup up to you for you to try. "Let's see how you react."

"Nope, not gonna happen." You said backing away from the mug.

"Get over here, babe." He moved closer to you as you proceeded to move away from.

What ensued was Simon trying to catch you and force you to drink your concoction.

Much to your dismay, Simon was a lot faster than you.

König-

You'd seen the videos circling TikTok of the Turkish coffee tradition. You found the videos hilarious as you watched the different groom's reactions.

The more you watched them, the more you knew you wanted to try this out on your fiance König.

You'd gotten everything set, it was early morning and you knew König would be down any moment for his usual cup of coffee. You'd made the coffee just the way he liked, the only difference was, you'd poured about a tablespoon of salt in the cup.

König came downstairs with a radiant smile on his face. He saw you holding out a cup of coffee to him, and his eyes lit up. "Good morning Schat. That for me?"

"Morning! Yup, all for you. Made it myself." You were desperately trying not to laugh, as you didn't want to give anything away. "Just the way you like."

"Thank you, my love." He nodded at you before taking a sip from the cup.

You watched as he processed the taste. His nose scrunching slightly, as he turned his back to you.

"This. This is very good dear. Thank you." You could hear him struggling to get the words out, before a coughing fit consumed him.

He turned to you and mustered the best smile he could. "Tastes a bit different. But it's. It's good. Yes."

He moved to take another sip, clearly pretending to enjoy the coffee for your sake so as not to hurt your feelings.

"Kö, baby you don't have to drink it, it's okay." You giggled.

"No love you made it. I shall drink it." You could see that he was doing his best not to gag.

"Baby, it was a joke. I saw a video on tik tok that it's a Turkish tradition to put salt in the groom's coffee to test his reaction. It's evidently a way of saying marriage won't always be sweet."

König visibly relaxed at this, clearly happy he didn't have to continue to drink the coffee. "I hope I have responded well, Schatz. That was not sweet at all. Frankly that was utter shit."

You cackled at his reply and moved to wrap yourself against his torso. "God, I love you, I can't wait to marry you Kö."

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish-

The two of you had actually both seen the tik tok, on your own. The minute you'd seen the video, you knew you wanted to try it on Johnny.

You both were in your kitchen, getting ready for your day, when you approached each other, drinks in hand.

"Aye, bug I made you tea. Two creams with extra sugar." He said with a shit eating grin.

"Oh. Well. I made you a coffee. Great minds think alike, huh?" You asked sheepishly, handing the coffee to him.

"What's the occasion?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Just seemed tired, wanted to make you a cup?" You took the tea from him, and studied it closely. In all your years together, he'd never once made you a cup of tea.

"Well thank ye." Soap smiled at you, and moved to take a sip. You watched as his eyes widened, and he immediately spit out the coffee.

"The fuck? You did not." He was laughing hysterically.

You smiled to yourself, before taking a sip of the tea he made you, only to be met with the worst tasting liquid you'd ever experienced. "Good grief Johnny, what the hell is this?" You scrunched your face up in disgust.

"Seems we both had the same idea." He winked, a wicked grin forming on his face.

"Oh my God, did you watch the same video? The Turkish salt in coffee tradition?"

"That I did love. Looks like I'm gonna be the best husband ever."

"Your reaction was terrible! That proves nothing!"

"My dear, you should know, marriage won't always be this sweet." He sauntered up to you, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips. "Your lips, uh, taste a little salty, dear."

"Screw you, MacTavish."

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A/N: hope you enjoyed!! Thanks for reading🙃❤️

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: jealous! simon x soldier! reader, oral sex, foreplay no intercourse, implied age gap, throat training ish, etc

You really are just the unluckiest gal, the captivation of Simon's greedy attention. Couldn't say no to your legendary lieutenant - not that you wanted to anyways. Liked having his special attention; whole ordeal probably started off so sweet. You absolutely admired, wanted to make him proud in any way possible, on the field, and off. You - so easy to manipulate into dropping to your knees, all rowdy with adrenaline from your first few missions with him. Hot blood of a puppish recruit.

Had to throat train you, teach you to keep that jaw slackened while he bobbed your head for you. Whimpers vibrating all around his cock from the hot walls of your throat, tongue desperately offering stimulation for him - you wanted to please him so badly. And you looked so pretty begging for it, drove Simon crazy, made his eyes roll back and his body limp against the wall. By then, your eyes had watered with sloppy tears that streamed down your cheeks, Simon's thumb reaching off to rub it off, bringing it to his mouth to taste your salty pleas.

"S.. Simon." You'd croak so softly, strands of drool dribbled on your lips, vision blurred and light headed. Oh, what he'd give to see you painted.

You knew better than expect that occurrence to be a one time thing - you weren't that dumb. Not like the other soldiers implied, that you were just some air headed solider, best as canon fodder. Maybe that was why Simon used you with such ease, releasing the grip he had on your hair after he came down your throat, wiping off his cum from your lips and letting you lick it right off his finger; all these just because you were too dumb to say no. Too desperate to not beg for his attention, come back into his embrace when someone was too mean to you.

A proper brat you were. Impossible for Simon to imagine himself actually loving you. Then came the time Johnny approached you, devious smirk, arms crossed and listening to you yap about your day, wagging your tail for other men. Oh, you were such a whore - should really know better than to let other men talk to you. Especially men like Johnny, who had already imagined you whining with his cock bullied into you.

Later that day you would have quickly graduated from suckling the cum from Simon's cock to letting him fuck you. Dragged into his own personal quarters and thrown on to the bed, a yelp emitting from you on impact. You sat up, quickly, head tilting dumbly, "Si, what's wrong?"

God, you were so dumb, so oblivious. It made Simon growl with something furious, something jealous. His palm pressing in to his own face for relief of his expression. He was good at masking his emotions, good at hiding what he thought, but when he was with you it all went to shit. And fuck, nothing irked him more.

His touch was gentle, experienced, undressing you and watching goosebumps form on your flesh from the exposure, your nipples pebbled and fun for him to pinch, flick, tug. Yet, Simon's words were still harsh, furrowed brows as he rumbled out, "So ye like, MacTavish, mm?"

You'd shake your head rapidly, your bottom lip quivering a bit while Simon's free hand rubbed away at the nervy nub between your thighs. Already wet - like a whore. Simon laughed to himself, a cold and cruel laugh as he continued with his little touches, mapping out your body in a lazy rove. "S'okay, lovely, can wag your tail for these other men. Bet they get you real wet, make you think some dirty stuff. Can feel it from how wet this cute, little cunt is. Just remember.."

Simon trailed for a moment, leaning close to whisper softly in your ear, "Simon owns ya."