Smoke And Mirror🪞

simon doesn't indulge much in pet names. he would call you love often, you know like every other British person.

you don't mind because you love using pet names on him. babe is what you use most of the time. calling him baby and sweetheart works too. he'll appreciate any name you used on him. though you used pookie on him one time when you were feeling mischievous and in return he just gave you a nasty side-eye with a raised eyebrow, silently asking what the fuck did you just called me?

but in the rare times when you are cocooned by the blankets and simon's arms wrapped around you, when you are feeling a tad bit emotional you would say his name in a whispered voice like it's the most sacred thing. it's a reminder that he trusts you enough to tell his name. a proof of your hard work peeling off layer after layer of him.

something something pre-negotiated cnc scene with gaz where you go for a hike and he's waiting for you with his ghillie suit on, taking you entirely by surprise as he drags you into the bushes, holding his hand over your mouth so as not to alert the passing hikers as he fucks you on the ground, completely camouflaged underneath him

GHOST IN “CARTEL PROTECTION” 🕶️ | MODERN WARFARE II

break time.

hold up, I wanna hear that miniature hobbyist ghost au. (totally not bc I obsess over making little dolls and miniature dioramas for the dolls) care to crack open that can of worms?

Ghost is a miniature hobbiest who is well known for his (autistic) attention to detail as well as the monotone(deep and sexy) voice he uses for his extremely limited voice overs. His videos are edited incredibly ameteurish, but the actual content speaks to years of dedication. He will occasionally drop the most devestating lore in an Instagram caption showcasing a seemingly benign model. (No one recovered from the tiny birthday cake model only captioned with "would've been 10 today")

He is also, notably, obsessed with one doll hobbiest. His likes on Twitter are filled with their posts, and he comments on every instagram/tiktok/Tumblr post they make. Very niche bjd sculptor that makes one of a kind dolls purely as a hobby and posted one time about how they had to use their body as a reference to get certain proportions right, which had Ghost shelling out too much money for a doll he didn't previously care about, just so he could see you naked(or see the doll naked at least). He's a full on creep, stalking your private accounts for every selfie he can find and screenshotting them to add to his collection. His absolute dream is to have you buy some of his minis and display them with your dolls, and he's even made some in the right scale just to try and tempt you when you complained about never finding one specific prop on etsy(it didn't work).

You do not know this man exists. Somehow that makes you hotter to him.

I do think about Simon Riley saying “here kitty kitty” to you in a dark alley a lot but it never becomes anything.

simon grunts, his chest heaving as he palms at his chub, tracing the twitching muscle of his cock and letting out a hiss at the muted pleasure that razes through him. he shivers at the heated look you give him, your pretty eyes awash with desire, scalding as it trails down the lines of his bulk until it settles on his flesh.

“ah,” you whisper and simon nearly moans at the awe in your voice.

“s’right, baby,” he says, feeling the way he pulses underneath his low-hanging sweats. “s’all f’r you.”

there is a whine that drags itself from the base of your throat, so primal in the way it scratches your vocal cords, and simon has to fist his cock to stop himself from rutting against his palm.

“i can’t,” you whine, pouting, your eyes still trained on his groin. “‘m gonna be late for work.”

“please,” he croaks out, breathless himself. “how about jus’ the tip, love? jus’ give daddy a taste of you ‘round me, yeah?”

simon knows it is playing dirty to pull this card on you—to exploit your one weakness—but simon’s guilt is tucked underneath his stretching need, the desire bloating as it leaks past his rationality, leaving him with thinning restraints.

your sharp inhale is all the answer he needs.

he bites the inside of his cheek to tamp down the smirk dancing to the corners of his lips.

“okay,” you reply, tentative and quiet. “but just the tip, you promise?”

“swear,” simon murmurs.

like a goddamn liar.

he relishes in the squeals dripping from your parted lips, only for them to be muffled into your pillow.

he’s got you on your knees, your front all but pressed flat on the bed, your arms having lost the energy to keep yourself up as simon fucks you from the back. he’s got fistfuls of your ass, using them as sweet, sweet leverage as he manhandles your body back to his cock.

“so good f’r daddy, sweet’art,” he rumbles, his voice so deep it even sounds foreign to him. “so, so fuckin’ good, love.”

he punctuates his words with hard thrusts; drawing his cock out slowly, deliberately torturous so he can watch the way your hole grips at his cock, not wanting to let him go, before punching it back in. he doesn’t stop and keeps pushing his cock past the gummy press of your walls until his hips are pressed flush to the fat of your ass.

then, he repeats the process—sharp snaps of his hips leaving you twitching, and simon watches with a crazed giddiness as your hands uselessly scratch at the sheets as though that could tether you.

he bends forward, his bulk covering your trembling body. “such a cute darlin’ for me, lovie.” he ruts his cock along a particular sweet spot. “say ‘thank you’ to daddy?”

he hears a warbled reply from where your head is pressed to your pillow.

“hmm? wha’s ‘at?”

simon cups a hand on your forehead and carefully pulls, tipping your head up just enough that he can hear you.

he hears a hiccuped sob, then, “than’ you, daddy.”

simon giggles and presses a kiss on the back of your head. “what a good doll y’are.”

something about that makes your body tremble, spasming in his hold, and simon watches with awe as your toes curl, before he has to let go of you at the sudden tightening of your walls. his eyes go white, his ears ringing with a sharp static.

he feels so, so overwhelmed at the expanding euphoria that washes over him, lapping at the synapses from the back of his skull to the cavity of his ribs.

“you came,” simon mutters in awe, his voice passing through his teeth like a gritted hiss. “christ, lovie-”

-

sex that feels like a murder attempt

just his girl being so attracted to simon and him not understanding it. (18+)

i mean like...he's never had a girlfriend like this. he's never even had a girlfriend, period, not really, not anyone he's seen more than once, not one that he's known long enough to remember her name.

he just doesn't get it. whenever he comes into your vicinity, he can see the sparkle in your eyes. the smile that graces your face, the way your expression lights up, the way your body moves on its own just to get closer to him.

he wonders if he lets you because of the sick satisfaction he feels. to be the center of your attention, it makes him feel so fucking special, so important. another man can look at you the same way, but he knows your cunt will be dry. but when he looks at you that way, he can see the way your legs squeeze together, and he loves knowing that if he flipped up the hem of your skirt, you'd be so sticky and practically drooling there, all for him.

he doesn't think himself very attractive. he's had his fair share of one night stands, but the way you keen for him makes him so hungry. he loves hearing you whine when he grabs your ass, loves feeling you drip onto his fingers when he kisses you after a long day, loves the way that nothing else will ever make you smile the way he can when he touches your face.

"i love you so much," you whisper, and he has to look away or else he'll groan.

"i missed you," you whimper after he's been away for a long time, and he has to bite back the tremble in his lip because fuck, he missed you, too.

"you're so big, baby," you whine, and he can't help the way he chubs up immediately as you feel up his thick biceps, along his pecs, over the warm layer of fat around his solid middle. you can cum so fast just riding his big thigh, hell--you can cum by yourself just looking at him. he's so hot to you, so handsome, even if he doesn't take his mask off or any of his clothes, because you love him so much, and his eyes are sometimes all you need to feel enough. and fuck if that isn't the biggest ego boost, seeing his girl's pussy creaming just by fixating on the flex of his big hand.

his confidence is so puffed whenever he's around you. he gets goosebumps whenever your eyes are on him. even now, it's been years with you, and you still make him feel like the hottest guy in the room with the way your eyes look him up and down.

you're his perfect girl. his best prize. he doesn't understand how he ever got you, how he ever reeled you in, but there isn't a day that goes by that he doesn't understand how undeserving he is of you and how incredibly lucky he is. it makes him selfish. he has you, and he can't lose you, so fuck how he has to keep you, cause he will. and he thinks you like that, too.

he thinks you like the way he fondles you under your skirt in a crowded place. he thinks you like the way he fucks, deep thrusts as he grips your face and murmurs mine, mine, mine between low groans and fingerprint bruises. he thinks you like the way he hovers, glaring at anyone that looks your way and devouring you in a grocery store parking lot because the cashier at the till looked at your legs for just a second too long, and need ta remind ya who ya belong to, pet.

you were wet anyways, he had worn short sleeves that day, and your eyes hadn't left his tattoo sleeve since he came out of the shower. so wet, ruining those panties, his favorite little black pair with the skull print pattern along the band.

dripping, creamy, pulsing little cunt that is all his. hadn't so much as even touched you yet, and here you are, drooling so sweet. he just didn't want to waste the meal.

MY MIGHTY BOYS 🥰🥰 pt 2