12.27.24

SP. 101 - Ghost in the Shell (1995)

A mechanical casing for the brain.

Ghost doesn't cutesy talk cats, he talks to them like other adult men and it's hilarious.

They're at a safehouse, and Ghost is listening to the radio, Price hears him talking to someone, and he's confused because both of his sergeants are conked out asleep.

So, he walks around the corner and finds Ghost sitting on a step with the radio playing and a stray kitten biting his laces while he talks to her. "I don't believe shoelaces constitute part of a balanced diet."

John just sits down on the step next to him and ignores how his knees click. "What's her name?"

"She's yet to disclose name or rank, but given that she's clearly smarter than those two through there, I'd say she's a lieutenant." He responds so dryly that John can't help but snort.

"Ah, I see. Making her way through the ranks at her young age, impressive." He leans forward to pet the kitten, flattening down the tuft of fur sticking up on her head.

"She's a hard worker, look at those paws. Grubby, she's been busy."

The kitten offers them a mewl in response, and he nods accordingly.

"She's stern, reminds me of Laswell."

That makes Ghost laugh.

I also keep up and do not leave my favorite Call Of Duty fandom, it is very dear to me and I will not forget it. I sometimes go back to him and draw these men, they inspire me to be stronger.

simon riley smoking while you bounce on his cock, up and down, your ass plaps steadily against his lax, muscular thighs that are spread to accommodate the plump globs of your rear, tobacco smoke curling around his mouth, over the furl of his thin lips as he opens them, releasing the thick puffs with heavy grunts and deliberate exhales.

letting the grayish clouds clog the air, dissolving over his nose, floating with disappearing, white tendrils before his eyes, pale eyelashes framing his eyes in a delicate wisps, distracting you from the flush creeping up his cheeks, as his gaze sweeps over you, pupils dilating from the glistening sight of your slick that smears along his meaty cock, carved in your splitting, warm pussy while you roll your hips steadily.

you sit obediently when simon stops you, urging you to slow by a gentle, patting squeeze against your hip, and you pause your movements instantly, wiggling to sit on his throbbing, leaking cock more comfortably, cockwarming him even as you gush, gummy walls snug and pulsing, liquid heat of approaching orgasm pooling in your tummy, drawing attention.

but you wait till he'd ignite a new cigarette, fetching the lighter from the bedside table, flicking it on, as the fire reflects in his gleaming gaze, revealing the sizzling sparks that hide beneath his stoic play, as he throws the lighter back, taking a deep puff in, before tapping your hip, helping you resume your bouncing while your thighs shake beneath.

main masterlist. quidelines.

Who is left

Simon Riley pretends to be grossed out by you. Not like dramatically, but makes it obvious.

But he's actually in love with you.

You lick your lips and smirk up at him. "You look delicious today, handsome~"

He side eyes you. Wide eyed. "Fuckin' mental." But he's smirking behind his mask. And when you looked away he's looking you up and down to think of something nice to say back. He never did, because he didn't know how.

One time you came up behind him and hugged him tightly. You rubbed your face into his back and grumbled about college being the worst. And he's eyeing your arms, basking in the feeling of you against him.

He's not used to any physical affection, that's the whole reason. He wasn't shown much love when he was younger so of course it followed him into his adult age.

And he never tried. The women before you only used him and he did the same. It was something he was used to. And affection wasn't something he tried to do.

So maybe he started trying with you. And you don't notice it. (He thinks you don't, but you absolutely do and you're careful about it. Like carefully feeding a deer.) He starts to reach for you. Sitting on the couch, he's got his finger curled in your shirt. Driving, he would playfully slap your thigh, then sooth it like he was sorry, then leave his hand there.

You let him at his own pace. But you found that it you're talking and you reach for him, like his hand, he lets you take it and caress his knuckles.

He recognized that you were careful with him. You considered how he felt a lot of the times, and he saw that. Maybe that was why he fell harder for you than you realized.

Soon, he's pulling you into his lap so he could look up at you. He's pulling you in for long hugs. He's tugging your hands and putting them on his neck (you'd better scratch at his neck and back because he will never ask you to but he loves loves loves the feeling.) You've accepted that the man is kind of touch starved and will never voice it to you.

But he never stopped acting like a bully.

"Simon, you're so fuckin hot. I'd pay you to do filthy things to me." You stated so calmly that it made his eye twitch when he realized what just came out your mouth.

"Don't worry love, we'll find you that therapist soon." He shook his head with a sigh. And his heart leapt in his chest at hearing your laughter.

scaredy cat

chapter: unumbered one shot (maybe more to come) pairing: simon 'ghost' riley warnings: nothing explicit. all lowercase. a/n: because everyone deserves a love that is patient and kind. in spite of everything. for @wraithdance and @disgustingtwitches

it’s why he blames himself when you run.

he’s invaded your space, pushed too hard against the ease of the relationship you’d found yourselves in. it wasn’t purposeful, but simon knew there was something amiss. could sense it from the way your gait had changed around him. how you’d taken to covering parts of yourself from him that you’d otherwise let him bare witness to. the clothes didnt change, no, but your laughter did. clipped and short, long enough to fool others but simon knew you better.

he saw you transform into a version of yourself he’d only seen before he knew you. a hardened version of you made by the winds that eroded your softness.

you’d erected walls for refuge. hiding yourself away from the reach of any hands who tried to tug at you, kind or otherwise.

and yet, simon had been granted access until recently.

he’d pushed his luck, known some conversations were likely to push you to the brink, but you held strongly. in the end, it wasn’t even a conversation. you’d clammed up mid conversation giggling over childhood talks. he’d seen the realization dawn on you in real time.

overexposed, overly comfortable, unprotected.

your things were gone the next day. his side table clear of anything of importance to you. there were still traces of you, lingering in the crevices of his flat but he knew they were there to keep him off your scent. to keep him from being alarmed.

he’s a damn good soldier though. better at understanding when someone’s got the urge to run. and exceptionally good at finding people.

he gives you two days. no messages, no calls, nothing.

all so you can breathe a little easier. work yourself out of the state of mind you’d found yourself in. leaving you bare and exposed.

then he shows up to your coffee shop. order his drink and yours and simply waits.

the baristas know him by now, and they’ve already known you, so when you approach the counter eager to get your liquid energy they simply wave to simon.

you’re an expert at hiding your emotions. anyone else would have accepted your absence of a reaction as expectation but simon knows better. sees the small inhale, your hands curling on the strap of your bag, other hand clutching your phone a little tighter. you’re unhappy, but not angry.

he’ll give you your space, let you run but be within your vicinity. watching you from behind the glass while you get comfortable around again. until you allow yourself to have your back to him, to let your fingers graze the back of his, until you find yourself curled into his side again.

he’s willing to wait.

“just a cup of coffee. take your time, i’m not in a rush for anything love. i’ll be here”

Ghost could also fit the 24/7 caretaker dom role too, but his version of caring would be a bit rougher / more abrasive. makes you take your meds and then physically checks to make sure you swallowed your pills, fingers in your mouth and under your tongue and everything.