Flesh And Bone

ghostsoap commission for @bluegiragi!

thank you so much for an opportunity to draw them again 🖤

continuation of this work

cw: confusing relationship, authority, threesome, hints on rest of the taskforce.

lieutenant simon riley has a pet, a good, sweet girl, you are, made to be a soldier, ending up under a heavy wing of the man higher than you by rank, stoic, brooding, more of a mystery than a human, but nothing out of this things makes you rethink your position, you always come when he calls, trotting behind his back obediently, settling on your knees between his legs should he say so.

that's why you don't try to escape when simon invites someone else, in this sacred place, in your shared secret, while you're being stretched open to the point of your head turning cottony, drool seeping from your mouth, open to whimper out a plea for a little rest, but the only thing you hear is a growled permission for someone to enter, door creaking for only a couple of seconds, scraping over someone's too bigger body, the thud of boots suddenly buzzing in your eardrums.

captain price, a man that got his post not just because, but for his prophecy, for the ability to lead people, to know if something is happening, even if behind his back, and so he found out about you, found out what simon does at night, why someone's bed knocks against the wall, not allowing many to sleep, as a result, ending up here, rings of blue in his eyes thinning at the mere sight, of the sobbing moan you let out, drowned in the wet squelch from between your thighs.

you are your lieutenant's good pup, so when simon says that his captain wants to have a taste of the forbidden, you spread your shiny, puffy folds and present, letting john's bulk bear you heavily against the messy sheets, ramming into your dripping hole with rapid, quick pumps, broad hips and fat, swollen cock working in tandem, your mouth too occupied with another cock to sob weak cries of overstimulation, but price still apologizes, huffing in your ear that he's already close.

simon has a couple more people he can introduce to you, and seeing how john smoothes a palm over the crown of your head while you sleep, fucked out to the point of losing your consciousness, calloused hands wiping off the cum that spills out your gaping, swollen cunt, utterly gentle, he's sure boys would be as good to you too, but for now, you need a good time to rest.

main masterlist. quidelines.

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.

Saying your going to have shower sex with ghost is like giving a dog a slice of cheese with medicine wrapped inside. You let him wash your tits.... as a treat.

He gets to grab at your tits and paw at you all he wants while you soap up the washcloth. It's all fun and games when you're scrubbing his chest, letting him look at you and think maybe you'll start playing with his cock, but then you grab the shampoo and suddenly it's not fun anymore. He's getting soap in his eyes and trying to keep you from accidentally waterboarding him in an attempt to clean some of the grime off his face. Is this grease paint of dirt? Who knows but it's got to come off.

The backne on this man is severe. You gotta put topical cream on him afterwards. He pouts the whole time.

sugar daddy simon but he doesn’t know how this arrangement actually works so sometimes, in the middle of the night, you get a wire transfer.

you would always send simon a message regarding the recent activity on your account; what once started as, “hi mr. riley, it seems like you have made an incorrect deposit into my account,” turned into, “????” because of how frequent it got.

sometimes, simon has legitimate reasons — “i want to see you tomorrow,” or “i’m taking you to the bahamas this weekend.”

but often, his reason is just — “i’m thinking about you.”

this one makes your heart churn the most, and you insist on returning the money back to him because thinking about you isn’t worth five-thousand pounds directly transferred into your account. but simon insists; says you’re too good for him so you deserve more than he could offer.

(“but i’m a jealous man,” he grunted in your ear when he had you bent over his island. “so yer mine, aren’t y’kid? all mine?”

you moaned out your yes’s, nodding and crying out that no one does it better than him. that no one could ever compare; no one could come close.)

he is… an odd man. you love him, in spite of.

you still remember the first time this whole wiring money happened, and after his comfort and placations, you had at least offered to meet up with him to make his deposit worth more than his thoughts about you, but simon had just…

> Oh. I’m out of the country.

yeah. he’s your strange dork. your beloved daddy.

(you’d kill for him.)

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.

big fan of John “i know how to fuck my bird” Mactavish, and Simon “no, let me show you how to fuck your bird” Riley

TIL Many haunted houses have been investigated and found to contain high levels of carbon monoxide or other poisons, which can cause hallucinations. The carbon monoxide theory explains why haunted houses are mostly older houses, which are more likely to contain aging and defective appliances.

via reddit.com

@eroticismofthemachinedetector