Rating Band Names Based On Their Accuracy:

never let anyone tell you that trawling through mediocre victorian poetry isn't worth it. we just happened upon an absolute BANGER of a worm poem. go read it or else 🪱🪱🪱

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Simon desperately eating you out after a rough day.

***

The door slammed shut, making you jump and bump against the edge of the counter that you stood at before the sink, finishing up a few stray dishes that had been left from the night before. You turned to see Simon standing there in the doorway, stiff as a goddamn board with only his eyes clocking the room to find you and locking on to your form like a beast ready to pounce.

"Pants off...now," he demanded, his voice metered and firm as he removed the mask covering his features.

"Well, hello to you too," you chuckled as you crossed your arms over your chest, but he was not in a picking mood. "What's up?"

He took a calming breath; it wasn't your fault his mood had been soured today and he didn't need to upset the only person that could turn this all around. "It's been a fuckin' day, luv. Need something to take the edge off before I send someone to the goddamn morgue. So, again, pants off…please."

This wasn't the first time you'd encountered this specific Simon before; his short, gruff sentences were an obvious indication that he has had an absolutely rotten fucking day and was completely over it already. And because this wasn't your first time you knew what he wanted…

…what he needed to let all that stress go.

Slowly you undid the button of your pants, pulling down the zipper before slipping your hands inside the waistband and sliding your jeans down off your legs. Once you removed them from around your ankles you tossed them to the side and stood there in your panties and tank top, waiting for him to give you your next instruction. Like a flash he moved in and was now on top of you, enveloping you entirely with his hulking form as it fit against your curves until your backside was being indented by the edge of the countertop.

Hot, hungry lips scrambled to aggressively connect with your own, fighting for dominance as the back and forth of the dance continued with each passing second. He let himself go to become consumed by you, unable to find a pause to take a breath as he all but devoured you whole until there was nothing left in his mind but you.

Those large hands with their thick, rough digits pawed desperately at the warm, soft skin of your bare hips, grasping as much meat between them that they could hold. All those curves, all the smooth, voluptuous flesh ready to be caressed, it was enough to drive him insane; how fucking lucky he was to have it all at his disposal now to help cure his bad day?

God you were a fucking feast and he was starving.

The connection between your lips was broken sloppily and with haste, a sting of spittle connecting your lips sparkling in the light as he pulled away. Simon hurriedly grabbed the hem of your tank top and ripped it up and over your head, letting your breasts drop and jiggle with the reverb as they were set from their cage.

"Fuck," he groaned under his breath with a sharp inhale through his teeth as he latched those lips back on to your own. "That's a sight that could do me in."

On the move he leaned his tall head lower as those raw lips began to explore further down along the curve of your neck, the line of your shoulder, and finally coming to those beautiful breasts which he immediately sucked into his mouth. The suction was intense as he used the very tip of his tongue to circle those perky rosebuds until he felt them stiffen against the roof of his mouth and your body twitch from the tingly feeling it gave off that shot up your spine.

Whatever you were doing before this felt like a distant memory as his attention grew your arousal so that your body responded in kind to him just the way he wanted. He switched sides on your chest, not wanting the first breasts twin on the other side to get left out. Simon only moved on after your hips began to grind against the bulge growing at the front of his pants.

His lips continued down the line of your body as he knelt to the ground before you, ready to put everything into worshiping that sweet pussy he loved so goddamn much. Over your sternum and stomach all the way down to your pelvis his lips caressed until they reached a roadblock covering those last few inches to his destination. That was quickly dealt with as his fingers wrapped around the waistband of your panties to slide them down your thighs, letting his lips keep going all the way to the mound of your sex; only then did he pause.

"Spread," he demanded again as his hands tapped at your inner thighs, his message being short and sweet and to the point. "I'm fuckin' endin' this day on a high note. I'm not stopping' till I'm on the goddamn verge of death by suffocation, so don't ya even try to move, luv."

You widened your stance with the guidance of his hands until there was enough space to allow his face to fit between them. Hands back on your hips, holding them as handlebars so that he could incline his face against your cunt he dove in.

Your petals were so warm, so silky, and it felt good on his mouth as he kissed that other lovely set of lips a few times, sighing as he was finally able to relax in his favorite place.

"Here we go, baby," Simon breathed into you as he extended his tongue and drug it over the slit between your legs until he had split you open, rubbing the muscle through the small accumulation of your juices to coat his tongue.

Goddamn were you sweet tonight. "Mmmm mmmm," his deep, garbled hum vibrated deliciously on your clit as the taste of you filled Simon's mouth and tingled on his taste buds.

…And then he began to move the pad of his tongue…

Over and over his tongue engaged your core. "Fuck, Simon," his name fell from your lips as his tongue began to make you writhe against his face.

"Again," he said in that gruff growl as he pulled from your for only a second.

You knew exactly what he meant for you to do. "Simon," his name was beautifully moaned from you once more as he focused all his efforts on that small bead of nerve endings at the top innermost part of your cunt.

The sound of your soft, breathy voice calling out to him made the previously enraged Lieutenant fucking crack at the seams and any trace of that rage-inducing day was suddenly completely gone; replaced by a fire to make good on his promise to desperately lap at you for as long as it took until his skin was infused with your scent and he was fully satisfied.

He moved up even tighter against your core, locking on so that even as you bucked there was no chance he would fall off until he was good and fucking ready to let you go. Shit he was pushing you to the limit of what you could take, your body aching wildly as his strike hit precise and deliberate every time until you were right at the cusp of your pleasure. God, his pace was relentless.

Overwhelmed with the intense gathering of warmth in your belly, your toes began to curl together over top of the floor as you scrambled to keep your breathing steady through the growing euphoria. How were you supposed to force yourself to intake air when all your functioning had been redirected straight to that pleasure sensor in your brain?

That thought had little time to gain traction as that feeling of impending pleasure had reached its peak.

Suddenly you were spilling violently, crying out as you tried to move him from you, but Simon was in this till the end. He kept at it until you had ridden it out to completion and finally settled, your heavy panting becoming softer and more drawn out.

You thought that that was it; the finale had been reached and all was good right? You could not have been more wrong. A wet flash of a smirk crossed his lips as he stood back up before you.

Without even a verbal warning his hands were suddenly digging into your sides as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you out of the kitchen and into the bedroom where he sat you on the surface of the bed. Reaching with one of his hands over his shoulders he gripped the fabric of his shirt in his grasp and pulled until it came off over the top of his head, throwing the useless article to the floor before stalking towards the bed.

"On ya knees baby," he grunted as he hurriedly laid down on his back beside you further up towards the head of the bed. "Over my face. Now."

Simon pulled at your arm until you moved, his need to be smothered between your thighs causing him to rush. Grabbing on to the headboard for leverage you knelt over his head.

Your petals glistened with the sticky cum and saliva mixture he had just created as he ate his first course, but there was still plenty to get lost in and he was more than ready to dive back into it.

Greedy hands rubbed up and down the smooth skin of your thighs. "Sit," he commanded and you bent your legs until you were just above his nose, but that wasn't good enough; he didn't need you being gentle, he needed you to give him what he wanted - to let him drown in you.

"No hoverin', I said sit," he hissed as he quickly moved his hands to your hips and wrenched them down so that you had no choice but to lower yourself until your pussy was completely flush against his face like a chair.

His breath hitched not just from the instant lack of available oxygen, but because the feeling of being completely enveloped by your pussy was akin to being high; he was on cloud fucking nine just suffocating against you.

The headboard thumped against the wall from your arms shaking as full contact was made again along your core after just having come. The tears stung your eyes, your over-stimulated clit so sensitive it almost hurt. His grip on your hips didn't let up, keeping the pressure tight so that there was no chance of escape, even though you wriggled in search to ease up a little.

There was still some fight left in you; that simply wouldn't fucking do as it meant he hadn't finished the job and he was anything but thorough. Simon needed you completely spent and too exhausted to even move a goddamn inch.

"I-I can't…I can't," you pleaded with him as you squirmed over top of his stark features like anything you said would persuade him to give up.

You could hear his voice in your head, you knew what he'd say if he could talk at that moment. "Oh yes you can sweetheart. You're gonna fuckin' take it all for me."

I mean look at that big boy, he could eat and that meant all types of meals, you included most of all.

As if a nonverbal response to your mewling, his tongue picked up in speed, stroking wildly against your clit with reckless abandonment. Your fingernails were digging into the wood of the headboard, thighs vibrating against Simon's ears as each movement of that deadly appendage brought you closer and closer to your second harsh release.

"Bastard," you whined.

He gave your hips a hard squeeze. Call me what you like baby, he thought, you're still gonna fuckin' come as many times as I want.

So warm, so wet, so soft, gasping for air... He was in heaven.

Unconsciously your hips began rocking along with the thrusts of his tongue, riding him just as he worked and that familiar feeling in your stomach returned. Seconds passed…or was it minutes? Hours? Time seemed to pass differently when he was eating you out.

All of a sudden you stopped rocking, pressing your pussy as hard as you could against his face, and with a few more hard strokes you cried out as you came violently, slamming into the headboard as your thighs clamped down around Simon's ears.

"S-s-shit…" you whimpered as you ground out the last drop of your ecstasy until Simon tapped your thigh to be set free.

Legs shaking, chest heaving, eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed bright red, you fell down on the bed beside him, unable to move a muscle save for your head. Turning your face towards him you were met with a very happy and content man gazing back at you with those fiery auburn eyes, face absolutely drenched from eyebrows to chin in a thin layer of your cum.

He reached out to you, his palm cupping over the entirety of your cheek. "You did so fuckin' good for me sweetheart," he praised, thumb rubbing over the supple skin there. "So fuckin' good that I think ya deserve a break…but I don't think I'm finished quite yet."

"Oh?" you questioned back through heavy breaths, eyes wide. More?

He chuckled in that deep vibrato as he rolled over to kiss your forehead. "Well… ya see… it was a really fuckin' bad day."

You hadn't planned on dying today, but if Simon got his way he would be setting up your funeral later tonight, but there were worse ways to go…right?

I lost every friendship I ever had and it still hurts.

1. Finneas O’Connell / 2. Ocean Vuong / 3. adampvrrish / 4. Otessa Moshfegh / 5. Fairycosmos / 6. Richard Siken / 7. frenchtoastlesbian

Light On

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon has a new neighbor. His new neighbor has a baby.

Simon Riley/female reader Single mom, neighbors fic. Fics are listed in chronological order

Simon discovers something unexpected Simon realizes where you live Simon gives you a hand Simon comes over for dinner Simon eavesdrops Simon spends time in the garden Johnny learns his LT's secret Simon helps you out last minute Simon gets a phone call Simon accompanies you to the park Simon steps in Simon answers the phone in the middle of the night Simon learns something about you You miss your neighbor Simon's choice has consequences

Yours, Half-Truthfully

A Sam Kiszka x f!OC fic

Synopsis: Sam never had an issue with girls before. Yes, I watched them come and go for a while since I was his best friend, but the most recent one seemed like a keeper. So when Sam started acting weird when she was brought up, I knew something was off. You can’t know him as long as I have and not notice it - but apparently his brothers didn’t. So it was up to me to figure out how to fix him before the family vacation he was supposed to take with her so he stops being weird around them. And me.

18+

Coming soon ◡̈

Let me know if you wanna be tagged!

okay but can what about reader who loses her mind during doggy style, she’s got a “cock drunk” button and her mouth just won’t stop so she mostly sticks to being on top or eddie on top because she just gets so embarrassed until one day they are play wrestling and Eddie pins her face down with her hands behind her back and she hears his belt coming undone and she just goes “uh oh i’m in danger”

dirty girl - eddie munson x shy fem!reader

nikki i am dead pls send your condolences. also thank you dolly and gia for the smutception idea ilysm

18+ ONLY MINORS FUCK OFF!!!

warnings: reader is secretly a horny shit, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, daddy kink, eddie is too stunned to speak

You were never one to be very vocal in the bedroom.

Mostly because you felt too shy to do anything other than moan. Your boyfriend on the other hand was an absolute menace, he couldn’t stop talking when he was buried inside you. But the truth of the matter was you could be extremely vocal… but Eddie has only gotten it to come out once. And even then it was very tame compared to what you had actually wanted to let escape. It was the first time he’d taken you from behind, and it was the most you’d ever spoken whilst tangled in the sheets. Since then it’s all Eddie could think about, but he never wanted to pressure you into anything.

So you stuck with riding him or him being on top, knowing you’d be mortified if you let him in on all the dirty thoughts swirling through your head. It was just something about that position that made you lose any semblance of self control. And it was something that your boyfriend was desperate to have happen again. You just both weren’t fully prepared for it to happen so soon, and so unexpectedly. Or for such an absolutely embarrassing reason. You had come over to help him study for his English exam, the book was The Scarlet Letter, one you knew well.

You felt so sad that he didn’t get to graduate with you the year before, so you were determined to make sure that 86’ really was his year. You currently found yourself in his kitchen, attempting to prepare a snack for the two of you. Eddie had taken it upon himself to dig through your bag, to grab out your copy of the novel. But what he found instead made your ears burn with embarrassment. It was a stupid romance novel, one with a bare chested man clutching a scantily clad woman on the cover. The ones with the horrendously written sex scenes, that you found yourself reading anyway.

You could hear your boyfriend giggling in the other room, and you immediately knew he had found something that wasn’t meant for him. With a groan you took the bowl of popcorn and your sodas into the living room. All the blood rushing to your cheeks and ears as you saw the book open in his hands. His nimble fingers flicking through the worn pages until he seems to find the perfect one. His chocolate hues look up to meet yours, a mischievous smile on playing on his lips. When he spoke he used his dungeon master voice, causing you further embarrassment.

“His member was throbbing against her thigh, her breasts pressing up against his bare chest…. Her body was quivering in need for him. ‘Please take me sir knight! I cannot wait another minute more!’ .”

He was really playing it up, as you basically dropped the snacks onto the coffee table before rushing over to him. The popcorn had spilled over, but you didn’t have time to care. Eddie was quicker than you though, the book now being held hostage high up above your head. Due to your stark height difference you were not able to reach it, attempting to jump up and grab the pages from his grasp.

“Eddie come on! Give it back!”

You whined as he just laughs, running around the living room as you continued to chase him. The constant circles were making you both dizzy, but it gave you the opportunity to grab the book from his hands. You didn’t make it very far though, as the brunette basically tackles you to the ground. In your tumble to the carpet he had gotten the book again, now straddling your hips. He sat his full weight down onto you, as he continued reading.

“His hard member finally thrusted into her, her body sprawled out on the silk sheets. Her moans filled the knight’s chamber—”

You bucked your hips up with as much force as you could muster, knocking your boyfriend off of you. Eddie was stunned for a moment, back laying flat on the carpet. The abrupt movement caused the book to go flying out of his hands, quickly flipping yourself over to crawl towards it. But his hands had grabbed your ankles, pulling you back towards him. The action startled you, as your fell face first onto the carpet. Eddie is quick to grab both of your wrists, pinning them behind your back. He’s able to hold them with one hand, as you continued to struggle beneath him.

In an attempt to get back up, your back was now arched with your ass in the air. You were both out of breath, panting as you felt Eddie shifting closer to you. His crotch was now flush against your ass, and you instantly felt how excited this had made him. You couldn’t help but whimper slightly, as he pressed his erection further against you. The clink of his belt unbuckling behind you made you clench your thighs together. Feeling the wetness already pooling between your legs at his actions. Through your aroused state you couldn’t help but panic slightly.

It was hard enough the last time he had fucked you in this position to hold back, so you knew you were in trouble. But you were already in too deep to turn back now, you wanted him too badly. Eddie groans as you rock your hips back, his free hand flipping up the fabric of your skirt. You hear his zipper pulling down, his hand releasing yours to pull your panties aside. Your breath hitches as his fingers slip through your wet folds, easily finding your bundle of nerves.

“You like that huh?”

His tone has shifted, all the silliness from moments before now completely gone. Your hands have fallen by your face, in an attempt to hold yourself up. Eddie’s fingers have now slipped inside you, a soft moan escaping you as they fill you to the brim. You are holding yourself together pretty well, but you didn’t trust your voice just yet. But your boyfriend was desperate to get something out of you.

“Come on my shy girl, can you tell me what you want?”

His fingers curl up and hit that sweet spot inside you, your barriers beginning to crack with each thrust of his fingers.

“Fuck me Eddie.”

He hums in approval, removing his fingers from inside you. You whimper at the loss, hearing him sucking your arousal from the digits. The noise was absolutely filthy, but it made you shiver in anticipation. Eddie’s hands don’t leave you for long though, yanking your panties down your thighs. He’s clearly in a rush as he doesn’t bother to take them off fully, as the fabric pools at your knees. You can feel the tip of his cock brushing through your folds, slightly teasing you. But the feeling of him slowly thrusting inside is what breaks you, a loud moan ripping past your lips. Eddie stills at the sound, a little shocked by the volume.

“Don’t f-fucking stop.”

You mewl, pushing your hips back to take him even deeper. Eddie seems to snap out of his surprised stupor pretty quickly though, grabbing your hips as he thrusts harshly into you. Your fingers are digging into the shag carpet beneath you, his cock burying itself so deep inside you with each snap of his hips. You felt absolutely drunk off of the feeling already, grinding your hips back. Any semblance of a filter was now gone as he continued to ram into your sweet spot repeatedly.

“So deep Eddie… god can almost feel you in my fucking throat baby.”

Your boyfriend can’t help but still his hips again, shock crossing his features at your dirty words. It was so out of character compared to your usual shy personality. This was the most vocal you had ever been for him, but little did he know you were just getting started. You groan in frustration at the interruption, starting to fuck yourself back onto his cock. Eddie just grips your hips tighter, watching as you desperately take every inch of him. But your actions weren’t giving you the same relief, needing him to move.

“Need it harder, please fuck me daddy. Wanna cum all over your cock.”

Now you had definitely never called him that before, but it stirred something deep within him. Eddie almost liked the title better than his own name. The brunette nearly growled, his hands gripping your hips so hard you know you’d find bruises the next day. But you certainly wouldn’t mind the reminder, as he thrust himself back into you. Your eyes nearly roll back at the feeling, a borderline pornographic moan falling from your lips. This was the most quiet he’d ever been while inside you, if you weren’t so turned on you might have been concerned.

“Fuck right there daddy… god you feel so good.”

The sounds of your skin slapping together and your arousal fill the small trailer, Eddie thanking whatever higher power that was out there that his uncle had taken an evening shift. Your sounds were only getting louder the harder he fucked you, feeling that tightness in your lower belly. You weren’t going to last much longer, this angle letting him hit areas you didn’t realize existed until now. Moving a hand down to your clit you start rubbing at the sensitive nub, clenching harder around him. Eddie only picks up his pace, hitting that spot that has you seeing stars.

“Fuckfuckfuck gonna c-cum Eds.”

That’s all the warning you can give him before your orgasm tears through you, the force of it pushing his cock almost out of you completely. There was an overwhelming wetness now coating both your thighs, and his jeans. Your brain is too fuzzy to realize what just happened, legs shaking as you slump forward onto the carpet. Despite the mind numbing orgasm he just gave you, you needed more. Your hips move back again, a whine spilling from your throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ sweetheart… you need more?”

You wiggle your hips, attempting to get your brain to function properly before answering him. But he doesn’t give you much time, sliding back inside your soaked entrance. The wet sounds of his thrusts would have made you blush under normal circumstances, but it’s only turning you on more.

“More… n-need you to cum inside me.”

You whimper, feeling a little overstimulated but needy nonetheless. He is once again stunned into silence, focusing all his energy on not busting his load too quickly. He’s gotten you this vocal and he made you squirt… Eddie feels like he’s won the fucking lottery. His pace has slowed down slightly, mostly so he could make you cum again. The male doesn’t even care as much about his own release, desperate to make you scream for him.

“God you’re so sexy… think you can cum for daddy one more time sweetheart?”

The sound of the title falling from his lips makes you lose any sanity you had left. Desperately fucking yourself back onto his cock. Eddie seems to regain some of his confidence, grabbing your neck to pull you flush against his chest. The new position only brings him deeper inside, your head falling back onto his shoulder.

“Faster! Need it faster please.”

Eddie’s lips have now attached themselves to the skin of your neck, his hips quickening their pace. His thighs are already starting to burn from the effort but he doesn’t care. The male would do anything you told him to right now. His fingers are sliding down your hips, slipping up under your skirt to rub at your bundle of nerves. Your eyes squeezing shut as you feel your second orgasm approaching. With how much you’re tightening around him, Eddie isn’t going last much longer. You feel him twitching inside you, groaning into the skin of your neck.

“Atta girl…”

You whimper in response, gripping his forearm as that wave of bliss crashes over you again. Your thighs are trembling, nails digging so hard into his skin you know you’d left your own marks on him. You don’t realize you’ve screamed his name until Eddie starts cursing, his hips faltering in their movements.

“God yes… fill me up daddy, wanna feel your cum dripping out of me.”

That’s all it takes for your boyfriend to fall apart, a strangled gasp leaving him as he spills inside you. Eddie continues to fuck his cum into you, as he rides out his own high. His thighs however have finally had enough, as he finally stops keeping himself buried at your deepest point. You shift a little, feeling a little too sensitive. Eddie gently slips out of you, coaxing you back onto the carpet before he joins you. He eagerly pulls you onto his chest, your head now resting against it. You can hear his heart racing beneath his shirt, his chest still rising and falling as he attempts to catch his breath.

“Why in the hell have you kept that hidden away from me sweets?”

You feel yourself flush, the reality of what just happened finally setting in. As you attempt to bury your face in his neck he stops you, gently tilting your chin up to meet his darkened hues. Eddie’s grinning from ear to ear, dimples making an appearance on his face. You’ve never seen him so giddy, except for maybe if he had a new campaign he was working on. But even then, this has him way more excited.

“I was embarrassed… you know how shy I am.”

You whisper, feeling his chest rumble beneath you as he chuckles. Eddie’s thumb brushes over the hot skin of your cheek, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your lips.

“Well you aren’t hiding that away again baby… Jesus.”

You can’t help but giggle at his reaction suddenly feeling a little bold.

“Is that so… daddy?”

You can feel him beginning to harden against your thigh, another giggle escaping you as you straddle his waist. Eddie stares up at you in awe, his hands resting on your hips once more. His chocolate hues filling with a familiar hunger.

“You’re going to be the death of me sweetheart.”

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

tagging: @onegirlmanytales @probablyin-bed @xxhellfiregirlxx @lilthbunny @changemunson @xx-ghostiebxby-xx @tlclick73 @thebejeweledwatercat @tylevx @shifts-for-men

Welcome to KINKTOBER 2023

Hello guys! I decided to make a kinktober masterlist, so here you go. I’ll give you the kinks for the upcoming 31 days. Send me a character and choose the day from below. Enjoy!

KINKTOBER day 1: bondage kink

- Master in bondage (Leonora Lesso)

KINKTOBER day 2: blindfold kink

- Feel it (Larissa Weems)

KINKTOBER day 3: food play

- Appetizer (Narcissa Black)

KINKTOBER day 4: humiliation kink (in progress)

- Not so talkative now, are we? (Bellatrix Black)

KINKTOBER day 5: breath play

KINKTOBER day 6: praise kink

KINKTOBER day 7: fisting (taken)

KINKTOBER day 8: wax play

KINKTOBER day 9: voyeurism

KINKTOBER day 10: blood play

KINKTOBER day 11: knife play

KINKTOBER day 12: lactation kink (taken)

KINKTOBER day 13: spanking kink

KINKTOBER day 14: threesome

KINKTOBER day 15: ice play

KINKTOBER day 16: anal play

KINKTOBER day 17: sensory deprivation

KINKTOBER day 18: pet play (taken)

KINKTOBER day 19: mirror sex

KINKTOBER day 20: overstimulation

KINKTOBER day 21: dumbification

KINKTOBER day 22: sex tape

KINKTOBER day 23: pregnancy sex (taken)

KINKTOBER day 24: penetration (taken)

KINKTOBER day 25: masturbation

KINKTOBER day 26: foursome

KINKTOBER day 27: toy play

KINKTOBER day 28: biting kink

KINKTOBER day 29: somnophilia

KINKTOBER day 30: choking kink

KINKTOBER day 31: elevator sex

Enjoy kinky ones!

Joseph Tomanek (1889–1974) American

Three Bathers

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give peace a chance

I missed you, you want to say, but you know it’ll do nothing to change this routine. You settle on a question he’ll have a response to, for all it can do to uncover thoughts he’d want to bury deep.

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 3.4k summary: you’re always there, waiting on him warnings: size kink, blowjobs, facefucking, thigh riding, masturbation, squirting, angst, brief mentions of death, canon typical violence, mild mild gore, fluff notes: had 'Yes to Heaven' by lana del rey on loop while writing this one. out of body experience fr. anyway, i finally gave in and wrote for the boogey man. he's been occupying too much headspace for me to not.

You don’t hear him come in. 

Crisp, white sheets gather in a knot at your midsection – previously pristine, wrinkles pull at its surface now. You can’t sleep, but that’s most nights.

Your curtains dance with an incoming drift, lazy gauze, sheer in the cresting moonlight. If you weren’t so absorbed in the white noise of your whirring fan, you could catch the quiet click of your backdoor. You always leave it open, just in case; people know not to dare take advantage of the liberties you exhibit. There’s the invisible threat, protection, of a shadowed mercenary over your toytown home. 

His missions are incalculable. That’s the one thing he cannot promise you. Come back soon, you beg, but he leaves you with a silent kiss and nothing else. 

There were once days where you’d tag along. Your chest twinges at the uncomfortable reminder. Cracked bone, spilt ichor; the bullet had barely missed your heart, lodged between the throbbing organ and a major vessel. He’d raged to get you decommissioned, incensed demands – they’d never seen him as angry. 

Carpet flattens under your bare feet as you crawl out of bed, soft, like all things here. You hadn’t the luxury of comfort before, when Simon was Ghost and you were a rookie under him, but he’d granted you a life you sought only in your dreams. The first few days in paradise, you were torn over appreciation and resentment at the act, bandages wrapped around your chest – but you’d healed and found the irreversible damage etched into the hard plate of your clavicle – a rounded, discoloured scar. 

You’re glad you’d left that life behind. 

Padding out to the kitchen, you pour yourself a drink. The cupboard underneath your sink contains only bourbon – blended, straight, kentucky – so you fish out juice from your fridge. It’s sickly sweet, all natural sugars, your ass. 

“Shouldn’t drink that stuff.” A voice cuts the tranquillity, rugged and choppy on harsh consonants – a cockney accent. You soothe the alarmed surprise racing in your gut, a gentle smile turning your cheeks. 

His eyes pierce back at you, a smudge of white against an otherwise charcoal canvas. He’s sitting at the dining table, just across your kitchen island, his massive form illuminated by the warm light you’d turned on. You don’t know how you missed him, but then again, the man lives up to his name. Ghost; creeping up like the dead. 

“We’re all out of milk.” You respond, your tease lilting to an affectionate whisper when it hits your tongue. Simon scoffs. “Not like whiskey’s any better.” 

You pour him a glass regardless. 

He’s still equipped in his tactical gear, his gun set on the chair next to him. It adds unnecessary bulk, layers on layers of insulation, conservation – impossibly, he looks bigger like this. Larger than life. Your hands run along the coarse material of his bullet proof vest; you think you can feel his muscles tense, despite the surfaces separating you. But he takes the bourbon with little fuss, wrapping a strong arm around your legs so your knees knock the side of his thigh. 

“Hi,” You giggle, beaming down at him. 

“Hey.” He mocks, setting the drink down. 

His hard-shell mask conceals any tells you may glean. In just the balaclava, you can catch the shape of his lips, the curve of his nose, when he smiles – the painted fabric pulls taut over his features. But a skull stares back at you, and all you have are his eyes, framed with ashen lashes. They’re only enough to tell you one thing; he’s happy to be home. 

You love the way they catch the light, a subtle glimmer in them. 

For a while, the two of you just stand there, revelling in the weighted company of one another. His gloved hand presses circles into your flesh, just under the hem of your sleeping shorts, while yours find every bit of exposed skin you can. There’s not much – just the small stretch of neck you can reach, tucked behind his collar before the rest of him disappears. But you find it with reverence, smoothing over it, his heated body slowly easing by the minute under your ministrations. Some part of you realises the desperation you observe him with, the hurried glances at his back, his stomach, his legs. You look for darkened, sticky fabric. You look for blood. 

You don’t have the courage to speak your fears into fruition. 

Simon slowly begins to pull the heavier parts of his armour off. The night vision goggles on his head, the packets of ammo stuffed into available pockets. You move to help him, humming, shifting as you unbuckle the back of his plate carrier. His groans are wicked, deep waves of relief stemming from somewhere in his chest, and you hide the blush that arises at the sound, throwing the layer into an unknown corner. You remember the soreness, the knotted shoulders from days in the same kit, your spine in aching need of a good long stretch. You make a mental note to rub his back later.

You take off his gloves. There’s little give – they’re crusted in dried gore and gunpowder, the bones on their front almost entirely camouflaged. A sharp tug is what it takes to peel them off his hands. But then his skin is bared to you. You survey the grit that dusts the contours of his veins. Dirt has sunk through the fibres. 

When he’s left in just his mask and underclothes, he finally slumps, posture altering from that of a soldier’s to one of a tired man. His legs spread, thick thighs filling his pants, and he reaches for his drink again, lifting the bottom of his mask and balaclava to take a large gulp. His newly revealed Adam's apple bobs with the motion.

I missed you, you want to say, but you know it’ll do nothing to change this routine. You settle on a question he’ll have a response to, for all it can do to uncover thoughts he’d want to bury deep. 

“How many men?” You speak into the space. He pauses, his pink lips pursing at the brim of his glass. You have half a mind to regret asking, but you do this for your own solace. 

“Jus’ three.” Just. To anyone else, he may sound indifferent, his tone etched in that low timbre, unwavering with the grief over lost comrades. To you, you know that his pain is cavernous, a bottomless chasm he’ll undoubtedly return to. Indicatively, he pulls his mask back down over his face. It isn’t just three men. It’s three too many – but it’s on the lower end of the casualties the 141 usually faces. 

You wait for him to say the words you’re looking for. 

“They’re alright.” 

You nod. Al Bravo team was not amongst the fatalities. Gaz. Price. Soap. You cling onto the reassurance of your friends’ continued survival, a buoy until the next raging storm. 

Simon’s hand returns to its place on your leg, tracing long lines along the back of it. You shiver, suppressing the heat that spreads up your tummy like wildfire. His steel gaze is indecipherable as he looks up at you; your emotions flit across your face erratically. You wish he’d take the mask off, get on even footing with you, but it takes a while for him to come down from his missions. For as long as he’s racked with enduring adrenaline, he’ll keep his guard up. 

He’s surrounded by the safe walls of your – his – home, but he’s in over his head. 

You bow down, placing a gentle kiss on the curve of his jaw. The arm wrapped around you draws you closer. 

He smells like saltpetre, guncotton, hints of kerosene floating in the air between you. You push your face nearer to his, and you’re able to catch a faint whiff of his aftershave, traces of the cleanliness and cologne he leaves behind here, with you. You open your mouth to comment on it; he beats you to your cause: 

“Lovely girl.” He squeezes the flesh on your upper thigh – not quite your ass, but almost. 

“Mmm, Simon.” You start, capturing his eyes. They bear down on you with an intensity that makes your core ache. “Y’Can’t keep doing this to me.”

You imagine he’s smirking when he retaliates. “Can say the same for you, expectin’ me to focus out there when you look this good.” Like a giddy schoolgirl, you bite your lip at his compliment. 

Stirring to kiss his jaw again, you slowly start to unzip his windbreaker. Your fingers span the front of the black hoodie underneath, tracing the hard plane of his chest, feeling it rumble with a noiseless groan. His legs spread wider. You catch a telling bulge in your peripheral. 

“Need help?” You murmur, purring when he slips underneath your shorts to give your rear a feel. His callouses dig into you.

“Need you.” He says. 

The hand that was on his chest inches downward now, your nails raking along. You give a half-suppressed laugh as his abdomen tightens, bracing against your ticklish assault. You want to feel it bare – to extricate the exhaustion from an uncovered torso and watch as his muscles roll, solid brawn unravelling with the slightest touch. But you’ll settle on this, you know he needs it. His mask does unspeakable things to you, anyway. 

“Relax.” You encourage with a breath. Simon doesn’t listen; he still kneads your flesh with an unforgiving grip. His thumb brushes close to the soaked patch on your panties – with the appreciative grunt he gives, you know he senses the arousal emanating from you. 

His cock strains his pants, taking up all the space it can. You coo, poor thing, as you cup the underside of it. He gives you a reproaching spank, and your hips buck in tandem to his. As you do, you realise now how uncomfortable of a position you’re in – your neck cramps in this angle. Really, it’s a silly thing to be hung up about, but Simon must read the subtle cringe you give, for he urges you to kneel, guiding you by your head to crawl in between his open legs. 

You’re halfway under the table when you look up at him again, cheek pressed adoringly against his knee. He’s seemingly content like this, petting round your forehead to the ridge of your chin. His palm is large, dry, warm. You quickly lose trajectory as he caresses you, all droopy eyes and small smiles. 

He catches when you rub your legs together, chasing a friction that will never amount to him. You can never escape his scrutiny; Simon captures everything. 

He pats your cheek and pinches it before his touch leaves you. Newly awake, you perk up, perching on your haunches to lean further into him. You’re always eager, but his chuckle at your barely concealed anticipation beckons a stone to lodge itself in your throat. It’s a ball of desire, denser than most things, snowballing with every passing moment in his presence. You’re tuned in on him, rapt to every subtle thing – the deep exhales, the anchoring of his boots to hardwood floors. It’s take, take, take, an absorption of anything he’s willing to give. It tends to be like this after he comes back –  was like this back on the base, when you’d known nothing but his moniker and callsign. 

You recall rubbing one out to the staticky crackle of his voice over the channel, your headset pressed tight to your ears. You’d never told him that; you figure now’s a good time as any. 

“Used to fantasise about you, y’know.” You sigh, ironing over his calves. You move your brushes to his hulking thighs when he begins to undo his pants, wetting your lips. 

His next exhale is torn, steadiness ripped to shreds by your less-than seductive words. “Oh yeah?” He remarks, scooping into his boxers to pull his heavy cock out. “What about?” 

It springs free just then, angry head flushed a deep red, blood supplied by pulsing veins that branch to the top. You keen at the precum that beads at the top, rushing to catch it with your index to slip it onto your tongue. He says nothing, merely contemplating as you wriggle with the heady taste of him. 

“This,” You add after a long moment, before licking a long, wet stripe up the base of his dick. His whole body jerks unexpectedly, and he grabs onto your head to steady your impatient efforts. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

“Gone soft on me? I see.” Chortling, you play with his tip, batting it back and forth to tap your lips. He is anything but soft – regrettably, though, the rise you get from teasing him is too great to pass up. 

“Shut it, pet, before I turn your insides over.” He urges you forward once he’s settled. You don’t tell him how much you’d really like him to. In due time. 

Your lips wrap around the bulbous head, sides stretching to accommodate his girth. You’re familiar with the drill by now; hollow your cheeks, keep your jaw nice and loose. Use some teeth, he chokes at the pain. 

His skin moves with you as you sink down , rolling your tongue over the ridges that cross your path. Your breath is hot, your mouth even hotter – sweltering, you suck him in and coat his rock-hard with a film of saliva, which aids you when you bob back up. You can’t reach the root of him, not yet – he’s way too big – so your hand wraps around the length not in your mouth. 

“That’s it.” Simon rasps, now pushing you down in support. Your hum is lost in the lewd slurps, but he twitches with the vibrations it produces. A glob of drool leaks from you, seeping down to gather in his scruffy curls – you use it as slick to twist your wrist around his base. 

He’s ripe with the salty taste of sweat and precum, a dizzying combination – you hope you’re subtle as you slip your free hand down your pants, pressing up into the plush of your cunt. You find where you’re most sensitive, a tight bundle of nerves, and touch yourself, all the while savouring the masculinity that engulfs you – his muscled thighs by your ears, his giant hands pressing down on your head. 

A particularly loud groan sounds from above. You triple your efforts, delighted at your part in helping him unwind. At one point, his added pressure pushes you down all the way. You gag, blubbering with choked gasps, but your lips stay sealed around him, an unforgiving vacuum. His happy trail scratches your nose,

“Gonna cum, you lovely thing. Righ’ down your throat. Take it all, understand?” He asks. You’re able to discern the wobble in his abrasive voice – his balls spasm at your lips, ready to erupt at any moment. You nod, gaping at him earnestly, with wide, watery eyes. His own soften, downturning at the corners. “‘Atta girl.”

With the hazy memory of his face before he’d left, you can draw an abstraction of what he might look like right now. You trick yourself into thinking he’s smiling down at you. Gentle, caring. 

You don’t have to try as hard to believe it. 

Your fingers work fervently over your sopping cunt, slipping between velvet folds. Your exertion, combined with his pure fucking magnetism, is almost enough to tip you over the edge. A cluster in your gut stiffens, grows, upends. You stroke yourself impossibly faster. 

Simon curls inward, his mask now directly above you. A bit of his cock drags from your mouth – your bottom teeth scrape a vein in consequence. He jolts. Then, rich, long ropes of cum shoot into your awaiting mouth, painting you with musky white. You keep jerking him as he does, urging more, more, more, milking him to spill his all into you. 

A tap of your shoulder is all the evidence you need to pull off him with a pop. You didn’t cum, it doesn’t matter, you hardly feel the mounting desperation amidst the grand scheme of things. Simon’s back hits the chair, his head tilting as he takes you in. 

“C’mere,” He grunts, pushing backwards to allow you space to stand. You oblige, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand – it only serves to smear the mess across your cheek. Your back brushes the table – he beckons you closer – until your bruised knees hit the edge of the chair. 

When he’s satisfied, his hands run up your sides, starting at your arms, then downward, so they can hook into the waistband of your shorts. You lock onto his all-consuming stare, dark with an unspoken question, his pupils blown wide with lingering lust. 

“Go ahead.” You coax. 

He nods and pulls your shorts off with one, swift movement. 

Cold air meets soaked cotton – you tremble, whether with goosebumps or the weight of his study, you don’t know. You’re the farthest thing from a blushing virgin, but Simon manages to propel you back into that bashful headspace. Every time with him is ruthless – stifling broken sobs while adjusting to his width, utter pleasure and the smallest bit of pain. 

Perhaps you’ll forgo that this time around. He’s quickly softening against his pelvis. You understand – stamina tends to dissipate after holding out for so long. Though he’s anything but a selfish lover.

He guides you to straddle his thigh. 

You squirm, hip flexors burning with the strain of splitting over the breadth of him. He keeps you steady with his hands on your waist – you clutch onto his wrists. His sleeves have rucked up to reveal his tattooed forearm. You trace the ink, reverent, requiring as much skin-to-skin as possible. It flees the fastest, that sensation, running up behind him when he exits the door. The bruises, the bites, the cramp from hitting your cervix one too many times, on the other hand – they all endure, keeping you sated long enough so that you aren’t compelled to rejoin him. He might do that on purpose, in fact. 

Your clit folds as it meets his leg – a new surge of slick spills from you. 

“A-Ah! Simon, y–” 

“I know, pet. Jus’ ride me, yeah, like that.” 

Your bottom half ruts into him, finding purchase on the solid surface of his thigh. Your panties slide, preventing the potential for divine friction, so you push them to the side, wedging it in the crevice of a lip and your pubic bone. You stutter apologies to Simon for the mess – your natural lubricant smears onto his cargo pants, sullying the fabric. He assures that he’ll wear it proudly. You’re a prouder medal than blood. 

You’re whimpering now, wailing about everything and nothing all at once with your face tucked into his neck. He embraces you – sturdiness forcing you to stunt your movements to short, hurried grinds – and says nothing. 

Something terrifying begins to burn in you; promising a cataclysm. It’s him. His scent, his strength, his size, his presence. I missed you. I missed you. Your impending orgasm crawls up the tendons in your pelvis, seeping into bone and flooding like a high tide. Your pants grow shallower. Your lungs feel cramped. Something about this, here, with him, lights every synapse in you, flashing bright with colours and promises and safety. I miss you. 

“I miss you,” You finally gasp, broken as you peer up at him. He stills – you keep your pace. Sweat beads at your temple. 

He slowly removes the mask. 

The balaclava follows soon after. 

Simon then bows down, pressing his lips to your furrowed brow. 

And then, everything in you compresses, fierce and tight. You wind your fingers into his hair, pulling his head back to bite the column of his neck. You do it to muffle the sob that bubbles when you erupt in searing agony atop him, back arching, toes curling. Your body goes completely rigid. 

He groans with the cut of your teeth, and your cunt pulsates again, spilling down on him, your fluids draining to double your mark on the man. 

“Missed you too.” Simon rustles in response. You seize his mouth with yours, uncaring for how messy it is. It’s what you need; to feel your teeth knock, to bind yourself to him. 

You kiss in him the intent to never let you go. You know it won’t last, but for now, it’s enough.

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