᪥ ꪑﺃꪶꪶﺃꫀ᪥

ᥡ᥆ᥙ ᥕᥲᥒᥒᥲ gᥱ𝗍 mᥡ ᥴᥣ᥆𝗍һᥱs ᥆𝖿𝖿 ᥲᥒძ һᥙr𝗍 mᥱ

[gibsongirl144]

"ℬ𝒶𝒷𝓎， 𝒾𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒻ℯℯ𝓁𝓈 𝑔ℴℴ𝒹， 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓃’𝓉 𝒷ℯ 𝒷𝒶𝒹"

᯽ ᥕᥱᥣᥴ᥆mᥱ!

༒ 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

༒𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬

[the-palelady]

remember when i said i was trying to quit smoking…

…yeahhh

anyway ghost has a cigarette settled between his chapped lips all while staring up at you. you’re riding him, although your movements are sloppy.

one massive hand sits atop your thigh, relaxed but every so often he gives it an encouraging squeeze cause “you’re doing such a good job for me, darlin’”

you’re sensitive. barely able to sit up straight as your pubic bone grinds against the patch of hair at the base of his cock. he’s buried so deep you don’t know where you end and he begins.

he has a hand resting behind his head, his biceps and the fat of his arms bulging each time he tenses. your inner walls drag along a vein that makes his eyes almost roll back into his skull.

“tha’s it…tha’s my girl. use me. i know that pussy’s missed me. let’s make sure she gets her fill.”

[gibsongirl144]

simon riley, who asks insecure!reader to sit on his face—but she’s too afraid she’ll squash him.

“si, don’t wanna hurt you!” she whines, squirming atop his chest.

his large, calloused palms grab at her thighs, using the plump flesh to help calm the urge to suffocate himself in her sweet little cunt.

“s’right, lovie, just need a taste, s’all,” he murmurs, nipping at her thigh. she lets out a soft whine of surprise.

and that’s all it takes—for him to drag her up his chest and bury his face in her.

and this is how he’ll die. not on a mission, not from a gunshot wound. but by his love.

[gibsongirl144]

simon riley and insecure!reader where she constantly stands in front of the mirror, fingers plucking at the softness of her thighs, eyes lingering on every stretch mark that paints her stomach. she overanalyses everything — the curve of her belly, the dip of her hips, the chub that won’t disappear no matter how hard she tries.

simon notices. always does. ever observant, ever patient.

“wha’s wrong, sweet’eart?”

he steps closer, wrapping his big arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“y’look perfect, dove.”

and for the first time in a long time, she starts to believe it.

[gibsongirl144]

thinking about simon riley, who—despite how much he may not want to admit it—is utterly obsessed with you.

you, whose stray hairs he finds clinging to the worn fabric of his leather jacket.

you, whose delicate ballet flats lie prettily beside his black combat boots in the hallway of your apartment.

you, whose touch he craves after every mission, tracing down the scarred, pale skin of his back and tangling in the blunt ends of his hair.

you, whose soft skin feels like a balm against his large, calloused palms—roughened by the toll of war.

you, who cries to him almost every night on the phone, scared of what the bitter strife of the military might do to him.

no, he may not admit it, but there’s no doubt of its unequivocalness. even miles apart, it only amplifies his love for you.

credit to @uzmacchiato for banners 🤍