𝕶𝖆𝖙 | 25

𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑 𝖘𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖎𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖈𝖐

[softaestluv]

Ghost desperately needs to fuck his client. (You) pt. 2

tags | plug! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader, smoking, weed, shotgunning, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex, creampie, jealousy, not edited, my current brain worm

prev. part | plug! Simon masterlist

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You text Simon a week later.

‘You got anything? Had a long day.’

‘Made some pre-rolls just for you, bird.’

‘Yay!!! Coming!!’

You give him a tight smile when you sit on his couch. It’s not like you. He doesn’t say anything until you take a few puffs and your tense shoulders start to sag.

“What happened?”

“Boss was just being a dick all day.” You turn to give a real smile, eyes crinkling, “Good thing my drug dealers got a soft spot for me though, huh?”

“Who told you that?” He smirks, raising his eyebrows.

Your mouth drops in surprise, smacking his shoulder playfully.

“That’s mean.”

He laughs before continuing softly. “You’re my favorite client, you know that.”

That makes you smile, head rolling onto the back of the couch and he decides he likes making you do that. You close your eyes and when your chest starts to slowly raise with soft breathes, he decides to let you sleep.

The next time he sees you, you’re leaving the club, and when you recognize his car you jog over with an excited smile on your lips. You’ve got this little black dress on that makes it awfully hard to focus on anything else besides the curve of your hips.

“Simon! What are you doing here?”

“Bird? The hell you doing out here?”

“I went out with my friend.” You point to a man standing close by.

His jaw tenses, “Get in.”

“Huh?”

“Get in the car, bird. I’m not arguing.” He’s already climbing out of the driver's seat to open the passenger door for you.

“I’m not gonna just leave him, Simon!” You say, but you let him guide you into the car anyway.

“He’s a big boy. He’ll survive.”

When he gets to your house you turn to him with a mischievous smile, “Were you jealous?”

“Of who?”

“Don’t play dumb!”

“Just making sure you’re safe s’all.” He shrugs casually.

You lean across the center console, “It’s okay. I’m not interested in him.”

“Good.”

That makes you smile bigger, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt, “You gonna come in and smoke with me?”

“Course I am.”

You drag him inside giggling, stumbling a little over your high heels. You waste no time changing, pulling the dress over your head as you walk down the hallway, giving him a glimpse of your lacy covered ass before you disappear into your room.

You come back out in an oversized shirt and shorts. “Proper smoking fit now.”

“Could’ve stayed in the dress for me.”

You frown, “Was getting uncomfy.”

“Like you like this more anyways.”

That makes you smile shyly, sitting next to him on your couch. He’s already lit a joint, it’s pink, and the sight of his big hands around it makes you giggle.

“Couldn’t even wait for me to start?”

“C’mere.” He grunts, pulling you on to his lap.

It’s the first time you’ve been there since you begged to ride him. The memory makes him chub in his jeans.

He takes a big inhale before gripping your chin, dragging you to his lips, and exhales the smoke into your mouth. You squirm in his lap in surprise, fingers fisting his shirt with wide eyes, but you inhale as much as you can manage. You cough when he leans back casually, licking your lips like you were trying to chase the taste of him.

“Let me try.” You murmur.

He places the joint in your lips. You inhale before leaning forward nervously and blow the smoke into his mouth. It’s not as big as his hit and he swallows it easier than you had. Theres a long pause, the both of you staring at each other, your fingers smoothing the edges of his shirt you had bunched, before he puts the joint back in his mouth.

The two of you eventually take turns shotgunning the smoke into each other’s mouth. The pause between each inhale gets longer and longer, agonizingly so. Even more so when you keep your lips close, not kissing, just there. Breathes fanning over each other’s faces, your body becoming heavier and heavier on his thighs with each puff, the weed pulsing in your veins making you more lax than before.

The space between the two of you has gone a little hazy and you’re not entirely sure if it’s because of the joint or the smoke filling the room, but all the two of you can focus on is the other. You smell like tequila, and there’s a part of him who knows he shouldn’t be doing this when you’re drunk, but you’re so fucking pretty in his lap, eyes lidded and edges stained red, lips parted to take shaky breaths.

“‘s all gone.” He says, holding the tip.

“Yeah.” You whisper, but your eyes stay focused on his lips.

The corner of his mouth twitches, “That’s not a good idea. You’re drunk.”

“But you’re high now too, aren’t you? Evens it out.”

He chuckles, “I need more than just one j to be high, pretty.”

You frown.

“You were on a date anyway. Don’t think you want this.”

Your frown deepens, “Wasn’t a date. He’s just a friend.”

He hums, ignoring the irritation pulsing at his temples, fingers smoothing along your hips instead.

“Just a kiss?” You murmur, “Hold me over til I’m sober.”

He tuts his tongue, but he pulls you down anyway because he’s a man after all, he can only resist so much when you ask so sweetly. You smile against his lips, eyes fluttering shut and tugging him closer to you.

It’s slow, the both of your lips are a little numb from smoking, and the taste of the strawberry paper he buys for you has left a fruity taste in your mouths. His fingers tingle where they’re at your hips and there’s a pressure in his head from smoking. He can’t stop himself from deepening the kiss when you taste like that and sound so sweet against him, maybe it’s the weed in system that makes it harder to resist.

You let him lick into your mouth then, and your hips start to grind along his hardened length in his jeans when his tongue meets yours. You gasp against his lips every so often like you can’t seem to fill your lungs with enough air before diving back in impatiently because it’s such an inconvenience that you have to part in order to breathe.

He’s strong, god he’s strong because he manages to pull away, your lips stained a darker color, and you blink at him sadly when he stops your hips. All he can think about is how wet you probably are, just ruining your lacy panties, but he slides you off him anyway.

“Should drink some water and go to bed.” He says.

Your brows crease, pout on your lips, but you nod anyway.

You text him in the middle of the night two weeks later.

‘You up?’

‘For you.’

‘I think I’m greening out andd I’m rlly scared can you pls come pick me up?’

‘Where are you?’

‘I don’t knowww.’

‘Send me your location.’

You’re at some random party, and you give him a wobbly smile when you see him. That same friend at your side.

“Hi.”

“Hi, bird. Let’s go.”

You nod, your hands shaking when you lace your fingers with his and he drags you through the crowd. He takes you to his, helps you change into some of his clothes, and presses a glass of water to your lips. You chug it like you’re parched, barely saving any room to breathe.

“You’re gonna stress me out.”

You laugh quietly, “Sorry.”

“Gotta be careful smoking too much when you’re not somewhere you’re familiar with.” He sits you down on his bed.

“I know. It just kinda happened.”

“How you feeling?”

“Better with you.”

That makes his teeth show.

“You want me to put music on?”

You shake your head, “Just want to lay with you.”

He invites you over for a smoke session a few days later. You roll the joint between your thumbs nervously like theres something heavy on your mind.

“If you don’t wanna smoke we don’t have to. Just thought since it’s kinda our thing now.”

You smile big, “Our thing?”

“Mmhh.” He hums with a nod.

“That’s not what I was thinking about.” You murmur quietly.

“What’s it then?”

“You sleep with a lot of your clients?”

He chokes on the smoke he’s inhaled, coughing so much that tears well in his eyes.

“What?”

“Um, well. Have you fucked any of your other clients?” You bite at your bottom lip.

“Jesus, bird. No.” He coughs.

“Are you lying?” You squint.

“Never lie to you.”

“Okay.”

You smoke in silence after that. Your feet rest on his lap the entire time as you lean against the armrest. He runs his fingers along your ankles and up your calves to distract himself from the way your lips wrap around the joint. It’s innocent at first, he was being innocent at least, but then you nudge your toes on the bulge in his sweats and he raises his brows at you.

You shrug, a devilish smirk on your lips.

“Accident.”

But then your legs fall open a little, your pretty thighs parting slightly for him. It’s an invitation, an awfully tempting one and it all happens so fast, he almost doesn’t even realize he’s nosing along the wet patch of your underwear and placing your legs on his shoulders until you squeak in surprise. Foreplays not needed this time around, not when your drunken makeout session has weighed heavy at the recesses of your minds ever since.

Your panties come off easy enough and he beelines straight to the source. He kisses along your thighs once, twice, a third time and your breath gets faster with each approaching stamp of his lips. Except, his thumb finds your clit first, just soft strokes while his breath fans over your embarrassingly wet cunt.

When he does lick one flat swipe along your clit your back arches around the couch armrest. And then he dips lower and fucking groans into your pussy when he gets a real taste of you, eyes closed like he’s got sugar melting between his teeth and not you filling his senses. He indulges himself, just a little, slipping his tongue into your pussy, so he can lick the taste from the tap.

When he returns to your clit, your toes curl against his back, and your head slumps into the couch. You’ve got one hand stifling your moans and he’d make you take it off and sing for him, but he’s more concerned with laving at your swollen clit than anything else. He keeps his tongue gentle, each lick broad, to make sure he’s really smothering every inch of you.

You cry out when he takes the bead between his lips and sucks softly. Your mouth forms an o and the look you give him is so cute that he can’t help but smile into your pussy. Furrowed brows and big beady eyes, lashes wet at the edges like the stimulation was becoming too much.

You don’t try to pull away though, instead, you arch deeper into him, hand curling around the back of his head and pushing him closer to your clit. His big hands find your hips when you start to grind on his face messily, and it takes everything in him not to buck his own into his couch because he’s sure you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever fucked.

His nose bumps along your clit with each slow drag of your hips, and his face is drenched in juices down to his chin. He hopes the smell fucking sticks, hopes he can taste you on his tongue later tonight when you’re not there and he’s missing you.

You finish with his name on your lips and your thighs squeeze around his head tight. He licks it all up, lapping eagerly at your walls while your legs slowly relax, falling open onto his shoulders, and twitching with each followed lick in overstimulation.

When he comes up, your chest is heaving, like you were the one down there suffocated by your thighs and pussy. There’s this dopey smile on your lips and he can’t help but smile back, leaning down to kiss you with your arousal all over his face.

You don’t even scrunch your nose, you lick right into his mouth hungrily like he hadn’t just been feasting between your thighs.

“You’re fucking perfect.” He grunts between sloppy kisses, hands fumbling with his sweats.

He feels you smile, “You’re the one who just ate me out.”

You make a surprised noise when the fat of his head slips into your entrance unexpectedly, hands clambering to his shoulders to find purchase on anything. He slides right in, your pussy nice and lax from your orgasm or maybe its from the joint the two of your shared. He rests his forehead against yours when he bottoms out, eyes trained on your face. Your nails dig into his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut, and mouth popped open in pleasure.

“Fuckkk,” He drawls, “She feels so good.”

You whine, nodding against his forehead.

He starts with shallow thrusts, fucking into you just deep enough for you to get used to the stretch. When you start to impatiently arch into him for more, he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and pushes forward.

The new angle makes you moan loudly and the pace Simon sets is brutal. He’s got your knee to your shoulder and theres this ugly feeling swirling in his chest from your antics all fucking month.

“Been fucking stressing me out all month, you know that?” He grits his teeth.

You shake your head, but he wasn’t really looking for a response.

“Can’t just fucking stay home, can you? Always gotta get yourself into some trouble, don’t you?” His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh.

You whimper at his tone, “It’s not on purpose.”

“Asking if I sleep with other girls, like you aren’t smoking with other men.”

His hips slam into you hard at the end of his sentence, like he’s emphasizing his words.

“They fuck you like this? Huh?”

You shake your head again, “No! No, just you Simon.”

He’s not even sure where that came from when you guys have only fucked once, you’re not his, but you’re wrapped around him, pressing kisses against his neck because you think he’s mad and how can he not be jealous?

“You all mine?” He whispers, hips stuttering with his strength to not finish.

“Yes, yes, god, yes.”

You finish around him again, pussy just gushing, and compressing tight. The way your pussy flutters around him helps assuage the feeling, your fingers gentle on his collarbone definitely helps. He buries himself deep and joins you then, pumping you full of the past month of blue balls you’ve given him and the horribly ugly tensions he’s been carrying ever since your little date.

[rawme-price]

No thoughts just ghost who struggles to sleep at night, right?

He tosses and turns even in your arms, even with you safe beside him. Tormented by the things he's done, the things that have been done to him. You love your boyfriend more than you should, and it hurts you to see the battlefield follow him home.

Some nights, ghost shifts out of bed when he thinks you're sleeping. Moving silently around the house, trying to stay sane.

Other nights, when the thunderstorm outside has cold creeping in and your own will to sleep dwindling, you shake his shoulder "si. Si, wake up, c'mon."

Everytime, ghost grumbles like he was actually asleep, rumbling while he grabs some pants "wha? What is it, love?"

"C'mon, lets go drive." You tug at him, grabbing the blanket from the closet.

That's exactly what you do, ghost in the passenger seat snuggled up in a blanket. You drive for hours around in the rain, stop to get greasy junk food and fill up on it until the food coma creeps up on simon and he's snoring like and engine beside you.

Scarred cheek mushed into the seat belt, shoes in the back seat and socked feet tucked under the blanket.

Once, he told you that his mom drove him around and bought him ice cream the day after his father...well. he told you it was the nicest thing she'd ever done. Now, tucked into the seat of your car with rain pelting in the rooftop in some empty parking lot, all the scars even out under the dim light. The injury and trauma melts away and he looks young again.

You wish you could give this to him all the time.

[ab-grund]

Hii, can you write reader & Simon making out, but they’re rudely interrupted & Simon is just soo saddd

hi lovely! of course, i hope you enjoy! thank you for the request as well, how exciting! 🤍

simon’s heart thuds, heartbeat crisp as his pulse races down the shell of his ear, blood flow running too quickly through his thin veins. its dizzying, mind struggling to keep up, struggling to keep up with the pace you’ve set.

your smooth tongue cascades into his mouth, coaxing his teeth apart until it’s gliding over the wetness hiding behind the pearls. simon breathes heavy, panting into your mouth as the pink muscle of his tongue stretches over yours, curling and circling yours as if on the battlefield.

“eh, not too cocky now…” you trail off, the soft pillows of your lips suddenly closing in on his outstretched tongue. you suck, bobbing your head ever so slightly, letting your own drool run down til it’s pooling in the back of his throat, the crevices of his teeth.

simon’s whimpering, hips thrusting up lazily, subconsciously. you’re hovering right over him, applying no pressure to the rough hardness beneath you. he can feel the underside of his cock dig against his zipper, thickening by the second til the metal begins to hurt, begins to imprint into his sensitive skin.

“god, please, love,” his voice curls around the words, accent thick and heady with the impending desperation that shadows him. his fingers, once settled on your thighs slide to your hips, forcing you down.

the warmth of your sweet cunt on top of him is painful, has his cock kicking up, and he can feel the way it spurts sticky pre. his boxers are surely a mess, glued to his skin with the mess he’s creating of himself. but he can’t help his humps, hips tilting till he finds the right angle, jutting himself against you till youre moaning into his mouth.

“you’re so desperate, baby, why don’t i-“ and as your fingers fall to his belt, you freeze, both jumping out of your skin when heavy knocks shake the front door. simon’s eyes flash open, staring up at you in a angry mix of desperation and disappointment.

“no, baby, no, i need you. jus- jus’ ignore whoever it is,” he pleads, big brown eyes drowning in something so heavy, so much desperation its sweating from his pores. he holds you tighter, fingertips crushing your hips as you begin to stand.

“can ‘ear ya’ bastard ass ‘n t’ere, open up!” johnnys voice rings out rough, accent cutting through the thick atmosphere, lust oozing off the two of you. you press a quick kiss to simon’s lips before raising and skipping over to the door, johnny was a sweetheart, presence always welcome.

though simon could beg to differ, whimpering out under his breath. he can feel the tears bead along his lower lash line, he’s so worked up. the warmth your body left behind already beginning to fade, and he can’t help but squeeze his cock tight, relishing in what could be around him, on top of him, sliding down onto him.

a tear falls at the same moment his angry tip cries out, he’s sticky in the face and beneath the belt. but as johnny comes stomping inside he wipes his face. his shoulders curl in defeat, lower lip trembling slightly. he’s going to be stuck here, long drawn out hours, with a twitching cock and nothing to do about it.

when the bloke falls beside him, feet already kicked up on the coffee table, is when he turns. johnny looks over simon, eyebrow raised curiously at his curled in personality, not even a glance towards the scottish fella.

“what’s got ya poutin’, big boy?”

[rhymewithrachel]

They tried to stop me from drawing ghost knight but they CANT

[mitrielle]

Sun protection is important!

[lucy-stone]

Not a single day goes by without me thinking about big ol’ Ghost, as fearsome and respected a knight as he is, sliding down a wall on weak legs because the object of his unwanted affection has once again decided that personal space is completely optional. Exquisite torture, really.

[ghostedink]

The red means I love you.. right? (18+ MDNI)

୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧

You’d just gutted the last hostile in the safehouse—clean, brutal, throat to navel in one fluid slice with your knife. Blood sprayed across your tac vest, warm and bright, and you didn’t even flinch. Just wiped the blade on your thigh like it was nothing and shot Simon that sharp, feral little smile he’d kill to see every day.

He’s been hard since the first scream.

Now he’s locked in the shitty barracks shower, water scalding his back, fist wrapped tight around his cock while the image of you tearing that man open loops in his head. You, the newest member to join 141. The one person who can go toe-to-toe with him and actually make him sweat.

He pictures you turning that knife on him.

“Want one from you..” he mutters under his breath while is free hand traces one of the old scars littering his skin. “Fuckin’ mark me proper.”

His hand moves faster. He imagines you straddling his hips in full kit, that same knife pressed under his jaw, the tip just breaking skin. A thin line of blood trickling down his throat while you grind down on him, wet and hot through your fatigues. You’d lean in, teeth at his ear, voice low and deadly..

“Bleed for me, Riley.”

Simon groans, hips jerking. He can see it—your fingers smearing his own blood down his throat and chest, over the old scars, claiming new territory. You’d ride him while you carved your initials just above his heart…something only the two of you would ever see. Every time he looked in the mirror he’d remember exactly how you looked soaked in someone else’s blood and still greedy for his.

His fist tightens. He’s close already, breathing ragged.

“Fuck—“ he hisses, “mark me. Make it hurt.”

He comes hard, thick ropes striping the shower wall, the fantasy still burning behind his eyes; you licking the fresh cut you just gave him, tasting iron and claiming him with your mouth while he’s still twitching inside you.

Simon slumps against the tile, chest heaving, cock still half-hard at the thought.

One day he’s going to ask you for real.

And he already knows you’ll say yes—after all, you’re just as crazy as he is.

୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧

[rawme-price]

Ghost's favorite position, hands down no argument, is prone bone.

Him on top, of course, one arm nestled under your torso and holding you close. The other slung above his head, forearm resting just above you in a lazy sprawl.

You've learned that this is his go-to position after eating. Something about a fully belly and feeling safe, warm in your presence just makes him too tired for the more ambitious stuff you usually do. Ghost would much rather lie on top of you, squishing you under his massive figure.

"Fuckin hell— hold still, lovie." Ghost groans when you squirm at a particularly harsh thrust. Not like you could actually go anywhere when he completely settles his weight into you and switches from thrusts to grinding.

"W– what–? Si...c'mon, baby you promised...!" You groan, huffs because he had promised to fuck you earlier!

"I'm inside you, ain't i?" He grunts, slinking the other arm under you too for a proper cuddle, the heavy thickness of his cock still deep inside.

"Yeah, but you know thats not what I— uh....simon? Si...? Oh my god—" steady snoring above you.

Of course he decided now was the best time to nap. Fucking food coma again.

...Hopefully he gets a wet dream and you get that fucking you asked for.

[stinglesswasp]

Day in the life - afternoon 🌇

[shingojira]

the fuck you lookin at keep scrollin

[stinglesswasp]

Day in the life - morning 🌄

[yumethefrostypanda]

Ghost, MW4

veins

[nottsnymph]

HELLO???????

[killfarrell]

✮ using ghost/simon as your own portable stand, mirror and chair wherever the two of you go.

it's almost routine now whenever the two of you leave the house, as soon as it hits the one hour mark you're opening your camera app and handing it over to him to hold, eyebrows furrowed in slight concentration as you touch up your lip liner and gloss. or when you turn to him and ask if you should fix your hair or clothing. "jus' a bit, love. you look perfect any'ow."

and if you're feet are feeling sore from walking for too long in your heels, simon's immediately finding a place to sit where he can pull you onto his lap instead of letting you sit directly onto the public space and messing up your pretty clothes with dust.

all the while, his eyes are practically gazing at your beauty in awe, not like some uncontrollably lovesick puppy, but there's a softness that only appears when he's admiring your beauty. so long as you give him that sweet smile of gratitude when you're done, he'll gladly let you have your way with him.

©killfarrell. all rights are reserved to me and plagiarism is prohibited and will be reported. hope you guys liked it!

[anneofgreengabagool]

141 as 90s talk show guests | headcanons

ghost

price

soap

gaz

[flytaco]

Daddy caught dinner while you were drooling on my gear.

[d3vilsadv0cate]

Soap's reaction to Simon's face Call of Duty MWII

[solowinged]