Simon 'ghost' Riley Masterlist

Nikos Kazantzakis // Fyodor Dostoevsky

𝑪𝑨𝑴𝑷𝑼𝑺 𝑭𝑹𝑬☆𝑲 !!

#SYNOPSIS— whoring around your college campus with the jjk men #CHARACTERS— toji, nanami, choso, itadori #CONTENT WARNINGS—

★ LAB TECHNICIAN!TOJI

who you suck off as an apology for him to go through all that trouble to fix the broken incubator you messed up.

“You gotta—fuck, do better than this, doll,” the rugged male teased, hiding a groan beneath his breath as your throat tightened around the fat tip of his cock. “We wouldn’t want your name on this report, do we?”

The sounds that bounced from the walls were dirty to the core—a mix of wet squelches and muffled chokes. You were on your sore knees, spit-covered hands twisting around his veiny length that couldn’t quite fit into your mouth as you lapped over his sensitive slit with your tongue. He was all you could smell, the strong scent of his masculine essence drifting into your nose, making your head heavy and drawing a tingly pool of arousal between your sticky thighs. 

His large hands tightened around your head when you hollowed your cheeks, tears clinging onto your eyelashes as you drunkenly gazed up at him; absorbing the sight of him nearly melting from pleasure. “Keep sucking, pretty girl,” Toji inhaled through his teeth, his eyes closing shut into a frown as he threw his head back, his hips jutting towards you as the pressure building in his nerves neared its limits. 

You felt his tip twitch before he slammed your head all the way down to the base of his shaft, your body jumping from the shock and your jaw slacking from the fullness of his cock that stuffed your entire mouth. Your head remained still as the groaning male fucked his cock into your wet cavern, your throat gagging, tightening around his fat girth every time it touched the base of your throat. 

His groans turned to almost cries of pleasure as he forced himself deeper and harder into you, his balls slapping against your chin and your fingers reached between your aching legs, playing with yourself. You were nothing but a messy state of a toy, with drool dripping down your swollen lips and tears ruining your makeup with each sore gag of your muscles, pathetic digits rubbing your throbbing nerves. 

A moan gurgled up from your throat when a rupture of velvety cum filled your insides, spilling down to your chin and chest. “That’s it, take it like a good fucking girl,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his strong hands forced your nose against his pelvis, and you let out a soft groan when the thick whiff of his masculine scent hit your senses. His breath was hot and heavy against the crisp air as he moaned through his crashing orgasm, pulling your hair from the pressure as you tongue his throbbing sensitive tip.

You spat his thick semen onto the ground after Toji pulled himself out of your mouth, your eyes blinking into a rest as you tried to relax your sore jaw. And before you knew it, you’re pulled onto your feet, a look of unsatiated smirk lurking on his face. “Now, won’t you show me your other hole?”

★ PROFESSOR!NANAMI

who gives you a late personal class about the female anatomy when everyone has left the lecture hall.

The cold pad of his fingers rolled your hardened bud, and a mixture of humiliation and twisted arousal pervaded through your mind as you laid on top of his desk, thighs spread as he inspected your exposed sex. “—it’s surrounded with nerves, and extends to beneath the labia majora.”

His touches flutter down your to said part of your loin, and his eyes momentarily fell upon your face; drinking in the sight of your feverish visage, evident of the blood that cascaded through your vessels. 

“It’s…” Kento’s gaze remained on you, and you could almost see the carnal hunger prowling behind his glasses, his fingers working its ritualistic dance of heavy swipes on your puffy clit. “Very sensitive.” 

Your back arched as pleasure began to sneak up upon you, your lips pouting in frustration at his tease. “M-More,” 

“Use your words,” his words were like a harsh gash of rejection, denying you your path to greater pleasure just to hear you beg for him. 

“Touch me more, sir,” your breath was stuck at the top of your throat, throbbing cunt yearning for the fingers that traced the outline of your lips. You’re so fucking needy for him—slick arousal leaking out of your hole, crying for his touch to fill your wet cavern. “Please…”

“Hmm,” he smirked, thick digits stretching past your tight walls before stirring up your insides with every curl. Your hips rose into the air as he continued to taunt your dripping cunt, pressing against the gummy part of your wall and jumbling up your nerves. “What do you say now?”

“T-Thank you! Thank yo—hhngh!” your teeth were clenched and eyebrows shot upwards, feeling the jittery burn passing through your nerves and dancing at the edge of orgasm. His thumb rolled over your hardened clit, never once losing the momentum of his digits in and out of your squelching, needy cunt. “Nngh! Haa—”

Kento’s canines grazed against the flesh of his lip as he watched your features twist to the rising intensity in your belly. Your hands scrambled to grip the edge of the table as he felt your walls flutter, wet cunny gushing around his hand and juices squirting onto his wrist as your stomach tensed. “Good girl,” the low timber of his voice nearly made you purr as you breathed cool from your high. “Why don’t we move on to something more?”

★ NERD!CHOSO

who does your assignments for you in exchange for you to teach and guide him the ways to please a girl with your own body.

“T-There, good!” your grip tightened around his hair as you slightly pushed his head into your cunt, your hips rolling with your eyes sighed into a close. He’s quiet, observing the way your body jolts whenever he strokes the certain part of your wall, centralising his 

He’s slurping you up like a fucking feast, moaning through your pulsing cunt like a man on a week-long fast. The bridge of his nose rubbed against your hardened clit, stimulating your senses with the bumps and curves of his tongue.

“Nngh—ah! Choso, baby!” his face flushed red from the way you cried his name, nails sinking into his hair, gripping onto his scalp as you rode his face to your high. “Keep going, I’m c-close,” you breathily vocalised, your chest rising and dropping at a high frequency. 

He’s good. Perhaps better than you would ever imagine at something so lewd—cheeks hallowing to suck on your throbbing clit as his tongue flicked them over and over again. 

“S-Stop, Choso…! I’m do—annh!” you yelped when he continued to lap at your walls even after your orgasm, disregarding your pleas as he continued to overstimulate you with his licks. His big hands forced your thighs apart when you tried to squeeze them together with his head in between, your attempt futile to stop the butterflies from fluttering through your sore cunt.

He was suffocating himself in your weeping cavern, groaning and moaning with your glistening juices coating his lower face—addicted to the way your syrupy essence tasted on his tongue. Your toes curled as your consciousness burst through another dimension of pleasure, your puffy clit sore and cunny gushing all over the bed sheets. 

Choso peaked at your messy features from between your thighs, his sleepy eyes taking in the sight as he rubbed his hard-on against the bed before sinking down for another lap at your sweet juices. 

★ JOCK!ITADORI

who fucks the remaining adrenaline left after his game into your cunt in the locker room, the revelry outside from the crowd covering up the banging of the locker metal and your animalistic groans.

“Baby—haa, y’look s’pretty in—nngh, my medal,” Yuuji drunkenly muttered against your skin, the gold dangling on your neck hitting your marked chest with every brutal thrust of his into your cunt. 

“Y-You did s’good—aangh!” your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, thighs numb from how hard he was fucking you. Yuuji had your legs wrapped around his waist, and your back banging against the locker door for the past 10 minutes—you knew your body would be sore but who cares when you’re gushing around his fat cock. 

“Mmnh—y’feel s’good, baby,” his sweaty body pressed against yours before he sloppily kissed your swollen lips again. “Y’so tight—haa, I can feel y’squeeze all over me.”

“F-Fuck, Yuuji! I’m close—haangh! D-Don’t stop!” you cried as you gripped onto his back for your dear life, the roaring orgasm that slowly crept up from your womb threatening to flush your sanity away with its current. 

“M’close too, baby. Wanna cum in y-you, please!” he pressed his heavy head against the cool locker metal, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes. He was so fucking near, and his thighs almost gave up to the tingly burn that made his muscles sore. 

“T’is f-fine, Yuuji. Y-You can cum in me—mmmh!” with a loud, guttural moan, Yuuji buried himself to the hilt inside your core, his body tensing as his seed painted your walls white. He doesn’t stop when his thick cum spurted out of your hole, even when you’re screaming his name from the raw burn as he continued to ram into your sloppy cunt. 

He’s got a good amount of pent energy in him, and a round of fucking wouldn’t amount to controlling himself. You’d have to have your legs broken off before he’s satisfied yet. 

Sylus loves the intimacy of missionary, he loves pressing his forehead against yours as his cock moves in and out of you. He admires your face, the expression of absolute bliss you're making all because of him, and he can't get enough. "You look so pretty like this, kitten." His kisses your neck, his fingers interlocking with your as his hips continue to move.

The more moans escape you, the more desperate his thrusts get. "So loud tonight, aren't you?" His cock hits your spot over and over again, the feeling of your velvet walls clenching around him makes Sylus groan. "Fuck kitten....you feel so good." Your body arches causing Sylus to let go of your hands and grab your thighs instead, spreading them wider apart.

You gasp, hands grabbing onto his strong biceps, nails digging into his skin. "My kitten has claws, hmm?" Sylus kisses the side of your neck before kissing up to your lips. The kiss is passionate, the movement of his hips even more so. He is stretching your pussy so deliciously, so good. Your eyes catch his red ones when he pulls back, his face was red, mouth open slightly, he looked majestic like this. Putting your hand on his cheek, you swear that for a moment his whole expression grew soft but it was short as you moved your hips against his own.

Sylus starts fucking you faster, you moan loudly, head falling back against the pillow. He takes hold of your hips, his thrusts getting a little sloppy but still hitting your every spot. You pull him down flush against your body, hips moving against his own. Both of you were close, you came first, feeling the pleasure run all through your body. "That's my girl. Cum for me." He slows down a bit, just enjoying the feeling of your for a little more before leaning his forehead against yours and coming deep inside of you.

don’t mind me, I’ll just be screaming about this for the next few weeks

You and Simon aren’t together. Never have been. Never talked about it, never even thought about it.

You just click. You always have. It started as a mission thing—paired up for some op because Price figured you worked well together, and then it just… stuck. You got each other in ways that didn’t need explaining. You liked the same things, moved the same way, anticipated each other’s actions before they happened. You didn’t have to tell him what you needed in the field, and he never had to ask you to cover him. It was easy. Comfortable. The kind of thing that felt natural before you even noticed it happening.

And then it bled into everything else. Eating together. Training together. Sitting next to each other on long flights, in debriefs, in the rare downtime you got between missions. It was never planned, never discussed. Just a thing that happened, like muscle memory. If you were in a room, Simon was there too, and if he wasn’t, he was on his way.

The others noticed, of course. Soap especially. He was the loudest about it, but even Gaz had taken to shooting you both pointed looks when you showed up somewhere at the same time, or when you answered Simon’s half-formed thoughts like you knew what he was going to say before he said it.

Which, honestly, you usually did.

It all comes to a head one evening, the lot of you gathered in one of the common rooms, half-done with the day but not quite ready to call it a night. You and Simon are on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, idly watching something on the TV while Soap, sitting across from you both, groans into his hands.

“You two make me sick.”

You blink at him. “We’re literally just sitting here.”

“That’s the problem!” Soap gestures wildly. “You do everything together. You finish each other’s bloody sentences. You know what the other is thinking. And you’re just—what? Friends?” He scoffs. “Aye, and I’m the Queen of England.”

Simon leans back, tilting his head slightly. “Don’t think you’ve got the legs for a crown, mate.”

Gaz snorts. Price, watching from his spot near the door, only shakes his head like he’s seen this conversation play out a hundred times before. (He has.)

Soap ignores them, pointing a finger between you and Simon like he’s solving some grand mystery. “There’s only one thing you haven’t done,” he declares. “You just need to kiss. That’s it. Only thing missing.”

Silence.

You turn your head. Simon is already looking at you.

There’s nothing in his expression that gives anything away—no smirk, no challenge, no humor in his eyes. He’s just watching you, waiting. And then, with a tiny shrug, he leans in and kisses you.

It’s short, unhurried. Just a press of his lips against yours, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. When he pulls back, his eyes are still on you, searching.

You don’t react. Not outwardly, anyway. You can feel Soap’s disbelief burning into the side of your face, hear the noise he makes—the strangled mix between a gasp and an outraged protest—but you don’t acknowledge it. Instead, you look back at Simon, forcing yourself to stay still even as your heart does something stupid in your chest.

Because, sure, maybe this was just to mess with Soap. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it was a joke.

But it didn’t feel like one.

Simon smirks and leans back, turning his attention back to the TV like nothing happened. “Happy now?”

Soap looks like he’s reconsidering every life decision that led him to this moment. “What the fuck?”

—

Later, when Simon walks you back to your room, he’s quieter than usual. His hands are in his pockets, his head tilted down slightly like he’s working through something in his mind.

“I wasn’t trying to make things weird,” he says after a beat. “Didn’t mean—well, didn’t want you to think it was—”

He stops, exhales sharply through his nose. “Just don’t want you to be mad.”

You glance at him. “I’m not mad.”

He nods, but his mouth pulls into something uncertain, like he doesn’t believe you. “Good. That’s—good.”

You reach your door and turn to face him fully. He’s still looking at you, his usual easy confidence nowhere to be found. And it’s funny, really, how the thought of kissing you in front of everyone hadn’t made him hesitate, but now? Now, he’s hesitating. Now, he’s thinking too hard about it. About you.

So before he can say anything else, you push up onto your toes and kiss him.

It’s quick, barely a breath between you before you pull back, but the impact is immediate. Simon’s lips part slightly, his brows drawing together like he can’t quite process what just happened.

You step back, hand on your door handle, and give him a small nod. “Goodnight, Simon.”

Then you slip inside, shutting the door behind you, leaving him standing there in the hallway, staring at the empty space where you just were.

And for once, Simon doesn’t have a single thing to say.

----------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @ghostslollipop @kylies-love-letter

WE KEEP WINNING

NSFW

Just some thoughts of you and Toji sharing a hotel room with Shiu when you go on a trip. There are two beds, you and Toji share one, and Shiu gets the other one to his mopey self, because his wife won't be there until the next day. He gets to warm the bed up on his own and he hates every minute of it, because one: he's third wheeling you and Toji, and two: you and Toji act as if he's not there when it's time to go to sleep.

"Why aren't you sleeping, pretty girl? Do I need to go down there and put you to sleep or what?" Toji murmurs.

You giggle, quietly. "Maybe. I do get pretty tired after you make me cum."

"Yeah, you do," he says, proudly. "You wet, right now, mama?" Toji asks, already unknotting the drawstrings of your shorts.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" You say, your voice too soft for what you're inviting him to do. Still, Toji bites and leans in to kiss you as his hand slides down the front of your shorts and beneath your panties. His hand meets your pelvis and continues its downward path, until his fingertips reach the messiness of your slick-ridden cunt. He teases you with barely there flicks of his fingers to your clit.

Shiu's eyes widen the slightest bit, before his eyebrows furrow. He swears he just heard a moan coming from the bundle of blankets on the right side of the room.

"Stop touching each other," he says, irritation heavy in his tone. "Jesus," he grumbles. The one time he didn't bring his headphones, the one time his wife isn't there to let him do the same things to her, that Toji is doing to you. And you both just continue to ignore him.

Your hand comes down to palm at the prominent bulge in Toji's boxers. You can feel his clothed cock twitching in your hand after every gentle squeeze you offer to the thick length.

"Fuck, don't tease me like that, doll. Touch it." His body jerks slightly when you slide your hand down his boxers and wrap it around his sticky length. "Shit, your hands are freezing," he whispers, hissing at the coldness that meets his warm skin.

"You want me to keep going or not?" You ask, teasingly, not stopping the movement of your hand as you wait for him to respond.

"Nah, nah, you're getting warmer. Keep going."

You both think you're doing so well at muffling each other's sounds of pleasure with deep kisses, but the sounds of heavier breathing and constantly rustling sheets in the otherwise steady room, are a dead giveaway to your indecent acts. Shiu has to choose between suffering by being uncomfortably hot with the blanket bundled around his head to shut out the sounds, or being comfortable and suffering with the clear sounds of your sexual antics.

"Shh," Toji hushes, when you let out a little whimper. "Just keep kissing me."

Despite how intense the sensations are, you both keep going. Toji's fingers don't stop rubbing your clit, and your hand doesn't stop gliding up and down his cock. You're both treating the act of sharing a bed as you usually do when you're alone, despite the poor man trying to sleep one bed over.

It takes hearing an uncontained high pitched gasp for Shiu to kick off his blanket and jump out of bed with a grumble. He grabs his car keys off the table and puts on his slippers, directing himself towards the door. "Going to the store. You two better be done by the time I come back."

The second the heavy door shuts, clothes are being pulled at through impatient, all consuming kisses. It gets to the point where you actually have to slow down to get them off, because you aren't making any progress, but once it's all discarded of, absolutely no time is wasted. Your legs find refuge hooked over Toji's shoulders, and his hands home to your hips and your waist. You both freely make as much noise as you want as you indulge in each other like you really are home alone. Minutes unknowingly turned into an hour and after four intense orgasms, you've tired each other out. Toji gets out of bed to grab a towel to clean you and himself up, and once the cleanup process is done, both of you fall asleep, soundly.

Shiu comes back half an hour after you both fell asleep. He's empty handed, looking a little more disheveled than when he left the room, because "going to the store" was code for sitting in his car and having phone sex with his wife. He tip toes further into the room to see if you and Toji are sleeping, and when he sees the way Toji is spooning you with his face pressed to the nape of your neck, and the way your hand rests on the arm he has slinged around your waist, he shakes his head and lets out a small chuckle.

"Rabbits."

I've been really into drawing clovers lately ☘️

Simon likes what you likes

Tomorrow I promise to get some requests in my inbox done 🤞

Whenever Simon was asked what his favorite color was, or favorite movie, favorite song, favorite anything, really he always had the same answer.

“Don’t have one.”

Johnny would roll his eyes. Kyle would snort and call him a grump. Price wouldn’t bother asking. But Simon never thought too hard about it. He didn’t see the point. Liking things—really liking them—meant caring. And caring opened doors to places he preferred staying locked.

That was before you.

Before you, with your endless lists of favorites. Your hobbies, your collections, the way you lit up when talking about a movie you loved or a book you couldn’t put down. You could talk for hours. And you often did— sometimes with him half-listening, half-lost in the rhythm of your voice more than the actual words.

And somehow, over time, your favorites became his.

That one film you swore he had to watch? He rolled his eyes, grumbled through the first half— then watched it again when you weren’t home. It was the way you recited your favorite scenes by heart that eventually made it his favorite, too.

The book you kept on your nightstand? He picked it up one lazy afternoon, expecting to read a few pages just to pass the time. He finished it in a day.

Still, every time you asked him about his own favorites, he’d just shrug.

“I like what you like.”

You’d frown. Just a little. A soft downturn of your lips that made something in his chest ache.

So one day, he sat down and thought about it. Really thought.

What did he like? What was his thing?

Guns. Killing. Tracking a moving target from a hundred yards out and watching it drop.

Right. Cool.

So he took you to a shooting range. Taught you how to hold the weapon properly. How to breathe through the shot. How to steady your hands and trust your instincts. He might’ve gotten a little carried away with the details— describing things in a way that probably sounded more violent than romantic. But you liked it. You smiled through the recoil.

You liked doing what you thought he liked.

But the truth?

He would’ve rather been at one of your pottery classes. Covered in clay, watching you laugh when he ruined another mug. He’d rather be curled up on the couch, rewatching your favorite film for the third time. He’d rather do anything, everything, if it meant doing it with you.

Because Simon didn’t care about the things.

He cared about you.

He liked your smile. The way you dressed. The way you smelled— so much that he started using your body wash without even thinking about it.

“Why do ya smell like cupcakes, Lt?” Johnny had asked once, squinting at him, nose wrinkled.

Simon didn’t even blink.

“Your bloody nose probably doesn’t work properly after all the times you’ve been punched in the face.”

He never told him the real reason. Didn’t have to.

He’d already made up his mind.

It was never about the movie, the book, or the smell of your shampoo clinging to his skin. It was about you. About keeping a piece of you close, even in the smallest, stupidest ways. Simon didn’t need a list of favorites.

He had one. Just one. And it was you. Always you.