#simon riley angst

[romanticintheory]

Hello!!!! I was wondering if you could write an angst with Ghost/Simon where the reader was too clingy after having a bad day and he lashed out on her but he didn't think anything of it because the next day the reader was acting normal. He only noticed after a few weeks when reader became more distant and quiet. Feel free to ignore if it's too weird or you don't like it!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

this one is dedicated to all the ones who were hurt and never got that apology. hope this alleviates the pain.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader || masterlist || request rules

-there was no one specific reason as to why today turned out to be a bad day. it just was.

-from accidentally burning yourself trying to make breakfast after waking up late to having to deal with the most insufferable customers, it just wasn't your day today.

-but it was okay, because you had simon to return to when everything was said and done.

-the frown on your face immediately softens the moment you see him walk through the door to your shared home. as soon as he pulls his mask and boots off, you make your way toward him and engulf him in a tight hug.

-you are painfully (but understandably) unaware of the thin veil of his patience and the frustration that had been brewing within him in the past few hours. he half-heartedly returns the embrace.

-"how was your day, si?" you ask him gently.

-"fine," he responds shortly, hoping there isn't more to the conversation.

-even after you pull away from him, you trail behind him as he moves around the house. this wasn't irregular behavior from either of you. simon wasn't usually the most talkative person in the room, anyway, but he loved to hear your voice. that was one of the things he loved about the two of you together; you filled the space he couldn't.

-today, though, was different. he was pissed off at all different kinds of people. for some reason, couldn't bring himself to tell you that he was having a bad day and needed some space, especially because it was evident you were having a bad one yourself.

-so when he turned on his heel after listening to your rambles for as much as he could take and lashed out at you, he tried not to think about the unbearable amount of guilt seeping into his veins.

-"would you just stop clinging to me for five minutes? god, 's like i can't get away from you or your constant fucking talking!"

-you had heard stories, mostly from simon, about the kind of man he could be when pushed to his limit. mostly, it was of violent, physical acts when it came to work or protecting the ones he loved. other times, he would tell you about when he'd lash out at others just like he did to you, now, and he always told it to you with a quiet fear. there was an unspoken meaning to him telling you about the times he's acted out: i don't want to do the same to you. i don't want to hurt you.

-but here he was, towering over you with a coldness in his eyes and a dryness in his throat from the sheer volume of his words.

-averting your gaze from his, you let out a meek, "'m sorry," and watch as he slams the door in front of your face.

-when he slinks into bed next to your sleeping form later that night, ridden with shame and guilt, he misses the tear-stained face hidden from him. after his outburst, you felt like all of the energy in your body had been taken away from you and retreated to bed early. you cried on and off for hours.

-you always thought you had a clinging problem. it was an insecurity you carried with you starting from childhood. friends would become acquaintances and family would keep you at arms-length. after years of believing the issue was you, simon walked into your life and told you different.

-if you stopped talking because you thought he stopped listening and was uninterested, he'd always turn back to you and genuinely ask why you stopped talking. whenever you apologized for hugging him for too long or asking to spend time with him for the third time that week, he'd always tilt his head at you and say in that low, sincere voice, "but i love you?"

-for all those reasons, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt despite how much he hurt you. so, when he tries to bring it up the next morning, you do your best to brush it off. he was having a bad day. that was all. no need to make a fuss.

-"listen, love," he calls to you as you pop your piece of toast out of the toaster. "about last night-"

-completely disregarding his words, you look at the clock and stuff your phone into your pocket. "it's fine. honestly, simon," you tell him with the best smile you could muster. "i'm gonna be late. i'll see you tonight."

-you were so adamant on getting out as quick as possible that simon had no time to respond. he thought to himself that maybe he was making a bigger deal out of it than you. maybe there were no hard feelings and you were completely fine. after all, he was always overly worried for you, anyway.

-so, when you came home, he didn't mention it. it was as if last night didn't happen, and the two of you were perfectly fine. there were times where simon thought you were being a bit more restrained in your movements or words, but he tried to chalk it up to just him being overly paranoid. you said it was fine, so it was better not to push you on it, right?

-at first, you were doing really good at keeping yourself from overthinking the situation. however, as time went on and you paid more attention to how you acted around your boyfriend, you began to wonder if you were really that clingy.

-as the week progressed, your state of mind would deteriorate. what if it wasn't just a bad day? what if that was what he thought the entire time and was just waiting for the right moment to tell you? had he just been trying to cheer you up about your insecurities the entire time? and if he was, how much of this relationship was even real, then?

-the more you thought about it, the more distant you became. the last thing you wanted to do was make simon feel like he was being suffocated by you. you slowly stopped initiating physical affection with him, restricted talking about your day to a few sentences, and tried to answer simon's questions in one word when possible.

-he notices. of course he notices, it was like a stranger was living where you were supposed to be, and he missed it. he missed you.

-he asks you about your change when you're getting ready for bed, pulling the rest of your nightshirt over your head. despite being exhausted from work and looking like you were sitting out in the wind, he thought you never looked more ethereal than you did now.

-"(y/n)," he said.

-"hm?" you hummed to him, not turning toward his direction. you sat down on the edge of your side of the bed, turning off the lamp at the same time.

-your lack of emotional presence was starting to eat at him. he sat down next to you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight and forcing you to lean toward him.

-"you alright?"

-"yes. why?"

-"i dunno, you just seem..." his eyes tried to find yours, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. "quiet."

-it was then that you looked at him, and it was scary to simon because he couldn't make out the emotion in your expression. there was nothing he could read.

-"isn't that-" you had to pause to try and stabilize your wavering voice. "isn't that what you wanted?"

-there was a tension-filled silence that settled in the room, and for a second you were worried that what you said was somehow incredibly offensive.

-finally, he chokes out, "i'm sorry."

-again, you try to muster up a smile. "it's fine, i already told you. i should've known you wanted space."

-"no."

-"no?"

-"it was my fault," he explains. "how could you 'ave known? i didn't tell you i wasn't in the mood that day, and that's not even considering the way i talked to you. i shouldn't have- nothing excuses what i said to you."

-still, you were convinced you were to blame. "well, i have a history of being clingy, so," you were trying to come up with more excuses for him. for most of your life, you had decided that you were the issue. it couldn't be any other way, right?

-"i know. it's one of the things i love you for," he says quietly. "not to sound cheesy but it's what makes you you, and i don't want you to lose that jus' 'cause i'm still shitty at communication."

-you knew in some capacity he was right. there was no excuse for how he talked to you, but the next words you wanted to say evaded you.

-simon thought about talking some more. instead, he grasped your back with one hand and slid his other underneath your legs, repositioning you on his lap. it was like a silent plea from him, a way of proving that he wanted to be close to you just as much as you wanted to be close to him.

-"you're sure i'm not too clingy?" you ask tentatively.

-"positive," he reassures you, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb. "you wanna know something?"

-"what?"

-"if i wasn't so fucked up-"

-"you're not fucked up."

-"right." you never let him talk badly about himself. that was something he was still getting used to after all this time. being loved and learning to love himself. "well, if i didn't grow up the way i did and became the person i am, i'd probably be way clingier than you."

-"that's impossible," you deny, unconsciously letting yourself lean into his touch.

-"you don't know how much i want you. if my mind and body would let me, i'd be close to you all the time, showing you the attention you deserve."

-"you give me plenty."

-"agree to disagree," he stops with the circles and pulls you impossibly closer to his body. "but 'm trying. 'm trying to learn to let you love me and to not be afraid to love you. 'm sorry, love. i stopped trying that night, and i think it'll be the death of me."

-you let his words sink in, a thoughtful look on your face.

-"next time you'll tell me, right? what you're thinking?"

-"pinkie promise," he agrees, letting the hand under your legs slide out and raise his pinkie finger toward you.

-in return, you link your pinkie with his to seal the promise, and it feels as though the heavy tension in the air has cleared away.

-"i love you," he says, feeling bold from his previous admission.

-"i love you, too." there's that smile on your face. he never realized until now how he probably couldn't live without it.

-he kisses you on the lips, and for a moment the two of you just stay there in each other's arms, forgiving the past, healing the present, and dreaming of the future together.

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod imagine #cod mw x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #cod angst #call of duty angst #simon riley angst #ghost angst #cod hurt/comfort #simon riley hurt/comfort #cod fluff #call of duty fluff #rarawrites

[arthyghost]

Never enough.

reader x ghost

light angst, no comfort

What's the point in trying if you'll never be what he really need?

"I... I thought I was enough." you murmur, fidgeting your fingers and trying not to cry. You have a sad little smile on your face, trying not to let it show.

"It’s not about you, dear, it’s about me." he says, his voice muffled by the mask. "I’m not ready for your love and your affection, even if I tried with all I had. I’m sorry."

You nod, trying to keep your smile on your face so you don’t break in front of him; maybe it bothers him. You don’t like to bother.

Ghost is watching you, seeing how your smile is pulling you down with the overwhelming urge to cry you’re trying to hide. He knew how much you needed to prove to yourself that it was worth it, and it hurt a lot that he had to reject you like you two never had anything special, especially when you knew you had everything and a little more.

"I see you around the base, yes?" he asks, avoiding touching you. He doesn't want your pain to get worse, he doesn't want you to think that now he is feeling well with your touches and caresses. He's not.

He tried, and God, how he tried; even with you two in a relationship, boundaries were always placed and you respected them in an unimaginable way, the point is that Ghost still did not feel comfortable. He pretended for months to feel comfortable with your hands in his hair, with your hands holding his; but it was all a lie. He just wanted you so bad he ignored his bounderies.

With a nod, you walk away lightly, thinking about how much you still needed him, how hard you tried; and God, you just wish you had been enough. It’s hard that the thoughts that Ghost always told you to put away are now coming back, because now you don't have him at your side saying that what you were feeling was just paranoia. Especially if now you knew it wasn’t.

All the times it crossed your mind that he didn’t feel comfortable with your touches, all the times you begged him to tell you honestly that he was okay with you touching him and he kept saying yes... You just wanted sincerity, and look where you were right now.

Your heart ached at the thought of all the times he must have felt bad about your company, and he didn’t warn you. But what could you do now besides accept?

It hurt, but it's best for both of you.

No...

It's the best for him.

And you want the best for him.

But what about you?

woah. damn. my first time writing here, don't know how this site works and i hope to be doing everything right ><

#simon ghost riley #simon riley angst #light angst #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley angst #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost angst #ghost cod

[soapybutt17]

i have come to realize that i have a thing for not giving simon riley a happy ending...and i am not okay with that fact :/

#call of duty #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley fanfiction #simon riley angst #simon riley x you

[truetogaia]

just thinking and crying over the way simon would continue to refer to you as “his girl” even after your sudden passing.

he would talk about you as if you were still alive whenever relationships came up in conversation. and he’d be so reluctant to allow anyone, even his respected comrades, to try and comfort him.

“yeah, me n my girl have been together for years now. she’s everything. all i’ve got, ya know?”

he would make sure to always keep your resting place full of life. Whether that was by planting your favorite plant, and naming it after you, or always keeping it filled with bouquets of your favorite flowers. and he’d always take your beloved pet that you left behind to go see you.

“did you miss mommy, p/n? i bet our girl missed you so much.” and he’d smile sadly when your baby showed signs of recognizing your grave. his heavy hand petting it comfortingly “so excited to see her today, yeah?”

cod masterlist

#in my crying era #drabbles #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod ghost #ghost angst #simon riley angst #ghost x reader #cod angst #cod fluff #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff

[criminalamnesia]

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

#angst #simon riley x gn reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley angst #cod mw2 fic #cod x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #141!reader #ghost x gn reader #gn!reader #ghost x you #ghost angst #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost cod #johnny soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #john price #kyle garrick #john mactavish #mw2 141 #captain price

[tryingtoremembermyname]

my little princesses <3

#call of duty #CoD #mw2 #mw2 headcanons #modern warfare fanfiction #konig headcanons #konig x y/n #konig x reader #konig modern warfare #konig x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon riley imagine #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #konig mw2 #ghost mw2 #ghost mwii #mw2 imagine #konig call of duty #sub konig #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley reader

[sgtgarricks]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ your gentle hands are enough

simon riley x afab!reader cw: nsfw, angst kinda?, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, praise kink, creampie!!, reader referred as 'pet' like twice, smut with sadness, hurt/kinda comfort, mention of johnny's death, simon is scared of commitment :(, we still love him.

reblogs are immensely appreciated! <3

NEXT PART (HEA): i want your hands on me for all my life

notes: my first ever fic that i'm posting on this site !! feedback is appreciated ♡ dedicated to @rowarn for being lovely and entertaining my rambles!

You and Simon weren't exactly dating.

He visits you almost every night whenever he's in the city and he's always gone before you're out of bed. But you relish on the rare occasions that you're awake before him — the moments you get to brush your hand through the raised scars littered all across his face, the moments you get to tangle your fingers in his hair to hear his little grunts.

Simon Riley has rough hands, scarred and calloused from years in the battlefield. Yet when those hands are caressing your body softly, you know he's being unnecessarily gentle to not let you feel the roughness in his hands — as if he was trying to prevent all the hurt and pain he's inflicted with his fists from bleeding into you.

You pretend to have only just woken up, eyes blinking slowly trying to adjust to the sunlight filtering in through the blinds.

"Morning, Si."

"G'morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?" He places a warm palm on your hip, not fulling resting the weight of it.

"I always do when you're here." You raised your hand to his chest and feel his heart thumping steadily below you. His body always runs hot no matter the weather and it makes you nuzzle into him more during the bleak winter.

Silence engulfs the two of you, lulling you into a vulnerable state of bliss as you recall the events of last night.

You had barely opened the door for him last night before his hands were all over you, lips crashing onto yours as he kissed you with desperation. Strong hands working swiftly to remove your clothes gently as he pushed you towards the bedroom.

Simon was always gentle with you, but you've been with him long enough to know the difference between him missing you and him scared at the thought of missing you.

Instead of gently laying you down on the plush mattress, he pushed you with a little bit of force than usual.

"Simon!" You yelp. You must've been too distracted by him to fully notice that he was now fully naked below you.

He had a glint in his eye that let you know you were not going to be able to rest until he coaxed multiple orgasms from you.

His hand was constantly on your body, not wanting to go for a second without feeling your skin under his. Greedy kisses were peppered all across your collarbone that were now marked with the imprint of his teeth.

You knew Simon was trying to memorize every inch of your body, leave his marks on you because he was going to go back on deployment soon.

This realization is what snaps you out of your peaceful reverie. That your Simon is going to leave you soon.

The mere thought of having to see him leave your apartment in a few hours and not getting to see him for another week? Months?

It leaves a sour taste in your mouth that made you frown and turn your head away.

Simon, ever so vigilant, notices your downturned lips. He cups your chin and swivels it to face him. He nudges his nose with yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

You hate that he was playing dumb. Hates that he thinks you don't know his antics by now. Hates that he thinks you don't know him by now.

"You know why, Si." Pushing your hands on the plush bed, you rest your back on the headboard. You stare at Simon disapprovingly, upset that he's trying to pretend everything is fine.

He sighs heavily and run his hand through his hair, messing it up more than it already was.

"How do you know?" He finally lets out, still laying down on his side staring up at you.

You scoff at him. Maybe because you've seen him through his highs-and-lows. You've seen his little smirk at your antics. Listened to his stories intently as he fondly recalls memories with his squad mates.

But you've also seen him coming to you bloody, battered, bruised, and shaking as you stitched his back. You've seen him scare himself awake at night, dreaming about the last time he saw Johnny.

He chuckles when you stare at him pointedly and finally sits up. He waits for you to stop sulking for a few minutes, before sighing once more.

The bed creaks with his weight as he tries to stand up from it, turning towards the window. You know what's coming next and you are fully aware there's nothing you can do to stop him from going on deployment.

What you can do, is at least try to make him stay a little bit longer.

You crawl forward from your position, throwing both your arms around his wide torso — at least try to, he's way too wide for you to fully engulf him in your arms.

"Don't go."

Your lips are pressed against his back as you softly plead with him to not go. Simon takes both your arms in his hands and angles his upper body towards you. Slowly, you move up from your sprawled-out position and kneel in front of him.

"Please." You slowly pull away your arms from his grip. He reluctantly lets you go before you slowly wrap them behind his neck. You inch closer to him, slowly leaning down and kissing his neck.

Simon moans languidly, still groggy.

"You play dirty, love." He cups your behind, angling his neck upwards to give you more access.

"You love it."

"Being cheeky, are you?" You grin against his neck, biting down softly. Arching your neck subtly as Simon tugged on your hair.

These were truly the moments you truly enjoy the most. Not that you don't enjoy sleeping with him, you definitely do. But being able to love him freely in the daylight made it much more intimate.

You suspect it's why Simon always tried his best to leave before the sun came up.

You know Simon loves you, albeit in his own unique way. He's never been nothing but kind and gentle to you, always making sure you feel safe and taken care of with him. From locking your door with the spare key he has after he leaves, to making sure to take care of you after having sex — always gets up to clean any messes he had left on your body with gentle wipes and ending it with a soft kiss to your forehead.

Despite your numerous attempts to get him to open up about his past, he doesn't bite often. Though, you know some part of him wants nothing more than to tell you every single thing about himself when he speaks little snippets of his past.

He doesn't tell you anything overly upsetting, always keeping it minimal and with as little details of violence as possible.

Perhaps, his idea of a small mercy.

Maybe he thinks he's doing you a favor, giving you little bits of himself hoping you eventually realize how damaged he is. He doesn't understand how those flickers of vulnerability makes you hungrier for more of him. You wanted him, thorns and all.

Simon lets himself get roped back into your arms, all his muscles relaxed, no trace any tautness or rigidness lingering. He feels safe in your arms.

"How long Simon?" You finally ask, preparing for the worst.

Simon was mostly gone for around a month.

But on the rare times you couldn't see him for more than half a year, it was like hell. It hurt so deeply knowing even if he had been killed off somewhere, you might not even know. The only traces left of him would only be the few shirts he's let you take and the Simon-shaped hole he would have left in your heart.

It scared you that you could never be able to smell his earthy musk lingering in your sheets again, that it would fade one day and you wouldn't remember what it smelled like anymore.

"I dunno. More or less three months?"

You hated when he was vague. He was often trying to spare your feelings.

"So... more."

He nods with his face still hiding in your neck. You can feel him press his nose harder and inhale deeply.

Deep down, you feel crushed. You always do when he has to leave. You want to tell him how much you love him again, how much you need him, and you wanted him to say it back so badly.

You thought you had gotten so far with him, slowly breaking down his walls after getting him to start staying over instead of leaving. Something changed after he lost Johnny — he was more touchy, more clingy, but he never let you get any closer anymore. You could physically feel him wince if you told him you loved him during one of your vulnerable moments.

The first time you told him you loved him, he looked at you with a somber look. He didn't say anything, but he pulled you close and gave you a bone-crushing hug.

I'm sorry.

He gave different reactions every time. Some days he'd simply sigh and drag his fingers through your hair lovingly. On worse days, he'd shake his head and do nothing else.

It was like an impenetrable wall had suddenly appeared when it wasn't there before.

You take a deep breath. Simon has been nothing but gentle with fragile you. He's been trying his best to not taint the heart that you've freely ripped out of your chest for him.

Maybe this time, you can do something for him and let him go back without the weight of your love on his shoulder.

"Better make the most of it then, eh?" You pull back from him and hear a grunt of protest. You start pushing him until his back hit the headboard gently. Kissing your way down to his groin, you tug at his boxers impatiently.

"Sweetheart you don't have to-"

"I want to." You cut him off.

"Fuck. You're gonna be the death o' me, love." He lifts his hips and lets you drag his boxers down, revealing his semi-hardness.

God, his cock is so beautiful. It's so thick you could barely wrap both your hands around it even when he's not fully hard.

"I'll make sure to send you off gently with a kiss, Simon." Your mouth slowly engulfs the tip of his cock, licking all around it. Simon lets out a groan as he grabs your head gently.

"Oh, fuck. That's it, sweetheart. So sweet, being so good f' me." He encourages sweetly and it's enough to get you preening and moving your head excitedly down his length.

Just as you know his habits, Simon also knows what makes you tick. Getting praised by him almost always makes you putty in his hands and he makes sure to take advantage of this information to its full potential. He loves to praise you even for the smallest of things, such as cooking for him when he gets back.

Telling you how lovely you are and how he's thankful for you taking the time to cook for grumpy, old, Simon.

You continue taking more of his length in your mouth, gaggling slightly from the sheer size of him. You can taste the salty precum on your tongue and your eyes roll back from pleasure, taking him in more enthusiastically.

"Slow down, love. Don't want- ugh.. you t' hurt yourself." Simon tries to pull your head back to give you space, but you're not happy about it. You glare up at him best as you can before taking him down to the hilt.

Nose pressed deep, you can smell the slight tang of his musk, making you slightly delirious. You moan, sending vibrations up throughout his body.

Simon trembles with pleasure, groaning.

"Yeah, you like that sweetheart? Love choking on my cock? Hmm?"

At his words, you slowly take your mouth off of him, replacing it with your hands. Slick from your spit and his precum, your hand glides along his shaft easily as he bucks into your hand.

"Mhm.." You put your mouth on him once more, only pulling away to rub it all over your face. "Love it so much, Si. Love having your cock in my mouth. Can't live without it."

Simon admires you, cockdrunk on his leaking shaft. Even with his mess all over your face as you slobber on him, he thinks you look absolutely gorgeous.

Looking up at him, it's like you can see hearts in his eyes. You've been wet since the moment you woke up to him next to you, but him looking at you like you're the only person he wants to see on him makes you feel on top of the world.

Unable to take it anymore, you whine pathetically and start humping the bed.

Simon sees you writhing on the bed below him and chuckles as you continue kissing all over his cock.

"Look at you.. so needy, sweetheart. You don't need to hump the bed like a dog in heat. I'm right here, love." With that, he gently pulls you off his cock. You groan dismay, body going slightly limp from desperation.

"Need you so bad, Si." You beg him, tears starting to form in your eyes. You think you're going to crazy if he doesn't fuck you soon. He's about to leave soon for months and you're desperate for him to leave his mark on you.

Simon gently tuts and caresses your cheek. He's in awe of how he's got such a lovely, needy, pet wrapped around his finger. He hasn't had someone this devoted to him in a very long time — someone who's always excited to see him come home, someone who's never asked for him for more than what he can give.

Maybe it makes him a narcissist that he's happy of the fact that you're so desperately in love with him, you'd rather have parts of him than not at all.

But during early mornings where he'd find you sniffling into your pillow, he feels pain in his chest where his heart resides. He knows you cry over him.

He mourns the love that you two could have, but he'd rather mourn over the fantasy he's created in his head — the fantasy where he wasn't fucked up and is able to receive the kind of love you freely give, than have you be heartbroken when Simon inevitably doesn't come home one day.

"I got you, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good." He rumbles against your lips. In a split second, he'd managed to lay you out on the bed and now hovered above you.

He takes a moment to stare at your face. Wide-eyed, sweating, and panting heavily. He peppers kisses all over your face.

His little pet all worked up over sucking his cock.

He's staring at you for a few seconds, making you writhe around, but you never break his stare. It was as if the both of you were trying to commit each other's faces to memory right in this moment, not knowing when you were going to be able to see each other again.

You bring your hand up to his face, slightly wiping the sweat away from his eyes.

His eyes.

The moment he looked at you, you know you were done for. Those eyes never fail to send shivers through your whole body, as if your entire being was standing to attention when his eyes were on you.

"You're so pretty, Simon."

That seemed to break him out of his trance. He grunts slightly as if disagreeing with your statement. You sigh, knowing he's never going to see himself the way you see him.

That's okay. You'll spend as much time as he'll give you to convince him.

Simon kisses and caresses down your body as you moan from the feel of it. Teasing you with his lips and leaving small marks all over. When he gets to your thighs, he slowly raises both of them as he lightly rubs his scruffy chin on it.

"Lift those pretty legs f' me, hm?"

When you don't respond, he gently bites to get your attention and you huff. You grasp your bedsheets so tight your knuckles were going white when you feel his hot breath on you.

"Such a pretty pussy. Just for me, yeah?" He kisses your folds gently, the sensation of his scruff causing a prickly sensation, making you wail in pleasure.

"S-Simon!" You were so needy and sensitive — Simon loved that about you.

"So sensitive." He murmurs against your weeping pussy. He runs his finger across your folds, gathering the wetness. You look down at him as he tastes your wetness on his finger.

"Fuck, Simon."

"Mm, my favorite taste."

After a few moments of simply kissing all around your folds and your clit, Simon decides to stop teasing you. He presses his face in your folds and licks a stripe across it.

He repeats this action multiple times, sucking on your little bud in between. He rolls his finger around your clit as his mouth makes suckling noises. The sensation of his tongue and finger on you make you gasp loudly — your eyes rolling back.

You arch your back and don't stop chanting Simon's name like a prayer. Like he was going to disappear if you stopped calling his name.

"That's it. Let me hear what you want, pretty." He brings two of his fingers back inside your walls, lightly caressing them. He's teasing you, waiting for you to beg him to put his fingers inside of you. You break instantly, begging for him to use his thick fingers to please you.

"Please, Simon. Please, please, please. Need your fingers in me."

How could Simon deny you when you beg so sweetly?

Humming against you, he slowly sinks his fingers inside your aching walls. You sigh in contentment, unconsciously clenching on his fingers.

"Relax love, you're choking my fingers." You relax a bit at his words, trying to get your breathing back to normal. The death grip you

It seems that Simon had other ideas, because as soon as you loosened, his fingers started picking up. You start wailing again at his sudden shift in pace, grabbing his hand that was gripping your thigh.

His hand lets go of your thigh and entwines it with yours.

"Doing so good for me. You can take it, sweetheart. Be good and cum on my fingers, yeah?" At this point the both of you were panting heavily, his heavy cock still leaking precum onto the bedsheets. You didn't realize it before, but you're just now realizing how the bed is creaking from his hips.

Simon pants heavily, the room getting warmer by the second. His heavy groans makes your pussy throb around his fingers as you feel a pressure building in your lower belly.

"Si- please. So close."

Knowing you're close sends him over the edge, his tongue works faster and sloppier in tandem with his fingers. Simon moans and and your back starts to arch higher than before.

You're now making a mess on the bedsheets, wet noises can be heard loudly as it echoes throughout the entire room. You feel hot, sweaty, and suddenly everything's too much.

The lights are too bright, the noises too loud, and you feel so sensitive it burns.

"Simon, I-" You whine, legs starting to thrash as Simon pulled his fingers away to hold your legs. You feel your nerves lighting awake as you feel every single sensation as he sinks his tongue inside.

"Love you Si, love you so much. I'm—" Your body seizes and freezes for a moment and a little flick of his tongue against your bud makes you lose it. Your orgasm washes through you like a crashing wave, causing you to tremble in his hold and let out gasps as you struggle to breath normally and let your legs fall.

Simon lets you catch your breath as he lifts himself up, still hard. You rest your eyes on him and you see him lick his lips — his entire mouth and chin shiny with your slick.

He hovers above you once more, leaning down to give you a kiss. You reach up enthusiastically, pulling him down by his neck. He grunts at the sudden force as you slant your lips against his. It's messy, his lips slick with spit and yours with a small trace of drool. The kiss is desperate, teeth knocking into each other more than once.

It goes on for a while before Simon starts to pull back. Before he's successful, you wrap both your legs around his waist and Simon gasps at the sensation of his cock pressed against your slick.

"Need you inside, Simon. Want you in me." Murmuring against his lips, your hand desperately wanders down his sweaty body and grips his cock.

He lets out a grunt at the sudden warmth enveloping him and is unable to control as his hips involuntarily thrust forward.

"Yeah? You want my cock? Take it, sweetheart. It's all yours." He watches in a daze as you slowly align him with you. The moment he feels his tip rub on your slippery folds, he lets out a whimper.

"Please Si.." You whisper to him. "Wanna feel you inside me so bad." Simon coos at you, seeing you beg him to fuck you never fails to make his brain circuit for a few seconds.

He teases you a few seconds longer, just to hear you beg more for him. He begins to feel bad when you start humping the air in hopes of getting his head inside you.

You're babbling incoherently now, eyes closed, hands wandering all over Simon's body. He gives you mercy and starts to push inside your throbbing hole. It takes a bit of time, but when his head manages to push through, he's already able to feel your walls pulsate around him.

"Oh, sweetheart. So needy f' me." He's also barely coherent, his eyes focused on his cock deeper inside your tight hole. "What are you gonna do when I'm gone, hm? Who's gonna fuck you this good?" Simon barely realizes what he's saying until he's spoken them. The thought of someone else fucking you when he's gone lights a fire inside him.

"Oh, fuck." His cock is fully in you now and you can feel every vein pulsating inside of you. Your hands are gripping Simon harder, possibly leaving red marks all over his body — you relish in the thought of Simon looking in the mirror and seeing the marks you left on him. "No one, Si. No one's gonna fuck me as good as you. Don' want you to go. Want you here with me." Your mouth hangs open uselessly, overwhelmed with the pressure of Simon in you.

Hearing you admit so openly you weren't going to fuck anyone else drives Simon even crazier. You realize now how much of an impact your words have on Simon when he starts pounding your poor pussy that was still sensitive.

"Yeah? That's right, sweetheart. No one can fuck you like I can." It takes him a few seconds to get his words out, huffing above you. You can barely hear what he's saying, ears ringing from the blinding white, hot pleasure coursing through your entire body. Your hands try gripping him as long as you can but his thrusts are causing your body to jostle relentlessly, and now your arms flail helplessly before holding onto the headboard.

Simon is no longer on his forearm, his head resting in the crook of your neck as his hands grip your waist. You're sure his hands are going to leave prints in the morning from how hard he's gripping you.

You don't mind at all.

Your brain feels foggy, only speaking Simon's name over and over again. Simon's no better than you, grunting and groaning at every thrust that leads him deeper into your hole.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He moans. "So good for me, so sweet for me." Your legs no longer have the energy to stay corded behind his back, limping helplessly beside you as Simon fucks you.

You feel another orgasm creeping up on you as your walls begin to clench around Simon's cock. Simon hisses at the feeling, leaning up to look at your cream gathering at the base of him. He looks up to the ceiling, gasping in pleasure.

"Si, I'm so close, I-" He brings his head down to give you a chaste kiss before pulling away, nose touching yours and staring into your eyes.

"Let go f' me, sweetheart. Gonna cum on my cock and be good?" He coaxes you, one of his hands going to your face. You don't even realize you're crying until Simon wipes your tears away.

You can't take it anymore, the loving look in his eyes and feeling him inside you breaks you.

"Love you so much, Si. I love you so fucking much." You cry out to him as you're finally sent over the edge. You wail loudly, back arching as Simon continues to thrust at a slower pace, going deeper than before.

"God, fuck. I love you, I love you. Fuck." He continues to mumble against your neck. Your jaw goes slack and another orgasm seizes your body as you clench and gush all over him.

His thighs are drenched from your slick and when he feels your walls pulsing repeatedly over him, he feels shivers all over his body and he cums.

The blinding pleasure takes him off guard, thighs shaking from the sheer force. He continues thrusting shallowly, dragging out his orgasm as his cum fills up your hole to the brim.

He gasps and bites down on your neck, not stopping until he's fully come down from his high.

You're shell shocked, one hand over your eyes as you thinking about what just transpired. This was nothing like before. He'd never said 'I love you', ever. You take a moment to regain your thoughts, heart thumping wildly.

By this point, your hopes had soared like never before, the small part of you that still believes you can have something with Simon begins crawling out of you — coming back alive.

"Si-" You start as you catch your breath and lift your head slightly to look at him.

"Sorry." He mumbles lifting himself from your body, plopping himself on the pillow beside you.

There's nothing but silence for a few minutes. A part of you wants nothing more than to confront him, get him to face his feelings. But you know Simon and that if you did that, he'd panic.

So, you wait. And wait. And wait.

Until he coughs.

"I have to go. Supposed to meet the boys in an hour." He grumbles, fumbling around to get himself off the bed and find his clothes.

Your heart breaks. Was he really going to go away for a few months without talking about what just happened? You had to make a choice. Either speak now or forever hold your peace.

"Simon." You speak with such a finality in your tone that it renders Simon frozen. He pauses putting his pants back on and stares up at you, terrified.

"I love you." You say, loud and clear. You've told him you loved him in the throes of passion and in the sleepy haze of early mornings, but never when both of you were wide awake. Like a secret that's only meant to be whispered so as to not let it get snuffed out.

You see his eyes widen for a fraction of a second. He seems to debate what he wants to say. You badly wish for him to just say something, anything at all.

He doesn't.

Simon continues to put on his pants and slip his shirt over his head. Once he finally gains the courage to look at you once more, he had to clear his throat. The forlorn look on your face would haunt him until the day he dies.

He knows you love him so deeply and honestly, that there was no questioning your devotion to him. He knows that you feel for him so deeply, you'd rather hurt yourself over and over than let him go.

But he's also once harbored care and affection to someone, fighting side-by-side with someone he thought was going to never stop speaking gibberish in his ear.

If Simon almost couldn't survive losing Johnny, there was no way you were going to survive losing him.

With his heart in his throat, Simon stares at you, fighting back tears that threaten to escape. God, he wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you and tell you he loves you more than anything in this world. That he'd fight through any battlefield with broken limbs just to come home to you. But he knows he can't give you that promise. That promise that he's going to die of old age with you.

He expects you to cry or scream, but nothing in the world would be able to heal the way Simon's heart breaks when you only give him a sad smile.

"That's okay. I know you're not selfish enough to love me back."

He knows he should just leave, but he can't help himself from hurting you once more. Simon steps forward, cradles your head in his hands and lay a kiss atop your head.

And then, he leaves.

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod x reader #simon riley angst #simon ghost riley angst #cod ghost x reader #sgtales

[qwimchii]

𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 (𝘱𝘵 2) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘤 — 3k

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵(?)

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘥𝘰𝘮-𝘪𝘴𝘩!𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘷, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘴, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢, 𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘺 & 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 😵‍💫

note: not proofread... pls excuse any shitty grammar 🥲

pt 1, pt 3

Simon held you to his promises. he held pinned your leg up while he fucked you through another earth splitting orgasm on his fingers, long and thick and stretching you with a careful practiced hand. prying your thighs wide open with a tight grip, warm strong chest right at your back and his deep voice in your ear.

“like this, luvie? still want more?”

when you had whined, rolling your hips down onto the curl of his big fingers, he had praised you. praise, praise, praise—you couldn’t get enough of the sweet words he whispered against the shell of your ear, lips warm and soft.

“good girl. so, so good. c’mon, i need to see you cum, pretty girl.”

in reply, you had raked your hand over the muscle of his forearms, drinking in the sight of his full sleeve of dark ink with a heady greediness as you keened and whined his name.

then, when you soaked his hand in a thick ooze of your juices, he had sucked them off his own hand like they were the sweetest thing in the world.

“where do you wanna be when i fuck you, baby?” he asked with a mouthful of fingers, voice rough but sweet all at once.

“under you,” you whispered weakly, letting him manhandle you into the blankets, legs lolled out as he pushed them up and all pliant from the double orgasmic bliss hanging over you like a hazy cloud.

he leaned down to swirl his tongue around your sensitive nipples till your hands were in his hair, begging and pleading for more.

you watched him slide off the bed, dark gaze still on you as he unbuckled his belt, nothing in the room but your shallow breath and the metal clicks and rustles as he kicked off his pants, prowling back onto the bed with a tight looking pair of boxers that were stained with a dark patch around his strained cock.

impatient, you hooked a thumb into the waist of them but he pinned your hand above your head with a low grunted warning, stooping down to run his nose over the skin of your collarbones and neck, licking over your skin.

“eager?”

you nodded quickly, spreading your thighs a bit wider for him as he nestled between your legs, impatience only growing when he kept sucking at your neck and jaw.

finally, after what felt like forever, he shifted back, admiring the spit and slick over your skin and the light pink marks over your collarbones before pushing down his boxers, thick and veiny cock springing up against his stomach.

you moaned softly at the sight, resisting the urge to paw at the aching tension between your thighs. he kicked his boxers off somewhere so that they landed on the floor and then he leaned over you, knuckles braced against the bed beside your head.

“ready, baby?” he asked, low and throaty as he picked up a hand to cup your cheek softly, rubbing his thumb over your lips before hooking it inside so that it pressed firmly against your tongue.

you could only hum, wrapping your lips around his thumb and sucking on it, satisfied when you drew a gentle groan from the back of Simon’s throat.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he rasped, reaching down to pump his cock a couple times before lining up against your entrance.

after a bated breath, you felt a familiar, pleasurable stretch, back arching at the sensation as he pushed the leaking head of his cock in slowly, grip tight on your hips and his breath shallow.

once he was seated fully inside, pushing your thighs up so you could hook them around your waist, hips flush to your ass, he leaned down to pepper more kisses over your chest and tits as he ground into your heat.

you whined, hands snaking into his hair and pulling. 

“move please,” you squeaked, eyes pricking with tears at how delicious the head of his cock felt rubbing against that sweet spot inside you, how sensitive you were after two orgasms.

“patience, baby,” he whispered, nose brushing over your own and black pupils blow-wide gazing down at you, blonde lashes looking long and full in the dim light. 

you crept your fingers to the base of his head, pushing him down to your lips, humming when he easily complied. his lips enveloped your own, soft, warm, and wet when his tongue slid along yours. you would’ve got lost in it if he didn’t lift his hips and roll them back down, sliding against the gummy, textured walls of your cunt.

the movement left you breathless and wanting, fingers tracing from his hair to his muscled, broad shoulders as you dug your nails into the flesh. he practically growled into your mouth, fucking you with a slow, sensual intensity that left you squirming beneath him.

the dark hair littered along his navel brushed over your clit when every thrust, and his lips trailed down to clasp onto your swollen nipples, pinning you down to the bed with his large hands wrapped around your forearms. pinning down so you couldn’t do anything but squirm.

“what a perfect little pussy,” he grunted against your skin, the blatant praise making your face heat up. “finally got you exactly where i want you.”

the words were so hushed that you almost missed them, but the sparking ache deep in your tummy clutched onto his words, a spasm going through your core at the prospect that Simon had you trapped exactly where he wanted you���squirming beneath him, unable to move, unable to do anything as you just took every inch of his big cock.

“just take it, pretty,” he whispered into your ear, and you whined, bucking your hips up in time with his own thrusts so the hair at his naval rubbed against your clit harder.

“Simon,” you warned, shocked at the pleasure rippling through you.

his shifted, towering above you as he fucked you just a bit faster, those deep, rolling, slow thrusts pushing you closer and closer to a chasmic edge. the pinched look of concentration on his face—intense and clouding his eyes, jaw clenched and sharp in the dim light—sent another spasm through you.

“gonna cum on my cock?” he asked in a heady, rough tone. there was a ghost of a smirk gracing his lips that twisted the heat in your tummy harder.

“mhmm,” you squeaked, squirming in his immovable grasp. 

“s’okay,” he whispered, leaning down to peck your forehead. “you can do it. let go for me, baby.”

the twitchy ache of your clit was brushing against his naval and the way he was fucking you so slow and sensual and not even chasing his own pleasure and leaving you a writhing, overstimulated mess beneath him—

you came all over his cock, spasming tight around him as you moaned out, breathy and whiny as he fucked you through it, murmuring sweet little praises in your ear as a dreamy white haze blanketed your mind.

you were lost in the sheets, body leaden and soft as you sunk down into the mattress, barely registering his gentle touch against your skin until the rough pads of his fingers were rubbing against your clit.

you jolted up with a gasp, snatching his wrist to push his hand away, overstimulated and oversensitive and—

“alright, sweet thing?” he asked softly, kissing your cheek.

you whined, pushing at his hand, but he was just so much stronger than you. “Simon, please—”

“shh,” he hushed, slowly pulling out of you without a warning, a raw gasp torn from your throat.

you felt empty and cold without the warmth of him as he sat back, a thin sheen of sweat making the muscles of his stomach gleam in the low light. you looked further down, seeing a creamy white coating over his swollen cock, flushed tip leaking pearls of precum.

whimpering, you crawled forward as best as your limp body could move, eyes darting to his as your lips parted, tongue swiping along your lower lip as a silent offering to take your mouth as well.

but he just pushed you back to the bed, rolling you so your cheek was pressed to the mattress, hands braced against the bed as he arched your ass up just a little so your tummy was still against the sheets.

“how does this feel?” he whispered, and you shivered when you felt a finger trace down your spine, stopping just above your ass.

“good,” you whimpered, craning your neck to look at him from over your shoulder.

the look on his face was insatiable. almost unrecognizable as he stared at you in the position, muttering a low curse and then something like pretty as he swung a leg over the back of your thighs, cock pushing up right between your asscheeks.

you whined, reaching back to grip at his meaty thigh, willing him to move—to do something even if your body was still twitched with sensitivity.

“you sure?” he asked, smoothing a hand over your ass and cupping it lightly before squeezing.

you yelped, jolting forward, but his weight on the back of your thighs caged you down to the mattress.

“think you can cum again?” he pressed on, groping your ass now.

you nodded against the sheets.

“words, luvie.”

“yes,” you whispered, nose wrinkling up with embarrassment. he leaned down to kiss your shoulder. you felt the sticky tip of his cock press against the tight rim of your swollen cunt.

“still gonna bake me those brownies if you do?”

he slowly pushed in, your little laugh cleaved by a pitched whine as you pressed back against him so he bottomed out with a wet smack against your ass.

“hm?” his pinched the fat of your ass gently and you squirmed.

“yeah, anything,” you gasped against the sheets, wanting him to just move already.

“anythin’?” he probed, sounding almost bored as he continued to just massage your ass.

you were about to send him a confused look over your shoulder when there was a light smack and an acute sting in your asscheek, ripping a loud moan from your throat. the sting turned into tingles of pleasure.

“Simon?” you gasped, feeling high and delirious when his hips pulled back and snapped into your ass, his grip on the flesh borderline possessive as he started fucking you. faster now. rougher than before.

“what is it, baby?” he asked, voice deceptively soft and even when he smacked your ass again, lighter this time, almost affectionate as the sting dispersed over your body in a shower of tingles, pricking heavy tears up in your eyes.

“s’good,” you admitted, the tears spilling from your eyes when you jolted as another smack came down on your other asscheek. 

“yeah?” his voice was breathy—less even when it was pressed right against your ear. 

you searched behind your shoulder for him, making contact with the soft skin of his shoulder and something mottled beneath your fingertips, a scar perhaps, when he caught your wrists and pressed them beside your head. he pinned you beneath him as he fucked you down into the mattress, your swollen clit brushing against the sheets with every thrust.

“your ex fuck you this good, sweet thing?” his tone was throaty, aggressive, bordering on something dangerous and lustful and possessive. it sent your mind reeling.

“never,” you admitted, more tears spilling from your eyes when your eyelids drooped shut, just taking his rough fucking like the good girl you were and loving every second of it.

“ever since i first saw you,” he rasped, breath shallow and fast as his hips slammed into your ass, “wanted to fuck this sweet pussy.”

a raw moan was ripped from your throat, your cunt throbbing around his thick length stretching you wide open.

“bakin’ me sweet things. such a sweet girl. donating to vets n’shit. fuck.”

that spongy spot deep within you throbbed with a wild, pulsing need. 

“my own soft ‘nd pretty little housewife.”

at that, the tight coil in your tummy snapped and you were coming around his length, your fourth orgasm tearing through you like a blazing wildfire, sweeping you away somewhere delicious and sweet and distant. you were faintly aware of the tears staining your cheeks and his soft whispers in your ear.

“such a good girl. my good girl. mine.”

shaking with overstimulation, his rough thrusts suddenly overwhelmed you, twitchy clit brushing against the mattress stringing you through razor sharp sensations. little whines and whimpers falling from your mouth, he gently shushed you, reaching down with a strong arm to bind around your waist, pulling your hips up from the mattress as he continued to rut into you.

“shh, shh, s'okay. you can take it.”

and you could. wanted to, for the first time in a long time. wanted to please him not just for him but to please yourself—because his pleasure melded into your own and it was submerging you into overwhelming waves of pleasure, half-begging him to just fill you up already.

“please Simon,” you gasped, feeling him smile against the nape of your neck.

you jolted when his arm bound around your waist snuck down, fingers rubbing at your clit as he grunted in your ear, blurring into slurred groans as he reeled closer to an edge. just the sound of him so close and needy and desperate for it had you coming all over again, ripping you through an orgasm that you didn’t even know you were approaching.

soon after, he was spilling into you with a low tortured groan, face pressed into your neck as a slimy, hot liquid rushed into your womb. it filled you, leaving you full and satiated when he collapsed to the bed, practically crushing you beneath him as you both fought to catch your breaths.

after some more silent moments in the dark, you felt Simon’s hand stroking at your hair, returning soft and sweet just as he had been at the start of the night.

“gonna pull out now,” he warned, and you just nodded, feeling sleepy as he clambered to his hands, sliding out his softening cock inch by inch until you were empty, save for the gooey mix of cum and saliva and ooze between your thighs.

you didn’t bother to move, just laid limp against the bed as you heard him moving around behind you, grabbing something from your nightstand as he gently lifted your leg. 

a tissue, you realized, as he wiped your skin free of most slimy debris.

“alright, luvie?”

you nodded. his warm hands were at your back, smoothing over your back and sore ass before he was gently turning you over to your side. you met eyes with him from where he sat at the edge of the bed, gaze dark and softened in the dim light.

“you sure?” he probed, thumbing over your tear stained cheek.

“yeah,” you croaked, lazily lifting a hand to touch his back, broad and adorned with a few scars before you. 

you ran your fingers over a textured one, fingertips tracing lower. you gasped when you spotted a green and yellow mottled bruise over his lower back. about the size of a peach. you ran your fingers over it.

eyes flitting up to his in question, he twisted around, clambering into bed beside you.

he pulled you flush into his bigger, muscled form that easily swallowed you up, warm and strong and the steady swell of his chest right by your ear.

“compliments of the job,” he explained.

his fingertips spidered over your throat and down to your sore breasts.

“will you be leaving again soon?” you asked, craning your head to look up at him.

he stared at you for a long moment. “not for two weeks.”

you nodded. two weeks was all you would need.

“stay with me,” you offered, voice soft and open. you could only hope it didn’t sound half as desperate as you felt.

his brows rose slightly. “m’only just across the hall.”

at that, you blushed, feeling sheepish as you gazed up at him. “i just mean that…”

you didn’t know what to say. what you said was exactly what you meant. and looking up into his strong, honest gaze, you couldn’t force your way through a bluff.

“i’ll bake for you every day,” you promised, biting down a smile when he grinned, wide and sort of wolfish.

he leaned down, crushing you to his chest as he peppered kisses across your cheek.

“in that case…” he whispered, low and sultry by your ear as his other hand ducked down to your naval, creeping closer to your cunt.

with a choked guffaw, you squirmed away from him, relishing in the way he laughed—silent and suppressed. but looking over at the way his shoulders shook, hiding his face behind a palm pressed to his eyes, it was laughter nonetheless.

“don’t start, Riley,” you chided him, weaseling your way beneath the covers and turning so your back was to him.

“no first name basis?” you could feel him prod at your shoulder.

“maybe if you sleep with me,” you said, letting your eyes close.

he slid into the blankets behind you, curling a strong arm around your waist—the inked one, you noticed with a quiet giddiness—and tugging so that you were against his bare chest. his sigh, low and rumbled, spread a tingle through your back.

“no brownies either?” he asked, sleepy and raspy by your ear.

you hummed. “in the morning.”

with a gentle grip, he turned your chin so that you could see his face. just one of his eyes was cracked open, peering down at you and then your lips. you craned up to kiss him, soft and sweet and slow. so slow it felt like you were melting. so slow your heart was bursting with warmth.

“in the morning,” he confirmed against your lips, laxing back down to the bed and curling around you—a strong, protective force at your back that coaxed you into a sweet sleep, his soft breath by your ear, and even sweeter words on his tongue.

“i missed you, sweet thing.”

taglist: @ivybeeloved @rayamaya

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost smut #ghost angst #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst

[simonrileysfavteacup]

The Scare

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gf!reader

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: Angst (ooooo, my first time writing angst), comfort, break in, attempted kidnapping, simon in ghost mode, graves being a pussy, simon being a good bf

Summary: You thought it was Simon, he had come home early from his mission, but there were 2 pairs of footsteps walking around your home.

Everyone knew Lieutenant Riley was cold. He was ruthless, cruel, heartless, and so much more. 

But there was one thing that made him soft. One person. 

You. 

Barely anyone knew that the Lieutenant had picked himself up a hot little thing and managed to keep her. The two of you had been together for 3 years now and he was so close to proposing. He was ready to spend his life with you. He was ready to make you his and give you his last name. 

But what happens when someone who shouldn’t know about you finds out about you?

***

Graves knew. Somehow he knew. He mentioned your name to Simon, “Ghost, that is not nice. How would your pretty little (Y/N) think of that?”

Simon shivered. 

And then he realised. 

Graves was coming for you.

***

You were curled up in bed, music playing in the background as you read one of your favourite romance books Simon had bought you. The lights were off, a single three-wick Bath and Body Works candle on your bedside table. It was peaceful. Cosy. 

You were on the 15th chapter before you head footsteps and your front door opening. 

Simon isn’t supposed to be home yet.

You check your phone. 

Simon would’ve messaged if he was coming home.

There was no message. And he wouldn’t surprise you like this. 

You sit up, turning off the music. The footsteps are doubled. There’s two people. 

Simon wouldn’t come home with someone else. This wasn’t Simon walking around your apartment. 

With trembling hands, you reach for Simon’s hidden knife, concealed under his side of the bed. You clutch in it a sweaty palm, silent praying that the person walking around your apartment is a friend, not a foe. The footsteps get closer. You take a deep breath.

The doorknob jiggles. Your anxiety skyrockets. There’s murmurs before a foot hits the door. 

1 kick…

2 kicks…

3 kicks before the door finally busts open, shattering the lock. 2 men, dressed in black military uniform, hold up their guns to aim for your head. You suck in a breath. 

“That her?” The first man asks. 

“Think so. She fits the description,” the other one responds.

You shiver. They barely acknowledge you as they speak. 

One of them steps closer to you, reaching for the knife in your hand. You strike, stabbing his wrist through the jacket he wears. He yells, “Bitch stabbed me!”

He pushes you, reaching down to grab his wrist, pulling out the knife. The other one walks over while you’re distracted, talking a hold of your arms and tying them behind your back. You yell before you hear the sound of duct tape ripping. Within seconds, there’s a piece over your mouth. You try to yell. No use.

They begin to speak to each other fast, so fast you can barely catch their words. 

Help me…

The one you stabbed wraps up his wrist with a cloth, before picking up your legs. The other picks up your torso. 

You thrash around in their arms, trying to get free as you kick the one you stabbed, He holds your feet together with one hand, barking out a quick, “Stop it!”

He has an American accent, you notice. They carry you out of your bedroom as you continue to thrash around. They almost make it to the front door. 

But the door is wide open. And in the door frame stands a tree of a man, face covered by a mask of a skull. 

Simon…

Your eyes fill with tears of joy. 

Simon’s eyes are as dark as the night as he stares at the scene. 

The men immediately drop you, making you hit your head on the floor, a cry of pain dropping from your lips. Your vision goes blurry as you hear Simon step closer, fists clenched. 

You roll over onto your side, trying to get your hands out of their bonds, trying to grab your head to ease the pain. You suck in a sharp breath. Your vision stays blurry, barely making out the black blobs fighting in front of you. 

From the blobs you see, the one with the mask is bigger. And he’s winning. 

You think… 

One of the men drop down next to you, a new red blob on the ground making it’s way into your vision. You count to fifteen before the other man drops down too. 

You count to eight before you feel a hand pull the duct tape off your mouth. You let out a loud sob of relief. Simon…

He unties your wrists, gently massaging them as you roll over again, grabbing your head. You close your eyes as you let out cries of pain. 

It hurts. Your wrists hurt. Your mouth hurts. 

But the pain in your head is indescribable. It shoots from the back to the front, meeting at the centre of your forehead. It shoots back. And then back to the front again. And back again. And front again. And over and over. 

You can barely hear your cries anymore over the feeling of pain. 

A pair of arms pick you up bridal style, as if you weigh nothing. The black blob holding you takes you to the bedroom, setting you down on the bed. The blob walks away again. 

You count to thirty before it-he-returns, holding an ice pack, a glass of water, and a few advil pills. He sits on the edge of the bed, setting down the items. 

He takes off his mask, vest, gear, and everything else until nothing remains but a shirt and his tactical pants. Simon tips up your chin, placing one of the pills on your tongue, pushing it back with some water. “Swallow.”

You do as he says. 

A deep exhale leaves your body. 

He presses the ice pack to your head. “How bad is i’? Do I need to call a’ ambulance?” 

“N-no…” you blink back tears.

“You sure, lovie? ‘t was a bad fall,” he sighs, smiling sadly at you. “‘m so sorry ‘is happened to ya. Ya are the most important thin’ to me and Graves, bitch that ‘e is, took advantage of tha’. Soap and Gaz ‘re in the kitchen, gettin’ rid of the garbage. Tol’ them not to come in ‘ere. Ya need rest, okay? Bu’ don’ fall ‘sleep, ya migh’ have a concussion.” 

You nod to the best of your ability. He takes a hold of your hand, kissing your wrist. “‘M so so so sorry. Ya didn’ deserve ‘hat, okay? Ya so perfec’ and special to me…”

He looks down at the bloody knife on the ground.

“Ya try to protec’ yourself?” You nod in response to his words. “Good girl. Ya atleas’ did some damage…slowed them down enough jus’ in time for me to get ‘ere.” 

“Ho-how did you know I w-was in…” you don’t bother to finish your sentence. 

“Graves sai’ ya name to me. I took a guess ‘e was gone go for ya. Rushed here with the other three. They gone go on the mission without me. Need to stay ‘ere, make sure ya okay.” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead. You smile, softly. 

“Thank you…Si…” you nod. “For everything.”

“Always gone be there to save ya,” He nods. “When ya get bette’, I gone teach ya how to properly use that knife…and a few more things, just in case.”

“Sounds good, Si,” you hold back a giggle. 

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley cod #simon riley #ghost imagine #ghost call of duty #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #cod ghost

[peppermint-toads]

you watched a stray water droplet run down simon’s bicep, and you craned your head to the side, licking it up off of his skin.

he pressed his whole palm onto your wet cheek, smushing his thumb over it with a heavy pressure.

you were so tired from crying. your lips and eyes and face were all puffy. your entire face felt raw and red.

simon had sweetly coaxed you into the bathroom, turning the water on as hot as it could go so the steam could start to clear your stuffy head. he’d pulled you down into the bath after him, settling you between his legs and letting you rest against his chest.

he shushed you and stroked your hair until your chest stopped hitching and breathing calmed down.

“bad day?”

“yeah,” you sniffed, your chest starting to heaven again.

“shhh, shhhh, we don’t have to talk about it. not now.”

you just nodded into him. breathing in and out. that’s all you needed to think about.

the world had gotten to you that day. simon had come home safe from another deployment that week, and you just felt overwhelmed by all the possibilities that didn’t even happen.

you were his tough girl. he took pride in the fact that you could handle it, handle him. but sometimes you just needed to be soft.

you always felt so guilty, crying in front of simon. he went through enough, and it was selfish of you to react to his safety of all things like this.

you turned to face him as much as you could in the confines of the tub, placing both of your hands on either side of his face.

“you’re really here?”

he smiled softly. you stared at the thin sheen of perspiration that glistened on his face from the thick air in the bathroom.

he hummed and you could feel it rumble in his chest.

“you’re stuck with me.”

he was just trying to lighten your mood, but those words meant everything to you. you took a shuddery deep breath and nodded quickly, assuring yourself that it was true.

#yet another convo leading up to simon’s retirement from active duty #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #simon ghost riley fluff #simon ghost riley angst #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #ghost x reader

[romanticintheory]

thinking about simon riley being betrayed by reader.

simon "ghost" riley x reader

-when you first joined the task force, you were a breath of fresh air.

-you were extremely good at what you did and had great chemistry with everyone. even simon.

-kyle loved having you as his new training buddy. the two of you found that your music tastes surprisingly overlapped, so you'd often share playlists with each other.

-johnny was, as always, excited to have someone new to banter with. if he had to take a shot for every time you made him laugh, he'd probably be dead from alcohol poisoning.

-john was relieved seeing you integrate so well into his team. it was like introducing a new puppy to three of his own. when laswell sat him down and introduced your file, a little barren compared to the others (save for simon) but with a raving review from the woman herself, he was curious to see your character.

-and even if he didn't show it, simon was the most grateful for your arrival. there was just an unspoken level of understanding between the two of you.

-one day, you're kneeling next to him on the floor trying to put pressure on his wound and keep him alive long enough for help to arrive. you didn't know each other extremely well, but you seemed so upset. he couldn't imagine why.

-"hey, now, don't go quiet on me, lt," you said in an almost begging tone.

-"you must not know me well," he replied, fighting groans from the pain.

-you ignore his attempt at amusing you. "tell me something," you order, voice starting to crack.

-so, he did. maybe it was the fact that he was lightheaded from the blood loss and half delusional, or maybe it was that he wanted to feel closer to you, but he ended up telling you about his family. he talked about the monster of a man his father was, how he learned to throw him out and take care of his family, and how not even that had a happy ending.

-by the end of it, there was a voice on the other end of your radio telling you they were less than a minute away from help. you slipped your hand into his and told him, "if you can survive that, you can survive this."

-it wasn't until after he recovered that he found out you had your own stab wound to take care of. why you completely disregarded it in favor of his, he'll never know.

-ever since, there was a change in the air between you two. fleeting glances, lingering touches, warm faces. it got even worse when you confessed your feelings to each other, and johnny made sure to be as obnoxious about it as possible.

-for a long time before you, simon felt a kind of loneliness within him. sure, the rest of the team was good company and he'd trust them with his life, but you seemed to do more than just break down his walls. somehow, you seeped through the cracks in his heart and made a home of it. that's why he is so surprised when everyone is taken prisoner except you after an unexpected ambush.

-the surprise eventually turns into something worse.

-there's a blinding rage surging in his veins and an icy coldness in his heart when he catches a glimpse of you acting buddy-buddy with the enemy.

-you're called a name he had never heard before, "(y/n) (l/n)," and being congratulated on your return.

-"knew you'd never disappoint us! and four of 'em, too!"

-how could you to this to them? to him?

-he spends the next excruciatingly long hours as a prisoner with no sleep. the only thing on his mind is wondering what went wrong. what did he miss? what could he have done differently? for a second, he wants to think about how he'd get vengeance on you, but he couldn't. his mind wouldn't let him, and he cursed himself for it. were you that good at manipulation? at seducing him with your supposed love and humanity that, even now, he can't think of you with ill intent without that sour feeling in his chest haunting him?

-he thinks he's hallucinating when he sees you standing at the now unlocked door to his cell with the rest of the task force standing behind you. you speak in a quick, hushed whisper, as if there was barely any time to even say a single word.

-"you'll have to be quick if you want to get out of here."

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod imagine #cod mw x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #cod angst #call of duty angst #simon riley angst #ghost angst #rarawrites

[zorobraun]

dry humping simon but he’s tired :)

“hey, gorgeous.” simon says in a low tone, feeling too tired to even want to raise his voice to tell you that he’s back. he’s a workaholic, so it’s his fault that he’s feeling worn out. “hi, handsome.” you walk towards him with a smile, but he’s more quick to sit on the couch and pull you onto his lap. you chuckle quietly, wrapping your arms around his neck. you place a sweet kiss on his lips. “worked too much, huh?” you ask, caressing his cheek. he smiles softly, adjusting his position on the couch. he didn’t do it to tease you, but you’re feeling teased regardless.

“mhm.” simon mumbles with a tired sigh. he’s not even holding your waist, since he’s resting his head on his arms. he’s just breathing calmly as he stares at you with heavy eyes. you raise an eyebrow at him, noticing how distant he seems to be. he does look good, though. he’s in his usual work clothes: white shirt with sleeves rolled up to his forearms, grey dress pants, black belt. simon looks always a bit too hot when he’s wearing this combo, that’s why the two of you always fuck when he comes back from work. tonight seems to be an exception.

he notices your empty gaze on him, as if you’re waiting for him to come back to earth. “i’m beat, angel.” simon admits with a low chuckle. he sighs again, still not touching you whatsoever. “i’m sorry.” he adds with a half smile, closing his eyes for a second. you kiss his cheek, as if you’re telling him that it’s okay. “how was your day?” he breaks the silence, almost in a whisper. he’s looking at you with a genuine curiosity. a genuine care. simon finally moves one of his hands to your cheek, stroking it softly. you give him a half smile, your hands massaging his broad but tense shoulders.

he starts shaking his leg out of stress and anxiety while he’s waiting for your response. you should feel bad for him, but he’s involuntarily rubbing his thigh against you, making your body twitch in arousal with the action. your tense thighs around his bring him back to the present moment, making him sigh quietly with a slight smirk when he notices what’s going on. simon immediately stops shaking his leg, so you can settle down. “my day was…” you lick your lips, trying to focus. fuck it. you place a kiss on his neck as you grind yourself on him in a subtle, slow way, just to see if he’s in the mood or not. you don’t want to push it, obviously.

simon sighs heavily, the hand that was on your cheek goes down on your hips, squeezing it gently. you grind against his thigh again, this time you lick his neck before biting it softly. “my day was alright. i basically worked my ass off and thought about you. that’s all.” you say in a breathy chuckle next to his ear, making him sigh in pleasure again. “oh, yeah?” he pretends to be shocked as he starts moving your hips against him in a less slow pace. you bite your lip to hold back a moan, nodding stupidly. “tell me more…” simon says in a low, breathy tone. you keep looking into his tired eyes. he leans in to kiss you slowly, using his tongue to make you even more breathless.

his hand leaves your hips to wrap around your neck gently, pulling you even more close to him. “are you deaf, sweet girl? i believe i told you to tell me more about it.” simon breaks the kiss to mock at you in a low, serious tone. his lips are almost touching yours. you’re breathing heavily as you roll your eyes. “i-i don’t remember, baby. just let me do this…” you mutter as you keep grinding a bit harder against him. simon groans quietly, looking down at the mess you’re making on his work pants. he just now realized that you’ve been wearing nothing but his t-shirt and your black laced panties all along. he smirks, freeing your neck from his grip as he grabs the hem of the shirt to pull it slightly up, taking a good look at you.

“you’re so spoiled, princess. maybe i should stop fucking you every night after work, it’s messing with your head.” he mumbles in a strangled tone, still staring at the trace of wetness on his pants. you bite your lip to hold back your moans, but they end up dripping from your glossy lips like honey. he chuckles. “you know i’ll always give you the attention that you deserve, right? so keep grinding on me like this…” simon’s tone is gentle as he kisses your cheek, resting his head on both of his arms again, letting you do all the work. suddenly, you get shy, so you kiss him to make him stop looking at you.

simon quickly breaks the kiss to laugh at you. “come on, sweetheart, cum on me. i’m tired.” he rushes you and you almost open your mouth in disbelief. “i-i’m doing this for you.” you reply, a bit offended. he raises an eyebrow, laughing again, clearly mocking at you. “you’re so cute when you lie, babe. you know damn well that you’re doing this for your pleasure, only. you don’t give a fuck if i’m tired or not, you’re just a needy spoiled girl that can’t sleep before getting fucked real nice by her boyfriend.” he clicks his tongue, his tone a bit harsh and annoyed.

“now be a good girl for once and finish what you’ve started, i need to sleep.” simon grabs your jaw, kissing your lips. his voice is soft and breathy, as if he’s saying sorry for being mean to you, but at the same time, he’s secretely telling you that he’s enjoying this. he just loves the way you constantly need to be taken care of, and you love the way he always takes care of you, he just can’t help it. that’s why you’re a proud spoiled girl — he’s a proud provider.

#call of duty #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley angst #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost riley smut

[m0chac0ffee]

"What are you doing?"

"Coloring in your tattoo sleeve."

"I know, but... why?"

"Because I want to."

Simon scoffed playfully as he moved his arm closer so you had easier access to his entire sleeve, and willingly turned his arm whenever you needed him to.

"'M done!"

"Very colorful..."

"Yeah, you like it?"

He nodded his head. But he didn't just like it, he absolutely loved it.

#call of duty #cod #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare ii #call of duty mw2 #fanfic #fanfiction #cod modern warfare #cod mw #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley angst #simon riley fluff #simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #callofduty #call of duty fic #call of duty mwii #call of duty x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod fanfic #cod ghost

[peaches-creek]

When he walks through the door, you are cooking. Smells like something Italian but maybe not. He hears the bubbling of a pot and a searing of a pan. He crouches as he takes off his boots, caked in dirt and stinking of something foreign. He can’t greet you after a month like this, covered in grease and smelling of gunpowder and sweat. You heard him drop his duffle bag. He hears do drop the spoon you were using and the pitter-patter of your feet coming to greet him. Your smiling face turns the corner.

“You’re home.” You gently say as you walk over to him. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into your arms with his face in your neck. You pull his mask off and give a kiss to his temple.

“I smell.” He says.

“Everyone smells,” she quips, “lemme hold you for a minute.” He lets her do exactly that.

After a minute or so he tells her she needs to finish cooking, and that he needs to shower. They can have a meal together and then take a well deserved nap together.

While he’s in the shower he takes his time decompressing. Trying to become Simon after a month of being Lt. Ghost. He thinks of what you might be cooking instead of the mistake he made that almost costed Price his life. He uses your conditioner and gingerbread body wash, knowing that you wouldn’t mind. You never do. It shocks him, every time, when he thinks of how much you Love him. You know what he does, and you still call him your “cutie-patootie.”

By the time he’s out of the shower, dinner is on the table, warm and on his favorite blue plates. You made him lemon breaded chicken and garlic parmesan pasta, his second favorite dish, first being his mother’s meatloaf.

“You smell familiar.” You laugh.

“This smells great,” he states, “not as good as me though.”

You place a kiss on his lips.

“Okay now that you have kissed the chef, you may eat your meal.” You move to the other side of the table, sitting across from him.

“Catch me up, what did I miss?” He says.

You spend the next half an hour talking his ear off as he shovels food into his face. He prefers that, not only does he like hearing your voice but it also helps him settle in. Hearing all the things that you did around the house, putting up new pictures, the ones that you took when you guys went to see the Eiffel Tower. You also got a few new plants, and told him that you waited for him to get home so you could name them together. You also said how you started watching some new documentary that he had to see.

He spent his whole life moving from one place to another, barely living. Now he has you. You move him and he moves you. Once he was finished with his plate, you took it to the sink and placed it on top of the others, you can do those later, it’s time to put your man to bed. He deserves it.

“Okay now, let’s get you to bed.” You pull him up and drag him to your shared bed. It’s quite a funny thing to see, such a large man getting dragged through the halls just to be tucked into bed.

You reach your destination. You let go of his hand and pull the covers back. You settle yourself in first, waving your hand to tell him to come in. You then maneuver him to put his head on your chest.

“All settled in?” You ask. He nods his head. No words needed. He was exactly where he needed to be. You begin to rub his back as he slowly finds himself falling into a sweet sleep, courtesy of you.

#simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod mwii

[criminalamnesia]

the 141 x reader fic that you did was so yummy!!! pls make them suffer the wrath of reader and make 141 realise how much they need them when they leave,

your work is so amazing btw and your way with words is simply ✨chef’s kiss✨ (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

thank you!! here’s part 3 :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

angry didn’t even begin to describe how you felt as you slammed the door to price’s office behind you.

you were tense, muscles taut and poised to fight. your fists clenched at your sides, blunt nails digging into your palms hard enough to hurt. your jaw was clenched, teeth grinding together as you resisted the urge to march back in there and unleash your fury.

no. not like this. not when you weren’t a hundred percent. not when they would still look at you like you were a wounded doe, stumbling around on broken legs.

in the back of your mind, you can hear that psychologist saying ‘this anger will eat you alive if you let it. you need to let it out somehow.’

you inhaled, unclenched your fists, and made up your mind. you pulled the iv from your arm, wincing at the pinch of the needle.

you left the iv pole standing there as you made your way to the gym.

the gym was empty when you arrived, which made sense for this time of day. many would be occupied by drills or in the mess hall. others would be sleeping off long nights. you had the place to yourself, and you were grateful for the absence of watchful eyes and sweetened tongues.

you were tired of those who knew nothing acting like they knew something. of those who apologized or asked if you were okay. word spread like wildfire around base, and the subject of your ‘betrayal’ had been front-page news since the start of the witch hunt.

the gym door clicked shut behind you, and you surveyed the room. you knew your doctor would have a fit once you returned to the infirmary, and that she probably wouldn’t let you out alone again, but you didn’t really care.

you needed to let off some steam, and the best way you knew how was with your fists. either you start swinging at a bag or at a certain someone’s face. the bag won’t be condescending, and that makes your choice easy.

you approach one of the bright red punching bags in the corner. it’s scratched and taped from where someone had busted it open. scars that didn’t go away, that wouldn’t— just like yours.

you huffed. it didn’t do any good to start feeling sorry for yourself. you hadn’t done anything wrong. your team had.

you stretch your arms out in front of you, fingers interlocking to pop your knuckles. you catch sight of your severed finger, still healing. they’d recovered what had been chopped off, but hadn’t been able to save it.

just another permanent reminder, something to make sure you didn’t dare forget. you didn’t think you ever would regardless.

you shook out your hands and rolled your shoulders back. fists raised, you angled yourself towards the bag. feet spread, shoulders squared, thumb tucked under your fingers instead of inside. a stance that was second nature after years of sparring and hand-to-hand drills.

the bag was firm when your fist connected with it. you would have been lying if you said it didn’t hurt. you punched with the other hand— same results. the time you’d spent confined to an infirmary bed had done a number on you. muscles had atrophied, bones had weakened. the leg you’d suffered a bone-deep cut to shook under your weight.

you didn’t care. you kept punching, your breathing picking up as your emotions guided you. sweat dripped into your eyes and rolled down your back. you felt weak, physically and mentally. you hated feeling this way, and so you punched harder.

“slow down,” a voice grumbled from behind you.

you ignored him, continuing to punch the bag. you hadn’t heard the door open, nor heard the sound of him approaching, but you would have been surprised if you did.

simon always had a penchant for sneaking up on people, intentionally or not.

“gonna pass out if y’don’t stop,” he said after a minute. you could feel his eyes on you. you ignored him again.

you didn’t need to turn around to know he was standing there with his arms crossed, eyes full of something unreadable.

“stop,” he says firmly, and you sense his movement as he surges forward. his hand lands heavily on your shoulder, pulling you back from the punching bag. you heave in a breath before spinning around and punching him in the nose.

simon stumbles back a step, eyes widened slightly. for someone who prided himself on being so observant, he clearly didn’t see that coming. it made you feel the tiniest bit smug that you’d caught him off guard for once.

you dropped your hands to your knees then, squeezing your eyes shut as a wave of nausea washed over you. damn the bastard, he had been right. you shouldn’t have even been in here in the first place, let alone exerted yourself as much as you had.

your hands were shaking as you tried to pull yourself together. you opened your eyes to see drops of blood on the gym floor, by your feet. you had split your knuckles open.

there were also drops of blood at simon’s feet. you looked up then, slowly straightening your posture. he’d removed his mask, his face bare as he stared at you. blood dripped from his nose.

“gonna have to hit harder than that if y’want to break it,” he says, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“did you follow me in here?”

“no.” he says, and you’re giving a mirthless laugh.

“oh, please. im sure price sent you, yeah? you’ve always been his little lap dog. he says ‘jump’ and you say ‘how high,’ isn’t that right, lieutenant?”

your tone is tense, angry. you throw his title in his face, seeing as he’d been so quick to remind you of yours back in price’s office.

simon watches you, and you want to tackle him. he had always been quiet, always stoic. you’d been with him for years, but you still didn’t think you’d broken down all of his walls.

he was so good at masking his thoughts, his feelings. you weren’t. soap had always called you an open book. whenever you were mad or upset, everyone knew it.

no one knew anything about simon unless he wanted them to. it drove you mad then, and it was sure as hell driving you mad now.

“you need to get back to the infirmary,” he tells you. he wipes the back of his hand under his nose, smearing red across his skin. for a moment, you want to chastise him, reach up and wipe the remnants from his face.

you quickly shake that thought from your head. what is it they say— old habits die hard?

these habits would die if you had to strangle each one with your bare hands. anything you harbored for the four men on your team, for the one you’d called yours, was dead and gone.

“fuck off,” you tell him.

“why are you so damn stubborn?” he says then, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him start to crack since everything had happened. emotions are beginning to leak through his stony exterior, whether he means them to or not.

“you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. none of you do,” you say, and you take a step forward then, eyes blazing as you stare up at him. “not after what you did.”

he doesn’t speak for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. his eyes never leave yours.

“it shouldn’t have happened like that.” he tells you. you scoff.

“like that? you mean the four of you torturing me? tying me up and mutilating me like I was just another fucking target?” your voice was rising as you took another step forward, shoving a finger into his chest.

“if I’d treated you like another target,” he said, tone even. “you would’ve been dead.”

“so you showed me mercy, is that it?” you bared your teeth, a hollow laugh escaping your throat. “oh, thank you simon. I really felt that fucking mercy when you cut off my finger, and when you cut through layers of skin to get to bone.”

you inhaled before continuing. “I should be grateful then, right? is that what you want from me? for me to recognize your fucking ‘mercy’ and take you back? take you all back?”

he just stands there. you can see his jaw clench, but he makes no move to speak. you find it funny that he hasn’t even tried to apologize. john, your ever prideful captain, had swallowed his failure and pleaded for your forgiveness.

johnny and kyle would surely have done the same if they’d had the chance to speak to you, even if they only had a minute.

but simon? simon doesn’t. he doesn’t outwardly admit his wrongs. he doesn’t apologize. doesn’t seem sorry, even. you don’t know what’s going on inside his head, but you find yourself not really caring to know.

the fact that he can’t bring himself to admit, in blunt words, that he had astronomically fucked up and that he felt even the slightest bit of remorse, told you everything you needed to know.

cold, stoic ghost. you hadn’t been afraid of him when you’d first joined the squad, and you weren’t afraid of him now.

but back then, you’d wanted to break down those stone walls of his. you’d wanted to be someone he felt safe around, someone who knew him inside and out.

now, you’re packing your time with him into a box in your mind and dumping it into the trash. simon riley means nothing to you now.

“take your mercy and shove it up your ass,” you tell him. you step back and drop your hand, your eyes still locked on his.

“and by the way,” you say as you start towards the door. he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t move an inch. it’s as if he’s rooted to the spot.

“you should’ve just killed me.”

author’s note:

not really sure how I feel about this one tbh. I have plans for a part four, but I’m not quite sure how long I’ll be making this series.

and as for simon— I want to write an extra part about his thoughts/feelings about everything. let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

anyways, let me know your thoughts please :) (I honestly may end up deleting this and rewriting it when I’m not tired lol)

taglist: @preeyansha @igotmajordaddyissues @nanatheoaktree @aesthetic0cherryblossom @oceanicexolorer @soph121212 @liv2post @cupid-eclipse @angels-despair18 @k4marina

#ghost cod #ghost x gn reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost angst #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley x gn reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley angst #call of duty fic #captain john price #gaz call of duty #soap call of duty #captain price #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #141!reader #141 x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #ghost mw2 #call of duty angst #johnny mactavish #john price

[tryingtoremembermyname]

‘her dream ride is probably a jeep or something…’

my dream ride :

#i could take him #*not in a fight though* #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon ghost x reader #call of duty #CoD #cod mw2 #modern warfare fanfiction #modern warfare headcanons #modern warfare ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley imagine #simon riley angst #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x oc #soap modern warfare #simon ghost riley x original character #Simon ghost riley angst #kortac