snipersfucker

[snipersfucker]

Harder.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader Summary: Sometimes a slip of a hand is all the push you need. Words: 1K Warnings: Tons of swearing and some suggestiveness, but that’s about it. Reader's gender not specified/no pronouns used.

A/N: Gods, it's been years since I've last posted my stories online, but I couldn't sleep after playing CoD and... well. Those who get it, get it. Feedback and requests are super welcome! ♡

Your feet pounded the cement as you ran through the cargo hold, finding security from the midst of the rusty metal containers.

All around you shouts and calls erupted from your friends' lips—some followed by warm laughs, others by deep curses, as the Task Force 141 submerged into the practice session.

"Gaz, do you copy?" The call passed your lips as a warm chuckle, as you crouched behind an oil container. "I've just gotten Soap's dog tags."

"Oh, I know." The reply was spoken with a laugh. "He's sent Ghost to come and find you. Fuckin' dumb on his part, considering that—"

"His tags are the last ones we need to win." You nodded your head. "Any visual on him? The last I've seen him was when he swiped poor fucking Roach off his—"

"I only needed his dog tags, didn't I?"

You grinned at the deep voice echoing from the other side of the container. You should have focused on listening to him approaching, but then, when did you ever really hear him coming?

"Funny," you chuckled back at the man, as you planted your feet steadier against the ground, careful to not make a sound. "You see, Lieutenant, your tags are exactly what I need. So why don't you just go ahead and toss them to me? We can take it real nice and easy."

"'Cause that's how you fuckin' like it, eh?"

You could hear the laughter in his voice, slightly breathless from the time spent dashing around under the scorching sun. Just moments before you had cursed the heat under your breath as you'd felt the pearls of sweat rolling down your forehead. Running in full gear tended to get to the fittest of the force, yet it did have its benefits, too.

Benefits, such as the sound of Ghost's vest brushing against the metal of the container. At your ear level, right around the corner to your right.

You wet your lips with your grin. "Want me to show you just how I like it, Lt.?"

"Darlin', you and I both know that I can read you like an open fuckin' book."

You could hear the brush of his vest against the metal again, as he moved closer to you. You knew he was out of paint-ammo: Gaz had gotten away with his tags from mere luck only moments prior, which meant that you had the higher ground. The moment he moved to lunge at you, could take him down with a single pull of the trigger, and grab his tags off his soon-to-be paint-covered vest.

Yet what was the fun in that?

With an arched brow, you laid your gun on the pavement. The screech of it against the ground, as you kicked it out of both your reaches, did not go unnoticed by Ghost.

”Sure you wanna do that, love?”

"Just to make it fair and square," you chuckled.

"You know I can't just kick off half my fucking body, yeah?"

"Wasn't it just this morning that I wiped the floors with your—"

A gasp and a curse were all you could manage, as your back collided with the hard cement of the ground. Handling the shock of the impact was one thing, but seeing him towering over you, fucking victorious, was another pill to swallow.

"Jesus fuck, Ghost." Despite your voice being a mere pained groan, you could not shake off the laughter from your features: the same laughter that glimmered in his eyes. "You know we're just fucking practicing, right?"

"I know. But you see, whatever the fuck it was that you said about takin' it nice and fuckin' easy—," he chuckled, as he crouched by you, "just doesn't do it for me. So what do you say I take these…"

His skeleton-patterned gloves reached for the chain around your neck, and just as you rolled your eyes at the certainty of your team having lost over you letting down your guard, the events began to unfold.

Whether it was from his finger slipping on your glistening skin, or from you turning your head at the exact wrong moment—perhaps it was from the combination of both—his hand did not wrap around the chain of your dog tags.

Instead, Ghost's fingers wrapped around your throat.

One moment he was sure of the victory of his team. Next, his brain could not function. For there you fucking were, on your back with your eyes slightly widened and lips parted, and his hand—his goddamn gloved hand around your throat from all the fucking places.

The worst of it all was not the wave of embarrassment that flushed through him. The worst of it was how fucking good you looked.

Yet he knew.

He knew.

No, he should have known better than to let his guard down: to allow himself to get distracted by the tug of the corners of your lips, as you tilted your head ever so slightly, chest rising and falling with your heavy breaths, your eyes fucking twinkling. 

Yet as the fingers of your hand rested on his and the word passed your lips, fucking pretty, who could blame him?

"Harder."

To hell and fucking above. From your breathless request, his lips parted involuntarily under his mask. To say what, he did not know: plead, maybe, for the first time in his life.

No, it wasn't pleading and begging you wanted from him, was it? Quite the fucking opposite.

No. Focus.

Fucking focus, Lt.

Using the fleeing moment of his racing thoughts to your advantage, you pushed off the ground and brought your knife—sheathed—to his throat. The twinkle in your eyes was brighter than ever, and as you laughed, the sound was all but menacing.

"Really, Ghost?"

"Don't even fucking begin," he cursed, breathless, as your fingers wrapped around the chain around his neck, and tugged off the dog tags. 

Yet as long as he had tried to deny it, it was not the slight touch of humiliation of having lost that made his head spin. You—he wet his lips, as he watched you twirling the tags around your finger—were going to be the goddamn death of him, and for one reason or another, he was ready to welcome it with open fucking arms.

“Ready for round two, sarge?” His chuckle was deep as you tossed his dog tags back to him, your eyes twinkling with challenge. “You know, I’m not gonna take it fuckin’ easy on you now.”

“Oh, that’s mutual, Lt.” 

That—Ghost wet his lips with a chuckle—that he was fucking counting on.

[snipersfucker]

i absolutely adore maple syrup to the point my partner lovingly / jokily deemed it unhealthy { can i be added to the tag list}

your writing style is amazing btw

as a request im curious to how simon would handle someone he likes who has a humor as dark as him { we all know hes a cocky b@stard with a dark humor and dad jokes}

"a man walks into a magic forest and tries to cut down a talking tree," you said. simon could feel his brows furrow, listening to you.

"is that so?" soap responded, and from where simon was set up to snipe he could see the smirk growing on his face. it was weird having someone else who would try and crack jokes over the comms.

"'you can't cut me down!' the tree complains. 'i'm a talking tree!'" soap snorted sharply into the comms and price made a little complaint about all the noise. "the man responds, you may be a talking tree, but you will dialogue," simon snorted sharply, not expecting that. of all things you could do, make dark little dad jokes was the one thing you did?

soap called out a few people walking alone and simon shot them down. "i just got my doctors test results and i'm really upset," simon retorted. you hummed into the comms and he could hear a few silenced gunshots come from your mic. "turns out, i'm not gonna be a doctor," he heard your snort followed by a few coughs.

"y'choking?" soap asked, somehow sounding genuinely worried even through his hand to hand combat. he heard a few louder shouts from your end, another couple of gunshots coming through.

"the lieutenant has jokes, now?" you asked. you were a newcomer, having joined recently to help out on stealth focused missions. this was the first one you had joined, and thus far it was going pretty well for a 141 mission.

he knew you looked good, he knew you were a sweetheart but now you had your own kind of personality coming out. he already was starting to like you more and more by the minute.

as you boarded the flight to return, all of the information you needed (and a few people needed to help 'inform' you on it) was on the flight. as you sat down, soap had sat beside you.

he leaned in close and whispered something and you snorted.

"you know if you give a man a match, he'll be warm for a few hours" you looked him dead in the eye. "set a man on fire and he'll be warm for the rest of his life," simon had to look away to keep from busting out laughing. if there was anything in this world simon appreciated, it was a good shit joke.

"the sergeant has jokes now?" he called out from across the way and you smirked, shooting him a little wink. simon could feel, ever so weirdly, his insides becoming just a little warm.

maybe he'd need to drown the butterflies, but for now? he'd accept what they were, and who they were caused by. pretty little, shit joke making you.

(p.s. it's a little shorter, but i really like how this came about. you are added to the taglist, btw!)

[snipersfucker]

Ghost x reader but you never actually met him before. You joined a letters to soldiers program on a whim, figured there would be no harm in it since it got filtered through the charity service- your address would never be shared with the stranger.

You didn't know how to start the first letter really, so you didn't do much at all. You shared your name and a general description of your looks and your life. You asked plenty of questions, so your soldier wouldn't feel the same awkwardness you did. You were definitely projecting some image of a strong but smelly jock who joined the military to goof around instead of take things seriously, so you ended it with a pun.

"If you are near a boat, remember you'll always have a hat. Just flip the boat over-- it'll become capsized!"

Your heart sank as you read his rather curt response letter a few days later. Some asshole with the emo ass sounding callsign of Ghost decided he was too good for you. He made it very clear he wasn't likely to divulge much information about himself, mainly for his own safety. His entire letter was matter of fact and broadly negative, punctuated with a comment that he was only doing these letters because he had been mandated to by an "overbearing mother hen of a captain". He encouraged you to not put too much effort into your letters, in fact he suggested that if you were sincerely seeking conversation to pick up another solider to send letters to.

However, his post script admission that your joke was simultaneously terrible and hilarious, and that he told it to one of his soldiers and it made them groan- which he thanked you for- that made you giggle and start a new letter for him.

He tried to act like writing to you was the bane of his existence, the darkness of his week that loomed over his head like the sword of Damocles. After enough time, you learned to just roll your eyes at his dramatics and keep on writing. He continued to keep his private information away from you but seemed to prove time and time again that he did read (and remembered) what you wrote to him about yourself. Eventually, he began to ask you questions about yourself, showing genuine interest in your life.

It was him who broke the photo boundary- sent you a printed photo after months of letter exchanges. Of a man in a mask holding a rather large looking German Shepherd over his shoulder like a sack of flour. On the back, in the usual neat and pointed writing, "Myself and Riley, ××/××/××××." He didn't reference or acknowledge the photo in the actual letter, so you respectfully didn't comment on it. Despite having a million new questions about the Halloween-looking mask. How was that even tactical?

Speaking of Halloween- that was when you sent a photo in return. Well, two days after Halloween, when your photos were printed. Your friends had taken this one- it was you, asleep on the couch in your fairy costume after the party, wings bent and crooked under your weight. Your cat was cuddled up against your chest, and all in all you figured it'd possibly be an entertaining photo to share. After you sent it out to be mailed though, you started to mentally cringe.

'The first time the guy is seeing you, and you look like you probably passed out drinking! Or worse, did you look like a slut? Did you have a booger? You fucking hate not having digital copies of photos!!'

Your self-prescribed embarrassment was only swayed by the fact that Ghost passed the next boundary- he commented on the photo. Kinda.

"P.S.: That photo... cute."

You kept reading and rereading his words, tracing your fingers over the letters. He didn't seem like the guy to kiss ass, or compliment on reflex. From there, you both sent a photo with every letter.

It was nearing Christmas when you sent him a photo of you next to your Christmas tree, all dressed up with popcorn garlands and twinkling lights. You had an ugly holiday sweater on over sweats and fuzzy socks, a big smile on your face. It felt cute enough. Not that you were trying to impress him or anything.

And good thing you totally weren't, because he sent it back to you with his response letter.

"Can't stand the holidays. Bad times for me, bad memories. I don't want this, sorry." The photo looked like it had been wadded up, then upon second thought was spread back flat with a regretful hand.

You couldn't- didn't want to- imagine what he could be referencing. A man who sees the horrors of war and mankind who can't stand Christmas? Something must have really fucked him, then.

You don't send a photo with the next letter for the first time since you had began. What you wanted to say was too important.

"I'm sorry it's a hard time for you, I'll remember that and be more aware in the future. I don't do much for the holidays myself- if you need anyone to talk to... anyone who isn't some big bad killing machine, that is... call me. Seriously. This is my number. Block your number or something, I don't care. No one should have to deal with things alone. ×××-×××-××××."

Christmas Eve, middle of the night, you get a phone call from an unknown caller. You were dozing off on your couch, holiday specials on the TV before you. You take your time picking it up, your brain not making the possible connection. No greeting comes, and you say hello several times to still no response. Just breathing.

"This you?" Silence. "Ah. Okay, I can work with this." You tell him about your day, your week, the last book you read. You were talking for what felt like ages, the soft sound of breathing being your only feedback. Looking at your phone screen, the call showed at just under 45 minutes. You finally yawned, pausing in your ramblings. "I'm getting sleepy... This might sound dumb but... You mind staying on a while 'til I sleep?"

Still no response. You sigh and cuddle down deeper into the blankets covering you, eyes drooping at another movie rerun. You don't hear the call end, but when you wake up the next day, your phone records showed the call lasted about two hours.

[snipersfucker]

this is so funny why

No words…

[snipersfucker]

thinking abt simon "ghost" "acts of service" riley

like in my head he isn't too fond of physical touch. he wont burst into tears and start crying and shaking if you hug him but its very much reserved for the very few people who are close to him. its not that he's scared of it or it makes him super uncomfortable, its just he has other ways of showing people he loves them!

he's the type of guy who when you're getting to know him, listens and remembers every detail you tell him, and makes mental notes of your dislikes and likes w/o you having to tell him.

he takes cold showers every day and when you ask him he just tells you "its better, wakes me up in the mornings" but its really because he knows you like taking hot showers from all the times he's walked into the washroom once you're done and noticed the mirror all fogged up from the steam. he just wants to make sure you dont run out of hot water

in a passing conversation you mention feeling a bit sick, maybe its the change in weather or your allergies acting up but you just really are hoping it isnt a cold. simon doesnt say much but later you find a small ziploc baggie of peeled orange slices with a sticky note with your name on on it

when you go out together and you're a little underdressed for the weather he notices the goosebumps on your arms and how you constantly are rubbing them with your hands, trying to subtly warm yourself from the friction. you dont do a good job however because he glances at you and lets out a small sigh

"what did i say before heading out" "bring a jumper..." you mumble in response "and what did you do?" he crosses his arms over his chest but he isn't mad or annoyed, not in the slightest "not bring a jumper"

it feels like you're on the verge of being lectured but simon just rolls his eyes and gestures you to follow him. you're lead to his car and he opens the trunk, tossing you a black zip up sweater. he's scolding you somewhat, saying that "this is why you're getting sick" and other nonsense and you're lucky he "forgot" to take that sweater out of the trunk or boot because hes bri'ish. you happily take it and put it on because you're not about to turn down a sweater when you're freezing also its from simon and it just looks so comfy! it's definitely big on you because lets face it, simon is built like an industrial freezer, but the material is soft and cozy, with the added bonus of smelling like him. you thank him for the sweater and carry on with your day, not thinking much of it. truth is, however, he always has that extra sweater in his car for you. makes sure its there before you two go anywhere, neatly folded and tucked into the back. he would never admit it though he's such a pussy

when asked about his little favours he does for you he constantly pulls excuses from his ass, saying its just a coincidence that he had those things or literally anything to hide that he goes out of his way to do it for you. he cares about you, he actually cares a lot about you but he's just a tiny bit embarrassed to admit it. he loves you so much but he doesn't want you to think he's like kicking his legs and giggling over the thought of you even though he probably has at some point but you dont need to know that

he thinks he's sooooo subtle and sneaky about it but when you fall asleep and you wake up with a sweater over top of you like a blanket that a) you are 100% sure doesn't belong to you and b) has "S. Riley" written in sharpie on the tag (with a tiny skull doodle next to it), theres no way in hell you can be oblivious to how much he cares about you.

[snipersfucker]

Ghost 0-2

i think i got every angle of this scene covered by now :') It's just too good.

[snipersfucker]

cw. könig notices you avoiding him. and it doesn’t take long for him to figure out that it’s all because of a little dream you had. fingering, pussy play, semi-public, slight age gap

you couldn’t meet könig’s gaze for the entire day. the one time you did get a glimpse of him, his arm reaching over to grab a gun or a vest or something that you weren’t really paying attention to, your mind started whirring. your little dream had come back to, despite your inner protest, the memory of könig’s hands sliding down between your thighs made your stomach clench. heat making your cheeks flushed, along with your nose.

könig had noticed this change in your expression, as he eyes you. this only seemed to make your mind run laps, remembering the way his thick fingers jammed into you, while his heavy bulge kept nudging against your widened legs. fuck. in that moment you spared him a small smile and quickly turned to take business elsewhere.

as the day got later, your pussy craved for something that you knew you’d never get. i mean how pathetic can you get? honestly. but what you hadn’t realized was how attentive könig was to you. having been your mentor and supervisor he had grown a keen eye to your habits. you had never minded making eye contact before, or at least as much. but now you actively avoided it. and when könig made the mistake of letting his gaze drop he saw the way your thighs clenched tightly together.

he wasn’t a stupid man, he knew what that meant. and though the clear age gap and status provided you both with a clear ‘forbidden zone’, könig couldn’t help but keep looking. you were a pretty girl. könig also wasn’t blind. he knew the random stares you got, the passing compliments. he hadn’t thought much of it, but as he soon became aware of your dire need to avoid him he grew curious.

“i need to speak to you.” könig says to you in his normal professional manner that has you thinking you’re in the clear. but the moment you two end up alone he draws in close, far too easily lifting you onto the nearby table. your eyes expand as his large hands holds your thighs apart, and around his hips. “why are you avoiding me?” his question is simple. but you’re too awestruck to come up with a lie as you just gulp.

he’s testing a theory. your avoidance of eye contact, flushed cheeks, and clenched thighs all lead to something that is making könig second guess himself in thinking his plan is all for research purposes. did he want you like this? did he like the fact that you looked so flustered?

“alright, answer me this then. what did you dream about the other night?” his straight to the point question is nothing like the könig you knew. in fact this whole ‘confrontation’ is anything but. he doesn’t waste his time conversing in deep detail, or asking any questions that lead to said conversations. his question is followed by your further silence. what were you supposed to say? ‘yeah, i dreamt of you fucking me until i could barely breathe’.

“it’s a simple question.” he speaks again, and this time you can feel your body come to life. but not in the way of action in more of a reaction to his hands now stroking your thighs. his hands can practically encompass them. that only seems to make your inability to speak more prominent. “if you aren’t going to say anything, i’m going to start assuming.”

yeah, maybe his ‘plan’ is turning into something more. he wanted to know what was bothering you. that if he touched you this close would you react with disgust or as you are now? but now his mind seems to wander. if he’s right about you fantasizing about him, and if you won’t talk, there’s only one way to understand more.

you can’t comprehend a thing as his hand slips down between your thighs and begins to rub right against your covered pussy. your mouth salivates as your hands grip on the material of his shirt. könig watches you closely as your gaze darts down in surprise, your lips parting. his fingers drag against your cunt as your hips instinctively shudder. yeah…he knows.

his other hand then moves over to the button and zip of your pants, skillfully unbuttoning and unzipping until his hand can completely slide past your panties and graze right over your weeping pussy. a small gasp leaves you as your hips move a fraction, your head now practically rested on his chest as he stands. his calloused fingers do wonders to your clit and more choked sounds leave you.

you’re embarrassed. but at this point nothing much is going on in your mind besides the repeat of ‘könig is touching me’ ‘könig is touching me’. he doesn’t say a word as he then slips two fingers into your hole, the stretch making a louder mewl leave you. könig’s free hand presses against your mouth to quieten you, as he begins to fuck you with his fingers, your clothes muffling the wet drag of your seeping pussy.

his hips keep your thighs from shaking too much as you press against them for support, your forehead against his chest drawing you closer to him. “do not make a sound.” he whispers to you, as he removes his hold on your mouth, his hand slipping to partially soothe and hold your head.

könig can feel you squeezing around his fingers, your breathing telling him how close you are as his thumb rubs soothing circles on your clit. your orgasm crashes over you as you mouth opens, panting against him. he keeps thrusting his cum covered fingers into you as your hips grind as much as they can. after a moment, your orgasm slowly decreasing, könig mutters something. “is that why you were avoiding me today?”

you can’t tell if he’s disappointed or not. and you’re still too scared to look him in the eye. even more now, that his fingers are spreading your arousal and cum all over your pussy lips, his hand still in your pants. “i’m…sorry.” you manage, your embarrassment catching up to you. he doesn’t reply a moment as he keeps playing with your pussy lips slowly. “is that a yes?” he hums.

“…yes.” you murmur back. the moment you say this, his fingers slide right back into your hole making you gasp, and grip onto his arms. you finally gaze up at him, as he begins to finger you again. “w-what—“ you choke out as your eyes threaten to roll, the heat in your core returning. you don’t know his reason for thrusting his fingers back into you. because all he knows is that he wants to watch you cum again.

© dizzykss.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work without my permission.

[snipersfucker]

mdni, tw smut. lord, have mercy because simon just can’t keep his hands to himself.

the sight of the hot shower water streaming upon your naked body made simon’s mind short circuit, unable to concentrate on rinsing himself off of the shampoo lingering in his hair. he had promised to keep his hands to himself, his thick cock throbbing and fists clenched at his sides as he watched you rinse off the last bits of soap on your body. and, just as you were about to exit the shower, his rough hand shoots out and grips onto your wrist.

“don’t leave yet, doll,” simon mumbled, switching places with you beneath the shower stream. 

you quirked an eyebrow at his request, watching in both confusion and shameless delight as he tilted his head back into the water to rinse his hair of the shampoo. your eyes trailed down the length of his torso, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you watched his muscles flex under the cascading water. the water hitting against his skin made his muscles shine, accentuating his bulky physique. 

he then tilted his head back forward, a smirk tugging at his lips.

and then, before you could register the situation, your back was pressed up against the cool tile panes of the shower, his lips pressed to yours in a sloppy, messy, rough kiss. teeth clashed against teeth, tongues swirling and shoving against one another until you ultimately gave up and allowed simon full possession of your body. you were holding onto him for dear life, legs wrapped around his waist with his hands gripping at the smooth flesh of your ass. within a blink of an eye, his cock was bullying its way into you, the ridges of his cock nudging against your g-spot.

your whimpers and moans were muffled in between the kisses, the ridge of his cock’s head rubbing against the gummy walls of your cunt in a manner that made your head grow light. his lips trailed down the length of your face, his tongue lapping at your jawline and down to your neck. his teeth sunk into the thin skin of your neck, eliciting a sharp hiss from your lips from the intensity of the bite. it was sure to leave a noticeable mark later.

“you look so pretty beneath me, love,” he’d murmur into the crook of your neck, his hips snapping up into you at a blinding pace. simon pressed a soft kiss to your neck, his nails digging into your plump ass cheeks. “g-gonna pump you full f’me— gonna b-breed this tight p-pussy out—” he’d rasp, his breath coming out in short pants.

you clung hard to him, legs tightening with how deep he was filling your pussy. your head spun from how many inches he was able to stuff you with, the angle allowing the very tip of his cock to bruise your cervix. his hips were relentless, snapping right against you and just thrusting into you at such an aggressive pace it was as if he had no regard for your safety. he was just so needy and desperate to feel every inch of you around his cock while he destroyed your walls.

“you feel so fuckin’ good, sweet girl,” he groaned, adjusting your weight against him so that your head and upper back were now just pressed against the cool wall. the edges of the tiles dug into your shoulder blades, back arching as you drew closer to your orgasm. the only support keeping you up was the grip he maintained on your hips and the sharp hit after hit he delivered to your sloppy cunt.

he was looking down at you with such an intense gaze, it made your pussy clamp down on him— thighs trembling around him as your vision grew white while he jackhammered his cock into you. simon let out a grunt above you— hips stilling for just a moment as you felt the familiar sensation of his thick ropes of cum spurting into you. he’d let you down slowly, your body slumped against him and your head resting against his chest.

he'd press a kiss to your wet hair, his large hands cradling your head and waist to prevent you from collapsing to the floor of the shower. after a second or two, he’d grab you by your chin, tilting your head back to look up at him. you could feel his cum drip out from within you, staining your inner thighs white with his release.

“sorry, baby,” he’d whisper, his hands now roaming the expanse of your back and down to your ass. “just can’t keep my hands to myself.”

[snipersfucker]

I absolutely love your work! Could you maybe write some soft!Dom Simon riley? I really really like your characterisation of him

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with No Plot, Praise, Penetrative Sex, Body Worship, Oral Sex, Aftercare

Summary: Actions have always spoken louder than words. 

A/N: First Simon request (WHAT!!)

Word Count: 1.2K (Barely Edited)

Love is hard. Especially for Simon. 

It offers a new type of uncertainty, one entirely different from the uncertainty of the field. One that is much more risky, one that he doesn’t know how to navigate through. All he knows, from his life on and off the field, is that actions have always expressed what words can’t. That very fact has shaped Simon’s love language. 

So, on the days that both of you feel love overtaking all your senses, or on the days where love seems particularly daunting, Simon finds himself hovering over your delicate body. His hands pressing into the softness of your flesh as his body fills the space of your parted legs. His breaths are soft against your lips, eyes closed impossibly tight as he lets his tongue caress your own. Fuzzy colors dance along his closed lids as he takes in the smell of your shampoo and the warmth that seeps into his body. 

He pulls away, your lips trailing after him with a pout. The smallest of smiles covers his face and he coos down at you, pulling your shirt off your body and pressing soft kisses along the skin that becomes more exposed to him. He throws the shirt to the side, a pleasured sigh leaving his lips as he runs his fingers up and down your exposed body. His hands run down your chest, momentarily flicking your nipples to hear that beautiful gasp you can’t help but give. His fingers ghosting down the plane of your stomach and swirling around your belly button to hear your little giggles that warm his heart. He slides his hands under your back, massaging the flesh of your waist as he kisses up your body.

His smile makes the kisses a bit wonky, your eyes watching him as he kisses from your lower stomach, to your chest, to your neck, and finally to your lips. Your hands find their way into his hair, prickly from his very overgrown military-standard buzzcut. A pleased noise leaves him as tilts his head to deepen the kiss, lips slowly trailing away to kiss the other parts of your face. Soft lips meeting the apples of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the thin skin of your eyelids. A fond smile crosses your face that mirrors his as he pulls away. 

He sits up, removing his own shirt before continuing to strip the both of you bare. Once you’re fully naked under him, he parts your legs fully and lowers his head to your sex. His first flick of his tongue is experimental, eyes closing as the taste of arousal blooms in his mouth. A soft groan vibrates in his throat, sucking you fully into his mouth. The pleased moan you let out goes straight to his aching cock. He hungrily buries his head in between your thighs, pulling away to give you teasing licks and diving back in. He coaxes an orgasm from you, eyes drifting up to your face as your tug at his hair. A hazy look covers his eyes, his hands massaging your thighs as he reluctantly pulls away. 

He licks his lips of any remaining arousal, pressing one last kiss to your sex, “Did so well, love. Tasted so good for me.” 

A soft whimper leaves your lips, but your eyes beam under his praise. He crawls back up the length of your body, caressing your cheek as he studies your face. He tries to memorize every curve and dip, tracing his fingers along them. His eyes shine with complete admiration for you, lowering his head to press his lips to yours when you whine out his name. Your own taste is shared with you, and your grip on him gets tighter. Your hips fully grind into Simon’s erection, causing a broken hiss. He lifts your hips up slightly, his tip pressing against your hole.

You can feel his precum, leaking excitedly from his tip and slowly dripping down your thigh. It becomes smeared when he bucks his hips, your soft mewl a contrast to his rough grunt. Simon tilts your head to the side, his face buried in the curve of your neck as he slowly pushes into you. He tries to stabilize himself by pressing heated kisses to your skin, biting and sucking hard before cooling the irritated skin down with gentle kitten licks. When he’s fully inside you, he lets out a deep moan, appreciating the way you’re clamping hard around him as you adjust to the fullness. 

He gives an experimental thrust, your back arching into him at the sensation. He moves his hand down to your thigh, wrapping it securely around him as he thrusts again. He can feel the blunt edge of your nails carving down his back, a sharp inhale of air entering his lungs at the feeling. His thrusts speed up the tiniest bit, his head lifting to look down at where his cock disappears inside of you. A thin spray of sweat hits your body when he whips his head up, his eyes wildly searching for yours. When they connect he moans out, his unoccupied hand coming to tangle in your hair. The tiniest whimper leaves you before you smile shyly, muttering out a ‘hi’.

Simon curses in response, his hips angling to hit the perfect spot inside you. He crashes his lips down to yours in a messy kiss. He tugs and licks at your bottom lip, his head briefly rolling back before he rests his forehead against yours. He continues knocking against that gummy spot inside of you, a strangled gasp leaving you as you feel the tightness in your stomach about to explode. You desperately grab at Simon, trying to find something to tether you to the moment. 

“I know. I know, babe. Go ahead, ride it out.” 

His words give you the right nudge over the edge. You get impossibly tighter around him as you arch off the bed. He lets out a deep groan at the feeling, watching as you come in a dazed trance. He’s not far behind, his hips stuttering as he explodes. His thrusts decrease to half hearted pumps as he rides out his release, a deep breath leaving him as he stares down at you. 

“M’love you.” he humbles out, kissing your cheeks gently as he slips out. He holds you against him tightly, breathing in the smell of your hair and sweat. 

His hand untangled from your hair and pushes it away from your forehead, laying a single kiss to your temple before getting up. He leaves you to rest on the bed, bringing wet washcloths to cool your warmed body and to clean you up. HIs touch is gentle and focused as he takes care of you, pressing kisses every now and then to your flushed skin. A soft smile graces your face as you watch the concentrated furrow of his brow, your hand lifting to smooth out the skin. 

He grabs your hand before you can fully pull it back, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. He loosely holds your hand as he begins walking away, stopping when your hold tightens. He looks back at you, silently asking what it is you need.

“I love you, Si.”

A deep breath expands Simon’s chest as he looks down at you. His eyes soften as they scan over your face. He says nothing in return, instead squeezing your hand tightly three times before letting it go. 

“I know.”

I love soft Simon!

[snipersfucker]

simon riley??? more like simon railme

#it sounded funnier in my head #simon ghost riley #simon riley fanfic #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #cod #mw2 #codmw2 #simon riley fluff #cod smut #ghost x you #ghost #ghost x reader

[snipersfucker]

Hi I tried to read some of your fics but the links are all dead and don’t work, are your stories still up or did you delete them?

UH OH shit well didn't delete them but you're the second person who told me that and i fixed them and they worked but i see that they no longer do and honestly i have absolutely no idea how to fix this sorry babe i'll try my best tho

[snipersfucker]

"mechanophilia" wha- 😦😦

you know what.

[snipersfucker]

mechanophilia

[snipersfucker]

HEHEHEHEHEEEHEHEHEHE

Transformers mirage with a Fem!mechanic who works on him all the time, and she has a huge crush on him, and mirage absolutely loves it. Teases her any chance he can get, all that flirty jazz

I know nothing about car mechanics so you got me looking up a bunch of shit for this. I really hope no one reading this knows anything about cars so you don’t know if I’m wrong, ‘cus I probably am <3

Your Own Game

Mirage x Fem!Mechanic!Reader

Warnings: Mirage being a perv.

Word Count: 1.2k

The smile Mirage always gave you made you think he was lying. Mirage had recently gotten his old paint job back and it certainly gave him a boost in confidence. Ever since then, he came to you more often, always with a new complaint for you to resolve. You were sure he’d start running out of excuses to see you soon, but that day never came. He just kept showing up, and you kept fixing him when he needed it and making minor adjustments when he requested. Not that you minded. 

He was entertaining company and you were fascinated by his mechanics when you’d first met. Mirage was eager to help you learn about cybertronians, but you’d have to deal with his relentless flirting the entire time. You knew when he said he was “more than happy to give you a biology lesson” with that devilish grin of his that it was entirely on purpose just to make you blush. Although it started out as harmless teasing, you could tell when he realized you had a crush on him, because it got so much worse. After that, you knew you’d have to fight to not turn into a flustered mess every time he was in your garage.

Mirage would greet you with a charming smile, casually calling you “sweetspark” along with a collection of other terms of endearment instead of ever actually using your name. Part of you wished you had the same audacity to throw some nicknames back at him, but you could never bring yourself to actually do it. You knew he knew you had a crush on him, so it shouldn’t be that hard to flirt back. Maybe it was the fact he was an alien robot, but you just couldn’t beat him at his own game. Any attempt to flirt would be met with something a little more raunchy than the last time you’d spoken and it never failed to embarrass you into silence.

It didn’t take long for some patterns to become apparent when his requests always led to you either being under him or inside him. The first time you’d laid down on the dolly to slide under him, you didn’t think anything of it. After all, he did have a cracked transmission pan, which would cause him problems soon if you didn’t replace it, so you were hyper focused on your task. That was until he made a suggestive comment about having you underneath him, making you pause, unsure of how to respond. 

After that, he seemed to come up with excuses to get you back down there as often as he could. Sometimes his excuse was specific, saying he thought maybe there was an issue with a fuel line or something. Other times, he got lazy and told you something just felt “off” and he’d appreciate you taking a look. He quickly figured out it wasn’t too difficult to find one reason or another for you to end up on that dolly. What was a bit more challenging was getting you into his cabin. He’d already asked you to replace his cabin filter recently, so he couldn’t use that one again for a while, which meant he’d just have to get creative.

“What is it this time?” you asked with an unamused expression, hoping it would help you stay composed.

“Hey sweetspark,” Mirage grinned. “It’s been a while.”

“No it hasn’t,” you stated plainly. “You were here last week.”

“Well, even a day without seeing your sweet face feels like forever.”

“So what is it this time, Mirage?” you asked, ignoring his comment.

“Aw, c’mon shorty, don’t be like that. You're not happy to see me?”

“I, uh,” you could feel your composure already starting to slip, “No, I mean, yes. No! I-I’m just, I’m happy to help, but you gotta tell me what’s wrong.”

Mirage grinned at your awkward expression, absolutely loving how little it took to get you like this.

“I think somethin’s up with my gear shift. Stick keeps gettin’ stuck.”

“You have any trouble getting here?” you casually asked.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle, but I think you better take a look.”

“If it’s bad this might end up taking a while,” you warned him, hoping maybe it would do something to deter him. It didn’t.

“No worries, babe,” he said before transforming back into his alt-mode. “Hop in.”

You could hear the smile in his voice looming over you as you got into the driver's seat and it was infuriating. He wanted you in there to touch him and you both knew it. But a job is a job and you didn’t want to brush him off if there really was something he needed you to fix, so you began fiddling with the gear stick, trying to solve the problem.

“Maybe you’ve gotta push it a little harder,” Mirage purred.

“Harder?”

“Yeah, put some effort into it. I can take it.”

Fuck it. You’d give him what he wanted, and you were going to try your best to beat him at his own game.

“Like this?” you innocently asked as you put way too much effort into your movement. You didn’t give him time to respond though. “Maybe like this?” you quickly switched to rubbing the grip of the gear stick. It was completely unnecessary and had to be glaringly obvious to him.

“Oh, uh,” Mirage mumbled, obviously caught off guard.

“Actually I think this might be better,” you said in a sultry tone, practically giving the stick a hand job. You felt ridiculous but he was speechless, so you had to be doing something right. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“I, uh, well-”

“C’mon Mirage, just admit it,” you grinned. “You tease me all the time to get a reaction, now I’m just repaying the favor. You gonna lie to me and say you didn’t have this in mind when you asked me to hop in?”

There was a moment of silence and you felt like you’d won. That was until he started laughing.

“Ha, ha! Fucking finally!”

“Wait-”

“No, no, no, keep it up baby!” he interrupted. “Shit, I have been waiting for you to lose it. I thought you’d snap by like, yellin’ or something, but this is way better.”

“Hey!” you frowned, feeling yourself growing more frustrated and embarrassed. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go!”

“Yeah, you’re tellin’ me,” he laughed. “C’mon, hop out. There’s nothing wrong with the gear stick.”

“I knew it! You filthy faker,” you huffed. “You went to all this effort for months just to fuck with me?”

“No,” he paused, "Well, yeah, kinda,” he transformed out of his alt-mode to keep talking. “It’s not like there’s a lot of ways I could see you otherwise, ‘cus of the whole, ya know,” Mirage gestured to himself and raised his brow. “So, a mechs gotta get creative over here. You mad at me?”

“Yes!” you glared at him but he just stared back with hopeful optics. “No…”

“That’s what I thought,” he grinned. “This is great, ‘cus now I don’t need to keep making excuses to see you.”

“Who said you could keep seeing me?” you crossed your arms and Mirage looked surprised and disappointed. “I’m just messing with you,” you smiled, softening your expression.

“Ya know, I like seeing you get a little bolder. We’ll have to work on that,” Mirage winked at you and you smiled brighter. Maybe this would be fun, now that it felt like you were on an equal playing field. You got to start a new game together.

[snipersfucker]

not you cheating on me 😔😔💔

i have tendencies.

[snipersfucker]

Just saw that you said mirage steal panties in ur tags… could we maybe get a little one shot based on that…🤭

that scenario always gives me a girl boner it's so hot i wanna stab someone

He knew it was wrong.

Something in the back of his helm kept reminding him that it was not something he should be doing. But he didn't care. Not when his optics met the sight of your used panties abandoned on the floor of your garage, not when your scent filled his enstrils as he lifted them up to his face plate.

Just a short moment, he kept telling himself, a couple of inhales, and he'd immediately put them exactly where he'd found them. But when he could feel himself getting completely lost in the way you smelled, he realized there was not only no coming back, but that he was also not going to just stop at having a few small whiffs.

Before he could contain himself, his back plate was already against the wall of the garage, his lower abdomen transforming to allow him to finally put a servo on his hardened spike.

He didn't even start stroking himself properly yet, only wrapping his thumb and index digit around the base to relieve some tension that was growing inside him with every passing second. Just this light touch to his needy, metal shaft was enough to force him to close his blue optics, and let out a low groan of frustration. The sound was quiet, muffled by the fabric of your panties still being held close to his olfactory sensor, but, frankly, he would not care if anybody heard him anyway.

You shouldn't smell so good. So good that he wanted nothing else, but to spend eternity between your thighs with his intake on your wet cunt, your pheromones filling his enstrils.

The first, painfully slow stroke made him spread his tibulens a bit, the mental images of you sitting between them with your hand on his throbbing spike instead of his own metal servo popping up in his mind. His hips bucked up ever so slightly, the need to just thrust into his fist overwhelming him, even though he wanted to savor the moment, and not make himself overload too soon to be able to smell you while jerking off for as long as he could.

Every inhale of your scent made his helm spin, his senses flooded with nothing else, but you. And as much as he intended to follow his own plans, and not let himself lose it completely, he just couldn't help, but allow his servo to speed up.

The sounds he was making were lewd, and would only increase in volume when a certain image of you appeared in front of his closed optics.

Your knees brought up to your chest, his body hovering over yours, his spike hitting the insides of your cunt so, so deliciously...

You on your knees, looking up at him with those pretty eyes, almost begging him to just use your mouth however he pleased...

The back of his helm hit the wall behind him, his intake slightly parting to let another set of moans roll off his glossa and echo through the garage.

He wasn't even trying to stop himself from overloading so soon anymore, the tight, pleasant feeling growing in his abdomen taking control over his whole body, the only thoughts being about finally finishing while thinking of you.

He wanted to feel bad about doing it, he needed that little voice in the back of his helm to tell him that if you saw what he was doing, you'd never see him the same, that you'd probably scold him, and tell him he was disgusting to the core.

Why did the thought of that turn him on even more?

The speed at which he was jerking himself off resulted in his vents almost giving up, the plating getting hotter and hotter to the point of almost overheating.

But it felt so good. So, so good.

Mirage was a whimpering mess at this point, only nano-kliks from overloading, and at that moment he needed only one more thing to fully get himself off.

Just as he was about to spurt his thick, pink transfluid onto the cold, hard floor of the garage, he quickly lowered his servo, taking your panties away from his face plate, and wrapped the thin fabric around his spike, which was threatening to burst at any given moment.

A few more desperate strokes were enough for him to finish, his transfluid ruining your underwear, loud whimpers followed by curses leaving his intake. And even though he could feel himself getting overstimulated, he didn't stop stroking himself for just a few moments too much, the intensity of it making him close his optics shut just to feel the every single bit of pleasure left.

He felt his softening spike twitch at the sight of your panties covered in his pink juices, the thought of you putting them on again, and walking around with his transfluid touching your cunt was enough to make him groan again.

But you couldn't find out. Because if you did, next time you'd make sure not to leave your panties unattended somewhere on the floor for him to find. If you found out, he'd never get the chance to use them like that ever again, and he did not like this idea...

#bro im turning myself on atp #this is like the hottest thing ever im gripping the edge of my desk #i want him to steal all my panties!!!!!! #and use them to jerk himself off!!!!!! #i got no shame!!!!! #this is shit btw #I HATE writing endings as you can tell #just pretend theres a different ending to this #mirage headcanons #mirage #mirage smut #mirage transformers #mirage au #rise of the beasts #mirage x you #mirage x reader #mirage imagine #mirage x my pussy #mirage x slut #perv!mirage #rotb #mirage rotb #rotb smut #transformers imagine #transformers smut #transformers #transformers rotb #valveplug #macadam

[snipersfucker]

I can't remember who are you since you changed your username

i was oliviagreenaway but felt like robotsfucker suited me more so