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ragingbookdragon · 2 months

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Whoever decided to ring her doorbell in the middle of a midnight thunderstorm was either a serial killer or a poor soul stuck out in the rain. Either way, she still felt sorry enough for whatever poor bastard was stuck outside and decided to open the door, but her expression dropped into annoyance when she saw the man leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” he murmurs, gazing at her. “Long time no see.” She starts to close the door and he sticks his foot in it. “Wait, please, don’t close me out.”

“Like you did to me,” she retorts, opening the door. “What do you want, Simon?”

He glances back towards the rainy street and hefts his rucksack higher on his shoulder. “To stay the night.”

“Seriously?”

“Please?” He begs and she pauses—Simon Riley wasn’t a man who begged often.

She gazes at him a moment longer before sighing and opening the door. “Clothes and shoes off at the door. Mask too. You’re soaking wet.”

“What gave you that ‘int? The rainstorm?”

Turning, she shoots him a glare. “I’m letting you stay the night despite you breaking my heart. I’d be a little less sarcastic.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, starting to strip his clothes as he shuts the door behind him. He hands her his clothes, standing in his boxers, then cups the front of himself and asks. “You wouldn’t happen to have any of my clothes shoved in the back of your closet…would you?”

“Bottom drawer in the chest of drawers.”

“You kept my clothes? Aw, you still car—” he falls silent when she glares at him. “Going now.”

As she disappears into the laundry room, she calls out, “What did you do, walk here from the base? You know Birmingham has cabbies, right?”

“I’m not wasting money to drive twenty minutes when I can walk within an hour.”

“You know you’ll get sick from this.”

“Wive’s tale. Can’t get sick from the rain.”

“Smart-ass,” she retorts, shoving his clothes in the dryer.

He comes around the corner, leaning against the doorway with a hand towel thrown over his shoulder, short blonde hair sticking up in all directions, evident he’d dried off with it.

“That is a decorative towel, not for use.” She glares at him. “You know that too.”

“You moved the other towels.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” she mutters, then looks at him, eyes trailing down to where the sweatpants hung low on his hips. “Put a fucking shirt on, floozy.”

“I couldn’t find one,” he replies with a small smirk. “You must’ve used ‘em for fuel for the fireplace.”

She stands up straight and walks up to him. “Why are you here, Simon?” Her voice is quiet, calm, waiting.

He looks down at his feet, shifts his weight and murmurs, “Missed you.”

“You left me.”

“I know.”

“You start going to therapy yet?” She asks and he purses his lips.

“SAS doesn’t exactly offer therapy, y’know that, right? Not exactly ‘ow we operate.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “You know I asked that friend of yours, what was his name? Soap? He said that the SAS offers routine psychiatric care and therapy. He also happened to mention you conveniently manage to get out of it every single time.”

Simon lets out a grunt and pinches his brow. “Soap can’t mind ‘is own fuckin’ business.”

“He’s your friend. And he was also drunk.” She waves a hand. “Regardless, you haven’t done the one thing I told you that you would have to do if you wanted to come back—no, when you came crawling back.”

“I don’t need therapy. I just want a second chance.” He shifts to his full height, looks at her with a pleading look. “Things were good between us, love. You know they were.”

“Sure, when you weren’t shutting down when you were hurting emotionally or running off to God knows where when you had a mission and didn’t leave me a notice.”

Simon sighs. “I was protectin’ you. I didn’t wanna drag you into all the shit I ‘ave to deal with on a daily. I didn’t want you to have to put up with…all of…”

She gives him a hard look. “Simon Riley, what part of me gave you the notion that I ever need to be protected or sheltered from what you do?”

He swallows thickly and gazes into her eyes. “Love…you’re too pure for me. What I do…you don’t need to know the horrors I’ve committed. You’re…you’re too beautiful for such things.”

“You mean how you kill people with no emotion? How you’ve taken lives with your bare hands? How you shove so much of yourself down into the black hole until there’s no humanity left but ‘Ghost’, the hollow killer?”

Simon stares at her, throat bobbing as he replies, “I can’t drag you to hell with me, it would kill me, love. What if—”

“Do you know the moment I knew I was in love with you?” She interrupts and he falls silent. “I was sick that one day a year ago, bad sick. And you told me not to go into work, but I didn’t listen and when I came home early, I could barely walk straight.” She places a hand on her hip. “And you helped me into the bathroom. Ran a bath in the dark, lit a few candles and you bathed me. Washed my hair. Took care of me. You were so gentle and so loving. Like a priest tasked with cleaning his alter, you cleansed me and made me feel safe.”

He shifts uncomfortably but his body language is anything but repulsed; it’s soft. “You started cryin’ when I was washin’ your hair. Thought I got soap in your eyes. But you said you just felt so loved.” He smiles then. “You were like a kitten really. Could barely lift your head. So tired and weak.”

“Mhm. And then you tucked me into bed and crawled beneath the covers with me. Laid up beside me, never once acted sexual. Just…caring.” She looks at him. “Do you remember what I said to you before I went to sleep?”

“No,” he mutters but he looks up at the ceiling and she knows he’s lying, it’s his tell-tale sign.

She gives him the benefit of the doubt and closes the distance between them, lays her hands on his chest, and says, “I said, ‘This is the real man beneath all that coldness. The real Simon. The one I knew I loved more than anything. No matter what.’”

Simon shudders beneath her touch, feels weak in his knees like he might drop to his and worship at her feet, beg for forgiveness like a sinner in confession. His chest aches, tightening as the words tear violently at his chest, a reminder that he left one of the only good things to ever come into his life, all because he was too afraid to let the walls come down, too afraid to be vulnerable, too afraid to risk being hurt—because if she hurt him, he’d never come back from it. In the end, he’d felt like a fool trying to protect a damsel who never needed saving in the first place; and he was left with the realization that she’d been protecting him the entire time.

“I know what you do, Simon. I know it’s hard, even if you don’t think it is. I know that no matter how you push your humanity down into that hole that it’s still there. I know killing someone takes something from you every time but, Simon, I’m not your enemy. I love you.” Her eyes are calm, but her voice is firm. “And I will not stand on the outside of the lines under some guise of protection. You either be upfront and honest with me about everything or you leave, and you don’t come back.”

Simon knows she’s asking him to choose now, and he feels that creeping anxiety rise in his throat like bile until he manages, “Can…can we talk about everything in the morning?”

She sighs and pulls her hands away. “Yeah, I guess so. Sheets and blankets are in the hall closet. You know where the couch is.”

“You’re not going to let me sleep in the bed?” He sounds incredibly offended.

“Couch, Riley.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, but he can’t help but smile when she sets the bedding out on the couch for him. “Goodnight, love,” he murmurs as she passes, and her shoulders tense and she waves a hand.

“Goodnight, Simon.”

He sits on the couch for a few moments, watches the rain splatter against the window, the clock ticking on the wall, before he pulls out his phone and simply types, “I love you,” and sends it.

It’s quiet for a solid ten seconds before he hears, “You absolute bastard!” From the bedroom followed by, “Get in here!”

Simon gives a victory dance as he clears his throat and attempts to look innocent as he steps into her bedroom; she glowers and points to the other side. “You’re on that side.”

“You can make me,” he retorts and crawls into the middle of the bed, groaning when all the bones in his body snap and pop.

She rolls her eyes and goes back to her book, but after a moment, she shifts against the headboard, getting comfortable again. Simon lifts his head, watches her, then he moves and lays his head in her lap, his arms wrapped around her hips under the pillows behind her. Her eyes rise to the wall in front of her and she stares unamusedly at it before she switches the book into her other hand and rests her right hand at the back of his neck, gently thumbing the juncture of his spine and skull. He groans beneath her touch, shifts himself so that she has control over moving him, body going slack when she scratches her nails into his scalp.

“You’re like a cat,” she mutters, feeling his lips turn up against her thigh.

“Meow,” he mimics, and she snorts, feeling him move until his head is pressed into her stomach, face turned so she can see the right profile.

He watches until she puts the book down on her nightstand and turns into him; they gaze at each other, and his eyes gently shut when she cups his face, thumbs brushing over his features.

“You know I’m giving you another chance, don’t you?”

Simon swallows the lump in his throat and nods. “…yeah.”

“But we’ve gotta change. Or else we’ll end up back where we were before we broke up.”

“I know.” He opens his eyes and looks at her. “I’ve missed you, love.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she murmurs, bending down to press her lips to his forehead. “Doesn’t feel the same without you haunting my apartment.”

His lips turn up in a smile as she pulls back and lays on the pillows; Simon rises and crawls up her body, his nose brushing hers as he whispers, “I’ll do better for you. I’ll change. I swear it.”

“Yeah?”

His gaze turns solemn in a way she’s never seen before as he replies, “On their grave, I will.”

She smiles softly at him, pulls him down so his face is tucked in her neck, and replies, “Get some sleep.”

“I love you,” he mutters against her warm skin, arms tucked safely around her, body weight comfortably on her. “I love you more than the world.”

“I love you,” she says back, reaching up to turn off the lamp on the nightstand.

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lazybutsmexy · 1 year

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The Mission

Background Ghost x K9 handler!reader x Soap - K9 Dolly centered

A/N: this is related to this request, but it can be read as a stand alone.

Warnings: none! GN!Reader but they get periods.

Summary: K9 Dolly is sent on her first solo mission.

Word count: 2.1 k

This would be, quite possibly, her most important mission so far in her short life. It would be her first ever solo assignment, too. So, quite a big deal. Might lead to a promotion. Or maybe a steak dinner. She would be happy with whichever.

Her nose twitched in the air as she peeked her head out into the hallway. Her ears were shot up straight as she scanned the area around her in earnest.

All clear.

Dolly stole a glance back before she left the room drowned in shadows. Her lean body allowed her to walk out without needing to push the door open any further - which was a good thing, given the fact she wouldn't be able to pull it closed again.

Her blunt nails barely scratched the tile floor as she trotted down the hallway in the general direction of her objective. Dolly was confident in her strut, having memorized her path from the many times she had walked with Sergeant L/n in that same direction. She knew she had to cross the long hallway and make it to a big area, then another hallway, then another big, open area, enter a building, and cross yet another hallway to get to the infirmary. There she would deliver the note strapped to her collar, and guide whoever took the note back to the Sergeant's room.

Easy peasy toy squeaky.

The echo of boot-strapped steps made her trot falter to a walk, and Dolly paid closer attention to the sound. Sergeant had said "bug-bug" which was short for "don't let any other soldier catch you or you'll get in trouble". Avoiding being caught was easy enough, she had two more running legs than anyone else on base. Avoiding being seen was the issue - it was what made her mission so thrilling.

Dolly listened closely to the steps as they faded away, and she resumed her previous trot across the hallway. Soon enough, she arrived at the big area, where soldiers ate and the Lieutenant gave her meat scraps for some time.

The common area was empty, although she noticed the distant clanging of pots and plates coming from somewhere on the right and- CHICKEN!

It smelled like chicken! Lunch would be chicken! Oh that was good news alright. Her nose tingled as the aroma wafted in, and her tail fanned behind her excitedly. Oh, she loved chicken! Chicken was so good, so tasty-

"...dog!"

Dog? No, chicken!

Wait.

Dog? She was a dog.

Dolly's head turned to follow the voice and her eyes met the soldier that was stomping towards her. He stretched his hands to grab her and she jumped into action, ducking under his outstretched arm and booking it towards the open door.

Bug-bug!, it echoed in her brain as she sped up towards the lawn. Surprisingly, the soldier was really fast, being able to follow after her - although a couple dozen feet behind. He was shouting and giving her commands to stop. He was using the right words, the commands she had heard her whole training - but the Sergeant had given her a mission.

Dolly grew concerned, the more the soldier shouted, the more soldiers would see her, and she would eventually be caught. She had to find a way to get rid of him, and quickly.

Her stride was firm and strong - she knew she would be able to outrun him with a bit of a push. And so she did, summoning her inner whippet she cut through the lawn like an arrow. The wind whistled past her ears and made her eyes sting a little, but she could take it - for the sake of her mission.

Dolly took a wide turn behind the buildings, avoiding running into other soldiers who stepped away from her path in a mix of confusion and amusement. She ran around the enormous buildings until she got back to the front doors, and made a screeching halt, crawling under a parked humvee.

The vehicle was tall enough for anyone to spot her if they crouched if just a little. But Dolly stayed still, snapping her mouth shut to hide her panting as she watched the legs of the soldier stomp away. She waited a few moments before sneaking from under the humvee and towards the building. She had to be very careful now, she couldn't risk being found and caught, she had to find the infirmary.

Dolly pushed past the door and strutted in, the adrenaline of the chase still pumping in her system. A brief thought of being in the clear passed through her mind when she saw no one at the immediate proximity of the hallway, but something was wrong - she could feel it. she could smell it, and hear it.

It was much noisier than usual, clanking noises and grunts echoing in the air around her. It didn’t sound like an infirmary. Her uneasy steps led her to the source of the noise, a door a bit further away to the left. It was wide open, so she peered in and felt her anxiety grow.

It was filled with soldiers, lifting weights, punching sandbags, sparring against each other. It smelled of sweat and musk, and way too much testosterone. She tried to retrace her steps, bug-bug her way out of there as fast as she could, but her bum collided with something hard.

Startled, she let out a loud yelp - effectively catching the attention of quite a few men inside the room - and turned around. Her ears were flat on her head as she looked up to see Captain Price looking down at her in amusement.

“Ah, I did think I saw a dog running around out there,“ he chuckled, resting his hands on his hips, “I thought my eyes were deceiving me.” His voice didn’t sound angry, but Dolly couldn’t shake off the feeling of being in deep trouble. She was certainly surrounded now, she had no fighting chance. Besides, she was still recovering from her sprint earlier, so all she could hope was that he would be friendly to her.

“Dolly?” Another familiar voice caught her attention and she whipped her head back into the room, just in time to notice Sergeant Johnny Soap walking towards her. She ducked her head a little lower, her ears remained flat, but her tail made the tiniest movement as he approached. Maybe if she looked very apologetic and showed how sorry she was they wouldn’t be so mad? “What’re you doing here, pup? Where's Y/n?”

A low whine left her throat as Soap stroked the fur on her back, and Dolly instinctively relaxed into his touch.

“There’s something in her collar,” Ghost pointed out, approaching the group after Soap while drying the sweat off his neck with a small towel. Soap carefully reached around her collar until his fingers caught the piece of paper secured on it, and pulled it off.

Dolly sat down and looked down dejectedly - her mission was finished, she had been caught. Her dark irises rose up at the men as the paper was unfolded, inwardly kissing her promotion - and her steak dinner - goodbye.

Soap straightened the paper and found a note in Y/n’s handwriting, and Ghost looked over his shoulder to read it, too.

“Strong painkillers needed. Period cramps will be the death of me. Sgt. L/n.”

A short silence preceded Soap’s amused laugh, as he pocketed the note and leaned down to give Dolly an earnest scratch behind her ears.

“Aw, you were sent on a little stocking mission, aye?” Dolly perked up and her ears shot up straight, did he understand? “You got in the wrong building, pup, the infirmary is in the next one.”

A low rumble resembling a chuckle came from Ghost, who also leaned down to give Dolly a good stroke. He then turned to Price, who hadn’t yet read the note and was eyeing them in curiosity. “I’ll go check on them, maybe Soap can aid the little scout on her task.”

“Aye, leave it to me,” Soap beamed, patting the side of his thigh and grinning at the pup, “Dolly, heel! Let’s get those painkillers, hm?”

Dolly stood up and wagged her tail, instantly gluing her body to Soap’s left leg and looking up at him. He was good! He was going to help!

Soap beamed down at her and led her out of the door, Ghost following them outside. Just as they stepped out, the soldier that had been trying to catch Dolly came to a stop before them, heaving loudly as he tried to catch his breath. He was red in the face, and his hair was in all directions, his uniform looked a little damp and definitely not as put together as it was when he first saw her.

“Lieu- Lieutenant, Sergeant,” he panted in a greeting, barely keeping his body straight as he tried really hard not to wheeze in front of his superiors, “I- *pant* I’ve been trying to catch- *pant* catch the dog,” he swallowed down a cough, and Soap waited until the poor man regained a semi-normal breathing pattern before answering.

“Well, there’s no need for that anymore, as you can see,” he reached down and rested his hand on top of Dolly’s head, who remained by his side even though she had the urge to hide behind him.

“That dog shouldn’t be here, sir,” the soldier protested with a frown in his brow, “should be locked up.”

Ghost shared a look with Soap, before glancing back at the soldier, “this dog was sent on an errand by her handler,” the other man looked like he wanted to protest again, but he cut him off, “and by the way, this dog outranks you, private, just leave her be.”

At the man’s bewildered look, Price chimed in - he had walked out right on time to witness the exchange. “K9 agents share the same rank or higher than their handler, private, you must’ve read this in the military rule book,” the soldier straightened up as he noticed their Captain, but Price simply shot him an amused look, “K9 Dolly’s handler is Sergeant L/n, therefore this is Sergeant Dolly to you.”

“Uh, right,” the man flushed, giving his superiors an embarrassed nod, “my apologies sir, I’ll revise that.”

Dolly simply watched as the soldier quickly saluted and scrambled away, but could practically smell the amusement in the three men around her. That relaxed her greatly under Soap’s palm. Both of them watched as Lieutenant Ghost walked towards the barracks before they resumed their walk to the infirmary.

Moments later, Ghost found himself in front of a familiar door, opened in the slightest. He pushed it further, the hinges giving the tiniest whine and stirring Y/n from their dozing. He approached the bed, watching the blanketed lump making the tiniest movement.

“...Dolly?” the lump groaned, and Ghost couldn’t help but smile under his balaclava.

“Wrong dog, love,” he hummed, the springs creaking a little under his weight as he sat down by their side. His hand rested on where he guessed was their back, and applied a bit of pressure as he rubbed it up and down, earning an appreciative moan, “have you eaten anything?”

“...had some water,” Y/n admitted after a few silent seconds. There was no use in lying, he would find out sooner or later anyway.

Ghost frowned at that - he had feared it would be the case. Since Y/n had sent Dolly to the infirmary instead of going themselves, he assumed they hadn’t had the means to get proper breakfast either. “I’ll get you something proper later, ‘kay?” he promised, carefully lifting the edge of the blanket to peek at their scrunched-up face. He leaned down, pressing a clothed kiss on their clammy forehead.

Just then, his ears picked up the familiar scratch of nails on tile, and seconds later he had to pull away to let Dolly give away her share of kisses. He watched the tender scene as Soap crouched down in front of him, trying to get a peek of their face himself as he handed them a single pill and a bottle of water.

Y/n slowly sat up, taking both and gulping the pill with a large swig of water before snuggling closer to Ghost’s warmth. Dolly watched the trio, her tail thumping against the floor as she waited for her chance to join the cuddle pile that didn’t take long to form. Soap climbed on the bed and gave her a wink, patting his lap.

Mission: pain relief. Status: completed.

A/N2: raise your hand if you also find the fact about military dogs having ranks awesome

#ghost x reader x soap #simon ghost riley x reader x john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader imagine #simon ghost riley x reader fanfiction #ghost x reader #ghost x reader fanfiction #ghost x reader imagine #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader imagine #john soap mactavisn x reader fanfiction #soap x reader #soap x reader fanfiction #soap x reader imagine #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader

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simonrileysfavteacup · 11 days

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You stir awake, sighing as you roll over to face your sleeping husband. You sit up, fixing your stretchy shirt over your very swollen belly. You pat Simon’s side. “Si? Si! Si!”

He groans as he wakes up, rolling over and shoving his head into his pillow. “Go back t’ sleep.”

“I want a big mac.”

He groans louder.

“Please, Si? I’m super hungry. And bubby keeps kicking.”

He sighs, “Look ‘t the time, lovie.”

You almost tear up.

When he notices the frown on your face, he sighs again, getting up. “Which one is the closest?”

You smile, almost jumping with joy as you lean up to press a million kisses to his cheek. “The one on 42nd.”

He leans down, kissing your belly and your lips before heading off to get dressed.

He returns 20 minutes later, a bag and 2 drinks in hand. You practically moan at the smell as he hands you the bag.

“I love you,” you moan as you take a bite of your burger. He chuckles, eating his own. “Bubby loves you too. He’s kicking every time I take a bite.”

“Bet ‘e does.” Simon kisses your belly as you stuff a few fries in your mouth. “Lovie?”

“Yeah?” you ask with a mouth full.

“Do ya think he’ll like me?”

“For the millionth time, my love, you are nothing like your father. You’re far too kind and too amazing and too sweet. He’s going to love you. Just like I do.”

He chuckles, “Love you too.”

He leans down, kissing your belly.

“Both of ya annoying little buggers. Always fuckin’ hungry.”

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

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chaosandmarigolds · 19 days

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Simon Riley! who isn't traditional in the gross way but in the he wants to protect you and make sure you don't feel like you have to provide for yourself, he wants to be a safety net, something to rely on

Simon Riley! Who made it a point to buy your dream house as soon as you were married,

Simon Riley! Who didn't expect houses to require so...much...work

"Baby! The water won't turn off?"

"The fuck you mean it won't turn off just-" Simon grumbled as he dropped the moving box and walked into the kitchen, grabbing the handle of the faucet and trying to pull it, only for it to come flying off. Leaving him dumbfounded and you a giggling disaster.

Simon Riley! Who likes handy man tasks as much as the next guy but the people at the store are beginning to know his name

Simon Riley! Who didn't have a dad to teach him some stuff like plumbing and whatnot so he calls Price

"Oi, Cap-"

"She came to her senses and ran away, yeah?"

"No...I need you to tell me ho' to turn off th' water."

Simon Riley! Who does know how much you love watching him do yard work but doesn't dwell because these godddamn weeds-

Simon Riley! Who loves nothing more than watching you paint the walls of the house, finds it like to be a scene of a movie and it would be a lie if the reality was much better than the cinema

Simon Riley! Who hates facebook because you would randomly send him across the city because you found an old China cabinet you thought would be perfect

Simon Riley! Who doesn't care how his buddies tease him about becoming a domestic civilian so soon, because he would happily fix a thousand houses if it meant a thousand more years with you

(Comments and feedback make my day! annnd yeah that's it <3 )

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 2 months

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Simon Riley was a man who hardly praised anyone. As a man of few words, a simple nod was all he’d give to anyone who managed to impress him.

At first, you were no different. Even when it came to sex, the most you’d ever get from Simon was a soft smile, or the occasional grunt and groan that he let fall from his lips.

That was, until one night, when Simon was balls deep inside of you, a simple “good girl” escaped from his lips. He didn’t miss the way your pussy tightened around him, the soft mewl that fell from your pretty little lips at his words.

“You like that, huh? You like being called a good girl?” Simon teased, stilling his cock inside of you. He watched with a grin as your eyes fluttered open, your bottom lip pouting out slightly.

“Simon.” You begged, tightening your hold on his shoulders. “Please.”

“You do, don’t you?” Simon cooed, sliding his cock out of you painstakingly slow. “Are you my good girl?”

You gave a lazy nod, causing your lover to chuckle softly. You felt a kiss pressed to your temple, as Simon’s cock rammed back into your tight hole once more.

“My good fucking girl, always taking me so well.” Simon chanted, relishing in the way your walls squeezed around him yet again. “This pretty little cunt was made just for me.”

It was as if that night had awoken something within him, and the soft praises continued to fall from his lips from then on. Simon found that he fucking loved to praise you, his pretty girl.

After all, you were his good girl, and you deserved to be treated as such.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2

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suguann · 1 month

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When you first introduce him, Simon instantly knows that he hates your now ex-boyfriend—especially after he broke up with you only two months into the relationship, and the reason behind it sets his teeth on edge.

You’re perfect and so sweet; how could he—

“He broke up with me because…I um…Do I really have to say it? It’s embarrassing.”

He bumps his knee into yours because he really fucking sucks at saying the right thing when the moment calls for it. “You don’t have to say anything.”

With a huff, you get a little flustered and glance down into your glass of beer, brows furrowed. “I couldn’t make him fit.”

It’s so soft, but he hears it as if you’d shouted it across the bar.

The only thought he can think of is that your ex-boyfriend is an idiot once he has your back pressed up against his chest and trembling thighs spread over top of his. Three of his thick fingers already work deep inside of you, filling the room with filthy squelching sounds and your breathy moans.

His thumb carefully drags over your clit, loving how you twitch in his arms. “See? Someone just needed to stretch your little pussy properly, huh?”

“Mhm.” You nod, pressing yourself further into him, thighs butterflying open. “It feels so good.”

“You’re so loose and wet. I bet my cock would slip right in.”

Your walls clench and flutter around him, and it takes everything in him not to toss you onto the bed and fuck you into his sheets. “Simon, can you fuck me? Please?”

It’s hard to deny you when you ask so sweetly, but he can’t give you what you want—not yet. You whine when he pulls one of his fingers out, but it cuts off into a surprised squeak when he grabs your smaller hand to bring it between your thighs.

“Put one of your fingers inside your pussy.”

You turn your head to look up at him, kiss-bitten lips pulled into a pout. “But—”

“Come on, love, be good for me.” Teeth nip your jaw as a warning. “I know you can be so good for me.”

Slowly, you ease your finger in beside his with little pants of his name. His cock jumps against your back as he watches your cunt open up to suck in the intrusion—it makes his stomach twist. Simon traps your finger between his and curls them alongside his inside you, tearing a sharp cry from your chest.

“You’re so gorgeous.” His words are raw, rumbling somewhere deep within his chest. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. So full. Better than your boyfriend ever could.”

Masterlist

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dixonsgirl93 · 3 months

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You take out your little tin of Vaseline, taking a small amount on your finger and bringing it to your lips. You feel Simon Riley’s large presence walk up to you. He leans one hand against the wall. He’s standing so close you could almost see his pupils expand a little when you looked up into them.

Your heart racing, you hold his gaze and rub your finger over your lips. Dip into the tin, back onto your lips. You rub your lips together.

“Can I have some?” Ghost’s gruff voice rumbles from beneath his mask.

“You want lip balm?” You ask, somewhat incredulous. He didn’t seem like the type.

He merely nods, never talking his eyes off yours.

“Okay.” You say, the word sounding more like a question. He lifts his mask just above his mouth. You go to hand over the tin. His hand comes out but instead of taking the tin, they find your chin, gently gripping you and pulling you closer. His lips land on yours, firm but a lot gentler than you were expecting.

He pulls back, rubbing his lips together. You blush furiously.

“Thanks, love.” He mumbles, pulling his mask back down. He walks away then as if nothing just happened.

#simon Riley #Simon Riley x you #simon ghost riley imagine #cod simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #Simon Riley Drabble #Simon ghost Riley Drabble #ghost drabble

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yawnderu · 4 months

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There's only 3 people Simon follows on social media. Gaz, Soap... and a pornstar he's been obsessed with for months.

He loves coming back from missions and seeing you promoting your new content on Twitter, always getting fucked by a different person— never the same man or woman twice.

He'd be lying if he said he doesn't think he can fuck you better than the men jackhammering into you without care, or the women who keep staring at the camera rather than focusing on your lovely body. He could do it so much better, stuffing your pretty cunt full of eight inches of thick, veiny meat.

Warm water runs down his body as he rubs his throbbing cock, calloused hands toying with the angry, red tip before he smears it all over his shaft, almost cumming at the wet sound that rings around the shower when he jerks off again.

His leaking precum sticks to his hand, begging him to keep going while he scrolls down your Twitter. Half-lidded brown eyes struggle to stay open when he sees a new photo of you, groaning at the way your bright smile overpowers the thick cum smeared all over your lovely tits, looking so proud of finishing another man off and getting marked.

His boner is almost painful at this point. He's sure his arm is going to get a cramp after this, but he's too far gone to care.

Simon's fantasies run wild as he keeps scrolling and liking your new content. He's barely lucid enough to register the newest video, looking at the skimpy clothing you're wearing being ripped off by an older man, cock thrusting into you wildly, almost punishingly. There's nothing more lovely than your expression when you get penetrated, wide eyes looking at the camera and pretty lips turned into an "o" shape before you smile, clearly enjoying every single inch of meat stuffed into your needy cunt.

“Fuck.” His hand works faster down his shaft, the familiar tight feeling in his heavy balls returning while he lets out a low moan. A tidal wave of euphoria hits him when his half-lidded brown eyes return to the video, muscles flexing and tensing up as he releases thick ropes of cum onto the floor, letting the water wash it away.

His hips buck uncontrollably as he squeezes the last drops of thick cum out of his cock with a couple of low groans, hand finally slowing down.

His muscles finally relax, chest rising up and down while he tries to recover from the intense orgasm. He can't help but look at the ropes of release being washed away, secretly hoping they were in you instead.

His phone vibrates in his hand, and he immediately looks at it with a raised eyebrow, breath catching in his throat when he reads the notification announcing that you follow him back.

Part II | Part III

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gaysindistress · 2 months

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Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Simon Riley.

Simon Riley masterlist

1. First off he hates the word ‘boyfriend’.

Maybe it’s because he’s in his mid thirties or something but he can’t stand being called your boyfriend. He’s more than that but also not at the same time. You live together, have access to each other’s bank accounts (which is only because he hates it when you try to fight him about him giving you money), and you’re each others emergency contact. He thinks of himself as your husband. The man wears a silicone ring when he’s home and a necklace with the ring that’s totally not a wedding band when he’s working. Price has seen the chain once or twice and smirks, shooting him a knowing look but never says a word.

Simon cannot stand it when people get nosy and want to know what your relationship status is. You’re together and that’s all that matters. No one needs to know that you’re the beneficiary of his will and life insurance policy or that he’s put you on all of his accounts. No one needs to know that he buys you anything you want but has only ever bought you two rings; a thin gold band with a flower engraved on it and its twin a matching emerald ring. No one needs to know that when he gifted them to you, there were tears and promises of safety, love, and happiness whispered against feverish skin. No one needs to know that he has your name woven into his chest tattoo.

No one needs to know any of that because your relationship is between him and you only.

2. You are not some submissive little house wife. You are a strong independent woman and he prefers it that way.

I know this one goes against what most people say but hear me out on this. Simon has been independent since birth practically. He’s only had himself to count on for years. Even in the military, he’s only been able to rely himself. Sure the others watch out for him but if it came down to it, he’s the only one who’s going to get himself out alive.

The thought of someone else relying on him in that way is terrifying. He can’t even fathom what it would be like to look at another person and fully trust them in that way. Half the time he feels like he can’t even be trusted to take care of himself let alone another human. In theory a sweet docile housewife is great with the meals and clean house but not for him. He needs to know that you can hold your own. He needs to know that you can be independent and carry on without him if something happened while he was working. He needs to know that you will be okay if he doesn’t come back.

You have to be okay without him no matter how much it pains him to think about it.

Like I said before, he’s made you the beneficiary of everything so he knows you’ll be set financially but that’s not enough. He’s made Price promise to keep an eye out for you. He’s made you promise to let Price do that and you agreed because it’s Simon who’s asking but you’d tell anyone else to fuck off.

In addition to all of that, he’s installed the best security system the government has to offer in your house. You have a very expensive and large safe in your shared closet that he’s instructed you to only open if you feel unsafe. While you might not like it, you agree to go shooting with him so he can sleep at night knowing that you could protect yourself if he’s not home. He’s gone as far as to make sure you have all of the licenses and certificates that are needed to legally own firearms in the UK.

He’s not leaving any opportunity for you to be vulnerable or have your ‘safety checks’, as he calls them, taken away.

3. Simon Riley is a godless man…until he meets you.

Now this is entirely my own headcannon with no evidence to support it so bear with me.

Simon had a shitty childhood where his mom would pray to a god who never listened and his dad would shout verses at him when he was drunk. God was a mythical figure that he was told stories off with nothing to show for it. He did believe at one point but then his dad never got better, his mom wore bruises of every shade, and his brother found comfort in drugs.

He found himself praying when he was being tortured by the Mexican cartel. Between the flashbacks of his abusive past, he prayed to a god who had failed him so many times before to help him. He prayed again as he dug himself out of that Texas grave with the major’s jaw bone. He wailed his prayers when he found his family executed after Sparks tried to kill him.

After that he deemed himself a Godless man. Years of praying had passed with nothing. This god had decided that Simon was not worthy of a miracle so why would he continue to worship him?

That was until he met you. He finds himself praying before every mission, every time he has to leave you, every time he’s on his way home, and just about any other time he thinks of you. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s praying for other than for you to be there when he gets back.

He whispers his prayers to an absent god against your skin as he worships your body, soul, and heart. He promises to be devoted to you until his last breath and vows to find you again in whatever afterlife awaits you. He pledges to find solace in you and only you when his haunting nightmares return. He makes an oath to your heart that it will never weather another storm alone again for his will take whatever beating that comes your way. He shows you that he will love you in the same manner as a Hozier song; putting you above all else because you have become his religion, his faith, his beliefs, his life.

You have become all that he is and he thanks the god he once believed in for you. He prays again but to you, his heart, his love, and his beacon through the enteral storm of life.

#simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost imagine #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost #ghost x female reader

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ragingbookdragon · 3 months

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It comes as somewhat a surprise when the others realize that something has obviously happened between their resident Lieutenant and Private, as she’s quick to fall silent whenever he appears, and even more so make herself scare when she can when he’s around. It’s only the third time that Soap sees it that he says something, because if he doesn’t no one else will, and where’s the fun in that?

He watches her duck her head and leave the break room, Gaz, Soap, Price, and Ghost sitting alone at the breakfast table conversing over soggy cereal and cooling tea; Soap pushes a piece of bacon on his plate and asks, “Trouble in paradise, Lt?” the corner of his mouth arches with a slight grin when he hears the warning grunt come from Ghost.

“No.”

“Seems like it,” he retorts, taking a sip of his coffee. “What’d ya do? Tell her ta fuck off?”

“Drop it, MacTavish,” Ghost warns darkly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

This time, Gaz jumps in. “C’mon, Lt., it’s obvious that something’s wrong. I mean, she won’t even look at you, let alone say anything unless you speak first.”

“An’ she’s callin’ ‘im ‘sir.’” Soap adds, pointing at him. “Christ, Lt., ya musta done a number on ‘er. Poor Puffin. So sweet and kind. Broke ‘er heart ya did.”

Price can tell that Ghost is close to snapping at the both of them but gets to it before he does. “Soap, Gaz, go catalogue our inventory for the mission next week.”

“Aw, but we already d—” Soap falls silent when Price shoots him a look and quietly grumbles to himself as he grabs his plate and cup, Gaz following in suit.

It’s only until the two soldiers are alone that Price asks, “What did happen, Simon?”

Ghost lets out a long sigh and rolls his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Pretty much told ‘er to fuck off.”

Price watches quietly as Ghost begins rattling to himself—he’s never really had to ask the man to explain himself. All he’s gotta do is prompt him to do so and Ghost does the rest.

“I just got mad. She’s always ‘round and practically up my arse, and I got caught up and instead of ‘andlin’ it properly, I shoved my fucking foot in my mouth and scalped her.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I meant to be gentler but once I started, I couldn’t stop. It just kept comin’ out. And now she fuckin’ hates me.”

He pulls his hand down and looks up at Price with a scowl—the man is smiling at him, but it’s that stupid smile that means more than Ghost wants to admit it does.

“Quit that.”

“You care about her,” Price murmurs, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, though his admonish is still harsh. “And instead of telling her how you felt like a grown adult, you took the ten-year-old way out and decided to be a cunt to her.”

“I didn’t mean to be such a cunt.”

“But the fact of the matter is that you did, and you’ve screwed up team fluidity and cohesion.” He looks at him. “You know a team divided—”

“Can’t stand,” Ghost finishes with an even worse scowl. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He looks away. “I just don’t know how to even start tryin’ to fix it.”

“Well, apologizing might be a good start,” Price rumbles with a grin. “She’s a good kid, Simon. Her heart’s in the right place, even if it’s a bit much at times. Shows she cares. More than most do in our line of work. She’s a rare one.”

“I know,” he admits in a much, much softer tone. “I just don’t want her to lose that doin’ this.” His eyes meet Price’s, and they hold such a misery. “Look at us, Price,” he mutters, gesturing between them. “Middle age, unmarried, no kids, too fucked up for anything like that. She doesn’t…” he clenches his jaw. “She deserves a better path, a safer path, than this life. She deserves to go out and have a life where she comes home to a family.”

“That’s not your choice to make, son,” he replies gently, but there’s a firmness to it. “If this is what she wants to do, then she will. We can’t make her get out of service.”

Ghost growls low in his throat. “She has so much more potential than being cannon fodder. She could do somethin’ with her life. Somethin’ good. Somethin’ that won’t have her dying face down in the sand with a bullet wound in the back.”

Price simply watches him.

“But she’s so fuckin’ stupid. She wants to be here. She wants to spend whatever time she has dodgin’ bullets and wakin’ up every night in sweat ‘cause she can’t escape the dreams. No one wants to do this. We don’t want to do this. We do this because we have to. But her? She’s happy here.” He lowers his voice, it’s as if he’s in disbelief. “She’s happy here.” He looks at Price. “Why? Why is she so happy here?”

It's another long moment before Price speaks.

“You hear, son, but you don’t listen.” He moves the cup on the saucer. “She bounced around homes growing up, scraped by on the skin of her teeth. She has no one. But here, she has something. She has people who care for her, if nothing else, they won’t let her die alone.”

“Oh what? So, it’s found family bullshit?” Ghost spits. “If she dies, at least the team would mourn her?”

“Isn’t that what you’ve done too?” he replies, and Ghost falls silent. “People like Gaz, Soap, and myself are different than you and she are, Simon. We have homes. We’ve had families that have loved us, that do love us. But you two? Simon, you’ve made a home where you’ve had to. Made a family out of people you’ve bled for, would gladly bleed for. You’ve made something that’s yours. You made a family for yourself. And so did she. She’s made us her family. The one she never had the privilege to call her own.”

Price lets out a quiet hum, and pats his thighs, standing up and pushing his chair in.

“Think on what I’ve said, son. And if nothing else, apologize and leave it at that. Put the ball in her court and let her make the next move.”

As he walks off, he hears, “And if she doesn’t want it?”

He tosses a knowing look over his shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll take it.” His eyes twinkle as he adds, “Takes an awful strong woman to care about a man like you.”

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lazybutsmexy · 1 year

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Bird hunting

Ghost x fem!reader x Soap

Chapter 10: Flying Away

Ch.9 < Series Masterlist > Ch. 11

Warnings: description of a body/injuries

Summary: Ghost and Soap feel hope, Canary feels frustration.

Do not read this work if you're under 18. This work contains mature and triggering themes.

Word count: 1600~

Climbing the hill slope through the forest was no easy task with an open wound and burnt soles, but Canary took advantage of the adrenaline still pumping through her veins and managed it. She got to the top of the hill, nearly clawing at the trees around her for support, and purposely ignoring the pain coursing in waves through her body with each step. As soon as she got to the top of the hill, she looked towards the road, just a few feet away from where she stood.

There were still no signs of any vehicles, but she wouldn’t wait to be found. She knew that Luke would be back anytime now with a different vehicle, and she didn’t have the strength to fight him if he caught sight of her. And with that in mind, she descended the other end of the slope. Her feet slid and scrambled against the humid leaves and the mud, and Canary groaned in pain as she stopped her skidding by holding onto the trees.

Once she got to the bottom of the slope, the sound of a stream was heard from her twelve. Panting, she tried to maintain a hurried step as she reached the water, studying it cautiously.

The stream didn’t look deep, but the current was strong and possibly very strong. Still, she needed to cross it, and she was not going to climb the hill again simply to get to the bridge - it would cost her precious time she didn’t have. Canary looked around until she found the shortest way to the other side. She walked over to the shore and took a deep breath, plunging her feet into the cold water.

She swallowed a scream as she forced her feet forward, the water reached above her knees at the deepest, and the current was strong enough that it threatened to topple her over every time she raised her foot to take a step. She was already shivering at the low temperatures of the water, and realized her bandages were becoming wetter - only not with the water.

To make things worse, just as she was halfway through the stream, she heard an engine approaching. In a panic, Canary painstakingly hurried her step, nearly tripping on a rock as she tried to get to the other side before whatever car passed.

Just as she stepped on dry land, the engines were heard louder, and she stumbled to hide behind some tall bushes, wondering if it was the third man.

She instead saw a patrol car and a jeep. And inside the patrol car, a very familiar sight she would recognize in the darkest nights, through a sniper’s scope at five hundred meters away, or in complete darkness, with her eyes closed and using only her fingertips to guide herself - a skull balaclava.

She let out a loud gasp before attempting to scream for Ghost to look her way. But she was short of breath from both her effort to cross the stream, and her body’s natural reaction to the cold water.

“Gho-! *cough* Ghost! I’m here!” She still tried, nearly choking with her own spit as she tried to scream through her panting, only to watch both vehicles drive away.

The sound of the engines lulled to silence, and Canary simply stared at the spot where they disappeared to.

They were there for her, she was sure of it. They would get to the cabin and realize she managed out, and would realize she had to go through the woods. They would get to her in no time.

That didn’t stop the tears from streaming down her face in frustration and a sob to choke up in her throat, as she lost the grip on the tree trunk next to her and fell to her knees on a bed of fallen leaves.

~~~~~~

The air within the patrol car was stuffy - or at least it felt like that to Luke. He was sat in between Ghost and Soap, two humongous men - compared to him at least. At one point during the drive, he dared to peek at them, and finding out that their biceps alone were the size of his head made him rethink all his life decisions that led him there.

He trained his eyes up front again. He would only speak to instruct the driver where to go, too afraid of what could happen if either he didn’t or if he lied. Just the memory of the Sergeant single-handedly nearly crushing his skull sent a shiver down his spine. If that man could do that, what would the Lieutenant be able to do?

Luke let out a shuddery sigh. I should’ve stayed in school.

After driving for a while through a labyrinth of windy roads, they took a long road that seemed to lead deep into the forest. It was a type of rural road which had more stones than pavement. The rumbling of the stones beneath the car made its occupants shake within.

Soap briefly envied Price and Gaz, since they were riding the jeep. Whenever the smaller patrol car made a turn to avoid a hole or a too-big stone, his shoulder pushed against Luke. He could see that Ghost was in the same predicament, but neither of them made a comment. While Luke was overridden with terror for whatever would happen to him, both Soap and Ghost were antsy to get to Canary. Now that it was confirmed what her fate would be, they were going ready for a full-on tactical assault, with weapons charged and all. Price had even managed to call for a helicopter to be on standby in case it was needed.

…Luke had been quiet for a while now.

“How much longer?” Ghost asked, sharing Soap’s suspicions. Luke visibly flinched, as if he had gotten used to not hearing his voice.

“J-just a few more kilometers,” he squeaked, leaning a bit away from Ghost only to lean against Soap’s arm, “w-we still have to cross a bridge, and then we’ll be close.”

“You better be telling the truth, kid,” Ghost looked at him out of the corner of his eye, and Luke thought he was about to faint as his future looked bleak, “your neck doesn’t look too strong.”

Several minutes passed before they finally saw the bridge. Luke gave another stuttery instruction to the officer, but Ghost felt the sudden need to look out of his window just as they were crossing it. The stream below was noisy, and its current looked quite strong. His eyes moved to the horizon and watched the afternoon sunlight over the trees, wondering where this sudden withering feeling in his heart was coming from.

Just a couple minutes later, the officer drove up a hill, and Luke told him the next entrance to the right led to the cabin. Ghost made the officer stop.

“It won’t be good if we alert them that we’re coming," he climbed out and readied his weapon, Soap immediately following after him and readying his own weapon. He leaned into Hartford’s window then, “keep an eye on this mutt, we’ll take it from here.”

Soap flagged down the jeep, and told Price that they would continue on foot to have the element of surprise. Seconds later the four men, armed to the teeth and ready to rain a hail of bullets on whoever took their bird, sneaked through the edges of the forest with their sight fixed on the cabin. Price and Gaz gradually moved closer to the back of the building to surround it, while Soap and Ghost waited for the signal to move.

A familiar sense of forewarning filled their bodies at the same time - why was the front door wide open? As soon as Price gave the signal, all four men stormed in with weapons at the ready, only to find a massacre.

The man that had been with Luke in the van the first time they saw it, was laying on the floor like a starfish. His blood surrounded him on all sides, even above, like a grim blanket. Soap called the all-clear and got closer to the body.

“...I can count at least ten stab wounds,” he mumbled after a few moments, before looking up at Ghost, “think it was Canary?”

“Very probable,” he narrowed his eyes, taking in every aspect of the room. He saw the ripped bed sheets and the splatter of blood on the bed and the wall. He looked down, moving his foot and wiping a bit of the blood too easily. “It’s still fresh.”

Price walked in and made a grimace at the dead man, deliberately stepping on his hand while clicking his tongue. It was no secret that all four men wanted to have a bit of a turn against these men. It seemed like Canary got first dibs though, and he couldn’t be upset at that.

“There’s more blood,” Ghost pointed out at the wall next to the front door, “it’s not from that guy,” he tilted his head towards Charlie. Soap frowned and stood up, stepping closer to Ghost and glancing at the table.

“Two coffee cups, two piles of cigarette butts, two chairs,” Soap commented, then shook his head, “I don’t think these were for Canary at all.”

“Luke mentioned a boss, right?” Gaz chimed in from outside, then called them all out, “I found what looks like blood drops.”

All men walked outside and followed Gaz to a spot on the grass. There, staring back at them, sat three droplets of blood. A few feet away, another three.

A grim little trace that led them into the woods.

A/N: I know it's stretching but I love the dramaaaaaa

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simonzmama · 12 days

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‘magin sweet virgin simon finally hittin it.

your legs sit hiked up on the thick muscles sittin’ atop his hipbones, his fingers digging deep into the sheets, practically twisting em off the mattress as he breathes out lowly.

his hips press forward further, his cock burning n stomach rolling into taut knots that have his nails digging holes into your pretty pink sheets.

you drag your hands up his chest slowly watching as the muscles pull tight n his hips stutter. his eyes flicker up to yours, skin breakin out in a mess of tender of goosebumps. “breathe, baby. you’re goin’ red on me, si.”

he laughs lowly, throat thick as he bottoms out. his thighs press against the back of yours, neck rolling as he tries his absolute best to contain the way his orgasm shivers down his spine.

“oh my… fuck,” he groans, teeth takin ahold of his tongue to silence the multitude of noises rising up his throat. his eyes flutter to a shut slowly as he tries to get the image of your sweet body outta his mind, or the fact that your cunt is suckin’ n holdin’ him there so tightly.

his head drops into the crook of your neck as he slowly pulls back, teeth nippin at your soft skin as your head arches back. his teeth bare in a soft hiss, jaw ticking against your chin. you drag your nails down his back gently, a pretty moan spilling free off your lips at the soft drag of his thick cock against your warm, silky walls.

n that’s what does it for him, the sound of that melodic whine. it plays n plays in his mind on repeat until he’s suddenly forcing himself back into you, hips a shaky stuttery mess.

n the groan, the drawn out whimper that tumbles off his lips is cruel. his teeth sink down into your skin as his hips ground forward, desperately attempting to fuck his seed into you. his eyes roll and his fingers grasp at the soft hair lining the nape of your neck.

“simon?” you murmur softly feeling his thick, hot release fill you full. “lemme look at you, wanna see that pretty face.”

zamnnnn. dis sounded better in my head 🤦‍♀️✌️

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chaosandmarigolds · 18 days

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newbornDad! Simon Riley

Simon! Who insists on carrying the baby carrier through the threshold of the house when you get home from the hospital

Simon! who spent nine months training Riley to be gentle with the baby

Simon! Who carries the baby around showing them the house with little whispers, 'annnn this is your brothers room, he's had your grandads right now but don't worry sweetpea, you'll meet him soon'

Simon! Who strongly believes the baby needs skin to skin, so...are you complaining about him walking around shirtless with a baby held to chest, not at all

Simon! Who is so worried when Ollie holds the baby for the first time because yeah Ollie is six years old at that point but anxiety??

Simon! Who hates that he has to go on a mission, even if for two weeks because they are sooo so vital and he doesn't want to leave you alone and-

Simon! Who tells Oliver to take care of his little sibling and to look after you

Simon! Who hates his job sometimes

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 4 months

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Simon Riley was a man who was quiet in bed. Occasionally, you’d hear a soft groan, or a curse escape his lips as he buried himself further inside of you. But other than that he was relatively mute in the bedroom.

Tonight, you decided, would be different. You would do anything in your power to hear those sweet noises you just knew your husband could make.

He was above you, languidly and silently thrusting into you, save for a small grunt here or there. He was very much a man that liked to be in charge, liked to control the pace.

So to say he was surprised when you flipped both of you over, was an understatement. You hovered yourself over him, your soaked core practically dripping onto his cock.

Simon looked up at you with a hint of a smile dancing on his lips. “Well, this is a treat. You wanting to take charge, baby?”

You bit your lip softly as you got yourself comfortable, your fingers finding purchase on Simon’s chest. “Wanna make you feel good, Si.”

When you rammed yourself back down onto his thick length, Simon let out euphoric moan causing your walls to clench down around him. He sounded fucking heavenly, and you needed more of it.

“Need to hear you, Si, please.” You begged, your eyes fluttering shut as you continued your steady pace. You always loved this position, you loved when Simon let you be in control. You loved to be the one fucking him.

Simon gave you a wicked smile, his hands giving your hips a firm squeeze as he helped guide your hips. “That right, sweet girl? Does me making some noise make that pretty little pussy clench around me?”

You bit back a moan at his filthy words as your walls clenched around him once more, your nails digging crescents into Simon’s muscular chest. “P-please.”

“Go on then, love. Be a good girl and make me.” Simon was an absolute tease in the bedroom, but you fucking loved it.

Your hands found Simon’s, moving them up slowly so that they now rested on your breasts, his large hands completely encompassing each of them. The way he squeezed at the supple flesh had your wet walls closing down around his length, practically holding it in a vice grip.

Simon truly wanted to tease you further, he loved riling you up to the point where you’d get that cute pout he’d loved so damn much- but the way you looked fucking yourself stupid on his cock, mixed with the way your pussy felt just so fucking good clenched around him, he lost all his willpower.

“Fuck, that’s my girl. Taking my cock so fucking well.” Simon groaned, his pretty scarred lips falling open, his brow furrowing slightly. A string of moans left his mouth as you dug your nails further into his chest, the movement of your hips growing frenzied as you chased your high. “So good for me.”

Simon no longer bit back his moans, no longer held in his soft cries of pleasure, he became a grunting, groaning mess beneath you. The pleasure for him was overwhelming, between the way you took charge, the way you clenched around him and the way you yourself sounded? He was fucking ruined.

And you fucking loved it.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #female reader

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suguann · 27 days

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Being a camgirl comes with its fair share of ups and downs, but you never expected one of the downs to be one of your unboxings from a fan going horribly wrong during a live stream—the proof of it still buzzing between your thighs beyond your finger's reach.

A rush of embarrassment comes with knocking on your roommate’s bedroom door and asking him for help because you’re nearing the brink of overstimulation and can’t think straight enough to get the words out. It’s worse when he stands there and says nothing—all imposing with two tattooed arms crossed over his chest—while you try to get through a sentence without moaning.

Simon looks at you with a cocked brow and something akin to amusement as he watches you squirm in his doorway.

Then he finally says, “Get on the bed,” in a steady and low voice, opening his bedroom door wider.

You fidget under his scrutinizing gaze as you settle back against his pillows, biting back whimpers with a too-hot face and sweat dripping down your back.

Him settling a knee on the bed makes you jump, “Let’s take a look, love.”

Simon crawls up the bed, forcing your knees open, and you’re suddenly very aware of how broad and big he looks, towering over you—every part of you laid bare for him to see. A large hand presses right below your belly button, jostling the toy inside you, and this time, you can’t hold back the squeal that rips from your chest.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, voice imperceptibly deeper, his lips twitching like he’s trying to hold back a smile. “Okay, you’re going to feel a slight stretch.”

You bite your lip. “A-alright—”

Slight doesn’t even come close to the fingers sliding into you, spearing your sensitive walls open and pressing into a spot where you’ve never been able to reach with startling precision. You remind yourself that he has to do this, that he’s just being…friendly, or whatever makes the lines less blurred.

None of this stops the fact your lower stomach burns with the promise of another orgasm when his fingers brush against the egg vibrator before accidentally pressing it deeper inside.

“Ah, there it is.”

At the sight of your scrunched nose, he asks if it hurts. You shake your head; eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to hold back the stinging pleasure racing up your spine. “N-no,” you whimper.

“Relax, okay?”

Simon doesn’t comment on how you’re implying that it feels good. So good, you think, his thumb just barely touching your clit as he twists his hand to try a different angle. Then he pushes down on your belly again, and his long fingers finally grip the vibrator.

“Oh!” you moan at the feel of it dragging down your front wall, your fingers gripping the sheets.

He has to tell you to relax again, his voice cracking, but you hardly hear it over your heart beating loudly in your ears. His fingers drag the toy out slowly, almost too slow that you can feel it bumping against every slippery ridge inside you.

“Ah, sorry,” he says when you twitch—unapologetic—using his thumb to rub soothing circles into your stomach. “You’re so wet. I need to make sure I don’t lose it again.”

You nod, cunt clenching down at his words.

And then Simon’s fingers curl up: your thighs start quivering, breath caught in your throat, and your jaw locks up until your orgasm ripples through you. It’s unending, the strongest one yet, and just when you think it’s over, you feel the press of his palm against your clit.

“W-wait! Simon,” you moan, pushing at his hand. “No more, I‘m sensitive!”

He gets you to fall over the edge one more time before finally slipping the vibrator out of you, letting it hum softly on the bed, and your exhausted body sinks into the mattress once again. Simon gathers you into his lap, rocking you back and forth.

You swallow lungfuls of air against his chest, head still spinning and walls spasming from the aftershocks.

He murmurs in your ear about how good you are, kisses your temple, and rubs your sides, and it’s… enlightening. Moments pass before you finally return to yourself, and when he pulls back, his brows furrow at your pout.

“All good?”

You shake your head and go with honesty. “I didn’t think you’d cuddle me afterward.”

He smiles, thumb flicking your bottom lip. “You wanted me to fuck you?”

Your mouth falls open. “N-no—”

Then he leans down, lips brushing against your ear: “Don’t worry, love. Good girls get fucked hard.”

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